escordvi | closed ⚡🪶 and forevermore, i'll be chasing the storm we had.

[That strikes a chord and a nerve someplace very, very deep in her.]

Did she have it all figured out? Seems to me that she didn't. Those Paladins could hardly protect her from us. Imagine what a whole crew of Corsairs could do.

[They took out every single one of those guards in a fell swoop. That ship is hardly protected at all.

But what the fuck does she care anyway!?]

That man is going to come for her eventually. I could have taken her someplace safe.

So you're saying you know what's better? And for how long?

[He takes a step towards her.]

For how long would you keep her in hiding? How long would you try to "protect" her? And against her will, I might add.

[She balls her hands into fists, and her nails carve into her palms, and she whips around to face him.]

Until I've driven this— [Her hand reaches for her sword, but she doesn't draw it.] —through that man's fucking throat.

And I would have done a better job at it than those Paladins did.

[She has a point, that ship could have been better protected, but granted it was a common ship in the attempt to have her travel under disguise. In fact they had a decoy ship to try and divert attention, one they would have followed were it not for some clues and talk they heard right before that alerted them of the suspicious ship. Not to mention her winds allowing them to catch up. It wasn't as if they were just sitting pretty.

He just remains standing.]

So who's protecting the girl while you're driving that sword down his throat? If you're the only one so capable.

That is why I said to take her to the Enterprise.

[She narrows her eyes at him, and her chest suddenly feels tight as that realization slowly begins to sink in. A realization that she is trying her damn hardest to defend herself against.]

Do not even tell me that she would not have been safe there. Or that your little crew would not have done what they could to ensure that she was.

So we all stay behind and protect the girl, and watch you go on your warpath.

Alone.

[They're going to go in circles, though there is something to be said how adamant she seems to be in thinking how much safer they are.]

And what will you do against whatever army this man can hire? Assuming you can find the bloody bastard.

Does it matter what I do to him or his army?

[Her voice is breaking, as is her pride, but that just makes her stand firmer, lest she lose it all completely.

As long as she was safe and away from him, as long as she wasn't at risk of being captured or taken back. Benedikta could help her, and she should have just taken her and flown away with her to safety without any arguments. She had almost killed her, and if she'd just listened to Cid...

If she'd just listened to him then...]

At least I'd have the conviction to carry out the deed.

[She blurts the words out before she can stop them before she shrinks back, though she doesn't even know what she's talking about anymore. She doesn't have an answer to his question because what could he—no, what could she do?]

[He knew she was projecting, seeing herself in that girl and reminded of what she went through. It's why he can't fully fault her or not understand why she's thinking or acting this way. But she was being too rash, too emotional, and he was about to call her out on it, but her words actually make him stiffen, eyes widening and trembling at the dagger she threw right into that one part of his heart that is weakest. Where the guilt will never rest.

If he had just taken her, would it have really had been any better? Or would it have been worse, having both Odin and Titan on their tails? How much would she struggle from, what he thought at the time, hating him for doing so? If their relationship hadn't already deteriorated, if they had both known what the other really felt back then, would it have changed things, made him stronger to carry out that risk? Should he have done so, even without?

Hindsight is always 20/20, and it all slams into him at once. She could have been referencing herself and her own decisions and hesitation, but it still applied to him, too. Which is why he doesn't answer immediately and only stands there frozen before a strained voice ekes out.]

...Benedikta...

["She knew the risks, but she chose her path, anyway."

Did she know the risks? Did she know what she was putting on the line choosing to stay? Or was it simply not knowing what was waiting on the other side if she had gone? Not knowing if she could trust them despite all the promises to keep her safe?

But what makes her angriest is that Cid is right. What would Benedikta do in the face of his army, if he had one? How would she find him? How would she keep her safe from him? Yes, she would fight alone if it meant that another woman did not have to suffer at the hands of a man, but...

No, she could do it. She could. She would have...

She should have.

Benedikta's gaze flits around, as if she's searching for some kind of answer. She knows that she had struck the dagger deep and true into the sorest spot in both of them because at the end of the day... fuck. Her mind spins with the if only's, getting caught up in the past when she should be considering the present. This isn't about her or them, this is about this woman who might die at the hands of a man who would try to enslave her, and someone needs to save her from him...]

Cidolfus, I...

[She finally looks at him, regret filling her eyes. Her mouth opens again to speak, but that guilt and that regret makes her throat run absolutely dry.]

I'm... [Sorry.] ...going to go.

[Her words snap him out of his daze and he immediately steps towards her, hand reaching out to try and grab and stop her.]

No, wait—

[Everything still hurts, but he had resolved himself to not get caught in the past and work on what they have now in the present. Right?

But more than that, there is this sudden fear that if he lets her go now, he might lose her again. Later he'll realize that she just needs the space and that he should trust in her to come back, but right now it's that damn day all over again. The day where that final wedge ripped them apart for good. And if he lets her go here, if he doesn't grab her hand now—]

[His hand does find hers, only because she lets it.

