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27 Sydenstar, mid brunch, Acis' House foyer
Valac
Pounding. There is a pounding in his ears, accompanied by a high-pitched whine. This cannot be happening. Not when he's spent to much time away, not when he thought it didn't bother him anymore.
The dining room doors abruptly push open under his command and reveal a long corridor that ends in a stair before turning right. Where... where even to go? Where was "out"? Eyes wild, his legs start leading him on their own, too frantic to wait for his mind to catch up, and a hand flies up to massage at his temples. When the other goes to move, however, it stays in place.
That doesn't make sense, he was alone? His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, neurotic, at the hand around his wrist, and follows it up along the arm to the person its attached to. There is a smaller, blurry figure standing beside him.
"You didn't have to follow", he says to what he knows is Kismet, even if every color around him is blending into the same concoction.
The stairs down or right along the corridor? Which way did they come from?
Kismet
There are indents in his palm where he grips the silverware. Every mouthful like ash, though somewhere deep within tells him it's good, this or that familiar. When the chair legs scream across the tile, Kismet moves automatically.
Valac walks swiftly, heading in some direction, and Kismet almost has to run to keep up. The moment the tiefling stops, Kismet grabs his wrist, trying to catch his eye. Trying to see exactly where he's at, and if his mind is in as much turmoil as Kismet feels right now.
Valac's eyes don't catch on any part of Kismet. Vague and darting. The tall ceilings somehow crowd down over Kismet's head, the decorated walls swimming behind Valac's tall form. Out. Out, he needed to get out. And he's taking Valac with him.
He grips harder without meaning to, a soft whisper and the small gesture for Guidance leaving him almost without thinking, flowing like ice through his fingers and across Valac's forearm.
"This way," he hisses, then bites back on his tongue. Too harsh. Where was this coming from? Softer now. "Come on. Outside."
Perhaps it's selfish of him, clutching the coat tails of Valac like this. But he needed to get out of there. He needs to think. Just one blasted moment to think. He leads them toward the stairs that lead out toward the front door.
Valac
Outside, that decision taken from him. He follows, familiar in it. It's almost comforting to be back.
No, wait, he's not back- that was after, or he was before. Everything is plummeting in a blur way too quick, too hard. Control. Take back control. You must always have control, they'd said. Control the narrative.
"I don't know how", he mumbles, eyes trying to focus on something, anything. A corridor full of paintings. One of them is the bottom of a lake. Another is the surface. A third is a young boy dressed in white. He blinks, and they're all covered in blood. His breath catches in his throat and he has to look away. Did that one move? He's walking, his feet are moving, they're walking down the corridor, he's being led somewhere. Where is he going? Fear creeps on him like the cold of dead winter and he shakes his head. No. Not this, not again.
He pushes back against the figure, heels burrowing in the ground, and tries to pull away, but the manacles are too strong, burning at his skin around the wrist.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I- please let go", he sobs, Undercommon slipping off his tongue with ease.
Control. Control. Control. Control.
His mind, what's left of it, extends to the presence that holds him, now too blurred to be even considered a figure, and he wields it like a knife, clawing his way inside. They have to, they have to let go, that's all he has.
Kismet
There's resistance. Valac is pulling away, and Kismet turns in time to see him cry out in Undercommon, his eyes darting around as though shadows were jumping at his throat. Kismet opens his mouth, for a prayer or a curse, he isn't sure, when a presence spikes into his mind.
His vision blurs, auras dancing, the outline of Valac sheering into pieces for a moment. Kismet grits his teeth, hand reaching for his amulet.
He was warned about this. Valac had told him, under no uncertain terms, to run.
So why isn't he moving his feet? Why is he turning towards him?
He loosens his grip on Valac's wrist. That order, he believes, was still Valac. But he presses the amulet close to his heart, eyes wide and boring into Valac's, moves his fingers in the pattern the Matron showed him.
He speaks more to her than to Valac, a plea to extend her favour as she once had for Kismet. He doesn't think the Tiefling hears him at all.
"Tear him from the dark, Matron."
Valac
Valac steps back immediately when he's released, preparing to run, when release washes over him. It's... warm. He jerks as if he's hit the ground after plummeting form the skies when he focuses on Kismet in front of him.
Oh. Oh no.
Without thinking, he moves forward, long manicured fingers intertwining with the hand stretched towards him. Frozen in a somatic gesture, surely something he did when Valac-
His other hand grips Kismet's chin and he frantically checks for any sign of damage, turning his face this way and that, only moving on to examine the rest of his body when he's sure there's nothing. No cuts, no nosebleeds, good, good, he almost audibly exhales.
"You're a fool, Kismet, what-", he searches for the words and finds none. His mind is a mess, but it's singular.
He finally steps back after a second of just staring at the elf in front of him in wonder, and glances at the walls. The paintings are beautiful, and they're all flowers. There's not a single painting of a lake there. He bites on his lip when tears threaten to spill.
"We should- we should go. Outside or somewhere, alone."
Kismet
He feels the spell take hold, the darkness he learned to feel comfort in cracking through the air like black ice. The Matron's blessing rests on Valac's shoulders and Kismet holds his breath, ready to run. Surely he'll run. He has to run.
And then Valac jerks, an astral drop.
Kismet stands in stunned silence as the tiefling checks over him. His earrings clink together as he's moved this way and that, his shaking hand still gripped around his amulet. He follows Valac's gaze around the corridor, catching on each painting.
"We should- we should go. Outside or somewhere, alone."
Foolish. He's done something foolish, of that much he's sure, but his mind is not in the right place. Still numb and distant from the cells. It's only fair, he thinks. It's not right he pull me free and I leave him to drown.
