voidgates | IC Inbox

((after this...))

[ Depending on the time, he might have to wait for Summer to make it home or might have to come home himself, but he waits until things are reasonably quiet. Then he goes over to her, picks her up, and carries her over to the couch to sit with her on his lap. He rests his chin on her shoulder, one arm around her waist, quiet for a moment as he sorts through all the things he thought he might like to say and finding them all wanting. ]

[Well. It's not as though this particular course of action comes entirely unexpected, given the givens, but still, being picked up and carried with no preamble is still worthy of an: ]

Eep!

[But. Far be it from her to put words in Ezar's mouth, or to guess at what this might be concerning without letting him find his thoughts in his own time. So for the time being, she simply lets herself be cuddled, accepting that her studies will wait patiently on the desk to be resumed another time.]

[ He probably should have fully sorted his thoughts before picking up Summer, but... he thought he had. It's just none of them ended up feeling right when he sat down with her.

Finally, he takes her hand, very gently, sliding his palm under hers. There is part of him that wants very much to search for the hurt that Marcel mentioned, though what he would do then, he's not sure. He sighs softly against her shoulder. ]

Please tell me when you're hurt.

I would have told you if it was bad.

[Which is not actually an answer to what he asked, and she doesn't pretend that it is. But it's also not one of Summer's classic dodges, because it isn't long before she circles back around to it — just, it seems, something she considered more important to get out of the way first.]

I told Marcel because he would have blamed himself if I didn't. You and Raha don't like it when I get hurt, but it doesn't...hurt you.

[But then, after a longer pause, she finally finishes with: ]

I didn't want to have to talk about it. I thought I could just pretend it was over and past.

[ He remains silent as she completes her verbal circle, simply listening. Idly, he curls his fingers loosely in, turns his hand so that her palm rests on his knuckles.

He could argue with it not hurting either he or G'raha, though no doubt it does in a different way than for Marcel. But that seems beside the point, strangely. Being hurt, one way or another, was an inevitability.

So all he asks, quietly, is: ]

Did it work?

Did what work.

[She lifts her hand, making a sort of offhand motion that showcases neatly the lack of a ring on her hand. Her fingers don't move with quite the ease that they might have otherwise; it's still stiff and mending, for all that the healers she'd sought out did good work to keep it from scarring.]

What I did to cause this? Aye. I got what I w— what I must've wanted.

Mmm. No. Did pretending it was over and past work.

[ He watches the movement of her fingers, eyes half closed. The distant echo of that stiffness, he feels, inescapable as close as they are. It's all too easy to find his breath moving with hers, the sympathy of it nearly automatic. ]

...A little.

[She's quiet again. This time there's a little more tension in it, her breathing a little more hitched. Like she's warring with herself over something, before finally coming to a conclusion.]

Tis the same pretending I do every time I see Haurchefant hale and whole, here.

[ He frowns, his arm tightening around her a little. ]

...did something happen to Haurchefant? Back home.

[ Since obviously he's just fine, here. But... he knows that tone of voice, already feeling dread at it. ]

[It's not a secret. Everyone knows what happened to Haurchefant. It's nothing close to a betrayal to mention it to someone who doesn't know, not when everyone knows, not when he could have heard it from anyone. Not when it's not a secret.

It still feels like something she has to wrench out of her own chest, reluctance bitter in her mouth. Ezar's name isn't a secret either and it's still not hers to give out. But this...this, she can't explain without it. She can't make clear what it was, without the foundation of what had already been.]

He died protecting the Warrior of Light.

[She swallows hard.]

Among the whole lot of us, it seems to be...one of the things that never changes. Not for any of us.

[ There are many things he notices in those few simple sentences. That she says the Warrior of Light and not me. That this is something he is learning from Summer, not from Haurchefant himself, and he immediately feels a pang of regret at that.

It isn't a secret, as such, he thinks, because nearly everyone here knows it. They are all Warriors of Light and he is not. But death is such a personal thing, perhaps the most personal of things. How would he feel, for his death to be spoken of behind his back in such a fashion? He doesn't know. How will it feel to Haurchefant, the next time he sees the man, for there to be something different in his eyes, his smile, because he knows this truth?

Perhaps he might wish to deny this, but he knows it is all too easy for good men to die, as easy as it is for mediocre men like him to die. Death is not a question of justice. But what little he knows of Haurchefant, it hurts all the same, to think that light gone of the world. He is someone who is no doubt missed, and for good cause. ]

Does he know? Like I do.

[ Does Haurchefant know he's dead? He's not certain what he hopes the answer to be. ]

I think so. He must — someone must've told him, surely, after the first time one or all of us got upset at the sight of him. Or mayhap he already knows of his own accord. I've not told him I'm the Warrior of Light, I don't — I don't want to put expectations on him. I'm not his Warrior. It's no different than the others who remember Raha, but he's not their Raha.

