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monolike) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-09-05 10:11 am
monolike) wrote in driftfleet2016-09-05 10:11 am
(no subject)
Who: Mikleo (nerdeology), Dezel (sylphystia), Zaveid (airily) & Sorey (monolike)
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Solrius's surface, outskirts of town + wilderness
When: Around 9/5~9/6
[The last time he was anything close to feeling like this was the battlefield at Glaivend Basin. Malevolence hung thick in the air like smoke, stuck to his hair and clothes and choked his every breath. He remembers colors going blurry sometimes during the fighting; there was screaming, always screaming, of men dying, running from battle, falling on the swords of their own allies. Sorey had Lailah and the others then to anchor him; they turned his head for him when he couldn't, they reached into his heart and soothed it when it pounded too hard.
The feelings are like before but here, in the valleys of the mountains, the only sound is the whistle of wind through the crags and his dusty footsteps as he slips over gravel.
No soothing pulse of the elements inside of him.
No gentle hands turning his head.]
I came out here on my own, [Sorey tells himself harshly, but it rings empty and he knows it's not working. He can't just talk himself out of becoming malevolent. Isn't that why it didn't work with Nightingale?]
Ohhhh, [Sorey moans, stopping and dropping his head into his hands. He'd shoved her. He might've hurt her. Maybe not physically but- she'd opened her heart to him and he'd just run.
I had to. She'd tell Mikleo and then Mikleo would-
It's not that-] -simple, [he chokes out, and lifts his head to press onward. He'd bought food and water for some reason, but touches none of it.] Not that simple. [He's supposed to rely on his friends to help keep him on the path, but what does he do when they're the reason he's fallen off of it?
It's not their fault.] It's not Mikleo's fault, [Sorey hisses. He's too used to having voices in his head. Without them there it feels empty. He needs someone to talk to.] It's not Dezel's fault. [He needs to keep his promises.] It's not Zaveid's fault. [He needs to let them know they're needed.
He's not doing a good enough job. If Lailah was here-
If Lailah could tell him what to do-]
Stop blaming Lailah! [Sorey staggers against a cliff face and smacks a hand against it. His heart feels too tight and too big in his chest all at once. An expanding bubble, empty but still taking up too much space. He wants it out. He wants it to burst already.
How does Dezel do this?]
Lailah, [Sorey hiccups, shoulder against the cliff, sinking down into a crouch as tears sting his eyes. The air smells like malevolence, thick and smokey and choking.] I screwed up. I- I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't careful. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.
[The wind howls as it tears through the crags.]
nerdeology), Dezel (sylphystia), Zaveid (airily) & Sorey (monolike)Broadcast: n/a
Action: Solrius's surface, outskirts of town + wilderness
When: Around 9/5~9/6
[The last time he was anything close to feeling like this was the battlefield at Glaivend Basin. Malevolence hung thick in the air like smoke, stuck to his hair and clothes and choked his every breath. He remembers colors going blurry sometimes during the fighting; there was screaming, always screaming, of men dying, running from battle, falling on the swords of their own allies. Sorey had Lailah and the others then to anchor him; they turned his head for him when he couldn't, they reached into his heart and soothed it when it pounded too hard.
The feelings are like before but here, in the valleys of the mountains, the only sound is the whistle of wind through the crags and his dusty footsteps as he slips over gravel.
No soothing pulse of the elements inside of him.
No gentle hands turning his head.]
I came out here on my own, [Sorey tells himself harshly, but it rings empty and he knows it's not working. He can't just talk himself out of becoming malevolent. Isn't that why it didn't work with Nightingale?]
Ohhhh, [Sorey moans, stopping and dropping his head into his hands. He'd shoved her. He might've hurt her. Maybe not physically but- she'd opened her heart to him and he'd just run.
I had to. She'd tell Mikleo and then Mikleo would-
It's not that-] -simple, [he chokes out, and lifts his head to press onward. He'd bought food and water for some reason, but touches none of it.] Not that simple. [He's supposed to rely on his friends to help keep him on the path, but what does he do when they're the reason he's fallen off of it?
It's not their fault.] It's not Mikleo's fault, [Sorey hisses. He's too used to having voices in his head. Without them there it feels empty. He needs someone to talk to.] It's not Dezel's fault. [He needs to keep his promises.] It's not Zaveid's fault. [He needs to let them know they're needed.
He's not doing a good enough job. If Lailah was here-
If Lailah could tell him what to do-]
Stop blaming Lailah! [Sorey staggers against a cliff face and smacks a hand against it. His heart feels too tight and too big in his chest all at once. An expanding bubble, empty but still taking up too much space. He wants it out. He wants it to burst already.
How does Dezel do this?]
Lailah, [Sorey hiccups, shoulder against the cliff, sinking down into a crouch as tears sting his eyes. The air smells like malevolence, thick and smokey and choking.] I screwed up. I- I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't careful. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.
[The wind howls as it tears through the crags.]
no subject
It's not the worst domain he'd ever entered. Heldalf, even Eizen- they'd been stronger by far, with enough darkness to cripple the strength of their entire group. But this... it's different. He's connected to Sorey, tethered by a bond and a vow that is beyond his power to sever. His gift and his curse. He feels something shifting in his body, a coldness trickling into his very soul, and he stubbornly forces himself upright and looks out instead of in. He'd known there would be malevolence here. It's been right by his side this whole time, and he hadn't wanted to see it. This is something he needs to face head on and deal with.