He swallows drily. "Right. I was...that's where I was going. Fresh air."
Kismet casts one last look around, then makes for the stairs, watching to see if Valac follows.
Valac
There's worry and distance painted on the elf's features and Valac feels his heart drop. He's royally fucked up this time, he's sure. He untangles his fingers from Kismet's but his hand stays midair, hesitant.
Then Kismet is turning around and starting down the corridor, and Valac just follows after him like a lost child. He knows exactly what happened while he was out of it, he always remembered. He remembered everything. He remembers taking the decision to hurt Kismet and remembers how it felt logical, like it was the only possible decision, even if he didn't recognize him. That was no excuse.
If he was looking at this... scene from the sidelines, would he have attacked himself like he did Asriel? Agatha would not have hesitated to shoot him, certainly, and for the first time since meeting her he wishes she was there.
The fact that Kismet looks back to check if he's following feels like salt in the wound and Valac averts his gaze from where it was boring into the elf's neck.
"Is that the way out?", he manages out when they reach the stairs. "Did we not come from the side? I really wasn't paying attention, merde..."
None of this looked right.
Kismet
There’s a tremor in Valac’s voice, an uncertainty that Kismet isn’t used to hearing from him. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and peers down the corridor, where there’s a foyer painted with early morning light.
“This is the way,” he says, keeping one eye on Valac and working as much surety into his tone as he can muster.
Matron, but it was hard trying to keep composure with all that had happened that morning. But Valac needs him. Well, perhaps not him, but it’s clear he needs something to grasp at, some distraction. Some kind of reassurance. So he slots away the breakfast conversation, pockets the slivers of information dropped like so many careless threads, and smiles softly.
“Once we get outside you’ll feel better. Come on.”
The front door is still open, and he winces as they exit to the courtyard. Arabella was right, the Menagerie Coast sunlight is strong. Living near the Frigid Depths, the days were short and the hot months barely worthy of the word ‘warm’. Even as late in summer as it is he can feel the heat of it. But the air is full of sweet flowers and sea salt, and it calms him, at least on the surface.
Blinking, he leads the way around the house, following an orderly stone path through a line of hedges. From this side of the house—no, mansion—a low conservatory juts from the side. The path continues to a manicured lawn, trees unfamiliar to him shading a collection of stone benches.
“Sorry for dragging you around like this.” He takes a seat on the grass, resting his back against one of the benches. The edge of a headache begins to work its way through his temple.
He gestures to the grass in front of him, then remembers earlier. Under the tree, where Valac used his scarf to avoid sitting on the ground. With quick movements he unclasps his cloak and lays it out with a shrug. “Too hot anyway.”
Then he waits. He’s not sure for what, but he’s good at this. Waiting.
Valac
The Menagerie sun takes him by surprise for a second, and he has to shield his eyes from the glare. Summers are mild in the Empire, and it's been a good while since he's stepped foot anywhere else. It's hot, probably hotter than Asarius, but the air is heavy with moisture, nothing like the dry winds that sweep the flatlands all the way to the Vermaloc.
They walk in relative silence until they reach a clearing where Kismet finally sits down on the grass. He looks exasperated.
"I've already ruined your day, I'm not about to ruin your cloak too", Valac says as he crouches and neatly folds the fabric, pushing it to the side.
Kismet broke down before him and here he was, hoarding all his comfort. Valac's usual wit is all but gone as he struggles to find any words fit to explain, at least begin to, but his tongue is as good as swollen. So he takes off his scarf and hesitates for a moment - he's seen Florian seek his proximity and offer the same to Kismet in times of dire need. If he can... copy it, maybe it would do something. There's the uncertainty in the back of his mind; is he doing this for himself or for Kismet, but he pushes it away and lays out his scarf right next him. As he sits down, completely flush, his tail plops to the grass and curls around the elf's body.
"Please, if there is a next time, heed my advice", he brings his knees up and hugs them, then rests his forehead atop.
"Let's play a game, since we're so good at them," he croaks, face hidden. "How familiar was today for you on a scale of one to 'I didn't travel all this way to experience the same shit all over again'?"
Kismet
His voice is soft, as if he's back at his shrine in Bysaes Tyl. "You didn't ruin my day, Valac."
And the same warning again. It hurts him, somewhat. He's always run towards. Followed. Searched. Again and again, over and over. And it's always ended the same way.
"I'll stay back, but you can't keep me away. Not if I can help you recover from it."
Valac's tail wraps around him. Uncertainly, he lets his fingers rest upon where it curls about his waist. Just leaves his hand still.
At the tiefling's question, he lets out a nervous laugh. "Like someone held a mirror to my past, then cast a light upon it to show every detail I missed." He swallows, a tightness forming in his throat. His other hand grips his own ankle, the skin hidden beneath fabric but he can still feel the old scars.
"Isn't it funny how life works? You finally stop running, and it catches you by the throat." Unbidden, a fresh tear tracks down his face.
Agatha
That conservatory door doesn't do much to stop Miss Weber. She needed fresh air and she needed it now.
The door opens as loudly as possible without breaking it, and she stumbles enters the courtyard. The sun hit her eyes hard after the hour of cooking inside, not really focusing on the windows. She breaths, shakily, that salty air. Clear your head, dammit, clear you-
Oh. Well. There was Valac and Kismet. Under a tree like before. Valac had reacted awfully dramatically.
Fuck it, why not.
She had calmed her laughing and mania, but her hysteria remained. She still felt like she was dreaming as she walked towards the others, and flatly fell back onto the grass, turning her head to look at them.
