It's all I had wanted. To become a Lyctor, to serve God, to ask him to intercede on behalf of my House. None of it was what I expected. I hated it there.
[ oh, harrow. that sadness is obvious - they pause for a moment, lifting their hand, letting it curl in the air, before they reach over and put a hand on her arm. it's very gentle. ]
It sounds like they didn't deserve you. Least as far as I can tell.
[ ... ]
You've... been on the other side of it for a while now, though, yeah? How's it feel?
[she flinches slightly before aquila touches, but doesn't seem to try to move away; she's not all that used to being touched, even now, but she still wants the comfort, and her eyes immediately, embarrassingly, well with tears when she receives it.]
I'm here, for Him. For God. I hated serving him on the Mithraeum, but that is not His doing. He was always very kind to me. But I still thought I would leave his service. That I would break my vows and go find happiness somewhere. I know he wouldn't begrudge me that, and yet I...I find myself here once more.
their hand stays there, then, gentle, curling in her sleeve. they don't say anything about her tearing up, but they shift a little closer, almost subconsciously, and it takes them a long moment to reply. ]
...It's like any kind of - like any kind of habit, it... that thinking, the way you've been your whole life, that doesn't just go away. It's - it never just makes a clean break, not from something like that. Even when you want it to, it's - even if you know it's right, it's hard to convince yourself of it, even if you think you did. How do you walk away from something you've done your whole life? When you get put in that kind of situation, your gut instinct's always gonna be to go to what you've known to be right. Especially when you just learned that it's wrong.
[ ...they stop there, closing their mouth under the veil, as if they've recognized that they've been rambling.
but, before they get to say anything else, there's the faintest twinkle of silver stardust, and then - a shower of it.
you are dressed in formal wear, heavier and more cloying than any armor you've ever been in, and you step into a room with a sickbed, filled with smoke, then move to kneel at the bedside of the person who lays there. you're silent, as the person in the bed reminisces, and you keep your expression stoic, so stoic, unmoving, unflinching.
"You will be keeping guard... what belonged to the prince of the future, that's not much concern; I'm only concerned about you. you must listen to my words. all good matters in the world could turn bad when they've become too much. You must cherish, and build your blessings for the times to come. Visit the temple, learn from their teachings."
you feel something curl up in your chest at that, something bitter. you think of your hatred for that place, for the things it did to you. the sentiments of this sick, dying man, to you, can only lead to a path of death and destruction. if you lose your way... how many people will die, if you decide to dawdle off and build your blessings? you don't want to do that. you want to crush your enemies. want to wipe them off the face of the earth, want them not to have even a moment where they think you and your world, your people, are weak. want to defend something so much larger than you, take care of it.
but this sick man has denied you what you've needed to make that happen, over and over. and now, after sending you on a wild goose chase away from the place where you were needed, he's brought you back and he's dying, and wants to leave you with words of love like they mean something. like they ever meant something. he was supposed to be the one who cared for you, who raised you, wasn't he? you feel bitter, ice cold, trying to keep your heart made of stone.
he looks at you, he says your name - and the way he says it is soft, affectionate, and something in you just cracks. your stiff posture loosens, an inch, because no matter how much you have rationalized it and tried to talk it away, this man is still ...
"Do you despise me?" he asks.
you deny it. immediately. you have to. don't you hate him? you should. he's the reason for all of the problems in your life. all of them. duty, though, takes your mouth. you say, "I wouldn't dare."
"Will you remember me?"
... you close your mouth.
you can't say anything. you can't. your expression stays stiff and still. the tension returns, and you keep every part of you together because that's what you're used to doing. will you? do you want to? you don't. you want him gone, you desperately want him gone. won't it be easier? a minute passes. two. three. the sick man asks why you haven't said anything.
(what can you even say? i wish you would have loved me?)
you inhale. for a moment tender, for a moment - exposed, down to your heart, down to your bone, and you say, and you speak softer than you've ever spoken, and your expression doesn't change but it feels like you've cracked to pieces. "...If you also go, then I'll no longer have any family left."
the sick man makes a soft noise and it hurts. it feels like a dagger has been stabbed between your ribs, as you lace up your vulnerability and you hide it again, pull it back behind a curtain of iron. you have to get up - you force yourself to stand, and you say, "Please take care of yourself. I'll take my leave." your heart is pounding. you need to leave. you need to get out.
you turn your back on him, you think, for the last time, but he calls you an important nickname and you hold perfectly still.
"Come here," the sick man says, "Give me your hand."
... woodenly, you can't help yourself. you have been told to. you have to. you turn around. something, pathetically, curls up in your chest at it. something desperately - something lonely. there's a rash of anger, too, fury, the cold exterior you'd worked so hard to put into place. but your heart isn't made of iron, is it? has it ever been?
he puts something around your wrist, and says, "I'll be watching you."
