#redanvic

Some days I cling to something I overheard at a soldier’s funeral in my early days with Sebelle: everything happens for a reason.

Whether it does or doesn’t, it feels better to look back and see how the things that are hurting now have contributed to what has happened and why they were important, and that’s—kind of where I am with Keiranon at the moment. Another brief but intense attempt at making our relationship work beyond a friendship, and another catastrophic failure that twists me inside out when I remember that the few times I woke up beside him are the only few times that will ever happen. That the comfortable and lazy moments we spent waking up, or cuddled together away from the interference of daily life—those will never be again. We won’t have another ‘monastery moment’. Those doors are all closed to me. 

I can be honest with you, journal, the thought of him doing any of that with someone else—even just in the name of fun—makes me want to scream and cry. Even if it doesn’t work I still want him, and the possibility of him connecting with anyone else in all the ways he couldn’t or wouldn’t connect with me might as well be actual knives in my gut for all it hurts. That’s how he gets close to people. It’s going to happen at some point, he’ll find someone that is closer to him than anyone else could ever be—I want him to find that—but at the same time I dread it. What if I become nothing? Irrelevant? Unimportant? 

I still feel that same strong connection to him. That’s never changed. Maybe we are just meant to be friends, but to still feel so connected to him and face the prospect of becoming nothing in his eyes, that drives me wild. But then—isn’t that what Vailynt talked about? Not putting on Keiranon expectations that I should be something to him? It’s unfair as hell to do so, I can understand that. It’d be even more unfair to ask him not to fool around with anyone (despite the fact that I really really want to and the constant wondering whether he’s found someone to replace me already is doing my head in) and it would only serve to push him further into a place where he feels I need to be protected.

So he can’t know. How much any of that hurts me. How much it will tear me apart when I see him moving on. It’ll destroy any strength he sees in me. 

Then, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this is a problem I only have with Keiranon—or one I have with everyone. I put a lot into all of my relationships, everything that I know of myself, I throw it into each and every one of them. When I trust someone, I trust them. When I respect someone, I respect them. I don’t do half-measures. Vailynt makes that damn hard where some days he’s everything I can look up to, and then he does things that are more than questionable and everything feels shaky again. Like our friendship is a boat with a leak—water coming in as fast as I can bail it out. 

Lily was the only friend I had before coming here. I trusted and respected her absolutely. I gave her my all, she gave me hers. Is that an anomaly? Am I broken for wanting that with other friends? Keiranon said there was nothing wrong with giving that much as a lover, only that he could never return it to me, but does the same apply to friends? I don’t know. I wish I did. The discrepancy between what I want and give, and what I get in return is causing me grief. I don’t like to let people in properly before I feel that solid foundation, and there’s so few that I’ve managed it with. Only Lily and Red to date, though I desperately wanted (and still do want) that with Keiranon. It’s only Lily and Red that I would have felt comfortable bothering in the middle of the night if I needed comfort. So there was no one I felt I could go to when Keiranon ended things.

Finding that sudden loneliness was just another stab in an already painful situation.

I’m working on opening up to Vilathara more. I think we’re good. I’m just overly cautious, not wanting to push for anything she can’t give me, partly afraid that just being someone I care about and confide in is reason enough for the world to take her away. It happened to Lily and Red, so why not? 

But as I said—everything for a reason. Friendships are a confusing enough concept for me at the moment, romantic relationships are clearly beyond my capabilities at this time. And Keiranon and I had something good while it was good, and it was good when it needed to be. He supported me though losing Red, I guess some greater power decided I no longer needed him there. I need to learn to survive on my own, but also to reach out and let others in. Question is, do I lower my standards or hope that others fit the bill?

Maybe I need to ask Vila about that. 

Journal, I don’t write in you often enough. Now I’ve picked you up again, I’ve so much to say that some will need to be covered in future entries. Red’s death was a trial for me, I’ve never felt loss so absolute. Even Lily’s absence hasn’t cut as deep as knowing that there is no way that Red can possibly come back and be as he was. He is gone. Forever. Once again it frightens me how deep those bonds can go and how painful it is when they’re severed. Red was dear to me, he became a very close friend in a very short time. He became a confidant in ways I never expected, and his support helped me through Keiranon’s disappearance and return, Lily’s disappearance, and all of the other bullshit that’s been happening.

