thesphererp | There's nothing left

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There's nothing left

OOC: The text of this nightmare is heavily pulled from the book itself with a few edits and alterations to it.

The moon had passed its zenith by the time you come back to Blue Fish Street. You can feel the frustration already pushing you down. It had been a pointless day overall. With the Beggar Law in force, most of your more valuable contacts had fled or gone to ground. Those that you had managed to track down had no fresh information on Plenimaran movements in the city. If the enemy was in town, he was keeping a low profile.

Weary as you are, however, the sight of the unlit lanterns in front of the inn brings you up short. A tingle of presentiment prickled the hairs on your neck and arms. Ducking quickly into a shadowed doorway across the street, you scrutinized the courtyard for a moment, then draw your sword and creep cautiously across to the front door.

It's slightly ajar, and you can't help the feeling of dread that's staring to overtake you.

Leaving it untouched, you creep around to discover the back door open as well. You push it wide with the tip of your blade, tensed for an attack, but there's no sound from inside.

An unlucky odor fills your nostrils as you entered the kitchen; the stale, flat smells of a cold hearth and lamps left to gutter out on their own. Taking out a lightstone, you see nothing out of place, except for Rhiri's pallet, which was missing from its place near the hearth.

On the second floor, the signs are more ominous and you feel dread welling up even more in your stomach.

Thryis and her family are not in their rooms and only Cilia's bed appears to have been slept in; the linens are thrown hastily back, and the coverlet hanging awry over the side. Next, to the bed, an overturned chair lays in the shattered remains of a washbasin.

A grim heaviness finally settles in the pit of your stomach as you move on to the guest rooms at the front of the inn. Only one had been occupied. The unlucky carter and his son lay dead in their beds, smothered with the bolsters.

The hidden panel leading to the stairs up to your rooms appears untampered with from the outside but opening it, you find that the warding glyph at the base of the stairs has been tripped. There are spots of blood on the lower steps, and several are smeared where more than one person has stepped in them before they'd dried. The glyphs farther up are simply gone. Still gripping your sword in your right hand, you draw your poniard with your left and mount the stairs.

The doors at the top of the stairs stand open, showing darkness beyond. If there is anyone lurking in the disused storage room, it's best to find out now while there's still a chance of easy retreat. Fishing a lightstone from a pouch at your belt, you toss it into the room. The stone skittered noisily across the floor, illuminating the few crates and boxes scattered there. No one jumps out to attack, but the floor tells a tale it wouldn't take Micum to read; people had been in and out of your rooms, quite a number of them. Some had been dragged and some had been bleeding.

The final warding glyph on the door to the sitting room is gone, too. Taking a deep breath, you flatten yourself against the wall next to the door frame and slowly turn the handle.

A band of eerie, shifting light spills across the floor at your feet, and with it a horrendous slaughterhouse stench. Weapons clutched at the ready, you step inside. Even with all the warning, you had your first glimpse of what lay beyond strikes like a blow.

Several lamps have been left burning, and pale, unnatural flames dance on the empty hearth.

Someone turned the couch to face the door, and on it, four headless bodies sit as if waiting for you to return.

You know who they are even before you look past them to the heads lined up on the cluttered mantelpiece.

The strange light casts their features into tortured relief: Thryis, Diomis, Cilia, and Rhiri seem to look with dull incomprehension toward their own corpses, which some monstrous wit had arranged in attitudes of repose. Diomis leans against his mother, one arm draped over her bloody shoulders. Cilia sits next to him, slumped against the remains of Rhiri.

There is blood everywhere. It hangs in congealed ribbons from the mantelpiece and pooled on the hearthstones below. It's dried in scabrous crusts on the pitiful bodies. There are great sticky smears and handprints on walls.

There had been a struggle. The dining table is knocked sideways, spilling a sheaf of parchment onto an already blood-soaked carpet. The writing desk is overturned in a litter of quills and parchment, and the shelves to the left of it had are down. As you stoop to inspect the mess more closely, something in the shadows beneath the workbench catches your eye, stopping your breath in your throat.

