#post rp

"I can only guess.. He's gone off somewhere again, hasn't he?"

The moon had already long passed its apex when Spectre finally stopped to bed down. If Tristan had been alone, he would have covered ever inch of the Derweg forests to put distance between himself and the two who had drove the pain into his chest. Although there was no physical wound, his chest was tight, and his breathing was labored. When they stopped, he stared hatefully at Spectre, as if the exhausted Shadowrunner had betrayed him as well.

However, he had just enough sense to realize his mortal companion had done all it could for the day.

With a defeated sigh, Tristan dropped his bag and weapons on the ground and produced a towel to rub the sweaty animal down, ensuring it wouldn’t catch a chill. He considered building a fire for only a moment before he decided he wouldn’t give anyone the pleasure of knowing where he was. Instead, once Spectre was dry, he took out his blanket and cast it over the creature before moving to lay against him.

For hours Tristan stared at the sky, cursing the stars by name. He had been so proud of himself when he returned from his trip to Tol Barad. He had expected the opportunity to tell Alle all about Darcy and all the things he had learned from meeting the Death Knight. He wanted to talk through the complex feelings he had and work through what he was experiencing.

Instead, he was cornered by the two people he trusted the most.

Alle and Dorjan both led off with concerns about Darcy’s neediness. They just started off telling him that maybe Darcy should talk to other people instead. Dorjan twisted the blade when he admitted meeting Darcy and after only one meeting was convinced Darcy was unwell.

Of all the people in all the world, Dorjan was the last person Tristan had expected to make such a harsh call.

Unsettled by the wounds reopening, Tristan stood to pace. Spectre lifted an eyelid to watch him with a violet glowing gaze, but sleep claimed him again swiftly leaving the demon to cope with his anguish alone. He was left in the unpleasant and chilling isolation of knowing Alle thought he was an idiot and Dorjan didn’t trust him. They had both encouraged him and he truly believed he had done exactly what they expected him to do, and in the end, they blindsided and betrayed him.

All at once the entire illusion of family shattered. Everything everyone had ever told him was a lie. It sucked the energy out of his anger, and he sank back to the earth, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face against them. He heard his own words echoing back and recognized places where he had acted only out of anger. He had been on the defensive from the moment Alle had to wait for Dorjan to even talk to him.

Suddenly, Tristan wondered if he should have just put his head down and let them have their way. He wondered if Alle would have thought better of him if he could have just figured out what she expected him to do.

He wondered if he failed some test, he didn’t even know he was taking.

Nothing was clear anymore. He had a great memory and still he couldn’t remember what was said. He could only remember how it was said. He could only remember the two of them cornering him and telling him that Darcy needed other people.

He remembered that they saw Darcy as the problem but didn’t see him as the solution.

“Am I really so intoxicated that I see Darcy as more than he is?”

For just a moment, the heart that had been cold and empty for millennia throbbed and broke. He saw such beauty in Darcy and to believe for only a moment that it was all a lie hurt even more than what he endured from Alle and Dorjan. Tears swelled swiftly and spilled down his cheeks, soaking into his linen pants. He couldn’t understand how something so beautiful, something that made him so happy, was the source of so much suspicion and distrust from his family. Could he really not be of any help to Darcy at all? Was being there for the man really the wrong choice?

Choice.

Tristan hugged his knees to his chest harder and wished nothing more than to go back and yell at his mistress for the way she twisted his words. He had admitted that maybe his love for Olivia wasn’t real. That maybe he was an obsessed monster and that in time he would find a way to actually love her. Instead, Alle cruelly took what he said and held it like a knife, cutting him to the quick. When she presented the choice, choose Darcy or choose Olivia, he knew the only healthy moment he had ever had in his entire damned life was the moment when he chose not to feed from Darcy’s soul. To not risk further damaging the man.

So…he chose Darcy.

He chose the man who made him feel needed and loved without the pain of possession and obsession. He chose Darcy because he knew he would only ever hurt Olivia.

With a shuddered sob, Tristan took the compass from his belt and opened it one last time. The words inscribed on the lid taunted him instantly.

Without struggle, there is no progress.

He ran his fingers over the script and then snapped it shut. Without another thought, he threw the gift into the darkness, and reached out for the comfort he chose.

“Darcy, are you there?”

“Why did you do that?” Dorjan rounded on Alle as soon as Tristan had left the stables. “You gave him a slap on the wrist.”