He's needed me for a long time now, and I've let myself be blinded. This is my fault as much as anyone else's.
Don't stop. Don't stop for a second. Malevolence can only hurt you if you let it in.
He can see the source now- the center of the storm, his whole being drawn to the cliffside just ahead. There's a figure crouching nearby, and malevolence swirls around it like the beginnings of a tornado. He can feel the conflict, the heartsickness, the guilt. There's so much uncertainty and indecision there- how could he not be corrupted by it? No one is infallible. No one's untouchable. Not even someone as pure as Sorey could fight off this sort of pain alone.
I... should wait. Maybe we'd do better if we tackled this as a team. I still-- I don't know how to fix this--
"I think it can only be you."
"If anyone can save him-- it's you."
"He'll listen to you."
His whole body trembles, and he can feel the malevolence clawing at his chest, digging deeper and deeper with every second he stays within the domain. He can't wait. There's no time. It feels like any moment now it could be too late to go back. He's never seen Sorey like this, and it's the most frightening thing he's ever experienced. More than Heldalf, more than any dragon or hellion they could face. His best friend is on the edge of an endless precipice and he has no rope.
We're always falling. It's never mattered-- it's never been the end for us. We always managed to save each other.
Whatever happens, we go together.
He reaches down to his belt and touches a button on his communicator, firing off what he hopes is accurate coordinates to Nightingale and opening the connection as she'd requested. The volume is off- he wants no interruptions. Honestly, he wants to throw it away entirely; he trusts Sorey, and he desperately wants this to end peacefully. But Sorey is predictable and malevolence never is, and the two together is something he can't read at all.
Taking a deep breath, hands clenched into fists at his side, he steps closer until Sorey is certain to know that he's there.]
Sorey!
no subject
Go to him.]
I can't, [Sorey sobs, because he knows, he already knows. He doesn't know why he hasn't changed yet, why he hasn't lost his mind (but Heldalf retained his sense of self, hadn't he?) but he knows. He already knows. He's malevolent. He's putrid, he's impure, his mere existence is a poison to Mikleo and all living beings, seraphim and mortal alike.
Thunder cracks sharp overhead as the sky splits open its belly and dumps rainwater into the valley.
Sorey rubs his wrist against his nose and pushes himself up to his feet when he feels Mikleo's presence plod closer. He has no choice; there's no way he'll be able to outrun Mikleo like this. He'll have to chase him off somehow, get him to go back to the ship. In a few days the Fleet will leave this system and then they'll all definitely be far enough away- If they're far enough away he won't be able to break his promises, he won't put them in danger with his own fears and his blinding inadequacy, they'll be all right without a vessel. They'll be all right, and then they'll get back to Lailah and she can break the pacts-
Please don't leave me-!]
Why are you here, Mikleo?! [Sorey shouts. Thunder cracks overhead.] Go away!
no subject
It's going to get worse before it can get better. He has to keep telling himself this. If his presence alone were enough to fix things, Sorey wouldn't have run away.
Stubbornly he keeps moving. It hurts, but he recognizes the reasoning behind this rejection, as Sorey rises to his feet and yells at him through the roar of the storm. Sorey doesn't want him here because it isn't safe, and they both know that much is true. He's already sick and struggling, and he doesn't know how long he can endure this much without a protective domain to keep him pure. He's not like the others, he doesn't have centuries of experience and power behind him to know how to keep the malevolence from corrupting him. Even so, what Sorey must also know and simply refuses to accept is the fact that nothing in the world can make Mikleo leave him. He doesn't stop; he won't stop.]
You know why.
[Did you think I wouldn't find you?]
Why are you!?
[Did you think I'd let you stay like this?]
no subject
[He's angry; god, he's so angry. Mikleo is so damn stubborn, and he's always butting his nose in and hovering around Sorey. And it's never been a problem until lately, until his hovering means he's putting himself in harm's way, until it meant that he'd do something stupid because Sorey really is, honest to god, helpless without him. Completely and utterly helpless with the hands of his friends, his stronger, braver, smarter friends holding him up. He was content with that, for a while.
Why was he ever content with that?
So of course Mikleo would hunt him down on his own, like a complete and utter fool. Of course he'll stand there in front of Sorey shivering with cold and sickness, barely keeping himself upright under the weight of all this malevolence. He could die. He could turn. Why is he being so stupid? Sorey needs to get him to leave or, barring that, needs to force him. Water is weak against earth but the few measly earth-based artes Sorey has on his own won't do any good. If only Edna was here, then he could-
You'd use your seraphim like tools?
Sorey chokes and claps his hands over his mouth, sinking into a crouch again. His heart swells, empties and swells.
You'd attack Mikleo like that?]
You have to go, [Sorey begs, muffled. He releases his mouth when he's sure he won't be sick and scrabbles for the sword hilt at his hip.] You don't get it. It's too late. It's not- You were right all along, mortals, humans, we're just- we're all just rotten. I thought we could be better but I was wrong. Please go, please, Mikleo, listen to me and go.
no subject
Is it because of him?
That's not... that's not what I meant...! I never--]
You're not rotten!
[His voice chokes mid-sentence, and he struggles to regain his composure. If- if that's why, then he can accept that. If he caused this, that's his burden to bear. More than ever before, he knows that he can't leave.]
You've never been rotten! You're the Shepherd- [no--] You're Sorey! I wouldn't be here if this was all that you are!
