Who: Cidolfus Telamon & Benedikta Harman. Status: Closed. Where: The Roost, The Farplane. What: Cid and Benedikta move to a new house in the Roost. Event stuff later. Warnings: The usual. :)
[Even now, when she has someone to take her by the hand and guide her through it. She remains ever stubborn in some ways, but she had been so set in her ways for so long that even when she wants to change something, it does not prove to be so easy.]
You have rubbed off on me far too much.
[It is said fondly, with a soft brush of her nose against his.]
I just do not want what Ultima said to be the truth of it. I do not want him to be right about me. About us...
[Because what does a god know?]
But more than that, I... I am tired of seeing you be hurt on my account. [Anger rises in her like bile in the back of her throat, and for half a second, she lets it get the best of her.] Founders, I could not even heal you today, Cidolfus...
[She exhales, her breath slow and shaky over his lips.]
You are too much... but I am sure you already know that.
[His trust and unwavering faith in her after all that they have been through... She knows that it took some time for them both to get here, but the fact that it weighs so much upon her now makes her buckle beneath it, not quite sure what to do with herself when it does.]
... And what of you, hm? You place so much faith in me, but you still cannot do the same for yourself.
[A small self-deprecative huff as he glances away briefly.]
I know I am being hypocritical. But I also feel responsible for putting you in these positions so many times now. Had I been able to act sooner, you wouldn't have been driven into such a corner.
[She echoes that sound he makes with a tired one of her own, though not so much directed at him, even if he can be frustrating at times like this. She can't blame him for it, of course.]
You say that as if we ever have a say in these matters... In harbouring these burdens. Or that you are to blame.
[There's just a furrow of his brows at that because he knows what she's trying to say. And he knows he would tell anyone else the same things she's saying.]
...Like you, it's just hard to accept.
[There's defeat and resignation in his voice, still unable to quite look at her.]
And if there is one thing that woman said that was right, it was my age...and what it could mean.
[It's a gentle, coaxing plea, softened by the way her hand brushes over the curve of his jaw to then rest on his cheek, but there is a hardness in her voice beneath it. An edge that she would gladly sharpen against that woman's throat if she had the chance to again.
There is so much about those days leading up to his death that she does not quite understand. She knows what happens, and he has explained the events to her, but not much is understood on her part of how he felt...]
[He hesitates, still. Looks at her with eyes that are filled with an unfamiliar unease and uncertainty of what she might do should she hear all of it. Of the things he dared not voice or share with anyone, of thoughts even he tried to ignore, had to accept as what must be because to dwell too long would hinder his path forward. Of the pains he kept hidden locked away from even himself. Everything he had endured on his own because he had to.
Everything that now has been clawed up and forced to face after all those years of brushing it off.
And even now, as discomforting and unpleasant as it is, it's not as if he feels a crushing weight or fear or some kind of crisis. It's more frustration, a more acute awareness of this weakness of his.
But how to explain all of this in a way that won't have her fearing more for his well-being? Without upsetting her as he dredges up those hardships? He doesn't want her to pity him, not out of pride, but solely because he doesn't want to see her hurting for him. Hurting for a time where she could not be with him and thus potentially make her feel unneeded guilt.
Yet she is practically pleading for him to share with her, she always has. And eventually he can't resist her heartfelt attempts to make up for that lost time.
So there will be a long sigh of defeat before he slowly starts to speak.]
You already know how advanced my curse was by then... How even just semi-priming would leave me breathless and coughing blood.
The truth is, even if only my arm had started to turn, the worst of the damage was internal. I was still physically fit, but it was starting to take its toll.
[She knows that she might be pushing him too hard, but is that not what he always tries to do with her? Always tries to get her to voice her concerns, her wants, her wishes, and her failures with the hope that he can help her carry that weight? It has been this way between them for what feels like so long now, but in truth, everything that they are and can be is still very much in its infancy. There are still uncertainties and fears between the two of them that need to be dispelled. Thorns that need to be carefully plucked out one by one. What he is still afraid of with her she doesn't know for certain, but perhaps it is the same that she fears from him.
But the number of times he has done it for her she cannot count, but just as he wants to take care of her, she wants to do the same. So when he finally starts to explain, defeated sigh or no, she lets out her own small one with relief.]
And did that make you feel inadequate here?
[There is no way that she cannot feel guilty for it, just like he would never not when it comes to her. That wish to do more will always be there and, given how things had ended between them in their world, she cannot say it's surprising.]
[Another sigh, this one longer and more tired than the last.]
It did, aye. I know I shouldn't let it, but I had barely anything left by the end of it all. And now, here, where I can do more than before it still wasn't enough.
Why must you always feel you need to do everything on your own?
[Hypocritical, that, because she often does the same thing... but here, he had no choice. He was not given that chance, and even she can admit that the ghost that had taken him over had been a strong one. She does not know how, but it definitely did take both of them to get rid of it.
But how long had he been trying to walk forward with all of that weight on his shoulders?]
What good would it do anyone to worry about someone like me when they have their own burdens?
[A small, weak smile as he knows that doesn't hold much weight.]
