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

[She grins at him when he leans at her, that same roguish, troublemaking glint in her own eyes.]

And still with the half-drunk bottle of ale in his other hand, or...?

Only sometimes. [A wink.] But old as he was, he still knew his stuff.

Well, he had to have known what he was doing, drunk and old or not.

[She turns partway again to face him, her hair falling over her eyes.]

... If I had learned from the best, he had to have learned it from someplace, yes?

[And now for a different tack—]

You had practiced your tinkering before that, then? If you managed to fix his watch...

[A light grin.]

Something like that. Not always successful, mind, but I enjoyed puzzles and putting things together for as long as I can remember.

Of course you have. No wonder you've a knack for it these days.

[She gives a light roll of her eyes, but it's more playful.]

Even during your mercenary days? I can't imagine that it would be easy while on the move.

[Aaah... A small glance away.]

No, you're right. Was a bit more limited there, especially at that age and those times. Still, I took whatever opportunity I could to observe and learn how everything around me worked, even if it was just the basic understanding. Forges, irrigation, ships, building.

As you know, the Outer Continents didn't have the Mothercrystals so we didn't have crystals or Bearers as readily as Valisthea did.

But you made do.

[They had to have. Valisthea, on the other hand, was a world not ready for a life without Mothercrystals and the magic that came with them, and there is a bit of a sour taste on her tongue at the thought that she quickly swallows down. She did not like the idea of a land without magic, and she wonders, briefly, how she might have felt about his ideals back then if she had known.]

What made you decide to cross the sea anyway back then?

[A small pause before he slowly continues.]

Limitations.

[Again that odd, distant look as his gaze moves elsewhere.]

I was young, still trying to figure out how to survive and what to do. Jobs weren't easy to come by at my level, and I traveled from different towns with different groups, taking whatever I could. Then we hear about the wars happening in Valisthea and for a Sells word with barely anything to your name, well, you follow the money.

So I took the first ship I could. Thought I'd have better luck somewhere else and start fresh. It wasn't even to help with the wars but for the jobs that would come after. Crime would be higher, escorts needed, replace bodies lost in the wars. Perfect time for a mercenary.

And I was curious what this so called "blessed land" was all about.

Edited 2024-01-31 04:47 (UTC)

[That distance that she tries so very hard to pull him back from again with a palm resting on his cheek.

She wants to ask him what wars he might have fought in, or if he fought under Barnabas's name and that was how he came to find him, but even that leaves a bitter taste at the back of her throat like bile. That he would go so far as to—no, she has to shake that off before her own thoughts spiral out of control and she goes into a rage.

She brings her focus back to him, her expression drooping a bit.]

I suppose when you've nothing left in one place, it eventually becomes easier to move on to the next...

[She doesn't just mean him.]

[It does come back at her touch, and he looks at her for a moment.]

...It does.

[And he thinks of how hard it had been to leave Waloed. To leave her behind. Her refusal to come with him was that last link he had and once it was broken... Only then was it "easier."]

[There's a sullenness that falls heavy between them, all of those extra meanings weighing down on her. Easier for him to leave the Outer Continents. Easier for him to leave Waloed. Easier for her to leave their world behind...]

There was no other family remaining?

[She knows that it must be a touchy subject, especially when her own heart wrenches at the thought, but it's curiosity that has her asking.]

Edited 2024-01-31 05:17 (UTC)

[A hollow smile.]

Not that I knew of. My parents never spoke much about relatives even when I asked. My mother just kept mum, but...

[A low hum as his eyes flick down to her pendant and his hand drifts up to slowly lift it.]

My dad said that our family, the Telamons, used to have some old heritage as guardians or escorts or something like that, and this was the old family crest.

[She starts a bit when he reaches for the pendant, lifting it, and her heart both leaps and soars and sinks at the same time.]

This...?

[Her hand moves to clasp over his, her eyes big and round with surprise. She knew it was an heirloom of sorts, but she never asked. She figured that if she did, he wouldn't answer, and so she simply accepted it back then as a promise he'd made to her. That he might one day return to her to take it back...

...]

I had my suspicions that it was important, but... I never knew, Cidolfus...

[That she'd been carrying around a symbol of him all this time. Perhaps one of the last remaining ones.]

Had I known...

[A wry grin as he watches her react as he expected.]

You wouldn't have taken it. Which is why I didn't say anything.

[He fingers the gryphon and the two swords, noting how here it's been made whole again. Not chipped like it had been the last he saw it... Her wings, his swords. Was it coincidence or fate that it ended up fitting so well?]

And... Truth is, this is something he gave my mother.

[Somehow, she survives through what feels like a hundred skipped beats of her heart in that moment, her breath catching sharp in her chest. That hand that had been over his slides around to finger over the grooves of the pendant...

The one that had once been his mother's. A gift from his father...

And now, a gift from him to her.

Her brow furrows, a realization trying to chip away at her, and as much as she treasures it more than anything else she's ever owned—]

You shouldn't have...

Edited 2024-01-31 06:21 (UTC)

[He just continues to smile a little sadly as he looks at her and then at their hands over the pendant.]

...This crest is called the "Wings of Promise." In the past, it was a pledge for my bloodline to protect who they served. For my father, it was to my mother.

And for me...

[His voice trembles a bit.]

It was to you.

Cidolfus...

[His name falls out of her on a shaky sigh, her eyes trembling as they move from their hands up to connect with his.

The Wings of Promise.

How apt a name, she muses to herself, and she might have laughed at the pure irony of it if she were not already on the verge of tears again, those emotions coming in another tide that assaults her all at once.

She doesn't even know what she feels right now. Is it sadness? Guilt? Regret? Anger? Hell, could it even be joy? Or maybe it's a dangerous mix of each and every one. She knows that were this only a few months ago, she would have thrown this back at him... That is not something she will ever forget.

