ruinations | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

They attacked in the night like thieves.

A more direct strike against a prestigious mage family would have spelled nothing but disaster even for the Zhentarim, whose numbers could have overwhelmed the guards on a more level playing field. Trickery was needed: it had to be an inside job with all of the wards and security systems taken down. It needed to happen quickly before any of their secondary defenses could spring up, before the old man Archibald could activate any secondary wards or, worse, might weave powerful enough spellcraft to kill them all.

The guards didn't manage to sound an alarm. The electrical systems died seconds after they did. A strong dozen of the most powerful the Zhentarim could offer - individuals proficient in magic and in tactical warfare - stormed the residence. In less than thirty minutes, the place was decimated, and they took their prizes. They struck with gloves laced with electric runes and powerful magnetics to be used to circumvent the magical circuits the family was known for, easily incapacitating them. Waver was struck down before he could barely get out of bed, held down while he heard the screams of his family as they, too, were indisposed. He was dumped near the bodies of his guards - his mentors, acquaintances, even his friends - before the world went dark.

He was beckoned back to wakefulness in a cage laced with electricity and runes, the strongest precautions against a mage like him. Even then, his wrists were bound - separated, though - with tight metal bands that disrupted his magical circuits. The room he was in was dark, lit only by faint neon lights that smarted when he looked too long at them. The most prominent sound was their buzzing and little else for a very long time.

Faintly, he could hear intermittent sounds coming from beyond the glass window in the corner of the room. It took him a while to perhaps realize they were the sounds of screaming and begging.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She reached out a hand to support him as he tried to get back up. "Easy," she whispered, and continued to stroke his shoulder. As she did so, her fingers lit up with faint magic, slowly slipping into his system. It was a terribly faint touch at first, insidiously difficult to sense, but that might have been because his circuits had been so mishandled.

Magic brushed over the back of his head, seeking to soften the pain. Whatever work she did alleviated the worst of it, slow and thorough. She lifted her hand to run her fingers gently over his damp hair. "I have you," she murmured.

It didn't feel weird this time, or at least not unpleasant. Maybe it was because he was expecting it or because he actually could use more thorough healing this time, but the magic felt warm and soothing. Waver looked down, slumping toward Devyn without realizing it, leaning into the touch when she stroked his hair. It was the closest thing to comfort he was going to get in this place.

The thought made his throat feel tight. The gentleness made his eyes sting. And then he was crying, quietly, hiding his face.

Devyn's fingers slowed and stilled as Waver began to weep, almost startled at the sudden raw emotion that came from him. The hesitation in her lasted several seconds, and then she was stroking his hair again, more purposeful this time, unafraid to touch him. With her other arm, she offered a place for him to lean into. The stroke of her fingers became longer, from his hair to the top of his back and back again.

"It's not all right," she whispered, strange words to fall from her lips. "It's not all right." His family gone, every cruelty given to him. The road would not be an easy one, but Waver would come out resilient. She needed him to hold on a little longer. "But I'm here."

He hadn't cried in front of any of his captors since that first day. By himself, alone, yes-- but not for a while even so. He'd been too tired and numb. He wasn't sure this was actually better.

Waver cried for some time, folding into Devyn's embrace, shoulders shaking with his muffled sobs. He couldn't stop. He couldn't pull away. He just leaned, crying until he was too exhausted to keep going, and then he only stared, cheek against Devyn's unfamiliar shoulder.

He didn't answer but she was right. Nothing was okay.

She let him cry. There were no other words, just Devyn's gentle touch through his hair and the healing magic that worked over him in small increments. What had been done to his circuits wasn't something she could entirely fix; he'd need to rest them, without the cuffs, without any further interference, for at least the better part of a day. If they kept pushing him, it could cause permanent damage, something beyond her ability to repair, and everything she'd worked for would go to shit.

Devyn's breathing was steady in counterpoint to his own. Her touch was warm and, at length, her magic left him, allowing him to simply cry and recover.

Footsteps alerted Devyn to another presence, and she lifted her head, body tensing against Waver's, her touch stilling. Whomever it was, the change was instant; she uncoiled, her grip loose around him. Softly, she said, "He can't go back in there." No matter how quiet she was, her words were firm.

