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zenderael_mmo2012-12-16 12:24 pm
vast_oceans) wrote in zenderael_mmo2012-12-16 12:24 pm
Entry tags:
Ashtaroth + Rayu + Rhys // Ground Rules
Who: Rayu, Rhys and Ashtaroth
When: Friday, 03/06
Where: The Berserker tournament
Before/After: After Acher and Rhys' match
Warnings: Blood and magical fixin' uppin'.
It had been easier than it probably should have been to convince Rhys to take Ashtaroth as a healer. Rayu was half relieved it had gone without incident, but half annoyed Rhys didn't show some healthy amount of suspicion. There were those out there with more violent thoughts toward their creators. Not that Rayu was one of them, but for Rhys to assume it... What frustrated Rayu, in the end, was not knowing if Rhys was aware he could trust Rayu, or if he simply did. Rhys was not a careful person.
His first match had proved it. Rayu left the stands as soon as the fight was over, weaving through cheering crowds with ease to reach the inner arena halls. A little hunter buff let him move quicker, able to get to Rhys' waiting room before Rhys would. He waved to Ashtaroth, silent and not hiding his annoyance, before crossing his arms and falling back against the wall. He had only a moment of rest there-- barely time to say anything to Ashtaroth, had he wanted-- before Rhys entered in behind him.
And promptly gave him a thunk against the head. "The hell were you thinkin'?"
It didn't hurt, but it did startle Rhys enough for him to reach to where he'd been struck with a wince. His mind caught up with him before he could think to retaliate, and seeing (and hearing) Rayu, whatever solemn look Rhys had evaporated immediately in favor of sheepishness. C'mon, Rayu, it'd worked, hadn't it? He lowered his hand and grinned at Rayu, nervous as it was, and cleared his throat to approach Ashtaroth when that did nothing to melt Rayu's scowl.
He ignored the eyes burrowing into the back of his skull as he gave Ashtaroth a more genuinely apologetic smile (sorry, Rayu-- only not so much) with a to the gash he'd given himself across the chest. The singed flesh from holy attacks he was less sorry about, willing to credit that to Acher.
"I would warn you from injuring yourself purposefully in order to incite Fury in future matches," Ashtaroth added, eyebrows raised so that they hid under her bangs. It was still a little strange to see the two of them interact- the Ahura acted so young sometimes. That dopey smile of his didn't help his case.
It was also strange to expect an answer and not get one. Well, not exactly. A mute. He communicated mostly by writing, which was tedious, but the most effective method in short order. "And it doesn't help to go beating him up, either," she said with the same warning tone to Rayu. Already she was sorting her supplies, and she motioned for Rhys to sit down in the spot she herself had occupied moments earlier before Rayu had come in. She'd watched the match from a short distance, and once it was called had turned back immediately to go in and make sure everything was ready.
"I know you're new to this, but let's try not to go making rookie mistakes like not being able to Fury for the next match, all right?" she asked, eyes narrowing somewhat at him. Perhaps she shouldn't talk that way to the Ahura? Ah, but it was so hard not to say what popped into her head. She bit her tongue and wet a cloth in a bowl of clean water. Well, if she'd ever been shy about healing others before, all her work during the collapsing of Bastan a few weeks ago had cured her of it.
See, Rhys? Even Ashtaroth was on his side about this. Rayu sighed, looking almost smug, but any threat of that died when Ashtaroth gave him a scolding too. He cleared his throat and looked away, properly chastised. After a moment to recover his dignity, he took a step forward toward Ashtaroth. "Would you like any buffs to go with that?"
Unable to plead his case, Rhys' smile fell. If the Ahura was supposed to look angry at being corrected, Rhys wouldn't have been able to pull it off if he tried. He looked more like a dog that knew he wasn't supposed to knock over the trash, and he still had the lid stuck around his neck. Or across his chest, as it were.
He took his seat as directed and removed his shoulder armor to set it aside. Was he supposed to remove his shirt too? With some hesitation, he pulled it off, wincing as the fabric brushed against his torn flesh. It looked worse once he revealed it to himself, having done little to try and stop the bleeding. ... Maybe that had been too much.
Her forehead creased a little at Rhys' dejected look, not quite sure how to take that, before looking at Rayu... who had a similar expression on his face.
What had she gotten herself into.