But now...]

You...

[All she can think to do is lean forward and close her lips over his, so that is exactly what she does, hoping that it might push away those whispers that try to claw forward from the back of her head. And when she does, he'll feel something wet and warm pressing to his cheeks.]

[He wouldn't have blamed her if she did, honestly. He knows very well what she could be thinking—that he didn't live up to it. That he had broken that promise, all of those promises, just like how it had been broken when he found it, as if to mock him further. And he did think and had a fear that she would throw it back at him, that this revelation would undo everything that just transpired.

Yet he told her, anyway.

And so his chest burns when he hears his name fall from her lips, sees those tears forming in her reddened eyes, and then feel them when she kisses him. One that only pushes those twin swords of guilt and regret deeper and deeper into him, the same swords he feels from the pendant as it digs into his palm as his hand tightens over it as he kisses her desperately back.

He promised her and he failed her. Failed to protect her, failed to come back to her, failed to free her, failed to save her—]

I'm sorry.

[It's all he manages to hoarsely whisper as his other arm pulls her tight to him.]

[And to think... he had thought that she had tossed it away. This one little piece of his past that he had left. This one little piece of him that she had left. The number of times she thought it, and stood at the shores of the Nile with it clutched painfully in her hand, prepared to throw it into the violent currents, was countless. Yet, in spite of how often she stood there and cursed his name, she could never bring herself to do it.

She could never completely let go of him, even when every speck of aether that she is made of wanted to, and even convinced her that she had in the end.

She has her heart to thank for all the conflicts... or else that last piece of him that she had, that last physical tether to his family, his past, would be buried deep in the sea.

His apology gets a firm shake of her head, and another press of her lips to his in a fervent attempt to suffocate those words. How she once thought hearing them from him would make her heart sing with vindication, but it only makes it twist and ache.]

You did keep your promise...

[It may be "too late", but they are here right now, aren't they?]

Edited 2024-01-31 07:07 (UTC)

[It is too late. Far too late. And her words are tearing at whatever little strand that's somehow keeping the burn in his eyes from spilling over.]

I...

[It's a haggard breath as he holds her tighter, his voice breaking as he's taken back to that charred, devastated ground, to when he picked up that pendant and found her body torn, bloodied, and still.]

When I found it... I thought you would have thrown it away. That's when I knew...how much of a fool I was...

[A fool for not realizing or knowing she really did still love him. That she held something still, that she was still waiting for him.]

I left it with you.

[Came back and buried the pendant with her.

And that part of his heart.]

[The realization is slow to dawn on her. She doesn't quite understand what he means at first, wondering if he's calling back to when he left Waloed. He never asked for it then like she feared he would. The confusion is clear in her eyes...

Until she finally understands.

It's instant.

The flood of emotions that fills her gaze, the way her heart nearly seizes in her chest, the way she, for a moment, forgets where they are, what they are doing, the world stopped.

He didn't mean in Waloed. He meant...

And that was why she had it with her. It wasn't because it was in her pocket. It was because he...

Benedikta pulls back suddenly, snapping the pendant from his grasp when she sits up on the bed. Her heart is racing at an alarming rate that it's terrifying.]

After I...?

[He was afraid of this, and he sits up when she does, that fear and panic rising. Did he say too much? Should have just kept it to himself?

He just stares at her, eyes blurring as he tries to answer, but instead he just clenches his teeth and looks away, eyes shut tight as his nails dig into his palms.]

[He doesn't need to say anything—that poignant, agonizing look on his face is enough to tell her that she's right, and she tears her own eyes away to stare down at the pendant where it now rests in her palm. This pendant that meant so much more than just their promise... How many generations did this crest span before it reached her? How many, before it finally ended with her?]

I always thought you would ask for it back.

[Not leave it with her. Not bury it with her. It's far too important for that.]

... This was your mother's. You should have taken it.

[Not because of whether or not he kept that promise, but because it was not hers to keep. Knowing now that even in death, he would have her hold it... that's far too heavy a burden that she can accept. Yet, she buckles under the weight of it anyway.

She didn't think it were possible, but more tears streak over her cheeks, her chipped-away will finally cracking when she stares at him.]

[He can only stare helplessly at her, wanting to reach out to her but unable to, afraid she would fly away if she did. But he knew his answer and he shakes his head.]

No... The moment I gave it to you, it was yours. Because you were the one... [A slight falter in his voice knowing how this will sound, but he continues on.] I chose.

[Even if he might have been young and a fool back then, she had been the only one who made him feel as much as she did, the only one who made him feel love. How much her words, her wish had resonated and made him move like no other.

His head hangs heavily, a hand wiping over his face.]

But if it's too much, I can take it back...

[She knows what he must be feeling and thinking right now. Her distance is very likely not making it better or easier, and when she hears his voice almost break, when she hears that he chose her, she falters.

It is too much. This has all been too much tonight. Too many emotions, too much information, too heavy a burden for her frail and broken heart to bear. The window is right there. She could shatter it with her winds and fly away from him, run away from it all like she has done so many times before.

But she doesn't. She can't because where would she go? Who else could she fly to? Where else could she rest her wings? She is tired and needs someone to catch her...

And who else does she want to catch her?

Him. It was always him.

Because just as he chose her, she chose him, too. A long time ago, when she was just a young, naive girl who didn't know any better, who admired the man who had saved her, she chose him.

Her fingers tighten around the pendant protectively.]

And if I never want to give it back? If I want to keep it?

[Just because she believes he should have taken it back doesn't mean she doesn't still treasure or want it. Even if only because it would mean he would come back for her again and again...]

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