There was a stillness inside her in the moment. Hearing Tristan’s anger had reached into her heart and pulled on it. The last few months had been a work out for it and she wished she had removed it at some point. “He’s angry, you should have told him you went to see Darcy.”

“Oh? Really?” The demon watched her for a long minute his expression annoyed. “And yeah if I did that alone, with out you, what do you think he would have done? This right? This and maybe have run off and make you resummon him?”

“He’s angry Dorjan.” Alle shook her head. Stairing at the eldest of her family she just slowly shook her head. “At least if he had known he wouldn’t have been as defensive. We should have told him after I came to visit. To warn him that we were worried. He’s not going to trust you. Or me... And that’s not how we work.”

“You shouldn’t have said his choice was idiotic.” Dorjan shook his head and looked out the door. “He’s going to hate us.”

And that was the part that had been digging into her heart. She had simply wanted Tristan to be mindful, that was, up until he said he might no longer love Olivia. That had been the moment she felt like he had slapped her with a clawed hand. Everything he had wanted, everything he said he wanted was thrown back in her face and she had become panicked. After he continued she had then grown annoyed. Annoyed was not a good place to be and she knew in the end she had been harsh. But she had heard so much definite remarks. 

‘ I am just starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, what I feel for Olivia isn't love at all.’

Maybe it hurt that someone else was teaching him something. But no, she was sure that Tristan was just intoxicated. She tried to think what she could do. How could she soften the blow in the end when Tristan came around. 

A hallow part of her asked ‘what if he never came around’. She supposed she would have to tell Alice and Quin that Olivia was no longer the rock that Tristan wanted. From there she would figure out how to help this new Tristan... but she prayed that this wasn’t his path.

Dorjan was pacing as he looked deep in thought. “I’m just trying to remember all we said. You did tell him you wanted Darcy and him to be friends? Right?”

“I did. I just said Darcy needed more friends... maybe someone like Alice to speak to about his dependence...” Alle closed her eyes, it was the most she would allow herself to crumble in this moment. “I hate seeing him like this. I should apologize for my harsh words, but he won’t listen for at least a day.”

Her eyes drifted to the opening of the barn door, her heart sinking. She truly loved Tristan like she loved all her family, knowing she had hurt his feelings, it moved deep in her, slithering like an unwanted snake. “I gave him time because he needs to dwell on this. He needs to explore this, and I don’t know anyone who could speak to Mr. Darcy so he knew what he was doing... And if I did that Tristan would hate me more...”

Pulling herself from looking at the door she felt ragged and tired from a fight she didn’t expect. “Are you still angry I gave him ‘a slap on the wrist’. Would you rather I forbidden him from seeing Darcy? Do all the things a warlock would do? Force him into being a good boy?” She shook her head the hurt still worming deep inside of her. “I care for him too much to do that.”

The incubus in the room scowled a bit but in the end was shaking his head. “You aren’t a warlock. I know you would never force any of us into something we didn’t want. Do you think he’ll come around?”

“Yes and no... You see this as a slap on the wrist... I see this as the worse punishment. He gets to do what he wants. And it comes with the consequences of doing what you want. It’s a punishment I suffered under when I was learning to be a Beast.” She lowered her head, taking back her wanting to keep a strong back. Her heart hurt and she wished she could follow Tristan out into the wilds, but what would people say? Their Duchess racing after her huntsman.

Looking around the room she noticed the pelts. Reaching over she still admired them. Even if they weren’t a bright ruby red. Even if one was partly mangled. She loved what he had brought home. She had seen Tristan grow from having a hard time walking, to understanding what even sadness felt like. He had miles to go, but he had so much progress under him.

“If he does go down this path... it’s not him going backwards.” She admitted as she continued to look at the foxes. “I should have spoken to him alone.... by myself.”

Dorjan paused in his own thoughts, Alle guessed he had gotten to the same sadness she was feeling. While he didn’t raise Tristan like he had Stig, Dorjan had shown he felt like a father to the orphaned incubus. “I should have stayed with Dunny... I thought hearing it from me would let him see...”

Touching the mangled fox Alle realized something clouded her vision and she had to blink a tear away. “I’m going to write him... Let him know I’m sorry. I... panicked when he said he might not love Olivia anymore. It’s been his driving force.”

“A Beast that panics loses its prey.” Dorjan said but nodded in agreement. “I was shocked as well... that and him saying none of us needed him. That, hurt.”