Because as much as this feels like last time, this isn't the same. Not for her. Tonight, it isn't because he had failed her, but because Benedikta feels as if she has failed someone else. She tried and tried, and yet, still could not find a way to keep someone safe. That someone had swatted her hand away when she had tried to help... She thought she knew what was best not because she truly believed she was the person who could help her, but because she had seen herself in this woman.

A woman who had been chained down to another man at one point, and then it had all spiraled from there. Forced her to see things in this person that she refused to see in herself.

...]

Just...

[Her voice breaks, but she squeezes his hand, almost like she doesn't want to go... but she knows that if she doesn't, things will only get worse. After all the strides that they have made to get here now, it would simply undo it all as soon as she started pinning the blame on him again.

She can't... not tonight... not after what she's come to realize.]

Step back.

[Because here comes the wind.]

No.

[He honestly hadn't been sure she would let him grab her, that she might try and swat his hand away. But when she doesn't, when she instead squeezes it, conviction grows along with the strength of his hand which now tightens over hers before he yanks her to him, an arm wrapped tightly around her.]

I said I wouldn't let you go and I mean it.

[The moment she feels his fingers tighten around hers, she prepares to snatch her hand back, and she almost does were it not for the way he pulls her so firmly towards him and wraps his arm around her. She stiffens at the contact, out of both surprise and out of regret. He thinks that this is about him when in reality...

It shouldn't be.]

I know.

[Only it is. It is about him. About both of them. When did it become about them and not the seamstress that they were supposed to kidnap and bring back like she was some mule? Like some...slave?

While she doesn't push him back right away, her eyes closing against his voice that buries itself deep in her, she doesn't relax either. Doesn't return the gesture. What she needs right now isn't a promise from him or his embrace... what she needs is space to sort through her thoughts and why she feels the way that she does. Space so that she does not ruin this...

When the fuck did she start caring so much anyway?

It won't be her hands that shove him back, but a wind that erupts between them. It's strong enough that it sends him skidding backwards along the deck of the boat, knocking him into the lounge again. Among the spray of water and the gust whipping at his face, he'll hear the sound of wings unfolding, beating once, and when they die away, she's gone...]

[When he starts to feel her aether stirring—]

Don't—

[—but it's no use. There's a shout as he's pushed back, grimacing when he hits the lounge as his hand immediately goes to his side, feeling a heat spreading through the bandages. But he doesn't care as he pushes himself up.]

Benedikta!

[Even before the winds die down he rushes forward, shouting after her as he stares up into the dark, moonless sky. For a moment his aether gathers around him as if he would try to prime and chase after her—]

Fuck!

[—but instead it discharges from the fist that punches the sail mast, crackle of purple and blue lightning flashing before it dissipates into the air and he's left with only the sound of the disturbed water waves lapping against the boat and the cold wind that carries the last traces of her.

He stands like that for a moment before he staggers back to the lounge, ignoring the small drops of blood that seep through the bandage and flops onto it, hand running over his face.

The hand that once held hers.

Her words echo through his mind, overlapping with those of the past. And while things are markedly different... How much longer will they be so chained by their past? And what can he do to help her?

Can he?

It will be a while before he finally changes out his bandages and sails back to Nogard, making his way to his apartment. He actually stops in front of hers, but he knows she isn't there. She would have flown off somewhere far away where he cannot reach.

Just like always.

So he just goes to his apartment, Ashtail only looking up from her cat bed when he enters. It does spark a little smile, but he hisses when he tries to crouch down and pet her. Damn gash, it's not even that deep and yet it's still bothersome. It will only be after a quick shower, clean up, and redressing of his bandages that he sits at his desk, staring at his shellphone.

Knowing she wouldn't pick up if he tried to call, he finally sends one message:]

I'll be here when you need me.

[At the time he had been afraid she would fly off and leave him, but now that he's had a chance to cool his head, he knows she just needs the space and time to sort through herself. He just worries she's going twist herself into something else again...

Or that she really might be too scared to come back.

So he ends up staying up at his desk trying to do some work, not really feeling sleep coming to him. Not when he occasionally glances out the window or look out his door, especially when there is a rattle of wind or distant flap of wings. But whether it's the rum in his coffee, the mental exhaustion, or the physical exhaustion of the night, he ends up losing focus at some point and eventually falls asleep half sprawled over his desk, the last embers of the mostly finished smothered cigar fading, leaving the lamp desk in his room the only light in the otherwise dark apartment.]

Edited 2024-01-27 01:32 (UTC)

[And then she flew. She flew and she flew, her wings beating against the winds as hard as they would go because it is the only thing that keeps her mind focused. Keeps it from spiraling out of her control, or from straying too far into the past. Feeling the cold air on her face is the only thing that ever centers her, and for her feet being so far from it, it grounds her. Keeps her in the present when she'd rather thrust herself elsewhere.