[If she sounds a little bit extra possessive when she says that, it's only because of the mood she's in, melancholy as it is. Raha is hers, hers, hers. Someone once took him away, too.]

What I did...is what I wish I'd done to the bastard who hurt Haurchefant the last time. What I should have done. Well, now I did.

[ Softly: ] Or mayhap he remembers it happening.

[ As Ezar does. He woke here knowing that he was already gone. Part of him wants to talk to Haurchefant about that, specifically. There are so few people who have that experience--just him and Alfonse that he'd known of so far--but he immediately dismisses the idea. It's too personal.

It's a strange and terrible brotherhood to want to welcome someone into. ]

Good. I'm glad you did.

[ It isn't vengeance, and it isn't stopping what happened, but it's... something. And strangely, makes him feel better as well, knowing Summer would do the same for him. ]

Did you think I'd be angry?

Edited 2022-09-11 04:14 (UTC)

...A burned hand is little enough price to pay.

[But even that, she knows, is neither right nor fair. To have vented her residual guilt and frustrations onto the bloodstone that attacked Haurchefant is, at best, unjust — and outright vengeful at worst. And yet it's hard to regret, and she's never claimed to be one who puts righteousness over her feelings for the people she cares about.]

My ring is broken, though. I'll have to make another.

Mmmm. [ A small enough price for this time, things to turn out differently. He can't find it in himself to disagree, not in this situation.

He'd do the same for her in a heartbeat, and he doesn't carry the weight of her having already died once.

The question he asks next is soft, nonjudgmental. ]

Did you think I'd be angry with you?

[ Because this isn't the first time she's avoided things like this. He thinks, of course, to the second time they'd met, when she'd basically cornered him into synching with her because she didn't want to tell G'raha she was doing poorly. ]

I thought you'd want to know what happened. And then I'd have to explain. It wouldn't — it wouldn't be enough to just say it was fine, and leave it at that.

[She sighs, ducking her head as she closes her eyes.]

Because then I'd have to explain about Haurchefant dying to save me, and that's too close to a memory for you. It's just a burned hand. It could just go away, and be fine, and no one would have to get hurt or upset or melancholy about it. It could be nothing but a burned hand.

[ He's silent for a long time, mulling over what she says. Which is all right, he thinks, since by this point Summer is well aware that he doesn't think very quickly.

It makes him feel better to think that she had come at it from a place of wanting to protect him from that ever-present sadness, not because she wanted to avoid how he might act toward her. Though there is of course that understandable self-protection, of not wanting to have to retread a difficult and painful memory for the sake of explaining things.

He turns his hand under hers again, slowly stroking her palm with his fingers. ]

I think...

When I say that I don't want to or can't talk about something, you and Raha respect that and don't make me talk about it. So if you tell me you don't want to answer a question or talk about something, I owe you the same, to not try to make you talk.

I would simply... rather not find out about it from other people, that you got hurt. And that seems almost inevitable here, when you've so many people who care about you. I'd rather know so I can take care of you, even if you don't want to tell me the why of it.

[ That is the easiest part. The next is harder. ]

I... don't think you can protect me, from mourning everything I've lost, though I know you do it because you don't like to see me hurting. But it's a lot of hurt, and maybe this time I just have to feel all of it before I can come out the other side and find a way to be right with how things are now.

[ Because ignoring all of a different but also deep pain had... not done him a lot of good, and he's finally starting to see it. ]

[She listens quietly, letting him get his thoughts out in his own time; when he's finished, it's her own chance to be reflective. Since they're making their confessions and finding their catharsis, she might as well unearth some of hers.]

I've hidden worse, you know. And for longer. When I was on the First, carrying enough Light to bring about an Umbral Calamity...

[She glances, almost ruefully, toward her hand.]

Tis funny to think, now, that Raha is the only one I told. I thought I was confiding in someone who wouldn't fuss and make a scene of it. To think, looking back, of who I was really telling it to...

[She goes quiet.]

One of the last things my Haurchefant ever said to me was, "a smile better suits a hero". So I just...smile. And keep smiling. I know that doesn't make it good or right, I'm just...trying to explain. So you'll know how it is.

I know.

[ She's told him about holding all the light; that it's something that has come up more than once in conversations tells him how much it must still plague her, how frightening it must be. He squeezes her a bit more tightly.

Ezar sees the wry humor in expecting Raha of all people to not make a fuss out of things. Unlike him, he knows Summer has extracted no promises from the man about attempting to keep things low key. That gets a quiet chuckle from him, an affectionate joke shared.