[He's- he's actually reaching for his sword. It's such an awful, jarring contrast from the norm. Sorey's never drawn his weapon on Mikleo without a smile on his face, without an enthused conversation about sparring beforehand. When he'd created a new move and needed to practice on something other than the prickleboars. When Mikleo was ahead in victories and Sorey felt the need to catch up. When they were bored and just needed something to pass the time after it grew too late to explore but too early to turn in for the night.
When they were home, when they were together, when they were themselves.
The memories make his heart ache something fierce, and he clenches his eyes tightly for a long moment, briefly trying to hold back the beginnings of tears before he gives up and focuses back on Sorey, taking another step forward. Closer. Deeper into the malevolent cloud threatening to overwhelm them both.
Sorey deserves his honesty here, not his pride. Who wouldn't cry, faced with this kind of pain?]
Sorey. Please. Come back... come back, so we can handle this together.
no subject
This is for his own good. He'll- he'll forgive Sorey. Right?]
Didn't Zaveid tell you?
[He bring his sword up again before stepping forward and digging the tip into the earth.]
I helped him kill Edna's brother.
[And he swings, hurling artes and Earth at Mikleo before charging forward.]
no subject
what--
Mikleo doesn't even have time to react to those words. He'd recognized that Sorey was getting ready to attack, but he hadn't truly believed it possible that it would actually happen until the arte hits him full on, knocking him backwards. He catches himself with a roll, wincing - of course he'd use earth-based artes, Sorey knows his weaknesses better than anyone - and reluctantly summons his staff, rising up to block the approaching blade. He doesn't want to fight, but he won't allow Sorey to force him away, either. That's what he's trying to do, isn't it? If he won't leave willingly, Sorey will make him do it?
I won't be bullied into abandoning you, you idiot.
No matter what you think you'll do in the future.
No matter what you think you are now.
He pushes against Sorey's attack, his heels digging into the dirt. Sorey's always been physically stronger than he, and he's got the power of the Shepherd - or hellion, or close to it, now - backing him as well, so he doesn't expect to win in a battle of strength. He knows Sorey's weaknesses, too, if it becomes necessary.]
He didn't, but I'm not surprised. No one expects you to be perfect, Sorey- Even the Shepherd can't right every wrong in the world. They told us that dragons can't be saved!
no subject
[Sorey parries, throws out another haphazard swing for Mikleo to block before he snaps out a hand to grab the collar of his uniform and throw him over his shoulder into the ground. If he can get him to stay down then he can run, but the anger and guilt and disappointment is eating at his mind, his senses. Rational thought is being swallowed up by stay down damn it and the desperate need to make Mikleo understand. This isn't about perfection, or even about being a Shepherd. This is about him.]
And I promised myself I wouldn't kill anyone! I promised Dezel I would bring him back home- are these worth nothing? Are you saying they're worth nothing because I can't expect myself to be perfect?
no subject
He can't just stand by and take it. This isn't a spar, this isn't practice.
But... he still can't...
I don't want to fight you!]
Promises made earnestly aren't lies. Even if you can't turn them to reality, they're not lies. They're not worthless!
[He lurches forward, kicking a hefty streak of the mud as a left feint - the weakest mockery of an arte that he's done since he was a child - and lashing right with his staff towards Sorey's legs, trying to trip him. He's not afraid to fight dirty too, and he can't allow Sorey to keep him down and escape. He'd give chase again if he had to, but they don't have that kind of time.]
I'm saying that you're allowed to be wrong! You can make mistakes!
no subject
He can't root them out now. They've woven themselves through his heart like wire, dug into his soul like hooks. They make up just as much of himself as his willingness to save, his determination to do what's right. He's a creature of internal conflict and if he was honest, it all started back on a beach, listening to the wind whistle overhead as his arms (their arms) wrap around them and hold on tight.]
How many mistakes? How many, huh? These mistakes are lives lost, and dreams shattered and- these aren't just mistakes!
[Sorey rolls onto his side, breathing hard and glaring up at Mikleo. The rain is coming down in sheets now, lightning cracking overhead like cannonfire. It sounds like the storm will bring down all the mountains around them.]
Lailah told me I have to feel the weight of my responsibility...but also that I have to walk my own path. I can't do both. Don't you get it Mikleo? I can't do both! I can't do it anymore, and you- [He hauls himself to his feet and just shoves Mikleo; no finesse, all anger and brute force.] -should stop giving me excuses! I'm tired of trying to hold myself to a standard you keep denying me! Are you telling me these things for my benefit, or for yours?! Because you believe in some ideal?! Don't make me laugh!
[The wind screams past them, tears at their clothes. The rain hits the mud like hail. Sorey might be missing Lailah and Edna, but the elements he still has are more than happy to make up for it. Maybe thousands of miles away Zaveid and Dezel can feel it, the yank of their element pulling through their connection to the corrupted Shepherd as he draws on their strength and uses it to tear at the landscape. Mikleo must, with the way the rain becomes a furious, roaring thing.]
no subject
Save me, the wind calls. Help me. Dezel can't help but obey. The wind doesn't want to do these things and neither does Sorey. He can't tell who is hurting more, or who is calling out to him, but he feels the draw nonetheless. He follows the tether until he reaches the edge of Sorey's domain. The thickness of it makes him stagger.
That's Sorey. There is no doubt... Sorey is about to become a hellion.
