escordvi | closed 🪶 i'm in the end, just what you made me.

[It's not satisfactory at all, but Benedikta does not have it in her to scream that at him. Her throat hurts, and her chest hurts more, these sobs making it difficult to say anything at all. And while they have started to soften some, moved on to something weaker and quieter, they have yet to cease completely.

If anything...]

Is that all you have to say?

[Just "all right"? She is not looking for an apology, nor is she looking for sympathy. She has spent years wishing he would simply stop talking, that he would stop with his speeches and his lectures about good, about wanting to build a different world, but now, when it actually matters, all he has to say is "all right"?

It isn't good enough for her. It's so fucking infuriating, but then again, what even is? He's right—what is he supposed to do and say that will console her? She could tell him to prove himself, that his words are not enough for her to trust that he will not pull something like that again, especially after she had made such grand strides in an effort to move herself a little closer to that line that she draws between them, but what good will that do? Even she knows that it's an empty promise until he actually does something about it.

But it's made her pull back, and now she's stuck again...]

What does that mean?

What can I say?

[Because he knows anything he says whether his own thoughts or to try and comfort her will just be met with more anger and yelling.

So really, what can he say? And would he even want to right now?]

You were right and all I can do is try and change things. Just know it's not going to be easy for me, just like it's not easy for you. Doesn't mean I won't try, but it's not something that will happen overnight.

[Just like he knows she can't change overnight.]

[Her shoulders rise... and then fall with a cross between a sob and a sigh. Relief? Frustration? Both? She has no idea—she is a whole damn mess of emotions right now and she is ashamed that he is seeing her this way. Stronger... she wanted to be stronger... to prove to him that she didn't need him, yet here she is begging him to stay. Begging him to stop putting himself in harm's way because she does, she does, she does need him.

She wishes that she didn't.

She wishes that she could spin around in his arms and tell him this was all a ruse—a lie to prove a point, but the thought of him not being here? Not being in this world when nothing else remains that is familiar to her makes her whole world off kilter, everything crooked and messy and utterly terrifying.

She does turn in his arms, though not to slap him or to spit his feelings back out at him. She's silent, her eyes as red and swollen as they have been all week as she searches his expression. Tries to look deep to find the truth, and whether this is it. There is anger there still, and it may never fully disappear, but it is nothing compared to the fear that swirls around in her gaze.

Her lips part to say something, but at first, nothing comes out but a small, stifled sob that rattles in her chest.

What is she supposed to say to that? She doesn't have any answers for him either. In the end, they are both stuck in similar boats. Being pushed back, and needing to take those steps forward, back to that line that they keep themselves at... but not knowing how to do it.

Not knowing what to say, what to do, how to do it. They have been so bruised, so broken by each other for so long that they have forgotten what it means to be there for each other when they need them most.

He has forgotten how to stand on his own, just like she has her own.

And while they couldn't be more different, his for the sake of others and Benedikta for herself, at the end of the day, what is the difference?

At the end of the day, what is it all for?]

You are the last thing...

[He could stand here and call her selfish all he wants for this, but it is the truth.]

Edited 2023-11-22 01:10 (UTC)

[What she'll find is that rare glimpse of the usual stalwart, strong man now weary, worn out, hurting, and at a loss. Vulnerable. And seeking her as much as she's seeking him.

Slowly he lifts his hand, palm cupping her face to brush his thumb over those tear trails. How many times has he done this now? How many times has he made her cry...? Does he even deserve this?

And yet—]

...So are you.

[He has other people. He has Mid. He didn't love them any less didn't treasure or want to protect them any less than her. They were all important to him. Important enough to risk his life so they could live in a better place—with or without him.

Yet...

It would be a lie to say Benedikta didn't play such a large part in what he does. From the moment she told him she wanted to die as a human, to her words that she wanted to be free of it all. Even before their first kiss, he knew what he wanted to do.

He wanted to change things.

For her, for them, for everyone.

She was that starting point and when he failed and failed and failed and failed—he was saving everyone else, yet he couldn't save the one person he wanted most. Had to watch her die before he could show her everything. Before he could even tell her the truth.

And so, with his own time ticking, he became desperate. He was too late for her, he refused to be too late for everyone else. Yet that wasn't the only reason. When she died, he felt it—that last part of him crumbling and disappearing into the aether. He still had his responsibilities, his people, good reasons to keep going for what little time he had left. And he did, he did not think less of them.

But he still lost that core reason. Lost the spark that started everything.]

You are the first... And the last. My last thing.

[So if he lost her again, before he can show her freedom before she has that chance to live, he has no idea what he will do.]

[It's hard not to remember their first moments together, nor their last when he says that, and for a moment, there is that distant look in her eyes as she is thrown into her past, into the memories that she has long since locked away.