Keeping her sigh to herself, she helped Rhys with the shirt, frowning in concern this time as the shirt peeled away, but hid anything further when she saw the extent of it. She also just barely kept herself from bopping him on the head the same way Rayu just had. It looked like he'd done more damage to himself than the paladin had.
"Focus would be great," she said, putting the cloth over the side of the bowl for a moment while she inspected the wound as best she could before cleaning it up. "I forget, do you have anything for acceleration?"
She took up Rhys' arm and inspected the thin cut there he'd taken at the beginning of the match. Strangely, it was the holy burns she was most unfamiliar with. It wasn't often she was healing because of a paladin's attacks.
"Is there anything else I can't see that's bothering you?" she asked him, putting his arm down, flicking her glance over to Rayu as well, as if he might have caught something she hadn't. "I have to clean that gash out before I can heal it. If there's fabric in there, it can rot once it's healed over..."
Did he know that? She was just talking now. She quickly took up the cloth and carefully began to clean up the wound on his chest.
Rayu nodded and moved closer into her space, hand hovering near her back, but respectfully not touching. "That I do," he said, and with a pair of faint animal calls blurring into one another, he wove energy into her being to share what a Hunter's blessing gave him: sharpening her senses, not unlike finding the perfect lens, and allowing her own magic to spin together quicker.
Not sure he trusted Rhys in this department based on what he'd learned, Rayu gave Rhys a more critical eye to inspect for further wounds. He briefly considered prodding Rhys for bruises to prove his point, but decided Ashtaroth probably would not have approved. Even if this was something Rhys needed to learn. He knew he shouldn't have been so frustrated, but he couldn't shake the feeling Rhys was going to act all apologetic, then go and do it again next match. (Because that's what Rayu would have done.)
Rayu replayed the fight in his mind. Rhys' hands. Of course. He took hold of Rhys' arm and removed a gauntlet, expression flat when Rhys wiggled his unscathed fingers with a knowing smile. "...You're going to have to be unpredictable to win this. Don't go using the same trick twice."
Enchanted gauntlets, Rayu. Give Rhys some credit. But his smile grew softer, and continued to fall until it was conflicted. There was a point to that statement, but he knew Rayu's behavior was that of being legitimately upset. Worried. That was a surreal pill to swallow, and tasted a bit too much like self-insert fan fic. But "self-insert fan fic" might have described a lot of his life lately.
Relenting, Rhys removed his greave to reveal where the holy bolt had first struck him. It had been protected and he didn't feel much of a sting, but he couldn't afford to carry any pride for his pain tolerance right now. Sure enough, his shin was burned by the holy bolt, red marks forking like lightning across his flesh.
He looked to Ashtaroth, giving her his full attention when she spoke. Admittedly, he hadn't ever come across that particular tidbit of information. He filed that one away, rubbing at the back of his neck (in the same way Rayu did when nervous-- sorry, Ash) before dropping his arm to lean slightly back on his palms. Awkward exposing his chest purposely like this? Yes, but also part of the consequences for the risk he'd taken.
Luckily, he had given her a lot of work to do, so her mind was distracted from most of the awkwardness of the situation as she took stock of the various wounds, carefully clearing away the blood and beginning to wipe at the edges of the cut.
"I need you to be completely honest with me," she said, though her eyes were fixed on the cut. "This isn't some small thing you're doing, after all. I can't heal a missing organ. And I can't bring the dead back to life." That part came out a little strange, though it was hard to tell how- she didn't even know, really. Almost, she thought, returning the cloth to the water again. She'd kept her sleeves pulled up most of the day anyway, one of few methods she had of combating the heat.
"So you need to promise me," she said as she turned back to Rhys, giving him a sharp glance, "that no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, you're going to tell me about every cut, every bruise, every burn. Every match and if anything happens in between. If you aren't at your best before every match, it could mean your life. You realize that, right?"
Harsh, maybe, but she had to make sure he did realize that. She was confident of her abilities, but as she'd stated, she had limits. (Not for a lack of trying, though.)
If Ashtaroth had been someone Rhys was familiar with, it would have easier to fall into the role of smiling, telling her not to worry, and how everything would be fine. Those he called friends didn't like arguing otherwise at length. This was a healer with a job to do, and that wasn't something he knew how to ease.
