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divergentresolve2023-08-30 09:47 am
cryfrustration) wrote in divergentresolve2023-08-30 09:47 am
1332 AE - Jora's Keep, Bjora Marches
It's cold inside the keep, even when the storms of winter have been driven back and held at bay. Inside the barracks, even sitting right in front of the fire, there seems no way to get warm. The norn in this place feel it too. Despite all their customary resilience to frigid climes, Vrenille has caught more than one stamping their feet and rubbing their arms when they think no one's looking. And it's best, always, not to be looking--not to leave anyone feeling too looked at--not with tempers as brittle as dried out bones.
They've been here ten days. Maybe. It's gotten hard to keep track.
Ten days since Bangar vanished from the All Legions Rally, since Sesyria managed to secure release for Hakkyuu and Vrenille from the Grothmar Valley brig--the two of them along with Polemos, who'd refused to leave their side the whole time. Ten days...or maybe twelve now. The count is getting...strange. It's easy to get confused in this place.
Vrenille remembers clearly things that happened. Remembers sequence. Remembers (mostly) cause and effect. It's only duration that gets muzzy in his head, though muzzy has a way of bleeding through. Start to second guess one thing and you easily feel you need to second guess them all:
There'd been a scuffle. More of that One charr bullshit. A pair of humans drew easy attention, and even a charr companion at their side wasn't enough to take the crosshairs off them, especially not a charr so readily read as Olmakhan, no matter their heritage. Polemos was raised in the Legions, he knew what to do to deescalate, but the renegades egging each other on weren't interested in deescalation.
Maybe if the others had been there--the rest of the guild, their other charr allies--it would have been different. Maybe this all would have been different. But Hakkyuu and Vrenille could hold their own--they did hold their own--and when the guards arrived it was easy for the finger pointing to go the wrong way, make the targets look like the perpetrators. Bangar had stonewalled their release for days, but clearly they weren't the only ones.
By the time people realised how many rogue warbands had followed Bangar north, the whole assembly was in disarray and no one much cared about keeping detainees in the brig anymore.
Vrenille isn't sure anymore whether the call for relief teams in Bjora Marches came then or later, or when exactly he learned Almorra was missing, when he learned of the massacre here at the Keep. He remembers only that the cold had sunk in by then. But the cold, he thinks, started to sink in early.
They'd travelled here through a long alpine climb, the route wending its way north through dwarven ruins still held by the Stone Summit and towards Darkrime Delves along a path deeply rutted by the treads of tank tires. They were on the trail of Steel--tracking Vitrax who, after a drunken disagreement with Ghila and Havoc, had been seduced by prestige and promise (and probably one prototype TT6-B Devourer) into taking a recruitment offer they all suspected would end in his death.
There's no way Vrenille could say now whether it was mission creep or the sound of whispers that got him so turned around on what they're doing here: saving Vitrax from himself and his techno-romance temper tantrum, lending their aid to the relief mission called by the Vigil or to Jhavi in her attempt to pick up the pieces after Almorra's death, or something else completely.
And then Hakkyuu went out into the snow with a Vigil search team heading for the Aberrant Forest and none of them reported back after.
The world turned inside out. A voice slipped into the back of Vrenille's mind.
He lost track of how long they searched, how many times he found a guildmate's hand on his arm steering him back to the path when he started to drift, or how they moved together practically in a trance, snatching at moments of clarity like beacons to follow through a fog.
They had found bodies. So many bodies. The team Hakkyuu had left with, one by one, frozen in the snow, and sometimes worse--sometimes worse than frozen. More than once Vrenille believed they'd found him, thought he saw him there between the trees. He wasn't the only one who ran towards visions--hallucinations that weren't there. Mirages of the cold: he ought to know better. And in the end when they did find him, sunken eyed and cheeks hollowed with hunger, the voice whispered in Vrenille's mind.
He wants to kill you.
That was days ago. And the voice persists.
Hakkyuu's words have been disjointed, seeming nonsense, and now Vrenille doesn't know how many days it's been. But he knows that this morning he heard Kyinnlen and Sesyria speak, heard Kyinnlen raise the inevitable question: ought they not leave? They've lent what aid they can here. Hakkyuu is unwell, his mind assailed, his voice barely his own. Somewhere Vitrax is still out there, yes. No doubt the charr will want to push on. Perhaps, though, the guild ought to withdraw--heal, regroup, reassess, perhaps from back in Lion's Arch.