"You know what it will look like," came a soft voice, low, masculine. "With what happened--"

"This is the only way," she insisted. "Please." A word she hadn't said in any fashion around Waver. "I'll handle it."

Silence lingered. Then, a sigh from the man at the door. "All right. I'll speak to them. What comes after will be your responsibility." Against Waver, Devyn nodded, her hand stroking him once more.

Waver stiffened as well at the sound of encroaching footsteps, but did not relax when Devyn did. The way he was half curled up against her, he couldn't see the newcomer, and not wanting to draw even more attention to himself and his tears, Waver didn't try to look up.

He listened in tense silence, dully surprised Devyn was arguing (pleading?) on his behalf, even though she'd held and healed him. She was really trying to help him. Probably just because she knew they needed him alive and well enough to be useful, but-- Waver couldn't help the spark of tentative gratitude either at her efforts.

After the stranger was gone, Waver finally looked up, sniffing softly and rubbing tear tracks from his cheeks.

"Who... was that?" he mumbled, not quite meeting her gaze.

Devyn's grip on Waver loosened, and she pulled away so she could look at him. The intensity of her gaze had lessened; while it did not dull the unsettling red of her eyes, it at least made her look somewhat gentler as she watched Waver. "His name is Adan. He is my mentor...and the reason why I am here." Mentor wasn't the right word but Waver wouldn't understand. Not yet.

With care, she touched the top of his head, stroking over his hair with surprising softness. "You can't go back to that room." And, more importantly, he couldn't go back in those cuffs. "I want to take you elsewhere tonight to let you rest." Before tomorrow, when things would get so much worse for him - and for her - with what happened today.

Waver's eyes on her were red and tired, just staring flatly as Devyn explained. He pulled away too, folding his arms over his stomach, and did not acknowledge the fact she'd been holding him, though this time he inclined his head slightly away from the next touch to his hair.

"I tried to tell them." He looked away, letting out a shaky breath.

"...did you know?"

When he tilted his head away, she allowed her hand to fall, making no further move to touch him. "The cuffs are designed to disrupt a mage's ability to cast and to keep them from being able to collect mana. In truth, someone in those cuffs is not meant to remain in them long." True mage captives were practically unheard of because of their rampant power, elusiveness, and rarity. Many people had magic and mana in small portions, enough that a few augments made them powerful. Old magic was something else.

"Keeping you in them is too detrimental for you and for the Zhentarim, clearly." She opened her mouth to say more and realized how it would sound, how traitorous. Caution was needed. She was treading a thin line with only one other ally to ensure her safety. The payoff could be great indeed...but only if she succeeded completely. "Let's get you elsewhere to speak further. Do you feel all right enough to stand?"

She hadn't really answered his question, but Waver didn't have the energy to push. He let it go, reminding himself Devyn was one of his captors too. She'd had no reason to warn him either, even if she'd known or realized. The guards clearly hadn't even believed him.

"They were draining me," he corrected quietly, but didn't argue further. He just nodded, reaching behind him for the wall to help drag himself up and test his footing.

"I just want to wash my face first..."

Her expression tightened briefly. Then, quietly, she said, "Yes, they were." At least to validate the terror he'd felt. As he stood, she did as well, and offered a hand to take if he wished. Even if he didn't, it troubled her little. Once Devyn was certain he could stand on his own, she stepped away and gave him his space.

"I'll stand outside," she told him. He did not need her looming inside or even close by. She turned and left the bathroom, giving him the time he needed to clean up.

Waver didn't take her hand. He just stood by the wall and waited for Devyn to step outside, until finally he was alone again to test how well he could stand, how he felt.

He probably didn't have that much time. Waver edged toward the sink to splash his face and hands with cold water, take a few deep breaths in front of the mirror as he brushed his still-damp hair with his fingers and tucked it behind his ears. Devyn's healing had taken care of the pain in his head and some of the irritation around his wrists, but he still felt drained and generally weak, like he'd been sick a long while. When he tried to reach for his magic, it ached, and though he felt he could push through the soreness if he tried, Waver knew he didn't have the energy to do anything.

With a sigh, he moved to scrub his face dry again and finally stepped out to meet Devyn again.