... and you can't take it anymore.
you have to leave. you have to get away from that notion, you have to get away from the cloying ache of something you've never had and something you've always wanted and how angry and resentful you've always been and - you nod, mutely, silent for once in your life, take a step backwards, then turn sharply on your heel and request your leave.
he dies three days later, and the complicated tangle of emotions just feels worse.
... aquila's hand stays on harrow's arm, though they've gone still, as the stardust fades. ]
[huh. she frowns, watching them after the memory ends with an odd expression. something about that felt like it should be telling her something important, but she can't quite put her finger on it.]
[she feels awkward now; there was something in there that read as familiar to her, but she also doesn't feel at all certain she isn't projecting something on a person who has been very kind to her here. she fiddles with her hands.]
I'm sorry. It's invasive, to have to share these things.
they... laugh a little, and then wave their hand. relaxed, actually. ]
Nah - it's okay. I mean, I'd just tell you, if I could. Maybe it's easier it gets thrown out there for people to just see, y'know? Considering.
[ aquila watches her for a moment, hand still on her arm, and pulls it off finally, but it's to reach over and put it on her head. there's a brief pause.
they ruffle her hair, a little teasing. ] I'm sorry I had to get all up in your business, too. Look, we're even now, yeah?
[oh. the hair ruffle is a surprise, but she allows it.]
It's alright. I've become accustomed to you Avatars or staff knowing my business. There are so many things I know I ought to keep a secret. There is something of a grim relief in knowing the fight is already lost and out of my hands.
[ aquila has rights! say you dont icly know who aquila is without saying it. ]
Yeah, I get that. [ they laugh a little bit, rueful, like a private little joke, and pull their hand away. ] Think of it this way, we're great confidants!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[she swallows a little, sad.]
It's all I had wanted. To become a Lyctor, to serve God, to ask him to intercede on behalf of my House. None of it was what I expected. I hated it there.
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It sounds like they didn't deserve you. Least as far as I can tell.
[ ... ]
You've... been on the other side of it for a while now, though, yeah? How's it feel?
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[she flinches slightly before aquila touches, but doesn't seem to try to move away; she's not all that used to being touched, even now, but she still wants the comfort, and her eyes immediately, embarrassingly, well with tears when she receives it.]
I'm here, for Him. For God. I hated serving him on the Mithraeum, but that is not His doing. He was always very kind to me. But I still thought I would leave his service. That I would break my vows and go find happiness somewhere. I know he wouldn't begrudge me that, and yet I...I find myself here once more.
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their hand stays there, then, gentle, curling in her sleeve. they don't say anything about her tearing up, but they shift a little closer, almost subconsciously, and it takes them a long moment to reply. ]
...It's like any kind of - like any kind of habit, it... that thinking, the way you've been your whole life, that doesn't just go away. It's - it never just makes a clean break, not from something like that. Even when you want it to, it's - even if you know it's right, it's hard to convince yourself of it, even if you think you did. How do you walk away from something you've done your whole life? When you get put in that kind of situation, your gut instinct's always gonna be to go to what you've known to be right. Especially when you just learned that it's wrong.
[ ...they stop there, closing their mouth under the veil, as if they've recognized that they've been rambling.
but, before they get to say anything else, there's the faintest twinkle of silver stardust, and then - a shower of it.
... aquila's hand stays on harrow's arm, though they've gone still, as the stardust fades. ]
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...Who was he?
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they're quiet for a second longer than harrow is, like they're taking the moment to compose themselves. ]
...Family. [ is aquila's immediate answer, a little more somber. their usual sort of playful aura is gone. ] One way or another.
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[that particular way family can be, where you get so much from them, but not the things you long for and know you aren't allowed to ask for.]
What did he give you?
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A trinket.
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[she feels awkward now; there was something in there that read as familiar to her, but she also doesn't feel at all certain she isn't projecting something on a person who has been very kind to her here. she fiddles with her hands.]
I'm sorry. It's invasive, to have to share these things.
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they... laugh a little, and then wave their hand. relaxed, actually. ]
Nah - it's okay. I mean, I'd just tell you, if I could. Maybe it's easier it gets thrown out there for people to just see, y'know? Considering.
[ aquila watches her for a moment, hand still on her arm, and pulls it off finally, but it's to reach over and put it on her head. there's a brief pause.
they ruffle her hair, a little teasing. ] I'm sorry I had to get all up in your business, too. Look, we're even now, yeah?
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It's alright. I've become accustomed to you Avatars or staff knowing my business. There are so many things I know I ought to keep a secret. There is something of a grim relief in knowing the fight is already lost and out of my hands.
But I appreciate your consideration all the same.
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Yeah, I get that. [ they laugh a little bit, rueful, like a private little joke, and pull their hand away. ] Think of it this way, we're great confidants!
[ that's a less private joke. ]
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Yes. Though now Lup is no longer one of you and she still knows everything, so...
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Kinda, yeah. I feel a lot like I'm walking on eggshells around her, sometimes, but, 's okay.