He overheard, and so did Hakkyuu, who he could hear interrupting them, having none of it. The conviction in his voice carried without Vrenille needing to see his face. He wouldn't countenance a retreat for his sake. (There, at least, he sounded clear--the voice of his old self, no ravings and no whispers. His will was firm: of course he wouldn't leave.)
Now, hours later, Vrenille sits in front of the fire at the Keep, a fur wrapped around his shoulders as he stares into the light dancing in the hearth and wishes he could get warm. It's easy from there, egged on by whispers, for thoughts to spiral, and it's only at several long moments delay that he registers Hakkyuu standing near him, having walked up while Vrenille was lost thinking...what? What was he thinking?
His head swivels towards him, blinking the world back into focus, "Hakkyuu?"
He wants to kill you.
"You all right?"
They've been here ten days. Maybe. It's gotten hard to keep track.
Ten days since Bangar vanished from the All Legions Rally, since Sesyria managed to secure release for Hakkyuu and Vrenille from the Grothmar Valley brig--the two of them along with Polemos, who'd refused to leave their side the whole time. Ten days...or maybe twelve now. The count is getting...strange. It's easy to get confused in this place.
Vrenille remembers clearly things that happened. Remembers sequence. Remembers (mostly) cause and effect. It's only duration that gets muzzy in his head, though muzzy has a way of bleeding through. Start to second guess one thing and you easily feel you need to second guess them all:
There'd been a scuffle. More of that One charr bullshit. A pair of humans drew easy attention, and even a charr companion at their side wasn't enough to take the crosshairs off them, especially not a charr so readily read as Olmakhan, no matter their heritage. Polemos was raised in the Legions, he knew what to do to deescalate, but the renegades egging each other on weren't interested in deescalation.
Maybe if the others had been there--the rest of the guild, their other charr allies--it would have been different. Maybe this all would have been different. But Hakkyuu and Vrenille could hold their own--they did hold their own--and when the guards arrived it was easy for the finger pointing to go the wrong way, make the targets look like the perpetrators. Bangar had stonewalled their release for days, but clearly they weren't the only ones.
By the time people realised how many rogue warbands had followed Bangar north, the whole assembly was in disarray and no one much cared about keeping detainees in the brig anymore.
Vrenille isn't sure anymore whether the call for relief teams in Bjora Marches came then or later, or when exactly he learned Almorra was missing, when he learned of the massacre here at the Keep. He remembers only that the cold had sunk in by then. But the cold, he thinks, started to sink in early.
They'd travelled here through a long alpine climb, the route wending its way north through dwarven ruins still held by the Stone Summit and towards Darkrime Delves along a path deeply rutted by the treads of tank tires. They were on the trail of Steel--tracking Vitrax who, after a drunken disagreement with Ghila and Havoc, had been seduced by prestige and promise (and probably one prototype TT6-B Devourer) into taking a recruitment offer they all suspected would end in his death.
There's no way Vrenille could say now whether it was mission creep or the sound of whispers that got him so turned around on what they're doing here: saving Vitrax from himself and his techno-romance temper tantrum, lending their aid to the relief mission called by the Vigil or to Jhavi in her attempt to pick up the pieces after Almorra's death, or something else completely.
And then Hakkyuu went out into the snow with a Vigil search team heading for the Aberrant Forest and none of them reported back after.
The world turned inside out. A voice slipped into the back of Vrenille's mind.
He lost track of how long they searched, how many times he found a guildmate's hand on his arm steering him back to the path when he started to drift, or how they moved together practically in a trance, snatching at moments of clarity like beacons to follow through a fog.
They had found bodies. So many bodies. The team Hakkyuu had left with, one by one, frozen in the snow, and sometimes worse--sometimes worse than frozen. More than once Vrenille believed they'd found him, thought he saw him there between the trees. He wasn't the only one who ran towards visions--hallucinations that weren't there. Mirages of the cold: he ought to know better. And in the end when they did find him, sunken eyed and cheeks hollowed with hunger, the voice whispered in Vrenille's mind.