Alec's sword.

You drag it out and examine it closely. Dark stains along its edge show that Alec had put up a fight before losing it. Gripping it by the hilt, you're surprised by your own irrational burst of anger.

I told him to stay at Watermead! You think, but you knew he wouldn't. You knew well enough that he was already worried, that he wanted to help. That he blamed himself for the situation they were in now.

Still, you'd hoped he'd listen to you. Now you only fear the worst.

The door to your bedroom is shut, but bloody footprints lead inside. Taking a jar of lightstones from a nearby shelf, you kick the door open and toss them in.

An unearthly yowl bursts out from inside and you raise your sword in alarm. It comes again, ending in a drawn-out snarl. Following the sound, you see Ruetha, your stray cat crouched on top of a wardrobe, eyes glowing like swamp fire. She hisses at you, then leaps down and scuttles away toward the front door.

Nothing appears to have been disturbed here except the green velvet curtains of your bed. You never use them, but someone has pulled them shut all around the bed.

Someone who'd left the bloody footmarks on the carpet.

Your breath sounds loud in your ears as you force yourself across the room, knowing already whose body you'll find when you pull the hanging aside.

"No," you say hoarsely, you don't even realize that you're talking. All you know is the horrible dread that's consuming you, the horrible knowledge that once you pull that curtain away you'll see his face; lifelessly staring at you. You're the one who brought him into this, you're the one who dragged him into becoming your apprentice, and now you've killed him. "No no no please no—"

Gritting your teeth, you fling the curtain aside.

There's nothing on the bed but a dagger-a dagger with a hank of long yellow hair knotted around the hilt.

You pick it up, your hands shaking, you recognize the black horn grip inlaid with silver; it's the knife you had given Alec in Wolde.

For one blinding second, it feels like you can feel Alec's thumb on your face again, reaching to smudge over the clean spot on your cheek. It's your fault, Illior it's your fault, and you may never see him again.

"Where is he?" You hiss. Grabbing up your sword and rushing out into the sitting room again. "You bastards! What have you done with him?"

An evil chuckle erupts beside you and you freeze, scanning the room. The laugh comes again, lifting the hair on the back of your neck. You know that voice.

It was the voice of the apparition that had dogged you through the Mycenian countryside; the one you'd fought through a fever dream the night Alec had torn the wooden disk from your neck.

But this time there was no black, misshapen specter. The voice issued from the writhing lips of Cilia's severed head.

"Seregil of Rhiminee and Aurenen!" Her glazed eyes roll in their sockets, seeking you. "We found you, at last, thief."

Diomis' jaws gape with the same terrible voice.

"Did you think we would allow you to escape? You have desecrated the sanctuary of Seriamaius, and defiled his relics."

"The Eye and the Crown." It was Rhiri now, who'd never had a voice in life.

"Thief! Defiler!" Thryis spits out, her withered lips curling back in a leer.

"Defiler! Thief!" the other heads cried in moaning, joyless chorus.

"Aura Elustri mdlrei," you gasp, as you watch the grotesque performance with a mixture of outrage and revulsion. "What have you done with Alec? Where is he?"

They don't answer, but Rhiri's head tumbles to the floor and rolls at you, snapping its jaws and laughing, followed by the others.

"Forgive me, all of you." You feel trapped in the worst of nightmares, raising your sword, you hack at the heads until only a scattered mass of hair and brains remain. In the midst of it, you find four small charms, charred human finger bones wrapped with nightshade vine.

You can feel the contents of your stomach trying to come back up, but you push it back, casting a suspicious eye over the bodies, still slumped together on the
couch.

"You deserved better than this," you whisper thickly. "Somehow-somehow I'll make this right." You know what you have to do, what it seems you've always had to do. There's no backing out of the prophecy now, is there? There's no making your own fate, only death.

