driftfleet | huntress mingle

Entry tags:

huntress mingle

Who: Huntress residents + visitors
Broadcast: if you want!
Action: Huntress
When: until the next one? /o/

[Crew comes, crew goes! Half of them are invisible but that's normal at this point.

It's a mingle! Enjoy it!]

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[ Zaveid keeps punching; he keeps slamming his fists into the wall, pushing himself harder and harder even as the wind curls around him. It's comforting, something for his mind to focus on, each slam of pain getting worse and worse the more he repeats. It's easier to focus on that, on the way his fingers burn and his knuckles ache, than it is to think about the box sitting in the middle of his room, innocent and plain, as if it hadn't turned his world upside down.

He barely notices Eizen come in, doesn't really pick up on his voice until there are hands grabbing at him. It's an anchor, something real, and the nausea prickles at him all over again. He twists, tugging even now, trying to get away, to get back to the methodical punch, punch, punch, something familiar to help him overcome the weight of his own emotions and hurt. He doesn't want Eizen to see him like this, doesn't want him to recognise his grief, but there's no undoing it. There's no going back when he feels as though he's falling apart.

They've been like this before. On a cliff edge, a dragon's dying cry echoing around them, a whisper of true names coming between them. Eizen was a rock, stalwart and strong, standing in the face of Zaveid's pain and rage and shouldering it all to free him. Here, again, he does it, over and over and over, and Zaveid knows how undeserving he is, how unworthy he is of such kindness, of such tenderness, of such warmth from someone he had shunned and ignored for so many months. He doesn't deserve anything Eizen gives him, but he drinks it in all the same.

Everything hurts, from his heart to his hands, and the noise he makes is mournful and broken. ]

Maybe that's what I was goin' for.

[ Voice a whisper, Zaveid lets his shaking arms drop down, lets Eizen move and manipulate him. The wind calms, a little, gusts brushing through their hair even as he shakes, trying to swallow it all back down. His eyes sting and his throat is sore and he wants to scream, but Eizen's grip on him is too tight, too secure, too real. ]

It's better that way.

[ He didn't need to look to know what is inside that box, what could make Zaveid fall apart like this, to sink back down into a despair hundreds of years old. A pain that never healed, because Zaveid never let those wounds heal, no matter how many years passed he carried them instead. Theodora, Silva, Dezel, Eizen himself. Each of them still sat there, wounds on his heart and his soul.

All Eizen can do is what he has always done, what he did on that cliff with the dragon's roar filling the air; wind and claw ripping at his skin, eyes burning deep into his back as Eizen struck Theodora down. He saved him once, freed him from a curse worse than his own, he'll save him again. ]

No, it isn't. You're going to make the others worry.

[ Forcefully he takes hold of Zaveid's hands, his grip like iron, the familiar glow of an arte surrounding them. It curls up from the pattern on beneath them, winding up and across Eizen's body before coalescing at their joined hands. The are is warm, reaching out to the pain in Zaveid's hands and soothing it, mending any cracks or tears to the other seraph. A warm gust of air that travels across their skin, carrying Eizen's earthy scent amongst the gusts of Zaveid's pain.

It's not much, a balm for the physical hurts, but there is no arte that can heal the heart.

Even after the glow subsides an his arte disperses, Eizen keeps hold on him, expression furrowed as the knuckles inside his gloves start to lose their color. ]

You know it isn't.

[ Sometimes, Zaveid thinks about how he had been, back then, chasing after a dragon and trying to protect it, protect the memory of the person he had known, and he thinks about how much he really hadn't changed over centuries of time. He had done the same thing for Eizen in the end, chasing him around, waiting until the very last moment of sanity and clarity had faded away. He pushed and pushed until there was nothing left, and it's a winding circle that he's been trapped in time and time again.

Eizen reaches for him and Zaveid doesn't know how to reach back. He's scared, afraid that if he lets go he's going to crumble and fall apart, give into the urge to break into pieces. He doesn't want to shatter in the way he had in front of Sorey all those months before, but at the same time... It's there, on the edge, one more step, one more nudge being enough to push him over, to break him and leave him desperate and needing to be put back together again. ]

They're always worrying.