"I hate to intrude, but if I spend one more moment alone after that, I think I will throw myself into the ocean. And how are you two?"
Valac
It's almost as if the only thing keeping him grounded right now is the uncertain touch on his tail.
"That's a good way to put it", he tries to chuckle at Kismet's description but his face stays impassive. Instead, he just squeezes in on himself, as if in an attempt to reach singularity or at least disintegrate.
What he gets, however, is the abrupt sound of doors opening followed by Agatha's voice.
Now at that, if he had any power left, he'd heartily laugh.
"You know what, Agatha, I'd never thought I'd say this but you're just who I needed", he speaks as clearly as he can with his head still buried in his knees, face turned downwards.
Kismet
Agatha flops down in the grass next to them, and Kismet instinctively squeezes Valac's tail, then immediately blushes in embarrassment. Of all people, he wants to see Agatha the least. He would almost prefer the Kryn--at least they don't appear to want to know anything about him.
He oens his mouth, for a quip or a laugh or anything, until he looks at Agatha. Face tense, eyes wide. Chest rising and falling too fast. However Valac and himself left the breakfast table, it looks to only have grown worse.
He tries to think of what he would normally do. This situation is nothing if not familiar, after all. A child or partner, curled upon themself in the door of their own home where their ailing love cannot see.
It's familiar.
But today he's drowning, and numb from it all.
"What a thing to bring these souls together." He leans, just slightly, against Valac. For himself, or to try and comfort the tiefling, he can't decide. "But another pair of souls so tangled they rip the web where they land."
Agatha
Agatha laughs, loudly. A hearty one that is loaded with anxiety and fear. A smile on her face, but not one of joy.
"I am not in the empire anymore, so I can fully lose it over this. And believe me I am truly losing it. Two drow, from a group in the dynasty that people often consider... a scary, scary force. Connections that could be brought back to those of us that would really rather not be connected to what may be a crime on both sides of this upcoming war."
She rubs her face, covering her eyes from the harsh sun.
"Fuck me, I don't know what to do or say anymore. Do you two? I feel like I'm dreaming, and no matter how I try and conceptualize this dream I am just... blindsided by yet another hook. Either of you have anything you wanna unload? May as well pile up the plate, we aren't getting off this train of misfortunate fuckups any time soon."
Valac
"Why the fuck are you even losing it", Valac finally lifted his head to see Agatha sprawled on the grass in front of them.
Kismet for his part had leaned slightly on him, and before he could stop himself he squeezed with his tail. Was this how it was supposed to go? Because it was oddly addicting.
"My only issue with these two is that we're going to have to look after them, and they'll be a constant fucking reminder of what my own family did to me", he said through gritted teeth.
Might as well be out with it, and he had to explain the freak out either way. As vague as it was, he never envisioned saying that go Agatha, but whatever the reason he found her presence almost comforting now.
"The Lens probably won't be an issue, but I will be checking to see if they were saying the truth the next time I can. Thelyss is a ruling den as well," he swallowed at that - den Thelyss of all of them, no fucking way, "And that probably grants us some kind of protection as long as we stay away from the Dynasty. Not that I had any plans of going there."
His eyes bore into a single spot, somewhere in the hedge around them, unseeing. He felt annoyed, not at his companions but at every circumstance that led him here. And at himself most of all, for losing his control with someone who he couldn't stand to see hurt.
"Now please feel free to share your own fucking worries with the class because I'll be on my own merry way if any more complications arise."
Kismet
The pressure of Valac's tail around him is oddly comforting. He feels...torn. For so long it's been like that. He's always been more of a ghost than a real presence, hovering in doorways and bedrooms and crowded halfway houses. Offering solace and comfort is easy to those who are nearly dead. They look up with half-glazed eyes and are glad for the proximity. For the pain being eased, if slightly. Offering comfort is harder, but still so, so easy, for those who grieve. They demand why, they rage and pummel and wring his hands but in the end, he has an answer. Always an answer.
It's the way of things.
How is one supposed to offer comfort to those who fight to go on? What is he supposed to do, when all he's seen in quiet rooms that smell of death is love, and love, and love, over and over. The widows spit at him, because they loved. The children cry, because they loved. The siblings hold their hands empty before them, because they loved.
You only notice the moon for the void around it. So when comfort is offered, stilted and unsure as it is, he doesn't know what to do with it. He presses his hand against Valac's tail, and feels the warmth where their shoulders meet, and listens to him and Agatha talk of families they're reminded of and families they're scared to lose.
You only notice the moon for the void around it.
"I've a sister," he says, voice cracking. "But I don't know that I care if she lives or not."
Valac
Valac turns to Kismet at that, his face blank of any outrage or surprise. So he was looking for her, dead or alive, and was indifferent of either outcome. He was looking for answers, which was at least more than Valac sought out. Something tugged at him at the familiarity of that, a family so shattered that spending time around those people felt like walking barefoot on broken glass.
Cheers to that, he whispers for Kismet's mind only, longing to preserve some sense of privacy between the two still. More to talk about later, but right now, he turns to Agatha.
Kismet
He catches Valac's eye at that. He can't think of what to say in response, what could possibly convey the sense of similarity he gained from three words. No pity. No apologies. Just...understanding.
Cheers to that, he replies.
Agatha
The sky was awfully pretty, on the coast. Far less dreary, gray overcast. Warm air, even at this time of year. She only half listened to the others, noting the important things.
She doesn't look at the two, but she intakes a deep breath. Racing mind slowing finally, able to gather some thoughts. The memories of her own family... no, families, clash in her mind like a battlefield. The familiar tones of malice towards the actions of one's own blood. She couldn't help but empathize with Valac's spiteful tone.