They didn't deserve this; you think of the years they'd spent, happy to keep your secrets and to ask no questions as you made your way in and out like a cat. Now they're dead, they're all dead and it's all your fault. And what of Alec? What had you ever done to protect him? He could be anywhere right now, but you know he's with them. Who knows what they're doing to him.

Going back to your bedchamber, you pull out your old leather pack and thrust in a few essentials. Then wrap Alec's dagger carefully in a large scarf, slipping it inside your tunic.

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[Alec's silent for a long few moments. It takes him that long to get past the horror.]

Tali...

[Alec probably expected it, but there's no reply, not in words anyway. There's simply darkness and the residue of the pain he can't suppress.]

[Seregil's darker moods are rarely productive, but he's entitled to them. But he's a creature of habit, and Alec can usually ferret him out well enough. And after seeing that for the first time, Seregil's not the only one in need of some support. He's seeking Seregil out immediately.]

[He's not hard to find, All Alec would have to do is look up. Much the same as Alec had been when they'd first met in this place, Seregil was laying on one of the abandoned housing domes, staring up at the starless abyss above them. He was a black blot in a sea of ink that surrounded them; eyes closed and unmoving.]

[For whatever it's worth, once he's found Seregil, Alec doesn't assume himself too much. He makes quick work of scaling the building, and carefully lays out next to his talimenios. He reaches over to place his hand over Seregil's, but doesn't dare move closer just yet. Not without Seregil's go-ahead.

He's content to lay here in silence for now, until Seregil deems to speak, if at all.]

[Seregil easily hears Alec moving toward his, and he feels the other's worry through the bond. He probably shouldn't have done this - gone out without saying a word or answering the call, but he couldn't. There was too much pain in that memory, in knowing that it had been his fault, that he'd caused Alec so much pain and killed the people who trusted him completely. How much else had he cost others? Micum's leg, their lives, Alec's innocence, Nysander; they'd all been because of him - yet he couldn't help himself, could he?

Even so, when Alec's hand rested his hand against his, he turned it to curl his fingers between Alec's, grip so tight it almost made his knuckles white with the pain.]

You're here.

[It's almost a question. Alec was here, wasn't he? He wasn't still in that cage, about to be sacrificed to some damn necromantic god. Seregil hadn't lost him, had he?

The more substantial part of him understood that was the past, that Alec really was here with him, that they'd survived that, that time had moved on and they'd grown. Except he knew he would never grow past that night or those losses.]

I'm here.

[Alec's thumb drifts idly over Seregil's knuckles, an anchor, allowing him to cling as tight as he would, so long as it keeps him grounded. Sometimes, all he needs is for Alec to be there, to keep him anchored rather than adrift in despair. Thankfully, that grounding hasn't become physically violent since that time at Watermead, but--

It was a gruesome recollection. The images replay in Alec's mind ad nauseum, send his stomach to absolute revolt; they had been Alec's friends for a time as well, and they did deserve better. It takes a hard bit of focusing to keep himself focused. Though rolling onto his side, pushing a hand slowly through Seregil's hair, gaze tracing the silhouette of his face in the moonlight--

It helps. Seregil's always been the finest distraction Alec could ask for.]

Tell me what you're feeling? [Alec asks gently. Feeling it is one thing, and the bond is sometimes invasive in that way, but putting a name to the emotions is just as important.]

Guilt.

[It's not everything, but it is one of the strongest emotions. Seregil thought he'd finally managed to put it behind him, to turn it into a dull ache instead of the gaping wound it had been before. He'd thought time, and new beginnings had dulled it enough that, should something as this happen; he could deal with it. He was wrong.

He rolled onto his side, his grey eyes dark in the blackness of the ocean that surrounded them.]

I never wanted you to see it, what was done to them.