He listened, silent, even for him. Not a bit of him moved or made a wince as she cleaned out his wound, his attention to fixated on her words because he couldn't escape them. Of course he realized that. Of course he thought about it. He'd stayed up the night before the challenge, weighing his death versus every other potential outcome. If he died here, he wouldn't be able to survive what was going to follow, and the berserkers-- and everyone else-- would need someone who could. He'd seen first hand what a lack of stability in the guild did. It was easy to write the tournament off as a small, terrifying piece of something bigger than his own life.
But it was his life, and all he could do was remember what his mother had ever told him about stage work: act like you belong there, even if you don't believe it. If he said he'd win, if he convinced everyone-- himself-- that he would, then he would. He couldn't let them see him shaking. If Rhys visualized for one moment his own death, if he let himself see it, it was a moment of weakness that might let it happen.
Rhys closed his eyes-- a second, a second and a half, whatever he could steal to collect himself-- before he managed to pull his expression back into another one of his forced smiles after a flicker of stoicism. Better they think him a dumb kid who didn't get it than someone who spent every second trying not to be terrified. He held his hands up to signal surrender, nodding his promise to Ashtaroth.
Rayu clenched his jaw and threw his arms down. "No. Just-- no. Stop it." Did Rhys think this was a game? Still? Or was he infuriating enough to think so little of his own life? It didn't add up. Cutting himself was a stupid move, but one that took enough willpower to hint at a desperation Rhys was refusing to show them now. Instead, he'd come back in grinning like an idiot.
It wasn't fair. Any attempt to be 'Rayu' dropped, his irritation no longer forced through a faked edge. Victor was mad. "You think you can show up and build our to help with your problems, then ignore us once we're here? Tell us to take care of ourselves, then it's your turn, and you can't even get that stupid smile off of your face? You know everything, Rhys! Who I-- we are, how we think, how we hurt, but you don't even try--"
Not that Rayu had asked, not that he was even certain. Not that he hadn't tried to imagine Rhys as a being immune to hardship and feeling. Not that this was precisely on topic... He stopped short, glanced guiltily to Ashtaroth for threatening to derail the conversation. "Sorry," he mumbled, and he folded his arms, refusing to look at Rhys, frustration persisting.
"Rayu," she said, warningly, as he began to rant, but her tone shifted to something closer to concern as he continued. "Rayu," she tried again. He kept going. Finally, just as he cut himself off, she said a bit louder, "Victor."
And then it fell silent in the room.
She'd stopped moving, her expression sad as she looked at him. She hadn't meant to start this conversation, not to have it roll into this. Rayu's apology fell flat in the quiet room, swallowed by the silence for a long moment, and she went back to her work quietly.
"...so you need to keep these things in mind," she said softly, putting the cloth aside when she was done. She held her hand above the skin and light and warmth blossomed beneath it, closing up the wound as though it had never existed. "Your life is more than just staying alive. It's more than the god-organ. It's everything you're responsible for, too."
Rhys' attention snapped to Rayu with the outburst, stunned and wide eyed. He only looked away when Ashtaroth used his name, double taking in shock. But his mind didn't have room to sort out the importance of that detail, the silence bringing back Rayu's words. His gaze drooped as he took a deep, shaken breath. What was it Gunnar told him? There was a lot Rhys didn't say. Better to wait for them to ask, he thought, because it seemed more offensive to assume they even cared, because what was his sob story of a life compared to what he'd put Rayu through?
Responsibility. It was something he was trying to learn to take. Even the tournament, in his own way... But what did they want him to say? Revealing injuries, that was easy enough, but neither seemed convinced he was taking this seriously. Should he show fear? Smile less? He wasn't smiling now, that was for certain.
Once the warmth had mended his wounds, Rhys motioned to Rayu and held out his hand.
Ashtaroth's use of Victor's name was still ringing in his ears, burning away at his lingering anger until he felt too guilty to hold onto it. It was to her he glanced too first, catching Rhys out of the corner of his eyes. Annoyance flickered, but dimmed into confusion until he finally guessed Rhys wanted his hand. He offered it questioningly, then found it taken and his fingers pressed against Rhys' neck. What did that even--
Rhys' pulse quickened, confusing Rayu further until he paired it with the somber look on Rhys' face. Rayu pulled his hand away to run his fingers through his hair and adjust his hat. "... It's fine, if you understand. Listen to your healer, and try not to give her so much work to do."
His back was turned to Rhys, but it was enough to side glance Ash. "... Thanks."