He clutches at his chest and forges onward. The pain, the despair, the guilt. It pulls at him like the sickened wind. It calls to him and it stabs him deeper than anything, because it's so familiar. When Dezel is alone-- when there is nothing to fill the void-- it feels like this.
He realizes something in that moment: this guilt is his.]
Damn it... damn it...
[He can't see with his eyes, and the wind is wild and reckless, warning him of things that aren't there. He can only navigate by feeling the malevolence at this point but at least he doesn't have far to go. Snatches of yelling and the sounds of fighting reach his ears along with the snarling of thunder and rain.
I'm tired of trying to hold myself to a standard you keep denying me!
Dezel throws himself between them and tries not to think about how badly the movement saps at him. He's been so, so good about letting the malevolence roll off him. But without a pure vessel, without Rose, he's just as vulnerable as Mikleo and the others.
He knows it, too.]
Sorey!
[The name comes out as a growl, more pained than he'd like to admit.] If you really hate what you're doing-- then stop doing it!
[He pants for a moment, not that it helps steady himself any.]
There's no Lord of Calamity here. There's nothing to purify-- so just quit being a Shepherd if it's so damn hard!
no subject
I'm dangerous.
Dezel's protecting Mikleo from him. Dezel looks strained, because Sorey is wrenching his element from him and twisting it to his own purposes. He looks pained- he's in danger from the malevolence too, just as much as Mikleo. Is Zaveid coming? God, Sorey hopes not, hopes Zaveid has the sense none of them do to stay away and keep himself out of harm's way.
Please don't leave me to this, I don't want to change, I don't want to be a hellion-
What Dezel says doesn't even sink in as Sorey gasps through the storm, rainwater pouring from his hair, his clothes, soaking him to the bone. He watches Dezel (can Dezel even see with all this noise in his wind?) stand there, trembling under the weight of the malevolence and for a moment of horrible ugliness that he'd never have otherwise, he thinks spitefully, this is your fault.
And then comes the self-loathing like a tsunami, consuming Sorey's heart and he sways, pawing at a boulder to keep himself from sinking to his knees in the muck.]
Give up...
[It would be nice. For now, it would be-]
And let Rose take care of it instead? Put that weight solely on her?
no subject
He knows he has to get up, but with the intensified storm comes a staggering level of malevolence, and it weighs on him like a stone on his back, like his limbs have been tied to the ground. It's all he can do not to collapse on the spot.
They were wrong, all of them. I can't do this on my own.
He won't listen to me.
Dezel's words seem to get a better reaction from Sorey, and it's as much a gutpunch as a relief. He'd wanted to believe that he could save Sorey, but that belief is slipping through his fingers even has he tries to cling to it. In the end, though, it doesn't matter, and he forces himself to remember that. Him, Dezel, Zaveid, maybe even Allen if the worst occurs. He doesn't care who saves Sorey. All that counts is that he'll be safe. It doesn't matter if it isn't me.
He pushes back against the water in the air, though it pains him and saps at his strength; he tries to force the rain to calm around them, wrestling with the Shepherd's control over his element. The power of the storm is working against all of them, feeding into the malevolence, and it surely can't help how Sorey must be feeling right now, about how dangerous he is like this. If his words won't reach Sorey, maybe he can speak to him through the water, somehow. It worked in the ocean, it worked when they armatized, it...
Hear me. Please. Hear us. You never needed to be the Shepherd for anyone but yourself.
I said you could quit. If it was too much, it's what I wanted. If it makes you happy again, no one would mind.
But that isn't you, is it?
Why are you giving up on yourself?]
no subject
He doesn't want to lose another friend like this.
He doesn't want to cause pain to anyone else.]
Rose isn't here!
[It tears out of his throat, vehement and raw. Rose isn't here. She's never been here. They only have themselves. He's leaned on her for so long that he doesn't even think about it, and it occurs to him that Sorey does, too.]
Don't you get it...? We're so far away from home-- none of that matters!
[He staggers forward, away from Mikleo and toward the nature of the beast. Sorey's darkness feels like it will suck him in, but Dezel doesn't falter. He holds out his hand to the struggling boy who taught him the meaning of kindness, the same boy who smiled with tears in his eyes, who laughed and poked at him without fear, who held Dezel when he was breaking, who forgave him even when Dezel gave up on himself.]
Come back.
no subject
A part of him doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to be here, to move forward and face this - this thing that he helped cause. What had he done? He'd been asked to check on their Shepherd, to make sure that he was doing okay, that he wasn't suffering, and he had brought more pain for him to bear. He had told the truth because he had thought that Sorey had known, and he should've known better than to open his big mouth; all it does is hurt people.
Every single time he meets someone new something happens to them. Eizen. Dezel. Sorey.
Dezel thinks he's cursed, that he's the one that brings bad luck, but that can't be true. It's as though every companion Zaveid makes, every friend he knows, every person he cares for is tainted by his friendship, and it's playing out in front of him now like some kind of sick performance piece, his heart racing in his chest as he moves and climbs, step by step, up and up and up until he's there, seeing them and watching them and listening in.
How is he meant to help now? With Mikleo and Dezel there - it feels as if there's no point in his stepping up. For all his confidence and his bravado Zaveid knows the truth; he still sees himself as nothing short of a replacement, a wind seraph they were lucky to find to fill the gap that he had caused. If he hadn't given them the gun then Dezel would never have had the thought to use it - it's the only thing he can think about when the matter comes back to mind.