I never wanted you to see Sebrahn's... [It was strange to call it this, but:] ...birth. The Sphere doesn't seem to know mercy. But don't worry about me right now.

[Alec inches closer, resting his forehead against Seregil's with a soft sigh. No, worrying after Alec is the last thing Seregil needs right now. He's held space for Alec far too often over the course of their time together. He's permitted his moments of melancholy, but that doesn't mean Alec will let him weather them alone.]

You aren't to blame for that, tali. [Alec's tone is firm, but gentle.] They had a good life with you. You did the best you could by them. This was Mardus' doing. You can't put it on yourself.

[He shakes his head, still letting it rest against Alec's. They both know that he will blame himself. There isn't a doubt that he's ever not done so. If anything, this brought it further into focus.]

It could have been longer if not for me.

[Alec continues to idly stroke Seregil's hair.]

I know it feels that way, talí. But we'll all go to the Gates when we're called. It's nothing to do with who we know. And that's hardly fair, but it's the way of things.

[Soft, plying kisses follow, from Seregil's temple and across his forehead, then down his nose, slow and lingering.]

And you've helped so many people. You've made sacrifices no one else could have made. You're the best man I know, and I love you. Every part of you.

Keeta, Micum, Nysander, and you are all better men than I.

[And he means it. Seregil knows what he is, and that's a scoundrel. It's their faith and love that makes him a better person.]

Is it a competition now? [Alec forces a small grin.] Don't let me judge. I'll rig the entire contest in your favor, if you promise me a kiss.

[He leans forward, closing his eyes to press a kiss to Alec.]

You never have to do anything for a kiss, talí.

[A kiss which Alec returns, gentle and undemanding, and for a long moment, that's all there is. All there would be, were it not for the remnants of Seregil's memory still plaguing him. Seregil's lived with that image, and so many more, for all these years. Somehow Alec never thought to consider it; because if it were out of his control, it wasn't worth worrying about, but...]

Is there anything you need to talk about? Putting words to it... It helps, sometimes.

[He shakes his head, frowning.]

There's nothing to say.

[There wasn't. Everything to say was there in the memory. He'd as good as killed them, and pulled Alec into a life of pain and kidnapping. They'd all have been better off without him, but Seregil knew that if he said it out loud, Alec would argue and disagree. So he kept silent.]

[Alec nodded, and pressed another kiss to Seregil's chin.]

Then I'll just be here. And if there's anything else I can do, anything you need, just tell me. Alright?

[In fact, given that rooftops are not the the most comfortable places to lay...]

Would you like to use me as a pillow?

[Seregil brushes back Alec's hair, kissing his forehead lightly. Alec is here, he's real, and through everything, he's stayed with him. Not for the first time, Seregil wonders how he'd ever managed to persuade the other man, trick, really, into joining him in this life. Alec could be anywhere doing anything, but he'd chosen to stay by his side at Seregil's worst and make him a better man for doing it.

There would never be words to convey how grateful Seregil was, how loved Alec was.

Shifting, he rests himself against Alec, head resting on the other man's chest.]

Have you ever questioned it, choosing to follow me into all this?

[It's out before he has a chance to take it back, and he knows that Alec will chasize him for even thinking about it. But all this has brought the thought up and if he's honest with himself, he needs the reaffirmation more than he'd like to admit.]

Not even for a moment.

[Alec can't say he's pleased with the implication. Because there is an implication in those words; that Alec chose poorly, that he'd have been better off without Seregil. Seregil tended to dwell on their relationship as if it were some balance, that the good could never outweigh the bad. A tipped scale that was never in his favor.]

Did you ever consider what could have happened, if I hadn't gone with you? Would we have stopped Mardus? Would Skala have won the war? And without you, who's to say the slavers wouldn't have found me again? That Yhakobin wouldn't have succeeded in creating and perfecting the rhekaro?

The Lightbringer brought us together for a reason, talí. Not just for us. I would never question any part of it, and especially not after everything we've done... Everything we've been through.