Maybe there was something to these two. Products of their circumstances, just like her.
"I fear if the dynasty finds I exist and live, they will drag me back there. I have no issues with the twins, other than what they may bring upon me unintentionally."
She pauses. Does she trust these two at all enough to elaborate? No. But it was clear to see their stances on the situation as well, and if she hid this it would only be worse in the long run. She does not look at them as she speaks.
"I grew up in Rosohna. With a ruling den. Some century and a half ago. I do not want to go back."
Valac
In Rosohna... a century in a half ago... but that would mean...
It takes him a while, a couple of seconds, to string the information together, his eyes darting back and forth wildly. More than a century ago.
Valac goes to stand abruptly but only stumbles backward, tail harshly untangling from Kismet.
"You're consecuted", it's both a statement and a question, his voice full of disbelief.
Slower, he rises, legs wobbly, and his hands fly to his temples, head now split by an unmistakable headache.
"That's... that's rich, oh, that's so rich", he laughs mostly to himself as he starts pacing around. "I go to the capitol of the Empire, as faar away from home as it can be, only to meet not one, not two, but FOUR people from the Dynasty who are simply stuck travelling with me! Amazing, truly a magnificent turn of events! Which god do I have to thank for it this time? You-"
He turns to Agatha, fighting the urge to just grab her by the collar, and... stops. Her face is contorted in fear, as if fully expecting him to snap her neck any moment. He can't even bring himself to look at Kismet and find out what horror he sees. So he takes a moment, then two. Brings his hands down to look them over as if seeing them for the first time. They're trembling, again, and his heart is pounding.
Control. Make sense of this. Control, before it's too late.
He exhales and closes his palms into a fist, no real regard if the nails break skin in the grip, and feels serenity wash over him with a whisper. Think, think. She said she doesn't want to go back, fears it.
"They believe you're dead? Your former den? They would have no reason to seek you out?", Valac finally speaks with certainty and grace betrayed only by the sweat still sticking to his forehead.
Agatha
Watching him piece together her words would have been hell, which is why her eyes avert from the tiefling.
His reaction is... confusing. And brings a pang of fear into her. Should she had said anything?
She gives him the most cursory of glances as he turns, the expression on his face only amplifying her current state. He calms, sure, but how much of that is a façade? Better explain yourself quick, Weber.
"I... Ja. Ja, my den thinks I'm dead. Hell, it seems like they may have wiped me from the history books. I asked Sarven about my family, how many children of Den Biylan there were. I had four siblings, he only said that he's ever known of four children of the Umavi. May as well be a ghost to them at this point. I... they wouldn't want to seek me out, Valac. During my time in the dynasty I did everything I could to get away from them. They... they were not great. You seem to understand that, at the least."
She doesn't move from her position on her back, practically frozen.
"The prospect of a consecuted soul in the empire is.. probably not something the Bright Queen would enjoy. And despite those two not necessarily being on the best terms with their illustrious queen... information can travel. It can travel far and fast, if it wants to."
Valac
Perhaps it's the exhaustion washing over him, result of that turbulence of emotion packed in a single morning, but he doesn't sense an ounce of dishonesty in her words. Erased from history, but surely remembered by her family. What a horrible fate.
"I am unsurprised. Everything that touches den politics is rotten, the Bright Queen most of all. These people will do anything in their power to keep the status quo, and further their own agenda, at the cost of their own blood as well. Look at you, your former family, the twins, and...", he swallows. No, it's not the time. He's barely in his right mind. "If you're saying "fuck the Dynasty" then I am... glad we agree on this most of all, Agatha."
He lets silence overtake him for a moment before chuckling.
"Just out of curiosity, were you as insufferable in your former life as you are in this one?"
Agatha
"I have no issues with the people of the dynasty, just the dens. It is no different from the empire, where the ruling class only cares about what they can use to further their own agenda."
He knew an awful lot about den politics. And the fact he knew what consecution was? Hit a few points in her mind that gave her ideas, but none she would ask about now. Now was not the time, not the place.
Ah. Her past life. She sits up slowly, hands behind her in the grass, holding herself up. What to even say about him...
"Me, 30 years ago... Insufferable to me now, perhaps. You may have gotten along with me, or maybe run faster than you've ever run before."
The faintest of smiles creeps on her face
"Actually, Valac, knowing your habits? You would have asked me if I came to the Puffin often."
Pulling herself to her feet, brushing some of the grass off of her, she snaps her fingers. There is a brief aura of that blacklight that sometimes surrounds her, and her form changes. The illusion before then is not far from the disguise she had used in their first day of meeting, in the bar. Taller than Agatha, 5'8" ish. Broader shoulders, and sharper features as a whole. Pure white hair, pulled back into some very intense Dreads, and the same Gray eyes as Agatha. Clearly a drow, of course.
"This is an illusion, of course, but just to be sure: neither of you have met anyone who looked like this, have you?"
Kismet
Valac disentangles himself from Kismet as Agatha reveals more and more about her past life. He sits there, frozen, eyes darting between the two, wondering if he should intervene. Valac's hands shake, Agatha sits up -- this could be bad, this could go bad--
Then Valac relaxes slightly, though he still stands. Kismet listens on, though all he wishes to do is run. He's stuck in place, forced to listen to Agatha describe her past self, and her assurances that it will not come looking for her. That there's little danger unless she goes looking for it.
When she creates the illusion, it's too much. The armour of the Aurora Watch, the insect-like overlapping pieces. He blinks, and the armour is splattered with blood. It runs down Agatha's palm. He blinks again, shaking his head, the stone harsh on his spine. The blood remains.
