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The curse grips tighter, and it hurts. Every blink displays a terrible image, each night painted with fear. He looks to Chip and to Jay and sees friends, but he sees collateral, too. What can be done about it? They will only get hurt..
And they do.
Their horrified and pain-filled faces are projected into his mind, tortured by the theives, and then he is awake. Awake? Truly? How can you really be sure? He notices changes he would usually be too tunnel visioned to see - the birds perching differently, people walk with a strange smile, as if saying “this is normal, keep going, keep going.” what is really true and what is planted by Kuba Kenta?
These delusions and the doubt that comes with them spill out into the world. First it is putting himself in front of anything that could possibly injure someone he knows, and then he becomes the hurt. His eyes that are usually filled with nothing but kindness grow cold, his own self screams inside of his mind that this is not right. They do not deserve this. But the venom of the claws screams back that this is just what they need. If they are driven away, who can hurt them but themselves? It is noticed, definitely, because when has Gillion even insulted anyone? But it is brushed away until it cannot be ignored.
The moon hangs gently in the air, shining dutifully onto the roofs and through the keeps windows, and the quiet calm is sliced like a blade with a scream.
“No, No! Don’t come any closer!”
“Gill, it’s me. Jay. I won't come closer, okay? But I'm gonna sit right here, and we’re gonna talk.” she does, she sits cross-legged across from what was her friend. He hunches in the darkest corner, even Pretzel keeping their distance. Hair falls like a heavy rag around his face, eyes wild and sunken. He tries to support himself to stand but his legs do not hold him.
“You aren’t real. I know you aren't. You’re put in my head by Kuba Kenta to hurt me, thats right. You’re gonna hurt me, so I have to hurt you first.”
“Gill, please. I can promise you i’m very real. The idea of me in your head is there to torture you, don’t let it beat the me sitting across from you now.”
“No! You’re not. And if i close my eyes maybe it’ll be different, and it’ll be better.”
He lets his eyelids close, and Jay does not move. She sits very still on the wooden floors, the tray she had brought discarded and unneeded. For a while, she sits and watches, just keeping an eye, and he sleeps.
The undersea trenches surround him, and there is an evil. A threat. An enemy. He has no sword, no armour, and his mind rings with the cowardice that is still present, that the elders couldn't quite squeeze from him.
“Run.”
Run. run. Run.. let them die. Save yourself. You are most important. Run.
And he does. His legs support him here, and he takes off. One foot in front of the other and he is gone. But where is there to go? Who have you left behind? His foot lands on something that lets out a horrible scream, it is Edyn. her face sticks out of the sand and wails, and he cannot move his foot, it only sinks deeper. The water moves and swirls with the rush of air from her screams, and she is only silenced with a terrible crunch.
He is floating. Drifting on his back and gazing at the sky. Distantly, he hears a banter between a man and a woman. He rights himself and follows the noise, following it to the source, a little boat; “THE BIG CHIPPER” written in hasty carvings on the side. He calls out to it, expecting common to leave his lips and is met with aquan. They do not understand. Perhaps they do not hear. But they ignore the call either way, and pass him by.
He is in the keep. And jay is opposite him. She looks different. She gazes out of the window on the wall, and she does not notice him. “Run.” there it is again.
Unblinking, she turns her head to look at him instead, twisting her neck at a horrendous angle. A scream rips from his throat and she is grinning now, face pinned into the catlike smile of Kuba Kenta.
“I’ll be back.”
The words hit him like a brand. Marking him more than the claws already have, the wounds of which bubble and spit, knocking his unsteady stand to the floor in a crumpled heap. He howls out in pain as the wounds only grow, and dig deeper into his flesh, scrambling for more purchase over his body and mind.
“Hey, hey, I'm here. It’s okay. Chip, Queen! I need some fucking help in here!”
His head is pressed into the floor from his weight and he cannot lift it. His eyes clouded with tears of torturous pain and he cannot see. His ears ring out that mantra of run. Run. run. Run! And he cannot listen to it and stand.
“Oh, my gods.” He hears it very faintly and knows it to be Chip. Kind cruel selfless selfish chip foe.
“NO! Get away, please! Don't hurt me.. No.. no..” the nasty, venom laced tone he had used has faded to one of a defenceless child, who doesn’t want the last things he has taken away.
“Gillion, we would never hurt you, la.” It is Queen now, who has come too close. The voice is too close, but there is nothing he can do. He cannot fight. He cannot move.
“Then why do I see it? Every night, every blink, every rest, I see it. You all look at me like I am a circus act. Like I'm nothing at all.. And you get hurt, and you hurt me.”
“It’s the curse, Gill. nothing would ever make us look at you that way. Let us help you, please.” Jay whispers gently, soothing the defenceless child.
He wants nothing more than to look at her. See the way she is standing, looking at him. But he cannot. He wants to trust them all again, let them help, but the presence of that venomous curse is still present, screaming that no, they won't help, they’ll only do more harm. It is the logical part of him that pulls through, they cannot do more harm to him if this kills him first. Let it happen, see if they hurt you then. They cannot hurt you more than this is.