Memories of his hand reaching for hers, grabbing hold of it even when she flinched away. The days following when she could feel herself losing her grip on her Eikon and being terrified of what that might mean for her... just like she is now.

It was the day that she had told him.....

All the days they spent with their noses in books, or with swords in their hands, Benedikta learning everything from him. Their first kiss, their first night together when she trembled like a leaf, not sure of what she was doing. But it was necessary... for a mission... and she still found herself falling in love.

She remembers their last night together in Waloed. And then... that confused look on his face atop the Caer when Garuda had been taken. That stupid pitiful face of his that she had tried to claw off that night out of pure defeat and rage because fighting him was easier than wishing for him back.

His first...

His last...

She never thought herself as either. She was only a thorn in his side, and she had been proud of that, for a time. She found satisfaction within the frustrated wrinkle of his brow; in the way he looked so hurt when she had said all those things to him...

She doesn't deserve the way that he caresses those tears away, she doesn't deserve the way he touches her, looks at her. She hates that he gives it so freely, and even more that she takes and takes, greedily scrambling for it when he does when she can only give so much in return. Not because she doesn't want to, but because she doesn't know how. She doesn't know how to love him anymore...

So when he says things like this, so broken and so beat, so vulnerable, she doesn't know what to say. What to do except slam her eyes shut and pray that the tears stop.

Except she doesn't do that.

Maybe once, she would have. A week ago, maybe she would have.

But there is something violent that swells in her chest and sends her crashing forward until her tears wet his cheeks and her lips are pressed to his.]

[He can only watch her with somewhat bated breath, wondering again if he said too much...or too little. For anyone else he always felt so sure about what to do, but with her he's always thrown into this strange sea of unknowing. So desperate he is now to rectify all those mistakes, those failures, that he loses his sure footing. Questioning things over and over.

Yet just as she's the one who throws him into that storm, she's also the one who pulls him out of it when she gives him those signs, be it to tell him he's wrong or if he's right.

And as she throws herself at him and his arms pull her tight around her as he meets her kiss with as much force and desperation, he knows.

It's jagged, it's ugly, it's painful, it's madness—but it's right.]

[Jagged, ugly, painful, mad...

But it's theirs. All of it is theirs. Like the wind pushes the storm, and the storm draws it in, Benedikta is drawn right to him, her hands cradling the back of his head as she holds him as fast to her as he does to him. She cannot explain it in words, the things that she feels right now, and the next best thing is this, her lips carrying upon them all of the unspoken things that she is too afraid to say and hoping that he will understand the message she is trying to convey.

How terrified she was that she almost lost him. How angry she is that he was too stubborn to listen. How scared and lost she is.

Most importantly, how much she needs him, now more than ever.

She always has, but never knew just how much until her whole world came crashing down around her, and the only thing that was left standing in the middle of it all...

Was him.]

I need you...

[A soft plea murmured between biting kisses—]

I'm scared, Cidolfus...

[—before she kisses him again, trying to quiet Garuda's screeching in her head.]

You have me.

[He returns her pleas with his own low voice of assurances, words he's spoken before...

But now they have a different meaning. Now she'll really have him, where he won't just run off recklessly. It will be hard, it will take time, but it's a start. A very important start to try and change at least some of his old way of thinking.]

I won't let you go again.

[Won't let her suffer anymore, won't let her get hurt, won't die—

It's his turn to have that swell of emotions that pushes back against her, unable to properly word or convey the depths of those feelings, those secret truths he could never tell her for fear of her being crushed under that weight. How his hands grab and feel any part of her, as if afraid she could disappear right then and there.

So she wouldn't let him go.]

[The kiss deepens into something more fierce, every kind of emotion that she has to give him spilling forth as she pushes back with her lips, staggering into him and knowing that his arms will catch her when her knees begin to buckle under the weight of them all.

She had nothing. Truly and utterly nothing. Barnabas was gone, her life was taken from her, her men axed by bandits. She could say she had Garuda, but what good is she when the last time that she had taken over, those winds had been Benedikta's death toll, and now that she is back, she is more terrified than ever of her power, of losing that control...

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing...

Except him.

The only one who would hold her hand when she couldn't walk on her own. The one who would tell her to step foot outside of that cage and spread her wings. Who would quiet the screaming even for a little while. Who would hold her when she became that small, scared girl again rather than shy away, rather than pity her, rather than lecture her...

And, as if to answer his own silent wish, Benedikta's arms wrap around him tighter, clinging to him like he is her lifeline in the middle of a raging storm trying to drown her beneath. He always has been her lightning rod, but now...

Now, she just wants him to be the flashes of levin that will light her way and guide her to safety.

It will be a long flight for her, just like it will be for him, but if they can pick up the pieces that have long laid scattered across that shore, then she could not weather that storm without him.