Finally, he moves and he can feel the malevolence as if it's weighing down on him, something sick and nasty in his throat, and he wants to drop to his knees. He hasn't felt anything like this, not even when he came face to face with the true danger of what Eizen had become, and he shakes as he tries to bring himself together. It's almost impossible, and what he wants more than anything else is to break, but he can't. Somehow, he has to be strong; somehow, he has to keep himself together. Somehow, he has to survive.
He knows what Sorey is blaming himself for, and he knows what he needs to do. ]
He wanted to die, Sorey. [ He's not shouting, not really, and Zaveid lifts his head, trying not to let himself be anything else other than a stern, real statue. ] Eizen wanted to die! That's what he said to me, years before you were ever born. 'When I become a dragon, kill me.'
[ Walking forward, Zaveid ignores the others for a moment, reaching for his artes - as hard as it is with the malevolence swirling around him, trying to tear him apart - just so he can take the brunt of anything else that comes. He wants to protect them, the way he hadn't protected Eizen, the way he had never been there for Dezel, the way his other friends that became hellion after hellion hadn't had him at their side. ]
You can't punish yourself for something he wanted to happen. You can't hate yourself for something you didn't do! I was the one that killed him. It was my promise.
[ And then he breathes out. ]
That kind of responsibility is hard. But you wanna know something, Sorey? You're not alone. [ It's strange, how calm he is when the others are shouting and screaming, but he can't shout. All his attention is focussed on summoning protection from the others, and he can't quite manage the strength to scream. ] You know we're here too, with you. We just want to help. All you need to do is come back.
no subject
Even trying to keep away from them, keep them safe, they’d tracked him down and come to his side anyway. Had he really been trying to keep away from them? He could’ve been smarter about it. Maybe he really was just crying out to be saved. Maybe he’d lured them in when he’d left without a word. He doesn’t even know anymore, can’t peel apart what he’d done from what he’d intended to do. Malevolence is confusion, and chaos, and fear, and anger. Self-hatred and loathing, conflict of the heart, a weak resolve. He’d thought malevolence was evil, at first, but he was so, so wrong.
Malevolence is a being in pain.
He can see it in each of them. Zaveid, who fended it off with his resolve to do better, do it right next time. With his jokes and his cavalier attitude, picking himself up and finding new people to care about, new promises to make.
Dezel who would be steeped in it if it weren’t for his trail of pure vessels. The seraph with the hole in his heart that won’t seem to go away and a blessing that inflicts itself like a curse.
And…Mikleo. Mikleo, who knew that he would probably turn into a hellion if he came here, who came alone and tried to pull Sorey out of it. Who wouldn’t listen to a word about protecting himself because he never does. Mikleo, who pretends to be a lot less kind than he really is, who would change the cloth on Sorey’s forehead when he was sick, who learned healing spells because Sorey was always scraping up his elbows and knees. Who told him gently in Pendrago that he thought, when they started, it would be okay for Sorey to stop being the Shepherd, if it got too hard.
But that isn’t you, is it?
Sorey sucks in a shuddering gasp, tears nearly blinding him.
The malevolence claws at him and he can’t talk it down; it’s its own being now, a maelstrom of fears and hurts, frustration and inadequacy that eats him up like the small, inconsequential being he is. A Shepherd’s duty will never be done; it doesn’t matter if he gets back home or not. It doesn’t matter if he dies or not; there were hundreds of Shepherds before him, and there will be hundreds more. His story, their story, will be just one small chapter in a book of legends that some small child reads by flickering candlelight.
He could come back.
He could dedicate himself to a small handful of people again, his friends. Forget Heldalf, forget Symonne, forget quelling the malevolence. He could be selfish again, running off to save any soul in front of him instead of having to turn his head away and think of a greater purpose. He could travel with Zaveid until he’s old and gray, give him a steady friend for at least the length of his own short life. He could live with Edna up on that mountain so she wouldn’t be alone, existing within the shadow of a brother she lost. He could sit with Lailah in the chapel in Ladylake, go with her to festivals, help her restore Camlann. He could visit Dezel and Rose, and the other Sparrowfeathers as they-
-as they kill people too far gone to save, because he’d quit.
Mikleo looks exhausted, half-bent behind both Zaveid and Dezel; his hair hangs into his face, shoulders hunched as he clutches at his chest but his eyes, still, his eyes, they see right into his heart. Luzrov Rulay. The Enforcer.
Why are you giving up on yourself?
He can’t quit. But he can’t keep going…not anymore. All he can do is hope that wherever they are, Edna, Rose and Lailah aren’t getting caught up in this.]
I can’t come back.
[Sorey’s eyes find Dezel; the way his still outstretched hand trembles, the way his jaw twitches against clenched teeth and he hears a whisper in his own empty, bursting heart, I’m cursed. Darkness writhes up from the ground at his feet, forms a toothed maw around Sorey and he tells him, as fiercely as he can manage through the wind and the rain and his own tears,]
This is not your fault.
[-before the malevolence snaps him up in its jaws.]