And it’s true, too. The wound slashed across his chest and neck still boils, spitting ichor down his body and soaking the floor through. The edges of the cuts burn outwards, covering more of his neck and revealing just a bit of his ribs.
“Please. Help, please.” he spits out, not with malice but because he has to say it through ichor dripping from his mouth, now. “It will kill me. Please. Help.”
“We’ll get you fixed up, alright? You’ll be alright.” Jay says, laying a gentle hand on his back, guiding him to sit up.
Against the part of his mind screaming to fight, to run, he lets them help; maybe he’ll be okay. His family is here, and they’re gonna make sure he makes it out with his life.
Purposefully, they tell the crew very little, except for Queen, who’s healing isn’t quite enough for this. “There is nothing you can do, so don’t worry, okay?” They tell Ollie, who heard the commotion and did not see because of Ensa, who ushered him away.
His body does not cooperate, only allowing him the movement of his eyes and mouth, so he must be carried. Gryffon and Chip get him from the keep to a little ship they hire, and they set off with haste. By this time, Gillion is overwhelmed with pain, and does not remember the rest.
Jay does, and remembers it very clearly. She and Chip take turns rowing to assist the sails, trying not to break down at the sight that has the face of a friend, but not the mind. Listening to the thoughts take over his mind and expelled out, whimpered pleas for mercy, though from them or the curse she didn't know. She looks at him as she rows and realises just how little she knows about him. The stoic Gillion Tidestrider, reduced to a scared boy. He cries to go home and there is nothing she can do. Nothing but keep rowing.
Featherbrooke is on the horizon, and they push forward, singing loudly and making noise to keep Gillion awake, though out of it. They are on the docks, and are forced to carry him between their both tired selves, but this is more important than their strain.
“I need diamonds, JayJay. Go quickly.” May says desperately, kicking the last loitering patrons from her tavern. “I will do what I can until you get back.”
They leave, tripping over their own feet, and Maylenia Ferin turns to the pirate on her table.
“What happened to you, my dear?”
“Are you gonna help me? Please help..”
“I will, love. I can't do everything right now, but I can do some. Tell me what happened.” she coos, gathering an armful of herbs and plants.
He tells her it all. How awesome his move with the anchor was, but the bastard got him on the way down, at least that's what she infers from the exhausted ramblings of his mind.
“Hm, a rakshasa then,” She says, examining the wounds eating into his chest, “Was this one Kuba Kenta, by any chance?”
“Kuba Kenta.. You’re not with him, are you? Oh no.. no.. no. please, no more. Please.”
“I’m not with him, I've never liked him much, to be honest.”
From there, he tells her just about anything she asks, telling her all about the undersea, the adventures he’s been on, about Chip and Jay, he tells her how terrified he is. He’s stared death in the face over and over but nothing compares to the incredibly permanent fate staring back. How scared he is to close his eyes because of the images behind them, but wanting nothing more than to sleep.
“It’s okay, you can rest. I’ve got you, now.”
She holds a glass of some sweet-smelling draught, helps him drink and swallow, and he rests. And for once, his mind is quiet.
It’s just then that his co-captains burst back through the doors of the Eagles Den, fearing the worst as they see his unconscious body, soothed by May as she shows the methodical rise as fall of his chest beneath his removed armour, as it was interfering with the wound’s corrosion; which she urges that she is going to fix. The original three slashes blended into one, eating through his cerulean flesh like acid; the porcelain white of his bones exposed. A soft whoosh of his breath circulates the room like his heartbeat, both of which they observe through the oozing hole in his chest.
May returns shortly, huddling over more tools and ingredients. And this light shines from her like the stars, the moonlight in the window glows just a bit brighter, that perhaps Lunadeyis and Aster don’t want to lose their champion just yet. Gracefully, she hovers over him, mixing this ingredient with that one, putting it just around the edges of the crater in his body, that swells up and she hisses down again; for a moment Jay thinks that it’s a good thing he is asleep.
There are careful bandages applied, and May goes still.
“I have done all i can, JayJay, he has to do this last part on his own. But he’s plenty strong enough.”
Once again, he is in the undersea, and that pressing, primal fear grips him. But he is ready for it, and his instincts do not take over. Run. run. Run! It presses against his eyes, his lungs, but does not infect him. He straightens his back, and he faces the threat. As it turns out, the threat never comes. The bravery to face it, whatever it is, is enough. The waters clear just enough above him to see into the Eagles Den, seeing the faces of Chip and Jay peering into his eyes, he remembers that he is cared for, and that the curse is wrong. He does not vanquish a foe, and lets his dream-eyes close.
There are no more nightmares that night. In fact, there are no dreams at all. His conscience roams in the void until he rests. And then he is in the Eagles Den. his steps to swing off the Ferin’s dining table interrupted by a distant call from May to be careful, because he might not be healed fully, two pairs of hasty footsteps, and a crashing hug from his co-captains.
What he has said has been forgiven, for it was not really he who said it.
And he is safe.