She breaks from the kiss, needing air, and rests her forehead on his.]

...I don't know what to do...

[Where to go. How to navigate this new life that has been thrust upon her.]

Neither do I.

[For himself, for her—he thought he knew, but can he really say for certain he does anymore?]

But we'll figure it out.

[He kisses her gently over the lips.]

Together.

[No sidelining from his end. No trying to make those decisions for either of them alone. They've done that to each other and to themselves for too long, and right now they really need to work together to figure each other out.]

[Her hand slips around from behind his head, sliding over his shoulder until it rests on his chest, her palm pressing firmly to where his heart beats under her fingers.]

No more, Cidolfus...

[Her fingers tighten, nails digging into the leather of his shirt as if she means to tear his heart out herself as she kisses him fiercely again. If only so that she could fold her wings around it and protect it in the only way that she knows how, clutching it in her claws, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.

She is done losing things. That regret from their years past is so very real now, gripping her tighter and tighter until she's out of air. She is done letting things go. And more than that, she is done being tossed aside for another, for morals, for the good of others. If he wants her to survive, then he needs to do the same for her.]

[He doesn't answer—not with words, anyway. Instead he lifts her up high so she can wrap her legs around him as he continues to kiss her with equal parts passion and need. Where words failed them, there was always one thing that worked.

And so, with her in his arms like this, he makes their way to her room, where they will both collapse onto her bed...]

[Finally.

Finally, she is in his arms, and he in hers as they wrap around his shoulders when he lifts her, her legs doing the same, locking at his waist for support. Her lips never break from his, not even for air, while he carries her to her room, meeting his passion with her own.

Words always fail her. They get tangled on her tongue, her heart finding a way to pull them back down into her throat where they get caught and eventually die. No one ever taught her how to convey her feelings, no one ever taught her that it was okay to do it. That it was okay to feel anything other than fear or anger, and that she could speak her mind and her heart freely because there would always be a consequence...

There had been a spark of something brighter in her life once, but it was always suffocated by the desert sands and the darkness that would eventually come for it to snuff it out completely.

So, she had no choice but to steel herself against it.

But there is one thing that Benedikta can do. One language that she can speak, and that is in the way that she pulls at his clothes until they fall away from his shoulders. It's in the way that she touches him and reacts to his touch in turn. It's in the way her body moves over and under his and together with his, so naturally, so easily, as if they were not desperate to relearn every little thing about each other in the time that they have.

Her prayers and her promises, all wrapped up into the way that she sobs his name, quietly at first, as she hides her face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent until it is all she knows. Her wishes voiced beneath the loud cries as he brings them closer and closer to that edge, that peak that is higher than any they have reached together thus far, until their feverish, brutal pitch sends them crashing to the ground, their fall broken only by each other's arms, Benedikta trembling in the aftershocks of it all.

A language that she knows only because it was him who she learned it from. Him who had taught her, and every word of it committed to memory even long after he was out of her bed. Him, who would be the only one who knew how to make her ascend high enough to see the stars and the levin dancing together.

A language that only he understands from her.

And when all is said and done, loudly and clearly and several times, Benedikta lays collapsed in his arms, the sweat clinging to her skin and her lungs scrambling for air. She find a moment to breathe out with a sigh before she buries her face into his neck, pressing kisses and loving the way his scruff brushes and scrapes against her cheek.]

[There's a point where he'll have to question whether them always going down this path is healthy.

Today is not that point.

There were still things they needed to discuss and figure out, but Benedikta had been pulled through the wringer too many times. He could feel it in the way she clung desperately to him, hear it in her sobs and cries.

And now as he once again holds her with her warmth melding into his, he just closes his eyes and keeps that arm close around her as he focuses on those kisses at first, resisting that temptation to once more capture her lips. Because if he did...

...

He should let her rest.

He will, however, turn his head slightly so that he could brush his lips against the top of her head like he always loved to do. Let her scent fill him and just let himself be content for a little while.

At least this time he doesn't have to worry about her running away.

This time he knows she will stay with him.]

[Even if she wanted to run, where would she go? Whose arms would she fly into knowing that they would open to catch her? The only person who ever did, would, and could is right here, keeping her anchored to him so that she can't.

He kisses the top of her head with his arm wrapped around her like this, their worn out bodies tangled together like this, and she, too, is forced to bite down the urge to take his lips with hers instead.

Her head falls to his shoulder and she lets her eyes shut, her finger still tracing sleepy lines up and down his chest. She breathes in gently, listens, and sighs again.]

...It's quiet...

[The screeches in her head, the whispers are gone. Benedikta can still feel her there, but this is the first time in days when her thoughts were not fighting with Garuda's, struggling to distinguish the two.