Gasping, he scrabbles back from the illusion, catching his palm on the stone bench. He can't afford to lose it like this, but fear is contorting his face, and when he looks at his palms there's blood, real blood, from where he grazed it on the stone bench. It takes every ounce of self control he has left not to scream.
Valac
Valac watches as Agatha transforms into a handsome drow figure clad in Aurora Watch armor, and holds his breath. He wasn't even born when this person was alive, thankfully.
"Well, I now wish I had seen-" he starts smug but is interrupted when out of the corner of his eye he notices something is wrong.
Perhaps it's the telepathic link, but he feels a wave of fear go up his spine before he even sees Kismet scramble to get away from them. The elf's reaction to whatever Agatha just revealed is visceral, more so than anything Valac experienced earlier. He makes a step to get closer and freezes mid movement when like a cornered doe, Kismet grazes his palm on the stone bench.
Oh this was getting worse quick, and the elf's eyes completely gloss over when he brings up his hand and sees the blood.
Bloodied hands, again. He's seen him become like this before.
"Drop it", he addresses Agatha with his back completely turned to her. "Drop the disguise."
He risks another step towards Kismet. He has one shot at this and he prays to whatever entity is listening that he picked the right spell.
"Kismet," he uses his name as the verbal component and casts the same spell he used not one minute earlier on himself. "I need you to come back to us."
Agatha
Agatha was already half way through removing the illusion from herself as Valac speaks, having noticed the movement of the elf instantly.
Fuck, this was the last thing she wanted. She should have known, considering how Kismet had reacted before, to the slightest detail.
"I... I am sorry. Kismet, did you-..." She cuts herself off. Going to ask if he recognized Zeker. That can wait, show some restraint.
She stays silent otherwise, watching them. Just another complication to add to the pile, it seems. What a wonderful morning....
Kismet
His pulse pounds in his ears, the blood coating his palm too much for a simple graze. His breaths come in gasps and he presses a hand to the ground to get up, to bolt, to do anything but lose it in front of these two.
Then inexplicable calm washes over him, and he gives in to it, a man dying of thirst offered a canteen. He looks back to his palm, impassively. There's not much blood. It stings a little. Agatha is there, not the soldier. Valac stands between them.
"Sorry," he says. "That was embarrassing."
It's a warm morning in Nicodranas, and the grass is beneath him. The air smells of salt and nature. He wonders why he ever felt fear.
"You're alright as well, Valac?"
Valac
He breathes out when he's sure the spell has taken hold, left wondering if Kismet had to struggle against it or just accept it. And stays like that for a moment, eyes fixed on him, before slowly turning around. He picks up his scarf from where it lay not 5 feet away, and spraws it out at his current location, leaving just enough space for Kismet to sit next to him again if he desires.
"I am now," he says quietly.
There are so many things he wants to ask. But he cannot help but fear that these conversations will just keep violently ripping out the worst in them.
"To fully answer you question, Agatha, had I not known it was you I would have absolutely invited you back to my room," he sighs. "Alas, I'm only 25, you died before I was born."
Agatha
That connection between those two for a brief moment, whatever it was seemed to help the situation. Her silence stays as her mind wanders briefly. She disagreed with Valac greatly, but he couldn't disagree with his effect rectifying these situations was commendable... mayhaps not with Asriel, but that was a whole other beast.
She snaps back to reality with Valac's words, and stays standing, moving in front of them with the smallest of sad smiles.
"Actually, you would have been. I am only 22. Along with... other reasons, that may be more complicated, and not a topic for now. And unfortunately, you would not have succeeded in anything. I was... to say I had a stick up my ass was an understatement."
Kismet
It felt like walking on eggshells, navigating these conversations. Valac leaves some space for him, and for a moment he considers just getting up and walking away from the whole situation. But he's tired, and calm, so he moves back across to sit next to the Tiefling. He carefully avoids brushing his bloody palm on anything.
"So...do we think the twins' past will come looking for us?" He feels a waver of something, smothered by false calm, waiting to get out. "Will we be in danger? Not just from the Empire, but the Dynasty also?"
He lets his hands fall limp in his lap. "What am I saying? With war looming, we're all going to be in danger, no matter who is involved."
Valac
"There are those of us who have to get back to Rexxentrum eventually, so we need to figure out a way to disguise them if they're coming. The brewing tensions won't treat a couple of drow nicely in the empire, and that will surely draw danger to us. And hell, if we're staying together...", Valac pauses at that, interrupted by his own thoughts. What a crew they were. "Well, there's a whole bunch of issues with that, aren't there?"
Kismet's presence returns to his side and he immediately moves his tail back where it was. Perhaps he'll ask to share a room with him.
"I don't expect us to be friends and that's not my goal either", he looks at Agatha. "But as long as none of you let your pasts catch up to you, I will strive to do the same."
Agatha
"Ja. The empire is... an unfortunate place, beset by turmoil, unrest and bigotry. But it is still my home, and the people there are good. We can find ways to keep them hidden, those that do not care so much about the place of one's birth."
"I don't expect us to be friends, and that's not my goal either"
She sends Valac a long, curious glance. She didn't like him and some of the things he did, that was for sure. Too many things, between him and Asriel, that reminder her of herself nigh 40, 50 years ago. Yet, she sees a lot in him. Care for certain people that, even if a façade, has helped in the moment. Him, Florian, kismet... have something there, as a group. Maybe a drunken night of revelry allowed some bridges to be formed, if unsteady.