Or perhaps I've worn the mantle of "Lord Commander" for so long I don't know how else to be.
[Not just the title, but all the weight and responsibilities that came with it. He may have discarded it when he left Waloed, but he took on another title, still maintained his role as "leader" as he formed the Hideaway and gathered new people to lead. And it's not as if these were conscious decisions, not entirely, at least. It was more instinctual, natural.
Hell, isn't he still doing it here, even if to a much lesser and relaxed degree?
These are all things he may have thought about on occasion, but never really thought to deeply over, perhaps knowing if he did he would feel like he does now.
And this isn't even touching the giant box with her name on it still remaining to be unpacked.]
[It's offered quietly, a soft mumble under a breath. And it's not like he can say or do anything that would stop her from doing so. Not anymore.
She is quiet for a while longer, her expression muted but thoughtful and worried, as she continues to trace her fingers over his face.]
A leader... [She finally answers with an exhale.] That is what you are. And it comes naturally to you.
[He does not need to ask for it to become so. People will follow him, as she has seen here, and in the past as Lord Commander.]
I suppose you may never be rid of that, but... is the difference now not that you've a right hand to help do some of that lifting? [A pause, and a rueful smile pulls at one corner of her lips.] And she is quite adamant about doing so. Stubbornly so.
[She is no longer his charge, does not need to hide behind him in the face of trouble but rather, stand beside him. And that does not even count all the others who would do the very same, she thinks.
And before he can object or say anything to contradict her, she continues.]
There was nothing inadequate about today, Cidolfus. Quit thinking that you must still do everything in order to make any difference. You will only tire yourself.
[The only inadequacy today, as far as she is concerned, is her own.]
[His lips purse, that instinct to reject almost immediate, but he holds back because he knows how much her wanting to help really means to her... And he knows he would say the same thing to her. Has said the same if not similar.
He really should listen, yet there is still that box that carries the biggest weight of all.]
I know you're right... As you have been every time this has come up.
[She can sense it... that hesitation to accept what she is trying to tell him, and it makes her expression fall, crumpling with some hurt of her own. A worry that she still is not enough to help pull him out of this spiral that he finds himself in so often...]
[She doesn't flinch, her expression not once faltering or changing when he meets her eyes and says those words. She doesn't because she always knew that she had some part to play in it, or rather, a large one, and that makes the guilt squeeze at her heart again.]
Was it not you who saved me from those ghosts that tried to take me? And was it not you who pulled me free from Ultima's clutches that day? ... Was it not you who had found me when we arrived in this world?
[She knows what that is like, feeling helpless in saving oneself. All of those times, and the dozens of others that she could not still cling to her like those nasty thorns that they keep trying to disentangle themselves from, but she cannot stand to see him still there.]
[A beat of heavy silence, and then another, and another.]
... No, it does not.
[Neither of them could ever hope to change what had happened to them back in Valisthea, both together and apart.]
Nothing that we ever do will change what happened. [Her own voice carries the weight of her regrets, especially those that came to light in her final moments before she gave up her control to Garuda.] So what are we to do about that?
[A low exhale as he closes his eyes, knowing full well what the answer should be yet still having trouble accepting it for himself. Just like she's having the same troubles.
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Because you want to change, and that's not a bad thing.
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[Even now, when she has someone to take her by the hand and guide her through it. She remains ever stubborn in some ways, but she had been so set in her ways for so long that even when she wants to change something, it does not prove to be so easy.]
You have rubbed off on me far too much.
[It is said fondly, with a soft brush of her nose against his.]
I just do not want what Ultima said to be the truth of it. I do not want him to be right about me. About us...
[Because what does a god know?]
But more than that, I... I am tired of seeing you be hurt on my account. [Anger rises in her like bile in the back of her throat, and for half a second, she lets it get the best of her.] Founders, I could not even heal you today, Cidolfus...
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[His voice is soft as his hand sweeps through her hair, his lips brushing against hers.]
And you used everything you had.
[And yes he knows his own words could be applied to himself.]
And regardless what you think, I still trust and believe in you. [A regretful smile.] Just like you do in me.
I really would not be here without you, Benna.
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You are too much... but I am sure you already know that.
[His trust and unwavering faith in her after all that they have been through... She knows that it took some time for them both to get here, but the fact that it weighs so much upon her now makes her buckle beneath it, not quite sure what to do with herself when it does.]
... And what of you, hm? You place so much faith in me, but you still cannot do the same for yourself.
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I know I am being hypocritical. But I also feel responsible for putting you in these positions so many times now. Had I been able to act sooner, you wouldn't have been driven into such a corner.
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You say that as if we ever have a say in these matters... In harbouring these burdens. Or that you are to blame.
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...Like you, it's just hard to accept.
[There's defeat and resignation in his voice, still unable to quite look at her.]
And if there is one thing that woman said that was right, it was my age...and what it could mean.
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What could it mean? What did she say that made you think that?
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It's not so much what she said and more of being reminded of how things were before my death.
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[It's a gentle, coaxing plea, softened by the way her hand brushes over the curve of his jaw to then rest on his cheek, but there is a hardness in her voice beneath it. An edge that she would gladly sharpen against that woman's throat if she had the chance to again.