And rather than scare her, it's something of a relief... so much that she doesn't realize she's spoken until she hears her own voice, but she doesn't feel all that inclined to take it back.]

[He could possibly fall asleep like this, but at her words—]

Mm?

[A low, languid questioning hum that she will feel the vibrations of as he tilts his head just so. It seems to be an odd thing to say.]

What is?

[She very well could, too, and she had started to drift off when she noticed.]

... Garuda.

[Just a quiet answer back, her finger stopping and starting the motions on his chest as she gives it.

But there is no screaming, no rattling, no whispers, no objections. Just... silence... An odd, deafening silence.]

[Well that wakes him up a bit, brows furrowing as he opens his eyes and looks at her.]

Garuda? What, is it screeching at you?

[He's never really heard of the Eikons speaking to their Dominants before, least of all his though sometimes he would have appreciated whatever insight Ramuh could give him. But he can scarcely imagine what Garuda might sound like.]

Edited 2023-11-22 18:36 (UTC)

[She doesn't look at him when she feels his eyes on her, and she almost wants to curl up against him and hide in shame.]

Something like that.

[Her brow furrows, and her fingers start to shake.]

She has been loud since the gallows. My aether... it's... like when I...

[Her voice trails off, and though she doesn't dare utter those words, she has no doubt he'll pick up on what she's laying down.

Like when she had first awakened as a Dominant... and then the last time that she did.]

I had no idea...

[Slowly he strokes the back of her hair, no need for her to say more.]

Has it just been... Then and now? What does she tell you?

Nothing important.

[It's not technically a lie — she would ignore Garuda if she could, turn off her voice if she could — but it isn't the full truth either.

She shrieks and beats at her ribs and says things that makes Benedikta doubt herself in all aspects. Tells her to take and take, and then destroy. Especially when it comes to him.]

But yes. More now than before.

[Her voice goes low and quiet, and she presses her face closer into his neck. ]

But she has stopped.

[...Hm.]

Are you feeling calmer now?

[If it's connected to her aether...]

[Just a slow nod without much else.]

With you...

[She is. With him, she can't hear her quite as clearly. With him, she can breathe without Garuda taking up all the space in her lungs.]

She is there, Cidolfus. Awake, and angry.

[And the way that her voice trails off implies more that she isn't saying.

That she's terrified of what might happen if she slips.]

[He can tell there is something more...

And he thinks back to when he first found her, with the damage caused by the explosion of wind that had happened after she first awakened. That time was not unexpected as most awakenings to be violent—his included. He still remembers the storm of lightning that struck down everything around him and the initial terror he felt from the surge of power that came with it. It was the only time he ever felt he might have heard Ramuh's rumblings...but never again.

So hearing she heard Garuda then isn't so surprising, but to now hear she heard her again...when she primed before her death, and then again at the gallows and after...

There's a connection to all of them: stress, anxiety, fear. Perhaps an act for survival. That would also make sense as the Eikon wouldn't want their vessel to die so easily.

Even he would feel that "pulse" or "nudge" from Ramuh from time to time, a call to prime when things were dire. Usually his own thought processes are in sync so he doesn't feel it as often anymore, and he never heard or felt much of him in this world. But when Benedikta almost primed back at the execution grounds, he did. He felt that warning pulse, and it's then he knew for certain Ramuh was there... Just silent like always.

But could there be more to it? Of the Eikons, Garuda always seemed the more... Impulsive. Not only that, Benedikta seems more bothered by it.

Awake. Angry, she says.]

Well if you end up priming, chances are you'll be a cute little harpy bird.

[A small attempt to lighten things a little, but he's not trying to brush it off, either.]

But you say she's quiet around me... And she's quiet now.

[A bit of pause before he says with dead seriousness:]

Maybe the sex helps?

[LOOK THE HARPY IS ANGRY AND SHE'S QUIET AFTER THEY DO IT IT'S HARD NOT TO THINK THERE'S SOME CONNECTION THERE.]

Edited 2023-11-23 02:56 (UTC)

[She slaps him on the chest. Hard.

For both those comments.

Before she lifts her head with a deep, deep pout.]

Cidolfus—!

[A few lingering moments of her staring at him before she lowers her gaze again, but remains propped up on her elbow beside him, that frown turning into one that's more pensive because he does bring up a good point, even if he could have gone about it a different way. She's certainly no prude—the least of them all—but with Garuda stirring so much, she needs him to take this more seriously. Treat this more delicately...]

Perhaps.

[She offers that with a tip of her head.

Part of why Benedikta was so quick to go to him, to kiss him now was because she knew that it would hush the Eikon's relentless taunting, only for as long as he was with her, and even then, but if she could escape it for even a moment, then she would take it.

Now, her head drops to his chest, facing away from him.]

... I don't like it. She mocks me.

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