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And the only thought that forces its way through the darkness is
no
He's on his feet, staggering forward a step or two before bursting into a run. He dashes between the wind seraphim, recognizing the danger and disregarding it as if it were nothing but a bothersome fly. He doesn't care. He doesn't care, Sorey is there and he needs him, he needs--
no
The malevolence consumes Sorey's body before he can reach him, and the shockwave hits him like a wall. His arms rise as if to block it, sliding backwards through the mud, and he cries out in pain and frustration, angry with himself for not going sooner, for being too weak to stand up when his friend was suffering. He's always been so, so much weaker than he needs to be. Why, when it matters, couldn't he be strong enough to stop this? Why...?
no, no, no
And just like that, the last remnants of purity in Sorey's domain vanishes, and Mikleo knows that they failed. A choked sound escapes his lips, halfway between a gasp and a sob, and it's no longer rain on his cheeks anymore. They failed, and Sorey is a hellion, and he can sense the malevolence pouring into his soul through the link. The crushing weight of Sorey's pain, his doubts, his guilt- he can feel it all. It's too much. Far, far too much for one person to bear alone.
this is what you were holding back?
all of this?
I'm sorry
I'm so sorry, I didn't know--
He lowers his arms a few inches to see the change, trembling where he stands, focusing on the black cloud of dark energy before him. He can't even see Sorey anymore, but he knows he's there. He is, and he isn't. A hellion, now.
For us to have failed this badly... you idiot.
In what way is this not our fault...?
And then his gaze drops to his hands, and he sees, and he knows it's too late.
"Water in particular is delicate and easily corrupted by malevolence."
no, no-- it isn't just me--
His arms drop to his sides, and he twists around to face the others, eyes wide and wild, urgent, desperate, as terrified as he sounds. Maybe if they're fast- maybe if he can take in enough of it by himself- maybe--]
Get out of here!! Dezel-- break the pact!!
[Even through the storm and the malevolence at his back, there's no hiding it- nails curling into darkened claws, the glint of scales mottling the skin on his face, the draconic slit one eye has already become. Breaking the pact isn't going to stop this, and... if given the option, he's not sure if he'd take it. He pauses for only a second or so, lips curving into a smile-- sad, grieving, apologetic for what he failed to do and what he's chosen to do now. Close-mouthed, because he can already feel the fangs cutting into his gums from within.
If he can still be saved, tell him. Tell him I was smiling.
There's a lot I never told him. Maybe he'll understand this.
And then he twists on his heel and runs headlong into the malevolence, welcoming it, drawing it into his body, praying that perhaps if enough of it goes to him then the others will get out of this alive. One dragon is going to be bad enough.
I can't save you. I can't save me, either. I'm sorry. But you're hopeless without me, remember?
I'm with you, Sorey.]
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-- no, he can't think like that, not right now. He can't think about anything but the Shepherd. Even Dezel, useless and cursed as he is, can still do something. Sorey would tell him that. Sorey would--
But Sorey's hand stays where it is. Dezel is left hanging, rain collecting and slipping through his fingers like so many regrets and wasted chances. This is not your fault, his friend says. Dezel knows he is lying. Sorey has always been a terrible liar.
The sheer force of the malevolence sends Dezel staggering. He's never felt anything like it. Heldalf's domain is one thing, but to be connected to it, to feel it gnawing on his own soul... it feels so cold, so terrible, like a howling icy wind tearing him to pieces. The world is shattering around them and it's all he can do to reach out with his wind, to see what is happening the only way he knows how.
Mikleo is turning. It's all going downhill so fast. Mikleo is turning, and even as Dezel hears the wind whispering something about scales and wings, it carries a pained smile with it. His breath leaves him completely and in its wake comes the malevolence, pained and guilty and hurting, and for a moment he's nearly overwhelmed.
Then he remembers someone's smile, a gentle touch on his arm.
Rose.
It comes to him in the briefest flash but it's enough to keep him going. He pulls himself out of the aching typhoon inside and around him, aware that the malevolence will take him if he lingers. He reaches out to the pact, seeing the boundaries of the oath and the magic tether in his soul, and he severs it.
The wind swallows his anguished scream.
The malevolence is still pulling at him, but it becomes easier to resist now that he can't feel it welling up inside him. Still, he knows... he knows he can't stay here. Zaveid can't stay here, either. They need to go. They need to go now. He gropes blindly through the hissing air for the other wind seraph, his other hand clutching at his own chest. The malevolence can still turn them. If Zaveid isn't strong enough--]
Zaveid! [Where is he? The wind is so broken; it's telling him there are fifteen Zaveids in different places, and it's a wonder Dezel isn't just walking in circles. He's picking a direction and sticking with it. The further they get from this domain, the better.] Zaveid!
[Maybe Zaveid is falling, too. Maybe all of Dezel's friends are doomed to become hellions. This is his power, after all... this is the strength of his blessing.
He only wanted another chance.
He only wanted to go home with everyone.
He only wanted...]
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It's not as if he needs to, not really, not in the same way humans do, but he can't take in air; everything around him is tainted and dark, and he fears what might happen if he drinks it in. He's seen it, time and time again, friend upon friend tortured and bleeding with hurt and pain, transforming in front of him, twisting and becoming something else - hellion, creature, dragon. He can remember it with blinding clarity, the way it had overcome him, the way Eizen had drunk in malevolence and changed and asked Zaveid, had known what was coming and begged the worst of promises from his friend.
'When I become a dragon, kill me. I don't want Edna to suffer for it.'
What about him? What about how he had suffered? What about the pain that he had gone through? Zaveid had never paid too much attention to his own heartache, had always focussed on doing what he had promised to do, but in the wake of everything, seeing Sorey drowning and Mikleo suffering, he knows. He knows that when he made his promise to Eizen he was a mirror image of the water Seraph; he was prepared to give everything for his friend, and he had lost it all.