"Well, Valac, if we are to remain acquaintances bound by circumstance, so be it. And... despite my disagreements, I'll still have your back, if you're truly in a pinch."
She pauses again, considering what to do about the twins.
"Well, I know some of you all need to return to Rexxentrum. I'm not sure... how long we should wait, before we return? A few days, a week? You all must have urgent things to return to... I do know of one place, at least, that the twins might be safe."
Kismet
"I've always wanted to visit the coast," Kismet offers. "I just don't wish to remain here for too long."
He sighs, all the tension leaving him at once. What they needed was a break. A few days to go down to the beach or explore the city, actually get used to being in each other's company.
"We have Sarven. He can keep his ear to the ground in Rexxentrum and let us know when it's safe to return." He turns his gaze to his hands, addressing Agatha. "Is that place your family? Nogvurot?"
Agatha
"I would love to stay at the coast for a while, but.... well, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing, out here. Acting like some sort of adventuring mercenary."
She shifts a bit, still standing a little awkwardly, weight changing from one foot to the other. "Yes, my family. Nogvurot is not far from Rexxentrum and would give the twins a home to stay in where they would not be judged. They would be willing to take care of them for... as long as they needed, really. But I am unsure if I am in a state to stay at home for that long, honestly. I love my family in Nogvurot but... well, I'll never figure out who I am if I just stay there, pretending I'm not having dreams."
Valac
"I suspect they won't just agree to be deposited in the care of someone else and lay low, they're not exactly children", he raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Hells, we have so much we need to figure out still."
Valac lays back and crosses one leg over the other. The worst of his instability seemed to finally have passed and he felt himself relax enough to not mind the grass for a while. He risks a touch as well, the sun-warmed blades tickling his palm as he grabs at them. He almost jumps when the tickle starts travelling around his fingers on its own, but it turns out to be just a curious ladybug. A smile threatens to break his brooding as he brings his hand up towards Kismet until the ladybug simply transfers on his forearm.
"I could use a break, I suppose. The coast, from what I've heard, is peaceful."
Kismet
There's a brush of something on his forearm, and he glances down to see a ladybug crawl from Valac's finger. Conversation forgotten, he can't help throwing a wide grin to Valac, his sharp canines showing.
He lets the tiny bug crawl over his finger, and he holds it up to his eye line, watching it scurry about. The smile remains on his face, even as he feels the spell Valac cast fade.
Agatha
"Not to leave them there, of course. Simply for a brief stint, I wouldn't leave them alone with my family at all. Don't think it would work out anyway."
Agatha finally finds her way back to the grass, sitting cross legged before the two. Can't help but let a smile crest her lips at the exchange of the small little bug.
"A rest would be excellent. I've never seen the ocean this far south, and it is FUCKING warm here. May have to get some looser clothes while we're out in the city. And probably get some new recepies. This place is a patron city of the arts as well. Perhaps a group trip to a performance of something is in order, as long as we don't kill each other during intermission."
Valac
Kismet smiles at him with all the sunshine reflecting on his face and- nope, no, he has to turn away at that, he has no power left for another calm emotions today. The sound of grass being torn can be heard under his other hand.
"I'm familiar with some of the performers in this city", he keeps his gaze fixed directly on the sun as he speaks, and it's a struggle. "Not firsthand, of course, but I know where we could go. Good music and drinks..."
He sits up abruptly, excited. And realizes with a delay that he sees absolutely nothing but the imprint of the sun under his eyelids.
"We've never actually had a full evening spent together, all of us!"
Kismet
Kismet raises his brows at the mention of a night out, but keeps his eyes on the ladybug. “You’re right. I feel it’s only ever been us and Flori finding kinship at the bottom of a wine bottle.”
He turns around as much as he can with Valac’s tail still around him, and leans his forearms on the stone bench, letting the ladybug crawl off his finger. It walks around in circles, sometimes tickling up against his skin.
“Ever since I met you all I’ve drunk more wine all at once than I have in my life.” Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. Near enough. “I’d very much like to see the coast at night.”
The ladybug pauses, then opens its glossy elytra and buzzes away. He watches it disappear into the canopy, and it reminds him of someone. He starts getting to his feet.
“I’m going to check on Arabella, if I can find her.” He puts his hands on his hips, sighs. “And the twins. I’m just about out of tricks, but sometimes a bit of tea can go a long way. We don't know the extent of what happened in there, but I feel I was rather useless in that moment.”
Agatha
"Huh... we have not. I'm sure a night with all of us will end perfectly, given there is enough alcohol involved for some."
She pauses when Kismet mentions Arabella. She had... she had been following her, hadn't she? Where had she gone? She hadn't even recognized that she had lost her! She remembers her tendency to forget, and wonders how much that translates to getting lost...
"Ah, yes, please do check on her. I think... maybe it's best if me and Valac do not talk with the twins, just yet? I hate to saddle you with that alone though, maybe grab Bella or Florian for that."
She slumps a bit, thinking. Her thoughts turn to her own death once more, and the... complications she had realized just when she met this group. It seemed foolish to ask Valac, but it was the only other option. She had already mentioned it to Florian, kismet was not in a state to bring up the dynasty for another moment, Asriel was... Asriel, and Bella didn't know anything about it from what she understood... not like she had any better options.
"If you go in by yourself, do be careful. There is a child on the loose, that I have not seen yet. Which is an omen of chaos, if I've heard any."
Kismet
Ah, he remembers something about Acis' younger sister roaming around. It must be overwhelming for her, a large group of loud adults barging in and upsetting normalcy. If she’s kept hidden so far, Kismet has an idea of the kind of child she is.