She didn't know if she should have said his name, and looked equally guilty for having done so. She rested her hands in her lap for a moment, watching the two of them, startled when Rhys pulled Rayu over. Whatever it was that passed between them seemed to, perhaps, satisfy the hunter. She watched him as he turned his back to them, though she glanced away when he thanked her. What for?
She rubbed the back of her hand, then tilted her head up again, looking at Rhys. Her smile was slight, a little bit faltering, disappearing into what seemed a more common gloom as she pushed her chair back slightly in order to examine his shin.
"I've never had to heal a paladin's attack before," she muttered. "I didn't... I didn't realize they could be so vicious."
But the man himself had seemed vicious. The paladins in Bastan could be grumpy, certainly, and quite serious. Those she had met of the Queen's Guard had been the haughty sort, chosen perhaps for just such a feature. But that man... she frowned to herself as she healed the burn, the heal a cooling sensation on the sensitive skin. "Do you know anything about him, Rayu?" she asked, going back to the, perhaps, more comfortable moniker.
The subject change was welcome, and Rayu was more grateful for that even than her better handling of Rhys. He fell in with it easily, willing to pretend he hadn't released any of his anger to poison the air if everyone else was. "I've never met him, but..." There was a glance to Rhys, free from accusation, but questioning. Unfortunately, there was only a shake of the head and a shrug in return. Rayu frowned in thought, shaking his head.
"Paladins wouldn't have had the chance to join before." Actually, for what looked like a gutsy move, Rayu thought the free for all was working in Rhys' favor. By throwing in that unpredictable element, more experienced berserkers were losing matches they might have won against their fellows, and it wasn't the kind of excuse pride would let them admit. "But if the Spenta and Ahura are as friendly as rumors suggest, he's not here with anyone's blessing. Beside that..." He gestured to Rhys. "... Even for a god organ, murder is still murder. A paladin's power wouldn't survive that kind of behavior."
Did it count as murder? The organs and their hosts might have fallen under different rules. Paladins killed monsters. Whatever force judged murder may have considered Rhys the same, especially if an arena match counted as self-defense. Under Fury, he was almost indistinguishable from a beast, and he suppressed a wry smile at the thought that some monsters appeared so intelligent, it was only their lack of speech that separated them from humans.
But enough of entertaining that. He breathed in deep, relaxing with the burns and glad to have them gone as Ashtaroth's magic cooled his skin. He smiled to Ashtaroth, keeping it weaker now, but no less genuine in his thanks.
Were they that friendly? She looked to Rhys for some kind of confirmation, but in the end it didn't seem to matter much whether it was true or not. She looked down again, realizing then how limited her experience of her own people were. Could she say that of paladins? Perhaps it was just so deeply ingrained that paladins were a certain way that the idea of one being unbeholden to anyone had never quite crossed her mind until this tournament.
Shin healed, she took Rhys' arm, examining the thin cut there, and easily sealing it. She didn't feel any drain on her powers as she did so, wiping the rest of the blood off of his forearm and his chest before she held her hand out and cast a more generalized heal, stronger than she thought it would be. Any other cuts and bruises faded away in mere moments, leaving him as good as- if not better- than he had been before the match, give or take a good night's sleep and some food.
"There," she said, leaning back again with her hands in her lap. "Good as new." She looked satisfied with her work. She was still hesitant, though, unsure of what to do now, or what to say. Rayu had just let loose a fair bit of venom, though, she suspected, not without reason. But Rhys didn't quite seem the type to warrant it completely. He didn't seem to be doing it on purpose in quite the way Rayu imagined him to be brushing it off. She could understand it, in a way. He had something else to focus on. There was no use in acting otherwise. Perhaps it was just the way it appeared to be so flippant that had angered Rayu so much...
Lost in thought, she'd been staring at Rhys. She blushed darkly and stood up, moving back to the bowl with the warm, pink water and bloody cloth.
"Do you know who you fight tomorrow yet? I think I'll just stick around here. I don't want to get caught up in too much trouble myself."
Rayu didn't even know if the rumors were true, but after his little fit, it was not the time to pry. Instead he decided to behave himself and keep quiet, watching Ashtaroth finish her work. When she finished, his look turned to concern when Ashtaroth went still, then his neck hair pricked up again as he picked up Rhys' shirt and flicked it over his head. "And you're done."