There is so much about those days leading up to his death that she does not quite understand. She knows what happens, and he has explained the events to her, but not much is understood on her part of how he felt...]
I want to understand.
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Everything that now has been clawed up and forced to face after all those years of brushing it off.
And even now, as discomforting and unpleasant as it is, it's not as if he feels a crushing weight or fear or some kind of crisis. It's more frustration, a more acute awareness of this weakness of his.
But how to explain all of this in a way that won't have her fearing more for his well-being? Without upsetting her as he dredges up those hardships? He doesn't want her to pity him, not out of pride, but solely because he doesn't want to see her hurting for him. Hurting for a time where she could not be with him and thus potentially make her feel unneeded guilt.
Yet she is practically pleading for him to share with her, she always has. And eventually he can't resist her heartfelt attempts to make up for that lost time.
So there will be a long sigh of defeat before he slowly starts to speak.]
You already know how advanced my curse was by then... How even just semi-priming would leave me breathless and coughing blood.
The truth is, even if only my arm had started to turn, the worst of the damage was internal. I was still physically fit, but it was starting to take its toll.
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But the number of times he has done it for her she cannot count, but just as he wants to take care of her, she wants to do the same. So when he finally starts to explain, defeated sigh or no, she lets out her own small one with relief.]
And did that make you feel inadequate here?
[There is no way that she cannot feel guilty for it, just like he would never not when it comes to her. That wish to do more will always be there and, given how things had ended between them in their world, she cannot say it's surprising.]
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It did, aye. I know I shouldn't let it, but I had barely anything left by the end of it all. And now, here, where I can do more than before it still wasn't enough.
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Why must you always feel you need to do everything on your own?
[Hypocritical, that, because she often does the same thing... but here, he had no choice. He was not given that chance, and even she can admit that the ghost that had taken him over had been a strong one. She does not know how, but it definitely did take both of them to get rid of it.
But how long had he been trying to walk forward with all of that weight on his shoulders?]
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[A small, weak smile as he knows that doesn't hold much weight.]
Or perhaps I've worn the mantle of "Lord Commander" for so long I don't know how else to be.
[Not just the title, but all the weight and responsibilities that came with it. He may have discarded it when he left Waloed, but he took on another title, still maintained his role as "leader" as he formed the Hideaway and gathered new people to lead. And it's not as if these were conscious decisions, not entirely, at least. It was more instinctual, natural.
Hell, isn't he still doing it here, even if to a much lesser and relaxed degree?
These are all things he may have thought about on occasion, but never really thought to deeply over, perhaps knowing if he did he would feel like he does now.
And this isn't even touching the giant box with her name on it still remaining to be unpacked.]
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[It's offered quietly, a soft mumble under a breath. And it's not like he can say or do anything that would stop her from doing so. Not anymore.
She is quiet for a while longer, her expression muted but thoughtful and worried, as she continues to trace her fingers over his face.]
A leader... [She finally answers with an exhale.] That is what you are. And it comes naturally to you.
[He does not need to ask for it to become so. People will follow him, as she has seen here, and in the past as Lord Commander.]
I suppose you may never be rid of that, but... is the difference now not that you've a right hand to help do some of that lifting? [A pause, and a rueful smile pulls at one corner of her lips.] And she is quite adamant about doing so. Stubbornly so.
[She is no longer his charge, does not need to hide behind him in the face of trouble but rather, stand beside him. And that does not even count all the others who would do the very same, she thinks.
And before he can object or say anything to contradict her, she continues.]
There was nothing inadequate about today, Cidolfus. Quit thinking that you must still do everything in order to make any difference. You will only tire yourself.
[The only inadequacy today, as far as she is concerned, is her own.]
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He really should listen, yet there is still that box that carries the biggest weight of all.]
I know you're right... As you have been every time this has come up.
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... But?
[She knows it's there.]
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If I can't save myself, how can I save anyone else? Do I really have enough to support the ones who are trying to help me?
[His eyes then meet hers, the hidden meaning clear.]
To help you?
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Was it not you who saved me from those ghosts that tried to take me? And was it not you who pulled me free from Ultima's clutches that day? ... Was it not you who had found me when we arrived in this world?
[She knows what that is like, feeling helpless in saving oneself. All of those times, and the dozens of others that she could not still cling to her like those nasty thorns that they keep trying to disentangle themselves from, but she cannot stand to see him still there.]
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But I...
[But that's the rub, the shackle that will never leave him. A fear that will chase him born from a reality he can't run away from.]
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But you what...?
[She presses her lips together, stifling the urge to frown at him.]
Tell me.
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...It doesn't change what happened.
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... No, it does not.
[Neither of them could ever hope to change what had happened to them back in Valisthea, both together and apart.]
Nothing that we ever do will change what happened. [Her own voice carries the weight of her regrets, especially those that came to light in her final moments before she gave up her control to Garuda.] So what are we to do about that?
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It's why he doesn't want to be like this.]
What do you think we should do?
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💚💜 fin.