He smiles at Agatha, the hint of a wink fluttering his eye. “I’ll be sure to find reinforcements before engaging in so deadly an encounter.”
Once more, he looks to Valac. Unsure if the mental link still holds, he throws a thought into the aether.
If it gets bad, I’ll be listening. I’ll find you.
With that he sweeps up his cloak and heads toward the house.
Valac
"I've certainly drunk more wine then I usually do, at least, especially in your company", Valac laughs at Kismet's remark. "And then twins... might not be in the best of moods for us indeed. I'll stay out a bit more, then perhaps I'll go bother Acis some. You could join as well," he throws a knowing look at Agatha at that.
Then Kismet is standing up and he catches him glance back. There's something very particular about the way he regards him, and Valac realizes that if he's trying to say something to him, their connection has already ran out. He goes to open his mouth, then to merge their minds again, and both times stops himself, the outline of the sun in his eyes a still reminder to not pursue this.
And then it's just him and Agatha, and the salt in the air.
Agatha
Alone, in a city they've never been. At least Agatha assumes not. Well, c'est la vie. Better to ask now, than not at all.
"I..."
She feels herself choke on her words as she attempts to speak. That ever so slight fear of the man before her still prevalent. She feared not what he would do to her, but others. This has assured her some... but she cannot focus on that now. She has a question, and must ask it.
"Valac, can I ask you something? Without the judgement of each others character or... well I was going to say no snark, but that seems impossible for us. A straight answer nonetheless?" (edited)
Valac
"A straight answer?", he raises an eyebrow, bemused.
What an unusual day today was. Just yesterday, he wouldn't have imagined this situation possible.
"And yes, you can absolutely shoot me with your deep-wisdom-consecuted-question, I doubt it's going to be any more earth shattering than the past hour has been."
Agatha
"Right... well, here's hoping it isn't. Funnily enough, there's hardly any wisdom about this question, I hardly understand it."
Her hands suddenly feel extremely clammy as she rubs them together. Unsure of how to move, or present herself.
"So... so you mentioned hardly being alive, when I was in my past life. That is... well, I'm unsure if that's true. There has been a hole in my brain, in my memory. Are you aware of... the battle of Nogvurot? The dynasty attacked there... a follow up, if you know about it: do you know when it was?"
Valac
He considers her question for a moment, and the moment stretches. The battle of Nogvurot, that does ring a bell, but it's so old and rusty it's a struggle to recall anything of value. That must have been one of the oh so important history lessons mamà insisted on when he had other, more pressing interests in mind.
Now the question was if he should say anything about it. His eyes dart to Agatha who's currently in the process of flexing her palms, clearly ridden with anxiety.
Well, to hell with it, he could think of a reason why he knows this.
"I have heard of it, yes, but alas not much about when it happened. I just know it was recent, during my time, so I suppose... no more than 25 years ago? If that's of any help."
He pauses, curiosity eating at him. Didn't consecuted souls usually remember the entirety of their previous lives? Perhaps that was too risky to ask. Still, he had to try something.
"What do you mean by 'a hole' in your memory? Do you not remember you own death? Which, ah, I suppose is not pleasant to remember anyway, but still?"
Agatha
No more than 25 years... well, that was within the range of what she knew. She chews on her bottom lip, flexing her hands open and closed.
"Right... okay. Well, there is a process for those consecuted. Meditation and teachings that help you remember details and specifics about your past life. I... never got all that. I remember some, but not all. it is fuzzy, strange. And the biggest detail being my death."
Another pause. She wasn't nearly as nervous as the other time she said this aloud, but the anxiety of two lifetimes hits her hard now.
"The battle of Nogvurot, in my memory, was 820 PD. That is also... when I died."
She looks down at herself.
"I, in this life, was born before then. 813 PD. And I have been trying to prove my memory wrong, ever since I realized this."
Valac
"That doesn't... that doesn't make much sense?"
Agatha had no reason to be lying about this, especially if she was sharing this kind of information with him of all people. Unless it was some sort of plot? He studied her slumped form, eyes darting back and forth, picking her nails. No, she wasn't that good of an actor. There was exactly one thing he could think of that could explain this, but even it didn't make much sense. How would it even work when you die? Can you cast it on someone who's dying, or after they're dead?
He sighed. They were building trust, trust, and he could feed just enough of it back to pass.
"There is a way to influence a person's memory, and few can do it. I... have seen it before," he scanned their surroundings, just in case. "I used to have a friend who could wield such magic, they- they taught me a lot, but not that."
There was a pause that almost felt like it stretched to a minute. Cold sweat drenched Valac's body. This was enough, this had to be enough.
"This spell is usually cast on the living, I'm not sure how it would even work if you're dying... but if you're certain that's the date of the battle then this is the best explanation I have."
Agatha
"Ah... yes. Sarven mentioned something about a similar spell."
Huh. She hadn't considered that fact. It would make sense... altering her perception of when she may have died. She wonders if it was possible for someone to have completely altered her memory. Maybe implanted the memories of a past life into her mind. Maybe she wasn't even consecuted!
No. No that was wishful thinking.
"It would really just matter on who did that to me. I've never been aware of any wielder of magic that powerful enough to do that, let alone have a reason why."
An exhausted sigh escapes her, as the tension on her shoulders falls to disappointment and despondency. She wasn't even sure what to do anymore, about all of that. Maybe... maybe she should just focus on these folks. Focus on something else, distract her from the war of conflicting memories in her mind.
"Well, I appreciate that. And..." She briefly studies his face. Contemplating her words. He had shared a bit, more than she had expected. May as well be genuine.