He wants to kill you.
That was days ago. And the voice persists.
Hakkyuu's words have been disjointed, seeming nonsense, and now Vrenille doesn't know how many days it's been. But he knows that this morning he heard Kyinnlen and Sesyria speak, heard Kyinnlen raise the inevitable question: ought they not leave? They've lent what aid they can here. Hakkyuu is unwell, his mind assailed, his voice barely his own. Somewhere Vitrax is still out there, yes. No doubt the charr will want to push on. Perhaps, though, the guild ought to withdraw--heal, regroup, reassess, perhaps from back in Lion's Arch.
He overheard, and so did Hakkyuu, who he could hear interrupting them, having none of it. The conviction in his voice carried without Vrenille needing to see his face. He wouldn't countenance a retreat for his sake. (There, at least, he sounded clear--the voice of his old self, no ravings and no whispers. His will was firm: of course he wouldn't leave.)
Now, hours later, Vrenille sits in front of the fire at the Keep, a fur wrapped around his shoulders as he stares into the light dancing in the hearth and wishes he could get warm. It's easy from there, egged on by whispers, for thoughts to spiral, and it's only at several long moments delay that he registers Hakkyuu standing near him, having walked up while Vrenille was lost thinking...what? What was he thinking?
His head swivels towards him, blinking the world back into focus, "Hakkyuu?"
He wants to kill you.
"You all right?"
no subject
"He made a well-researched attempt at something and apparently it paid off."
He doesn't hold Vrenille's eyeline, instead looking off to some corner of the room with an irritated shake of his head.
"Bastard's gonna be so pleased with himself that ain't no one gonna be able to tell him shit for like a damn year when he finds out."
There's a subtle tightness in Hakkyuu's jaw, a mild restriction in swallowing as he huffs out a laugh and an amendment.
"Whenever he finds out."
no subject
Whenever he finds out. This wizard--Stephen--who's not here. And there it is: the megadestroyer-sized hole in the whole rationale.
"How is he gonna find out, Hakkyuu?"
no subject
Hakkyuu has never been terribly good with wearing his emotions--they either come out too loud and open, or subdued and hard to see. In this case, it's the latter, but Vrenille is someone with attention to detail unlike many others, someone who will see the minute tension in the tiny muscles around Hakkyuu's eyes, the slight tightening of his lips, the way he blinks slowly with a downward glance.
There's a silence that speaks volumes too, a pause that says more clearly than anything I don't know.
And overall, there's a sense of remorse squeezed up somewhere in Hakkyuu's chest that only someone like Vrenille would be able to recognise as such where others might misconstrue as some kind of irritation.
"Maybe... If we go back. Or if he figures out some way to show up here, I guess."
He lowers his arm then, figuring Vrenille has seen enough of the rune.
"I've done it before. Been there, came home, ended up back there again. I didn't remember it last time though, which... I think is more common. Not all folks leave and come back to Duplicity knowing the place. Like they got their memories of the city wiped clean. And I don't think any remember Duplicity while they're back home."
Swiping the pad of his right thumb over the rune, Hakkyuu gives a harsh little snort through his nose.
"And y'know, I'm not sure which I'd pick if I had the choice now."
no subject
He therefore tries to take seriously this possibility that seems so unreal to him: maybe we go back. We. Both.
Maybe this place that Hakkyuu is speaking of isn't just part of a past he can't remember, but part of a future he's destined to live...and then, what? To forget? He frowns, eyes on the place where Hakkyuu's arm now rests, even without the rune visible. A wizard arriving from another world somehow feels easier to wrap his head around than all that.
But there's another problem that, as much as he wants to get past, he can't quite resolve for himself: "You're saying there's been times before when you weren't in Tyria at all...and I wasn't in Tyria at all. But there's no times when I remember you being missing--not for that long." And even if Hakkyuu is inclined to more wandering absences and intervals alone, "There's no times when anyone in the guild's told me that I've been missing."
And wouldn't they have noticed? If all of this was true, wouldn't someone have noticed, at least, that Vrenille, who does not have a proclivity for wanderlust, wasn't where he was expected to be when he was expected to be there? Wouldn't anyone have marked their absences?