I didn’t expect the ending of the siege to hurt the way it did. Maybe it was the closeness of that and Red’s death, or maybe endings are just something I don’t handle well. Probably both. That the rush of my hunt died with Red and the girl didn’t help, all of those sudden breaks in what I had thrown myself into left me struggling once again for some sort of purpose. 

Not being allowed to Red’s funeral hurt. And Ixoris Sebelle sending a letter requesting my resignation for a bunch of bullshit reasons (read: you’re sylvari and I don’t trust you) only compounded the pain. I need to do something about that—I can’t, and I won’t, stand idly by while other races attribute Scarlet’s evil to us as a whole. I’m still working on that proposal. Every time I go to write it, all I get is “We go out and help people!” yay yay happy faces. I think that’s the only way forward though—engage with the wider world and help solve their problems where we can. Forerunner Zainerys agrees, I just need to put all of these thoughts into some sort of cohesive and workable plan.

When the cannoneer fell, there hadn’t been time to celebrate. Aetherblade reinforcements swarmed down from the ledges, too late to save their commander but just in time to start picking off the wearying allied troops that had brought him down. Sadrienne’s team that night was small, the majority of Inflorescence sylvari tucked into their beds back at Watchful Source, tonight it was mainly Sebelle forces and a few eager wardens. She split the group off, back toward the main hub of the city, vaulting herself down into the muddied paths that wove around and to the Mystic Plaza. These lower holdings were often quieter, provided respite for tired soldiers trying to catch a couple of breaths before the next wave.

But there was no stopping now. Even through her helm she could hear the clatter of Aetherblades following. Not many—but enough if they chose to engage. She paused to let the team through, staff held defiant, the ground behind them rippled with earth magic, the mud parting to allow sharp rocks to crash upward through the surface into the advancing Aetherblade mob. Now bringing up the rear, she resumed running, attuned to air and pushing her team onward. 

‘Trouble ahead.’ Red called, Sadrienne alerted to the clank of yet more Aetherblades dropping down from the plaza ahead, her team now stuck between the two mobs. 

‘Disable what you can.’ She ordered. ‘We run from the rest.’ She knew there was no way they could take them all out, the best they could hope for was a kill or two to buy them time. Water magic swamped her system, healing mist flowing out from the gaps between her armour plates, seeking out the weary comrades beside her. Stand strong. She held her staff up again, warmth licking up her body, from toes to the points of here fingers as she channeled a firestorm, crashing back down into the mud when the magic released her and conjuring a fiery great sword. Trisbaine would be proud. 

‘Yours, Red. Take forward. I’ll take back.’ Her commands were sharp, clipped. The Aetherblade groups had now reached her team, Red hacking away at the forward group with the spare fire sword, Sadrienne taking on the second group to do the same. She was slower in plate, but it was safer, what hit her was more likely to bruise rather than cut into her flesh, and had she worn cloth or leaves out here, she would have lost limbs by now. 

Swords clashed and magic crackled in the air around them, Sadrienne’s arms tiring fast while the Aetherblades showed no sign of weakening. She rippled an arcane wave through the area, pushing back the Aetherblades on both sides. How many hours had she been out here tonight? She couldn’t even count. How many times had she messaged Keiranon? 

Two.

Four hours, then.

It felt like much more than that. No, it was longer than that. Nearly six. Nearly time for another message. After this—he would understand the delay. The fire sword was gone, she grabbed for the real one, lightning crackling down its length as she jammed it into the gap of an Aetherblade’s armour and felt the blade find the squishy body beneath. Let the body fall, crunch a boot on its neck to ensure it’s dead, move on to the next one. She moved through the field as she always did, with utmost wary confidence, doing what had to be done. She’d never taken pleasure or excitement in it, beyond the physical thrill of moving with the coordination required for battle. This was what she did, it was what her body understood, and she took it all in stride. 

The forward mob was clearing faster. Red yelled for her attention, pointing ahead. She nodded and turned, motioning for those beside her to follow. Hack them down and move on, the group pressed forward as fast as possible, luck on their side as a laser scorched the ground and scattered the Aetherblades. Sadrienne sheathed her sword, broke into a run, back through the trenches with the team following, to the sanctuary of the sewer pipes. Dark and dank and rotten to smell, but quiet compared to the constant battle on the surface. She leaned against the inside of the pipe, sliding down to sit in liquified waste, breathing hard.