"And thank you. Genuinely. The last 6 years have been an unfortunate series of never understanding what the fuck is going on, and this at least let's me find some theory to grasp on to."
Valac
"You said it yourself, you don't remember everything from the before. Maybe there was someone with reason enough to do it."
He stops for a moment. It couldn't have been... no, why would Amīcus even bother with a random Aurora Watch all the way in the empire. Right?
"In your past life... would there have been a reason for someone to alter what you remember? You said you've been erased from your family's history so I- well, it's an assumption, but were you a high profile target by any chance? What did you do exactly?"
He narrowed his eyes. Agatha, who couldn't bear to pluck the life out of someone attacking her. Agatha, who hated Valac for doing it with no remorse. He felt like a revation was at the tip of his fingers, just out of reach.
Agatha
She chews her lip, that endless anxiety that filled her really coming through as she tastes iron.
"Well... probably, honestly. There would have been enough reason."
She stands slowly, unable to just sit still anymore.
"If you want the truth, I'll give it to you. I cannot ask for truth from others if I am not honest myself. I was... I was an assassin. For the Aurora watch. A ranger."
Most people admitting things would maybe find the tension in their shoulders leave them, after having said it. Agatha just stays fidgety.
"I... I imagine there were plenty of people on both sides of the Ashkeeper Peaks that would have wanted to see me suffer."
Valac
He doesn't even flinch at that. Just looks up at her, eyes cold as the deep ocean.
"So a killer. Bit hypocritical of you, but I won't judge you now."
Irritation tries to creep up on him, indignant at being vilified for someone's own transgressions. But he just scoffs as he goes to stand, shaking his head, as if it will also shake the feeling away.
"Does this look familiar to you?" Valac says, towering over Agatha, and snaps his fingers.
His figure transforms to that of a human looking boy, bright white hair, pupilless white eyes and white robes. No more than Valac's age, but ethereal, almost floating essence.
"This is who I told you knows the spell. If you recognize them... well, either way, I don't know where they might be now but I first met them near Asarius. If we ever decide to hop on over they might have answers", he fails to bite back the snark this time.
He drops the spell immediately after, before anyone else has had the chance to wander over and see. He knows there's no one with them, especially not them, but still throws a glance over his shoulder.
When he turns back to face Agatha, he sighs, and his shoulders sag.
"I can't even begin to explain how stupid it was of you to tell me this. You can't just trust strangers you met in the Empire with the fact that you're consecuted."
Agatha
Her hand closes into a fist at his mention of hypocrisy. There was so much she could say, so many variables he didn't understand. Or even if he did, probably wouldn't care.
His form changes and she looks up at him, inquisitive expression. If she knew this person, her memory was faulty enough to deny her any recognition.
"No. Not a face I recognize, it would be hard to miss an aura like this in a crowd."
And then he berates her. Lovely.
"Maybe it was stupid. However, considering I've never spoken it aloud for 6 years and only ever had my own thoughts to accompany me through a hellscape of awful memories, I'd say I'm a little warranted to speak on it. Even if it is dangerous. Besides, Asriel still does not know. And will not know. There's too much there to risk that. The rest of you are at least somewhat sympathetic, understanding, or knowledgeable on the topic. Especially since, as it seems, you are so familiar with the dynasty and consecution."
Valac
"Burdened with knowledge I wish not to possess but that's what I get for being raised there", he doesn't hesitate as he fixes Agatha with a gaze. "And believe me, not talking is better than talking to the wrong people. For your own good, not anyone else's."
He doesn't give her his full piece of mind - not really something that seems fruitful right now. Even consecuted, she was naïve. Still, something akin to relief washes over him when she doesn't recognize the form, and he hopes this counts for her past life as well. He's gotten over many lives before, but if this one was also one of them...
"As for Asriel, well," he pauses for just a moment, looking for the right words, considering that she somehow felt protective of him as well. An eyeroll almost comes out. "That's at least one right decision there."
So both Florian and Arabella already knew, which, figures. He was not surprised. A little bit that she told Kismet, but most of all that she told him. And he has no time to unpack why he even shared half of the things he did.
"I'm going to find Florian or Acis, whoever I come across first, and then pass out. It has been... a day," he goes for the cobblestone path that leads back inside, hoping that he remembers how they got here. He really, for the second time, completely disregarded his surroundings to focus on Kismet, and that. Well. No, there was also no time to unpack that as well, he turns to Agatha instead. "You coming?"
Agatha
"Yes, well, If I am stuck with you for this period, I would rather not have this come back to bite me for not saying anything."
She can't help but laugh as he mentions passing out. "Well, Mein Freund, it has only been a few hours since we awoke originally. Not that I can blame you. I will stay out here, briefly. The ocean air seems to help my head."
As he turns, she gives one last quip. "Don't harass Acis too hard, should you find her. She's lovely, but shy when it comes to that sort of thing. Push too hard, and all you may get is a blushing mess of a girl. Although, knowing you...?" She doesn't finish that sentence.
She gives him a look. Not one of malice or comfort. Just inquisitive. Like she didn't understand him. That fear was mostly gone now, replaced with something else. This group was truly getting to her... and she didn't know what that even meant for her.
Valac
"Group or not, you're entitled to some secrets. No matter though," he turns back around before a smile threatens to show at the remark about Acis. "Ah, you know me, always a sucker for blushers."
And with that he waves a wordless goodbye and disappears in the hedges. That was... perhaps the only recent conversation they'd had that didn't abruptly escalate in the end. He blamed it on his lack of energy. Agatha didn't remark anything about his roots, but he knew she got the memo.
Now if only he could detect where Florian had gone - best start with the dining room.