I'm sorry, Eizen. I couldn't help you the way she wanted. But I kept my promise. I saved you.
(No one becomes a hellion because they want to. (You think that saves them?)
...
I don't even know if I could do that. Just look on silently, while one of our own suffers in agony...)
His hair is flying around him, whipping him in the face, and he can't really feel it. All he can feel is the malevolence, the pain, the hurt, twisting up inside of him, the tether between himself and Sorey enough to infect him and make him feel sick. He wants to reach out and move closer, to sink into Sorey, to drink of his pain and heartache and make it go away, to do what he couldn't do for his friends, for Eizen, for Dezel, to do something right for a change...
Death is salvation. Death is freedom. Death is the path he had walked; gun in hand, determination in his heart.
The problem is, it's not just Sorey anymore. The wind is dark and dangerous, blinding him with the thousand and one pictures it paints, but one thing is familiar; too familiar. Zaveid is intimate with the way a dragon feels on the air, the way that the shape, the feel, the texture, the smell ties up with the way he can sense things, and as soon as it sinks into his consciousness he feels like he's going to be sick. It's a sudden punch to the gut, something reaching in and grabbing his heart, twisting it, and he turns, eye wide, wild, as he looks in the direction of his friend. ]
Mikleo!
[ For a moment, he doesn't hear Dezel. He doesn't hear anything but the flashback of beating wings, of gunshots, of sharing his body with Rose, with Sorey, reaching out with his power, cut after cut of Arte slamming into scales, hearing the roars of pain, of suffering, of agony, knowing it was the only way but breaking each and every time he had to be the one to do it. And it had to be him - it had to be his kill, his choice, his path. He had promised, and that had been his resolve, and now...
Now he knows he has to do it again. What was it Lailah said? 'Please, don't carry the burden alone.' But this is his burden; this is what he has to do. A friend turns into a dragon and Zaveid kills it - it's a pattern now. He can't escape the path fate has chosen for him, no matter how hard he tries.
(Don't worry. I'm sure he's satisfied with the outcome.)
Will Mikleo be?
He hears Dezel calling for him, finally, and he can feel the way his own pact snaps and shifts, unfurling as Dezel breaks it, and he doesn't dare think about what it means to be the only one connected to this level of malevolence. He would take it all himself, but Mikleo beats him to it, and all Zaveid can do is move back, push himself through the wind to stumble forward, to reach out and grab Dezel's wrist and hold onto him. The other seraph is blind, the wind impossible now, and he has to help him. After that... Then he can help Mikleo. ]
We gotta get you out of here. Now!
[ He doesn't care about himself. He doesn't care about the fact that there are tears rolling down his cheeks, that he's barely fighting back sobs, the way that his lungs feel empty and the fact that it's hard to breathe. He doesn't care about living, not right now. All he cares about is getting Dezel as far away from here as he can and then coming back, pendulums in hand, to keep another promise - only this time it's one he's made to himself. ]
Let's go!
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Sorey’s rational mind sinks away as he becomes a bleeding knot of instinct, impulse and pain.
I haven’t thought about it. Why?
Someone enters the malevolence with him and Sorey’s blackened, empty heart recognizes it as water. He pours malevolence into it, even as his physical hands come up and clutch at arms, wrap around shoulders, draw him close and recognize the person in front of him as safety, as home. He wants that. He longs for it. Home, safety, home.
Heh heh, I’ve already decided, of course!
Of course.
The body in his arms starts to change; Sorey can hear Mikleo screaming and he holds on. Malevolence grabs hold of the things that made him human, that made him him and sully them into others. Love becomes possessiveness. Protectiveness becomes a thirst for control.
Mine, Sorey thinks darkly, hands cradling a face that elongates, sprouts teeth and scales as it weeps. Mine. Hang in there. You’ll be okay soon. You’re mine.
Something snaps and the wind falters for just a moment; Sorey jerks around, empty holes for eyes searching for the source when he spots Dezel and recognizes it, that ache, that lack of connection. He lost him again. Sorey reaches out wordlessly for Dezel, commands for the wind to take him back and pull him in to where he’s supposed to be: with Sorey.
MINE.
He finds Zaveid in the wind as well, follows the thread between their souls and grabs for him with the storm. He won’t lose another seraph; not to his own incompetence, not to anything. First, he’ll make them powerful so they’ll never die. Then they’ll go looking for the others and draw them in. Nothing will hurt them when Sorey is done. Zaveid won’t ever have to kill another friend. Dezel won’t be abandoned or alone. Mikleo will always be at his side. They’ll find Lailah and Edna, and Rose and Alisha, and Sorey will draw them to him and make them stronger. They’ll all be together.
Sorey looks right at Zaveid, reaches for both of his friends and starts to call out to Zaveid’s soul the only way he knows how,] F…Filk…
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This feels familiar.
The malevolence is twisting, screaming, reaching. He feels it coming for him, for them. The wind grabs at him and he realizes it's Sorey trying to call them back, trying to take Dezel in like a tornado sucks in everything around it. Dezel stumbles and digs his heels in. They have to go. They have to go.
He glances sightlessly at Zaveid, only to hear the first syllable of someone's true name being hissed. Dezel knows it for what it is. There's only one reason a hellionized Shepherd would want to call out in the ancient tongue.
The armatus.