[Alec paused, and pushed another soft kiss to Seregil's lips.]

And all that aside, to be loved by you? That's worth everything.

I doubt I ever couldn't have; loved you, I mean.

[Seregil tilts his head upward, glancing at Alec with a soft affection. He's sure he couldn't have denied his feelings for the other man. There was too much pent up love, and he could never tell when it had started or when it'd started to overflow. Alec was like ivy, growing around and inside him, through every crack and crevice, until Seregil couldn't survive without him.]

I couldn't have let you go, probably from the beginning. I thought about it about leaving you when we got to Wolde, but I couldn't do it.

I'm glad you didn't.

[Seregil could be disparaging to completely hurtful degrees when he put his mind to it. But that was part of what worked so well between them. Seregil could pick himself apart -- pick them apart -- until he exhausted himself, and Alec would simply stitch it all back together.

Alec presses another kiss to Seregil's brow, then his nose, then his lips, and his chin, trailing down to the man's neck, where his teeth take a turn.]

[A laugh erupts from Seregil, more amused than he has any right to be at this moment.]

Now?

[He knows what Alec is doing; it's the same thing they always do when things become too much or when they're in danger of losing one another. They take solace in one another, physically. It's not as if Seregil minds, it's merely the place that surprises him. Alec had never been very partial to public exhibitionism, and a roof seemed rather ... public.]

Now, tali. Always. Never stop.

[It's not as if there's anyone around to find them out. Abandoned domes are rarely frequented, and need seems to be overriding Alec's shame and better judgment just now. His hands creep beneath Seregil's shirt, slide up his back, and with bare skin beneath his fingertips, Alec couldn't care less about their current location.]

Unless you object...?

To you, never.

People rarely get what they deserve. [ She pauses for a second as she debates asking or not. It doesn't really seem like it's her business or place but she's curious so she asks the question. ] Did you find him?

[It takes a very, very long time before he answers, and his voice is so quiet it's almost inaudible.]

Yes.

[ She keeps her voice gentle and devoid of the usual sarcastic edge it holds. ]

I hope that's a happy ending kind of yes.

[His voice is still very small.]

That depends on what you consider happy.

I guess most people would consider an ending happy if everyone made it out alive.

Then no, it wasn't happy.

[His voice is soft.]

Seregil?

[Her voice trembles as she calls his name. Searching for him, not to speak but to just be at his side through these horrors. It's too horrible for her to try and put it into words.]

[He doesn't reply, but he does make his presance known to her, letting her know that he's safe.]

[After Alec's message, she stops trying to contact him but Inësa does pray for him in the way that only angel's can.]

I'm sorry I didn't answer.

That is alright.
You being okay is more important and Alec had messaged me so I wouldn't worry.

[There is a brief pause before she texts again.]

I was going to make something to eat tonight. I wanted to know what your favorite food was.

I can't think of anything I'm partial to.

[He's not going to say he's ok. He's not and never will be. He's well aware that he's a messed up individual.]

Then I will guess and hope it is something you love.

[There is a brief pause and then.]

I love you Seregil.

I know what it's like to have someone who cared for you killed even if the situations were different. Maybe what happened to me was a mercy. I just want you to know that you are loved because you are you. And we don't have to talk about it.

I love you too, Inësa

I know.

[A pause.]

Have you had grilled cheese before?

I don't believe so.

Then we'll have that with tomato soup. I have been told that it's the best food for feeling better.

[She might be trying too hard.]

I don't believe I've ever had either.

Then we'll have to try it. Together.

I don't fully understand Seregil but you aren't alone. You have both Alec and myself.

I know.

[The words are soft.]

I will see you when you get home.

[She'll be waiting for him, when he's ready.]

He'll be alright, Inesa. I'm with him.

He needs space sometimes.

Okay. Please keep him safe Alec.

I'll wait until he's ready.

[They both know how to find her.]

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