“That’s... what made me angry in the end.” Alle nodded to herself now knowing where her flip had been switched. Knowing she had spent a year, caring, protecting, guiding, and teaching a man. Then finding out he didn’t feel like she needed him. She knew he might have meant desire, but even with that distinction it would have alienated the whole family from him. “That’s why I snapped and felt like he was being an idiot.”

She still felt like he was being an idiot, but that wasn’t going to help the situation. “I’m going to write an apology. My heart hurts too much right now, I need to make this right as soon as I can.”

Picking up the pelts Alle would bring them inside and make sure they were out of the elements so Tristan would be able to process them. But deep in her heart she just wanted to hold them for the small scrap of comfort she could get. The last two months had seen a lot of pain, but now she was feeling it in a different way. While love was fickle, love of your family is a thing that should never be shaken.

With no clue how long it was before I was roused from sleep, my eyes stared up into the hazy shadows of the room. The ceiling grain was split by a line. It might’ve been some distance away, but the lantern still gleamed with enough light to cut through the small alcove. Blinking away some of the sleep I watched the line sway with the motion of the ship. Small little motions playing against the hull as calm waves lapped at the Siren’s curves.

Sometimes you just have no words to describe a feeling. Pain was a good word. His face ached, his body was shaking but it felt numb. After Red left him, he had stayed on the floor for a short while, but it didn’t took long until he shakely got up. At first he had to lean against the closet for balance until he could stand up by his own. All this time, he kept holding his face gently and feeling tears fall from both his eyes.

Sadness was another good word. He knew he had messed up. No, he had fucked up, badly. No amount of sorry or what he would ever say could fix it. His eyes were leaking like a watefall and he didn’t needed a mirror to know that he looked absolutely awful. He was grateful he didn’t ran into anyone as he made his way to lock himself in his room.

Black always told himself, no matter how much cool or smug he could ever be, he would never ever hurt a sibling. Not again. He wouldn’t give people reasons to believe he is evil. He was better than that.

And yet, he did it again.

Black went to his room and threw himself in his bed. He had managed to carry Yellow all the way, from ice cream parlor to home. When they arrived, he couldn't carry his brother any more further, however, so instead of taking Yellow to his room, he placed the sugar destroyed bomber in the couch. He knew Yellow wouldn't mind that. Maybe Blue would, but that's another story.

He wasn't as tired as poor Yellow, but carrying another bomber all that way, in summer heat, it took a lot on him. Even a cool bomber like Black had his limits. He needed at least a nap or something. Maybe a shower. Darn, why didn't them had a pool or something....

---

He woke up with a bit of a scare. Maybe he had a nightmare, he couldn't remember well. He knew, however, that the heat, combined with his nap, had left him completly thirsty.

Slowly, Black got up and stretched himself a little. He could easily smell that yes, he needed a shower. He walked out of his room adn went to the kitchen, where he grabbed the biggest cup he could find and filled it with water. While he was drinking, he made a mental note to check on Yellow later. Soon he was going to wake up, it wouldn't be fair to leave him alone like that. Maybe he would do that after he's done with his shower.

It took all the energy Shae possessed to teleport once more for the evening - once more before the blessing of sleep.  

In all reality, she was surprised she’d not folded in holding a portal so long. The one called Blackgate recalled later she’d never been hit with magic akin to that which the group endured within the trap it had so freely entered.  It was nothing Shae had ever felt - a different kind of current flowed within her - electric, yet not of any Arcane, Fel or Holy magics she’d dealt with in her past.  

Equalize....

Barefoot, once in Winterspring, the caster knelt in the soft white powder, crunching it within her fingers and compressing her temples.  

As her skin melted the white crystals Shae inhaled...exhaled.   You’re going to need to do better....  Strategy had surpassed combat the last two decades and she knew she needed to step up her game.  The pool was icy with Elementals guarding as the light robes and gloves were left behind in the snow as she stepped from them delicately, the cold air bringing some color back to her skin.

Cleanse. 

The large chunks of ice that coated the surface parted as though they expected her, an ever-welcoming, comforting chill.  As she moved further in -- knee deep, waist deep, steam rose in her wake, the ice chunks shrinking as they struggled to close the gap behind her. 

Heal.

The only thing she knew for certain this evening was that it was a different kind of magic.... there was research to do and each new encounter would be a test. She took solace - or perhaps even pride in he fact the fighters of Panzer were up to the challenge.  She was not so attached to their leader but the pit of her own stomach twisted slightly at the thought of leaving him behind.  

As she submerged within the icy depths, clouds of steam rising above the ripples in the water, she made a list.  It started with a single name. 

((photo source motherless.com))