She waited for him in silence and when he came out of the bathroom, she acknowledged him only with a lingering glance and a faint nod. With a small gesture, she had Waver follow her, and she walked purposefully beside him rather than in front. Down one hall brought them to a back set of stairs, which she ushered him up. As they emerged from the basement, it was clear it was a part of a much grander abode, full of beautiful marble tile and more sophisticated offerings than one might have expected from the crude way Waver had been kept.

But Devyn directed him to remain close wordlessly, and after a quick turn down two hallways, she brought him to a side door and opened it. Inside was a room that seemed almost dormitory-like, two beds fit together at the head to form a perfect 90-degree angle. Both beds were impeccably ordered, neat, well made, and each with a suitcase beneath and nothing else. To the one side was a tall bookshelf that, halfway down, folded out for a makeshift desk. While quaint, the wood of the beds and the bookshelf suggested uniform decadence like the rest of the base, and it was a far grander sight than he'd seen before. Even here, though, there was no window; it was closed in like everything else.

With the door closed behind them, Devyn gestured to the far bed. "You can rest here for the night and try to gather your strength. I'll ensure when your food is brought, it's delivered here."

Devyn didn't need to tell him to stick close; Waver stayed at her side instinctively, knowing she was the closest thing to safety he had right now. He walked a little slowly, but she kept pace at his side, and finally ushered him upstairs and through the unfamiliar, surprisingly nice halls to another room with no window. Was this whole damned place underground?

He'd been silent the whole time, looking around as much as he could and trying to remember the way they'd come and the doors and rooms he saw, but it wouldn't do much good if he had no idea where this building even was. Of course, at this point, there were many reasons why it didn't matter if he saw outside his cell anymore.

When it was announced that this would be his new temporary prison, Waver moved away from Devyn's side to walk around the room. He paused at the bookshelf, staring blankly at its contents without looking at Devyn.

"Whose room is this?"

"It's no one's. This is a base of the Zhentarim's, a holding for some of the higher-ups and for private meetings. When members need to stay the night, there are rooms like these. Adan and I are using this one. When we leave, it will be empty, or someone else will fill it." Like barracks, almost, for soldiers...but far kinder.

The books and their contents were mostly inane nonsense. Theory, history, science, all manner of subjects that were there simply for pleasure reading and less focused on anything specific. Nothing discernible. There was a hint of dust on some of the shelves. Devyn and Adan clearly hadn't touched a single one of them for however long they'd been there.

"Then you two will stay somewhere else tonight?"

Waver sounded surprised she was actually giving up her room to him. Unless she was staying here. Someone would need to guard him, after all.

"Adan will find elsewhere to be," she said, her tone strangely bordering on light, as if making a joke. She did not smile. "I will remain here. I said I would take responsibility for what's happened, after all. I can be outside if that's more comfortable for you." There was no window. He couldn't leave.

And it hurt her little to offer up some semblance of control. He would, at least, remember she offered it.

Edited 2018-06-24 03:39 (UTC)

"...Oh."

Waver hesitated, considering it. The tip of his tongue wet his lower lip nervously as he looked around the room, eyes finally settling on Devyn's shoulder, like he couldn't quite get himself to meet her eyes.

"You can sleep here. I don't care."

"Waver." The way she said his name was gentle, though it bordered on something almost exasperated. "It bothers you. It's all right." Lying wasn't going to change how obvious it was. "Get comfortable," she said quietly, resigned. "I'll see about food for you before you sleep."

Waver's shoulders stiffened. His hands clenched in front of him, holding onto the hem of his shirt as he shook his head, damp hair sticking in messy strands to his cheeks.

"N-no, I mean it. Stay in the other bed."

He'd been locked up alone for so long. Having another person in the room actually sounded like a relief, even if he didn't really want to talk to her or do anything else. Devyn had been kind to him, at least comparatively. Maybe it was foolish to think of it that way, but it was frankly the best he had. It was easy to slide into acceptance at this point.

He didn't want to be alone.

Devyn studied him from across the room, her eyes briefly flitting over the clench of his hands. Slowly, she nodded. Devyn crossed the few steps that separated them and telegraphed the motion of her hand, which she settled on his shoulder for just a brief moment. "All right." And then she let him go, heading back to the door.