Nothing like a rest in the sewer— she sent to Keiranon, her message cut abruptly as a small shadow moved in the pipe beyond them. It called out, weak and desperate, wandered toward them on unsteady feet. Melandru’s furry nethers, there’s a fucking child down here.

‘Daddy?’ it called, voice on the edge of tears. Sadrienne’s brow furrowed. She’d heard about children following their parents and other loved ones, trying to get through into Lion’s Arch. Children who had friends who had lost parents, children who were terrified that today would be the day they lost someone dear. The child wandered closer. Skin hung from bones, face gaunt, hair matted and singed, it was weak and frail. Sadrienne exchanged a look with Red, how long had the child been down here? ‘Daddy, have you come back for me?’

Sadrienne exchanged a look with Red, even in the half light she could see his disbelief. A child survivor of the initial attack? 

‘No. Your father isn’t with us.’ She said, approaching the child, her hand going immediately to the child’s forehead to examine it. It was weak, so very weak, brittle in the bones and shaky with each breath. After effects of miasma still rattled through its lungs, even as she flooded the child with healing magic. ‘We’ll get you out of here. Maybe you can find him then.’ 

Sadrienne’s tone was still short, to the point. The child’s father was likely dead. But the child itself seemed important. Something clicked within her as her fingers brushed the child’s papery skin, The call of her hunt was high, it was all-consuming. A wounded human in her presence, what else could she do? She fortified the child as much as she could, waiting as her team gathered themselves. 

‘We make for Canal Ward.’ She directed. ‘Engage nothing, stealth where we can.’ There were no protests. Red took the child, folding her up in his arms. It was hard to guess an age, sickness had taken most of the life from her and reduced her body to very little, but Sadrienne assumed about six. Perhaps as old as eight. Far too young to be down here. They used the sewers and trenches as far as they could, forced to come up to surface as the team closed in on Canal Ward. 

‘Stay alert.’ Sadrienne murmured as she reached the top, sword at the ready. The gate was in sight, but so too were Aetherblade forces and allies, constantly pitched against each other in the battle for the broken city. All they had to do was sneak through the thousand tiny fights and slip out. She took the child from Red, holding her while he climbed up to meet the rest of the team, and handed her back over again. She needed both her arms to fight, Red could manage well enough with a single sword and Lanis to defend him. The warden shadow their cast a refuge above them, the group again sprinting toward the gate.

‘Holy!’ Red’s yell became a gurgle, Sadrienne stopped suddenly as a laser skittered just by her toes. The child cried, crashing to the ground with Red, the pair bathed in a sudden bloody waterfall—Red’s leg cut clean off mid-shin. The shadow magic faded, a mace crashed down toward Red’s head, Sadrienne tried to block with her staff, but the shaft shattered and the mace head landed hard on Red’s skull. She grabbed her sword instead, swinging for the Aetherblade’s neck as he tried to pull the heavy mace up for another swing. 

‘Get them. Get them out of here!’ she ordered the others, two burly wardens gathering the broken humans and running toward the gate. Whether the Aetherblade was dead or knocked out, she didn’t know, she freed her sword and ran for the gate, stumbling out into Gendarran Fields to where Red and the child had been laid out. Both still breathing, and only now did she see that the child too had been hit by the mace. Its soft head caved in on one side. She sat between them, a hand on each, pouring healing energy into their broken bodies. Searching for the injuries, calculating chances with a mind that had to be cold, couldn’t be emotional, had to be rational. 

The child died with a whispered sigh that may have been words, her last breath a signal of catastrophic failure on Sadrienne’s part and a sharp twist in the call of her hunt. This one had been important and she had let it die. She ignored the feeling, focusing her attention on Red—but he was worse. He writhed in pain, weakening himself with every movement, Lanis standing over him with a worried cat gaze. As hard as she tried, she was fighting another losing battle, Red pushed her back.

‘Y’should probably take the day off, Seb.’ He suggested, head flopping to the side as all strength left him and he died on the grass. Sadrienne blinked, frozen in the one spot between the two dead humans, her team standing over her, and her soldier facade breaking fast. 

‘Go home. All of you.’ She ordered, voice rasping as she grabbed for her bell, fumbling it between blood-stickied fingers.