She wishes that she could fly far away. As far as she could go, right to the edge of this world where no one would find her. If her wings could take her there, she would, but even if she flew as fast as possible, she would never make it. And tonight, with her aether depleted and her heart exhausted, she doesn't get as far as she wishes. She makes it to Nogard safely, perching herself upon the highest point of the dragon's spine where not a soul would see her and remains there, grateful to the night for hiding the moon.

She doesn't even want to think right now. She doesn't want to go back to that place that she knows she will go to—to that place where fear commands her every move, every choice. That place where she sought love but could never find it in the darkness of his eyes. A place where the rattling chains were the only sound in her otherwise empty, hollow heart.

Something that she has tried to deny and deny for so long, only for it to rear its head on her again tonight.

Something that she is not so sure she can continue to fly away from for much longer. Not after seeing the fear in that woman's eyes, or after feeling that desperate need to take her as far away from that same place as possible.

Is this what it felt like, she wonders?

Her eyes rest on the apartments on the other end of the city where she knows he is. How? She couldn't say, but she knows.

Which is why, after several hours, when it is far later into the night than it she has any right to be flying about, she lets her wings unfurl again and she soars to his window. Really, it's a terrible idea, but when has anything they do now ever been a good one?

Besides... She has not forgotten his words.

"Should you ever need it, you can always fly and rest your wings with me."

And now, her wings are weary and in need of rest.

Well into the night, when the lamp on his desk is the only light left and she wonders if he is still awake, there is a light tap on his window, but there is nothing in sight.]

Edited 2024-01-27 01:58 (UTC)

[Usually he's a light sleeper, but as his body's natural healing has started to kick in, he's fallen a bit deeper so there's no initial response as he continues to sleep.]

[...?

Benedikta had thought to stay out of sight so she wouldn't startle him should he glance to his window, but when there's no answer...

She flits over in front of the window and peers inside, and he's fortunately left the curtains open. She can see him hunched over his desk, but is he asleep or just so absorbed in his work that he doesn't hear her? She can't tell from here.

So, she raps on the window a little harder and faster. It's cold out here!]

[ZzzzzzzZZzz—!

The harder rap gets his attention, and for a moment he starts upright looking around before turning his head to the window above his bed...]

Bene—!

[There's a loud swear when he topples out of his chair while trying to turn and get out of it at once, so he'll briefly disappear from view as he hits the ground.

There will be a moment before she'll the muffled—]

...I'm all right.

[—and he slowly grabs the edge of the chair to pull himself up, wincing as he feels the still healing wound screaming at him. Rubbing his side, he makes his way over, one knee on the bed as he undoes the lock and opens the window.]

[What the—?

So, he was asleep? Had he been up waiting for her to show, or deep in thought? The old fool, and she can't help but look on, her glowing blue eyes going wide before they turn a bit more helpless and exasperated. Maybe a little guilty for waking him, but in her defense, it's hard to tell from his window.

Her brow wrinkles when she hears the muffled sound of his reassurance, but all of that completely disappears the moment he rushes over and opens the window for her.

Her wings carry her closer to the ledge where her fingers slowly curl over it, and she stares up at him...

...

....

And can't bring herself to say a word now that she's here.]

[He stares at her for a moment, the cooler air passing between them as he also isn't sure what to say at first. But then he just smiles his usual smile and tips his head back.]

Going to come in or stay out there?

... You were asleep?

[She rises slowly, her eyes never leaving his, but as soon as her feet touch the windowsill, her wings disappear, hair brushing in the aether that dissipates with them.

But even with his invitation, she remains where she is, half inside, half outside still, as if she's still not sure whether she could. Or should.]

Just a dozed off for a bit.

[And since she still seems to be hesitating...

He's going to hold out his hand to her and shift to the side to give her more space. Come on now.]

[...

....

She really shouldn't accept his hand after all that. Hell, he shouldn't have offered it to her in the first place. What did she do to deserve him even opening his window after all of that?

She wishes that she could blame him, and for a while, she might have thought about it as she flew, but now that she's here and he wears that easy smile he always does, it's hard to find any reason to be upset with him. Even harder to find a reason not to take his hand.

So, after a few more heartbeats, she finally does, her fingers slipping over his and her feet hopping down from the ledge, a wind following her inside.]

... And I woke you.

[This is her way of saying she's sorry, along with the little squeeze of her fingers around his hand.]

It's all right, better that you did. Would have woken up with a bad back if I stayed like that.

[A wry grin as he looks at her, his hand still holding hers.]

I was awake for a while, anyway.

[Waiting.]

[Waiting.

She knows.

There are many habits that still have not changed from long ago.]

I thought you were up scribbling away at your plans again.

[And now she's just awkwardly holding his hand, not quite sure what to do, what to say, where to go... how to start.]

... What were you working on?

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>>> later that night, at cid's apartment

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