[ Not that they don't have reason to when he acts like this. He barely pays attention when Eizen's hands go to his and the soft pulse of warm arte covers his fingers; Quickness, he recognises it, uses it himself these days. It's a memory, an aching reminder, and when he breathes in air he doesn't need all he can smell is Eizen, earthy and real and solid, the gentleness of his touch a balm to the broken whirlwind of the tempestuous spirit that Zaveid knows he is.

He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve the kindness from someone he had been so cruel to for so long. Zaveid wants to cry all over again, but he pushes himself back into some kind of stronger state. He has to try. He has to. ]

I can't do it. I can't deal with it, Eizen, not again. Not anymore.

[ Even with all the years that separate them now Zaveid hasn't completely changed, part of the foolish malak he had spent so much time chasing down still remains. Broken, perhaps, in more pieces than he used to be, but there all the same. It's what breaks Eizen's heart, knowing despite saving him that day on the cliff, he fell back into the circle once again.

He never wanted Zaveid to punish himself for Eizen like he had with Theodora, then again he never wanted to get so attached that parting felt worse than the malevolence that surrounded him. He never wanted any of it, but he holds no regrets.

Eizen exhales a noise that is lost in the gust, features softening at the cracks forming in Zaveid's face. Those tiny things he learned how to read a long time ago. It only confirms his suspicions, stomach sinking as he spares a glance to the box in the center of the room.

Again, he says. I can't deal with it, Eizen, not again. Theodora, it has to be. Few things could tear him apart like this, few things affected as much as his former lover's loss of form and mind. He spent so much time, months, weeks, maybe even years, trying to protect that dragon even as she lashed out at him in rage. Eizen can remember the sound of Zaveid's pleas, begging him not to hurt her, not to kill her. ]

I know.

[ Fingers squeeze Zaveid's hands, gaze returning to the other seraph. ]

You don't have to. What do you want me to do?

[ With it, with him. ]

[ Time had been cruel to Zaveid and he's aware of it, all the mistakes and bad choices he'd made leading him up to one brutal, painful moment. It slams into him and makes him feel as though he is shattering, breaking, the urge to slump down and forward into Eizen's arms almost too much for him. He wants to feel safe again, wants to feel as though he's put together, somehow, without needing to rely on Sorey or Mikleo - he's sick of hurting them, just as much as he's sick of being hurt himself, of the pieces of his mind falling away one by one.

It won't be long, he'd told Sorey. He had been afraid, terrified of his own malevolence, and here, in a moment like this... He's reminded. It won't be long, can't be long, until his time comes, until he runs short. Maybe the only thing keeping him together these days is having Sorey as a vessel to keep him safe.

Jaw clenched tight, Zaveid swallows, forces himself to breathe, to try and find some calm, to summon whatever strength he has to push himself back into one solid being, to take control of himself and his powers. The wind dies down, slowly, into gentle breezes that push against their hair and skin, and he lets himself tilt his head, glancing up at Eizen as if he has all the answers, as if, somehow, he'll magically make this all better. ]

Someone's really got a grudge against me, huh.

[ The coat, the gun, Dezel and now this, bringing all the sharp, painful points of his life together over and over again. He turns his head to glance at the box but feels the nausea prickle at him again, churning in his stomach, and he has to turn away, eyes closing as he shakes his head. His hair is as short as it had been when he was younger, still growing back, and he wonders...

Does it make Eizen remember, too? ]

I dunno. I - I can't... I don't know what to do with any of it.

[ Horns. Scales. Body parts. Parts of Theodora's corpse. ]

It's just gonna be there.

[ It's a terrible thought, that one day Zaveid's luck will run out, his time all but spent. A thought Eizen doesn't dare entertain though he knows how likely it is to become reality. After all he's survived, all he has lived through, it is a surprise that Zaveid still has his own mind. Any other seraph would have turned into a dragon by now, losing all sense of self, but not Zaveid.