But curiously, it's what she tells him last that gets the greatest response, something beyond concern and affection. A smile better suits a hero. And while he knows Haurchefant well enough to perhaps understand what was behind those words, they still... infuriate him. Perhaps because he has begun to understand how little Summer wants to be a hero; he doesn't have the full measure of her difficult relationship with being the Warrior of Light, but he remembers well how she first tried to keep it from him, how she hastens always to downplay it. No doubt for many reasons, but...

In this moment, if Haurchefant were here--and not already injured--he'd probably punch the man.

He angles his face to nudge Summer's chin lightly with his nose, wishing he had a better capability with words. ]

Aye. I understand. But... you're not a hero. You're my mate.

[ He curls his fingers lightly, carefully around hers. ]

I see you.

I know you do. But that doesn't mean you don't still need me to be things. Live up to things.

[She sags a little in his arms, relaxing as he noses at her. Letting him hold her hand. Letting herself breathe and ignore the faint throb of pain still beating at the base of her finger, even now.]

When you get lost, you look to me to know what to do. To hold you together, or fit the pieces of you back together. And that means I can't fall apart, even if I'm lost or struggling too. I set all that aside and focus on you.

[She shrugs a little, ducking her head.]

Tis just another way of smiling, I expect.

[ His first reaction is disgust and frustration at himself, held carefully inward. That he is such a burden on her, and no doubt G'raha. But the things that are purely about him are his to deal with later.

Carefully, he sets that problem aside and refocuses on the point of the conversation. If that's what he has been doing, how he has been making her feel, it needs to stop. Because... ]

That isn't fair to you.

People... flatten and break when they have to be one thing all the time. When they have to be nothing but strong.

[ And perhaps that's why he's been leaning so hard on her and G'raha. It's ten years of being one thing unraveling all at once because he no longer has to be that thing, all of the little breakdowns stored away falling out of the mental closet he shoved them into.

It isn't fair. And it was selfishness on his part to not realize what he was doing. ]

It can't be just the one direction, where I lean on you and lean on you, and you don't lean back because I'm too... fragile.

[ He huffs a small laugh. ]

Also not fair to me if I'm the only one who gets in trouble for pretending I'm all right when I'm not. Just because I'm the one who's bad at pretending.

Are you? Fragile.

[If anything, she sounds almost curious — her voice soft and almost thoughtful as she considers the idea before pivoting slightly to try to look up at him.]

Are you strong enough that if I leaned on you, it wouldn't crack you in return? It does none of us any good to put more than you can bear onto you when you're still sorting out how to be right with things as it is. Maybe it's just...

[She considers, chewing the corner of her lip.]

I know what Raha can take. I've seen the things he's endured for me. And I know what I can take, the things I've done. I...I don't know if I know where your limit is.

[She laughs softly under her breath.]

Likely it didn't help that perception, either, when you used to always remind us that you were different and not special. Mayhap I just turned that into..."shouldn't have to bear as much", in my head.

You've seen some of what I've endured as well. And for no cause but the dead and my own debt.

[ Though is that entirely true? He supposes what she has seen of him acting for the living ended with his death. It's probably not an argument in his favor, in that light.

So there's that long silence from him again, thinking it slowly through. In a way, the question of that difference in power is best exemplified by finding himself standing next to Estinien. He knows that in many circumstances, his presence is superfluous; he is nothing compared to the former Azure Dragoon. Yet emotionally... they seem to have a lot in common.

He's still figuring it out, what all of this mean in this strange place they've come together in. Being so different in some ways and similar enough in others. And much of that struggle for him, perhaps, is because it's been so long since he was part of a community that wasn't simply his work. ]

I don't know. I think...

[ Considering this all from a new angle in real time... ]

When I have trouble making choices sometimes, it's because there is a real choice and not just me walking away to be by myself, and I'm still learning how to do that. Because you and Raha have made it possible for there to be a choice other than that.

And...I fall apart because it's... not that I'm utterly broken and can't hold myself together any more. It's that you and Raha have made it safe for me not be all right and keep walking.

You deserve to have that as well. From both of your mates.

...I want that, too.

[It feels like such a weighty thing to say, somehow. Not unlike the time it occurred to her to think about what she might want to do with her future, what possibilities might lie ahead of her beyond just saving the star as the Warrior of Light, and she'd realized that she could have one if she wanted — that some small sliver of her efforts to preserve the future for everyone else also meant preserving it for her, too.]

You might...need to remind me. More than once.

[She smiles softly.]

That the arms I have aren't just the ones attached. They're ones waiting to catch me, too.

[ He offers her a small but warm smile, leaning to kiss her softly on the corner of her mouth. ]

Think each one of use forgets more often than not and needs to be reminded, aye?

[ See: one Mr. G'raha Tia, infamous for his armless behavior. ]

I'll always catch you, love. I promise.

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