Shit shit shit-- he pulls his hand around so that Zaveid's arm is across Dezel's shoulders. If he has to drag Zaveid out of the mud himself, then he will do it. He's not sure if Zaveid can resist the call, and he doesn't want to stay and find out. He has to place all of his trust in his feet right now. The ground is muddy and unforgiving, but if he can just get the wind to acknowledge him for a second, they can windstep out of here.]
MOVE!
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Then he hears it.
The wind echoes it around him, a hailstorm, a nightmare, and he freezes. He can't take another step. He can't move, because the only thing that's in his mind is the tug on his very soul, trying to drag him back, and he can feel the intent of it. Come back, be together, unified, stronger, save everyone - it's as if Sorey is reaching out and whispering to him, and the wind howls with it as the lightning flash of fear and despair cracks around him, causing him to stumble.
Filk, Filk, Filk-
All it needs is the rest.
Instinct has him turning and moving back towards his Shepherd, the pull on his soul too much to ignore. It begs for them to come together, to be unified, the whisper of his True Name impossible to ignore - already it's as if there's a noose around his neck, tugging him back towards the endless black of the malevolence behind them. He feels a rising anger at Dezel for stopping him, because it would be so easy to sink into the touch to his soul, the unity between himself and Sorey, so easy to break free and just give in.
(No more hurt, no more pain, just the two of them together, Sorey could take over, could take it all away, he wouldn't have to fight anymore, no more promises -)
And then he snaps. His eyes seem to come back as if they'd been staring at a distance and he grits his teeth, turning and leaning against Dezel, his voice low and thick with determination and pain - because walking away from something like this, from the pull of a Shepherd and the Armatus... It's not as easy as it sounds. ]
Dezel. It's - it's too much. You gotta help me. Let's get the hell out of here.
[ And he leans on the other man, urging the wind around them, desperate for it to work in their favour, shaping it for Dezel even as he fights.
Zaveid of a Promise.
There's no going back on that. ]
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The voice he knows, because it sounds like Sorey, but at the same time it sounds like someone he can't recognize anymore.
mine
am I...?
mine
...Sorey...
mine
...it hurts...
Something tears at his back, limbs he's not supposed to have bursting out of his body. There are hands on his face, holding him close, whispering in his head- in his heart- in his soul. Hesitantly he opens his eyes, sees the hellion holding on to him. He sees the void where once he found eyes that used to dance and smile before his lips even knew he was happy. He sees an emptiness where once was a mouth that could talk and talk all night about everything and nothing until someone stuffed food into it to make him stop.
mine
It stops hurting, all of a sudden. He stops screaming. All he can see, hear, feel, is Sorey. This thing that is Sorey, that was Sorey, that is, and he's right. It's okay.
He'll be okay.
And then Sorey turns from him, reaches out towards the others. He starts to say a name, and it isn't Mikleo's name, and he feels something cold and hateful in his soul that he's never felt before. It digs deep into his very core and at the same time his claws sink into Sorey's arms, just enough to tell him, to remind him--
not him
NOT HIM]
Luzrov Rulay.
[It comes out like a hiss more than a whisper, his lungs already changed, no longer suited for human speech. He's never forced an armatus before, but he knows it's possible; Dezel did it before, with Rose. Inwardly, he insists that this is surely to save the others, give them a chance to escape. To avoid a transformation that would surely doom Zaveid as well.
But he knows, he knows that's not why. He knows the reason he forces his body to join with Sorey's, forming a hideous bastardization of the armatus that once brought them both so much joy, so much completion. And a part of that pleasure exists even now, as he becomes one with the corrupted black hole that Sorey has become. It feels good. It feels amazing, as he holds on to who he is just long enough to find his way home one last time. As the malevolence whispers to him, and a twisted sense of satisfaction, he whispers back in kind.
mine
mine
you don't need them.
you don't need anyone.
I'm right here.]
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come here, I promise, I'll keep you safe
-but then there's Mikleo, claws digging into his arms and teeth bared, hissing his name until he falls into Sorey. Mikleo had already begun transforming; the physical aspects of his body try to merge with Sorey's in a way that tears at them both and Sorey struggles against it in irritation, though he does give up on the idea of calling Zaveid back.
He'll find them eventually.
Mikleo's needs are more pressing as he claws his way stubbornly into Sorey's soul, digs in and refuses to yield any space and echoes his own chant of mine, mine, mine until Sorey agrees, pulses back, yours, yours. It's not until Mikleo acknowledges him that he finally loosens his hold and Sorey can wrench him free. The way the claws had tried to peel out of his own fingers had...hurt, and he stares down at his mangled hand until the malevolence curls around him and slowly begins mending his flesh back to where it should be.
Mikleo swells in size, rips his clothes; his circlet slips as his head flattens and Sorey scoops it up, slides it onto a growing horn and strokes a hand down Mikleo's neck. Mikleo's terrifying like this, but he's also powerful and there's a distinct beauty in that. It's the appearance of a friend who will never die, who cannot be killed. As his wings spread overhead and catch the rain above Sorey he tilts his head back, petting Mikleo's scales idly.
There was something he wanted to do...something he needed to do, he thinks, but he can't remember. Not when he has so much else that needs his attention. Dezel might've broken the pact but Zaveid is still there, and Mikleo will need most of Sorey's attention until he's used to his body. He'll need to be protected; he'll need direction.]
Don't worry, [Sorey whispers with the wind around them, leaning his side against Mikleo's flank and watching the direction in which his other seraphim fled,] you're my one and only. I love you.