Eizen waits for the gust to settle, unwilling to let Zaveid's hands go, until it is little more than breeze that rustles through their hair. He waits, squeezing gently, silently offering himself as an anchor, a rock, whatever is needed for as long as it takes. He can't turn away from this, just like he couldn't turn away from Dezel's disappearance. He tries a smile but it doesn't sit right, it's tight against his face, forced in a way that betrays what lies underneath. ]

Yeah, wonder who you managed to piss off.

[ No one, everyone. Zaveid has as much of a knack for getting into trouble as he does, he wouldn't be surprised if he rubbed someone out there the wrong way. Eizen exhales briefly, looking to the box again then back to Zaveid with his shorter hair and barely held together expression. It's... nostalgic, makes him remember the cliff and the dragon and the names they had exchanged. ]

I can take it if you want me to.

[ And do what? He isn't sure yet. Take it as far from Zaveid as he can, so it doesn't hurt as much. ]

Or destroy it.

Don't destroy it.

[ Those words come out faster than he can actually think about them, alarm colouring his features before Zaveid can recognise it for what it is. He doesn't want to see these last pieces of Theodora just gone, broken and shattered under the weight of his own pain - he wants to do something, at least, have something good come out of the misery. He just doesn't know what that is, yet, and his uncertainty makes him feel young and foolish.

Sometimes, that's what being around Eizen is like. Being young and foolish and uncertain, a turmoil of emotions, a minefield of feelings that he can't quite figure out, let alone begin to contemplate properly.

Their hands are still joined and Zaveid revels in it, lets himself take this moment of idle selfishness, of dragging Eizen down with him and burying himself in the hurt and the ache of being close to someone and so far all at once. Theodora is gone, Dezel is gone, but Eizen is here and Zaveid wants, suddenly, so desperately, for something he can't name nor put into words. It's a curling, buzzed desire that escapes him, and he shrugs it off for now; his pain is too complete for him to spend energy considering the impossible.

Instead, he breathes out, shaking his head and leaning close, resting himself against Eizen's body, firm and strong and unmoving, like the earth itself. ]

We gotta do something good. She'd like that. She'd have liked to be remembered for all the good stuff, not the crap.

[ It's surprising how quickly he rejects the suggestion to destroy the box and it's contents, yet at the same time it isn't. He was already certain Zaveid wouldn't want them destroyed, would want something done to honor the woman she had been. What, Eizen isn't sure of yet but already his mind churns through ideas of what could be done. They built him a grave on top of Rayflake, didn't they? Perhaps he could do something similar, somewhere high enough to catch the gentle breeze Zaveid's presence on the feel can bring.

The mountain.

His thoughts grind to a halt as Zaveid's head rests against him, their hands still joined, and he breathes in sharply. Suddenly Eizen becomes keenly aware of it, the warmth that radiates from him, the weight of him there, the connection of their hands. Something twists inside him, nameless and unknowable, an old want that rushes up to the surface almost overwhelming. Eizen breathes out, looking out over Zaveid's head, and pushes it down as he has done so many times before. ]

I could... [ Another breath, unnecessary, centering him solidly back in the moment. ] I could make her a shrine on top of Edna's mountain. Do you think she'd like that?

[ There's no way that Zaveid can just throw away the pieces of someone he had loved so much, even if it is disgusting and painful, leaving him feeling venomous and violent in its wake. He doesn't want to destroy the last pieces of someone he cared about with such passion and depth that he was prepared to die to keep her safe, to waste away defending a being that didn't recognise him nor the sound of his voice or the feel of his wind in the air. Faced with that choice again... He knows he can't make it, he can't give it up, just as much as he's sure Eizen knows too.

The sharp breath makes Zaveid tense, just a little, but he doesn't move away or let go. He's desperate for the connection, for the tenderness, the touch, and he clings with everything he has. He doesn't want the feeling of being alone right now, not when the haunting memories of pain and desperation are clinging to him, the wind on the edge of twisting into a tundra, a storm of emotion and hurt.