"Get comfortable," she murmured, and meant it. "I'll see to food and then I'll be back." Devyn slipped out the door silently, locking it behind her.

Though he didn't flinch away from the touch, Waver didn't relax under it either, watching her eyes. There was something a little less tense and wary in his stare though, a little more curious, uncertain. He nodded and responded just as quietly, "All right."

He almost added thanks, and caught himself at the last moment. He refused to stoop to thanking his captors, even Devyn. It was a little bit of control he could still say he had.

When she was gone, Waver stared at the door for a few long moments, wondering if she'd posted another guard. There didn't even seem to be a lock. The cuffs were off. It was the least contained and supervised Waver had been since he'd been brought to this place. And yet... he was still completely powerless. Waver had no illusions about how well things would go for him if he tried to do something like sneak out and escape right now; he couldn't reliably use his magic, and he was weak and tired, even if his physical strength hadn't been laughable in the first place. Besides, there was nowhere to go. He had no idea what city or even what part of the world he was in.

He couldn't let himself think about it. There was no point.

Waver sighed and decided he would explore the room instead, this time more thoroughly than his first walkabout while Devyn had been watching him. For the first time in what seemed to him like weeks, he actually had new things to look at, even books. The beds were simple, but comfortable. He wished there was a window.

After a moment's hesitation, Waver decided to try looking in the suitcases beneath the beds too, more out of curiosity than because he thought he could find anything useful. Devyn wouldn't have left him in here alone with something like weapons stashed under the bed, surely.

Adan's belongings were securely locked beneath his bed, the one adjacent to the one Devyn had gestured for Waver to use. There was a small closet nearby where Waver would find two sets of clothes, all of them variations of black and a deep, royal blue, the same that Devyn wore, perhaps in mimicry of the man she called her mentor. Small items - oil for a man's hair, cologne, fine combs - were also in the closet, tucked away on Adan's side.

Devyn's suitcase was unlocked and had very few items in it of true worth. In fact, there were very few items in the room that seemed to be Devyn's at all. Of her clothes, she had only a couple different outfits in contrast to Adan, who at least had more tunics to offer, all finely pressed and beautiful. In her suitcase was a bound leather book full of copious notes, very few of them making sense in context. Each page was dated and kept track of small, seemingly monotonous things, characteristics of people, facts about them, but none of the entries had names attached to them in a way that Waver would be able to discern who they were about. Others had wild arrays of musical notes, like scribbled sheet music. The most recent entries had nothing to do with people and, rather, were abstract notes on magical theory, studious. There were small pieces about the Mystic Codes, enough that demonstrated Devyn's knowledge of them, but little else.

There was nothing besides those, however. For a woman like Devyn, things seemed too simple and uniform, as if her entire life was in that small suitcase.

Under some inspection, though, Waver would find a partially hidden place where a weapon must have been once and was now missing, presumably as it was on her person.

Even though Devyn had left him on his own with her suitcase unlocked (he didn't believe it was an oversight, just that she didn't think she had anything of value to hide from him), Waver did his examinations hurriedly, not lingering on the notes, though he picked up a little here and there from flipping through. The notes on magic and the Mystic Codes they were searching for caught his attention, but most of it was likely from information he'd given himself. There wasn't much else that made sense.

Finally, once Waver had seen everything the room had to offer, he settled onto the bed Devyn had indicated for him, along with a couple of the books from the shelf, after blowing the dust off of them. Sitting with his back to the wall, shoes off, he could almost get comfortable, almost pretend he was in a dorm or a very spare hotel rather than a prison. For a while, Waver only flipped through the books he'd randomly chosen without reading in earnest. It felt comforting just looking at them, after so long of having nothing to look at but bare walls.

It turned out that Waver had more time than he thought. Devyn did not return for nearly thirty minutes and when she did return, she had a tray of food much like what she usually brought Waver in his cell room. She set it down on the makeshift desk for him, silent all the while, her attention clearly elsewhere for the first few moments she returned.

But as she tipped her head to Waver, she gave him her full attention. Her eyes briefly flitted over the books he had out and open but said nothing on it for the time being, instead gesturing to the food. "Help yourself when you're ready. It's hot."