When the suggestion comes some of the tension in his shoulders settles, relaxing and slipping away, and he considers it. A shrine of some kind, something he'd never been able to do before, something real - maybe something he could visit, too, to pay his respects to her when the memories were too much and his mind was heavy with them all. He tilts his head, twisting against the fabric of Eizen's shirt, and then... He nods. ]

Yeah. Maybe take one of the horns up and - and give her somethin' there. I might ask Sorey if I can add the other to his one.

[ He knows, of course he does. Zaveid couldn't face that choice before, no matter how many times she struck out at him, no matter how it was slowly killing him to defend and keep her alive. It's in part why Eizen took it upon himself to kill her, to free Zaveid from the shackles that he had placed around himself. Even if it meant dooming himself to a similar fate.

Slowly one of his hands releases Zaveid's, hovering for a moment before resting upon the back of his head. It's a little awkward, the gesture, though attempting to be, perhaps, a little more comforting.

Tension he hadn't been aware of stars to melt away when Zaveid agrees, the feeling of his head moving against his chest almost distracting. A gloved hand threads through his fingers, making idle motions as it sits there. A horn, yeah, he could make something good enough for her, perhaps he can get Edna to help after he has explained the significance of it. He never told her about the dragon, about what happened on that cliff, maybe it's time he did. ]

What about the rest of it?

[ Someone had to make the choice for him then - and that's why he made them all now, in the future. He was the one who defeated the Wyverns with Sorey, the ones that he had fought Velvet to save, he was the one who dragged them all up the mountainside to fight Eizen, in the end. He made that choice, to free Edna just like Eizen had freed him decades before. It was a curse, a brand, and it was painful to think about the damage that malevolence had done.

The touch to his head makes him shiver, leaning even closer against Eizen, tight and determined even as the pain causes knots in his stomach. His fingers grip at Eizen's clothes, his hands shake a little, but then he manages to breathe in and control himself, to calm, just enough. Enough that he doesn't feel as though he's going to fall apart all over again; Eizen's steadiness gives him strength.

In the end, he trusts Eizen to do what's right, to do something good; he puts his faith in the other seraph because there's no one else he would trust in the same way. He has the same tied up emotions for Sorey and Mikleo and the rest of his family, of course he does, a lifetime of faith wrapped up in a single human body, but with Eizen... Eizen links his worlds together, the past and the present, and it's almost too much.

Almost. ]

I... I'll ask the others. I'll figure it out.

[ They've been close before; nights of drinking and laughter, limbs draping over one another as they watch the sun disappear into the horizon. It's normal, in many ways, yet something about their closeness now is... different. There is a pressure in his chest, something that twists around his heart leaving him almost breathless. It's different, though not disliked. Gently he rests his chin on top of Zaveid's head, exhaling as they sit there, arms wrapped around protectively.

He'll make something nice, something fitting, high up in that mountain Edna and he built. Something to honor the woman she had been, to honor what she meant to Zaveid, to the children they had adopted. He knows enough to do that at least. ]

Alright. [ Eizen breathes again, eyes flitting closed. ] Just don't be an idiot and wait to long to ask them. You don't have to bear this all on your own.

[ It's been too long since Zaveid had someone like Eizen around - Sorey and the others were great, there was no denying that, but the friendship he had shared with Eizen... It had been so easy. It had been like stepping into something he had known his entire life, as if the two of them had been waiting to wander around the earth together, half-invisible and enjoying their freedoms before it all came to an end. It was easy company, well made and simple, and Zaveid had flourished under it, grown and become someone better and stronger from Eizen's influence.

He never regretted a day of it, not even at the end. There was no way for him to feel that way, not when he knew that he was doing the right thing. That had been his promise, after all, and he couldn't forget any of the promises he'd made in his life; it was his name, his heart, and it meant everything to him.

Tilting his head, Zaveid leans closer to Eizen, just basking, for a moment, letting himself be vulnerable. ]

I'm not gonna wait. [ He scoffs. ] I'm not an idiot. Asshole.

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