Better than before, most definitely. Ashtaroth's healing made him realize there were a few scars and bruises he'd simply come to accept as normal. The only thing her magic hadn't improved was his throat. And the shirt in his face. He scrambled to get his vision back, but didn't argue, pulling his shirt back on (too oblivious to think to note Rayu's expression) and reaching for something to write with before he'd pulled it all the way down.
Mordecai, he wrote, using a stub of charcoal against the parchment they had packed as an addition to Ashtaroth's tools to cover for such communication. He didn't bring his slate into the matches-- Virelai was in charge of it between. After today, depends on who wins.
Deciding that wasn't much of an answer, he drew an arrow from the name and began to list extra details. Berserker. Tall, dark. Boastful, but jovial. Fairly certain his weapon is a tree trunk.
It wasn't a family fight she wanted to be involved in. And it did seem a little like that. She'd seen (or thought she'd seen?) brothers fighting similarly, and it was nothing to put her nose into (any further). She dumped out the bowl and kept the cloth in it to deal with later, washing her hands and drying them before she walked back, focused on pulling her sleeves back down and buttoning them up.
She had to pause to lean over and read what Rhys had written. Her eyes widened. A tree trunk? "Really?" she asked in all shocked seriousness, turning her head to look at Rayu to see if it was possible.
"It's probably an exaggeration," he said, lightly but certain. That certainty waned as he slide his eyes to Rhys. "... Right?"
Rhys mimed holding something about as thick as a tree and gave it a swing, smiling in spite of the earlier confrontation. He tried to bite it back, thinking of a way approach this without some kind of joke. It probably was more finely crafted that grabbing a tree from the ground, but he didn't know else how to describe the wooden pole Mordecai cracked skulls with.
It could break some bones, but he's slower for it.
My injuries would be blunt force.
He paused, glancing to his dagger's sheath.
Promise.
She sighed as she finished up with her sleeves. "You can use it, just... not on yourself."
She'd never thought she'd have to say that out loud before. Went to show how much she knew about berserkers.
"I still don't know what I think about all of this," she answered Rhys' written statements after a moment, not meaning to be entirely off topic. "I know I did a lot of strange things because of my player... it isn't my line of work to go crawling around in underground caves... but I think, story-wise for me... that's the best way I can put it, really- a lot of my healing was done in times of crisis. Part of me thinks this is frivolous, but... it really isn't, though some of it take it that way. So I apologize now. If it seems like I'm not taking this seriously either."
She sat down again, looking between the two of them. "....so. What now?"
Sorry, Ashtaroth. Welcome to Rhys.
Parchment mostly used, Rhys flipped it over for a new message. Don't worry. You do great. Today's work is done. I'll send payment to the inn. He paused, tapped his pen, and wrote. And thanks for being there for him. It was there a moment, turned for Ashtaroth to see, and then crossed out in his equivalent of a whisper, finger to his lip. She might tell him, regardless. She must trust Rayu more than Rhys. But it was not being in the same room when it got back to Rayu that counted.
To make sure of it, he nodded to them both and stood up, stepping out without further fanfare.
Rayu noticed the secret exchange and straitened, as if he could grow tall enough to see. That impossible, he said nothing, returning Rhys' nod-- almost guilty-- before looking back to Ashtaroth.
"Hey," he said, just to stave off the silence while he tried not to sound redundant, "Sorry. Again. That you had to see that."
"It's fine," she said, watching Rhys as he headed out. She shook her head for her own sake before she looked back up to him. Thanks for sticking with him? She hadn't had much choice, had she? ...well... she supposed now she did... and she'd debated that little tidbit a few times now. But with her relationship with Artemis undiscussed and up in the air, who else did she really have?
Well. That wasn't a sad thought at all.
"Really," she added, backing up her statement. "It is fine. Well, it also isn't my business, so... I wouldn't worry about it."
She looked thoughtful, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair, holding it in front of her. "Did you- do you have a lot of people around you, Rayu?" she asked after a moment. "...sorry I called you Victor," she added sheepishly, tempted to simply hide in her hair.
He looked back to her abruptly, surprise unhidden until he tugged at the brim of his hat to shadow it. Rayu's mind searched for why she would even ask until his mind caught up with him, reminding him he had yet to answer. "Some," he said. But for all the names he could run through his head, it only made him feel more distant than before. He and his brother had long been on rocky ground. Ravindra... he knew that would mend, at least, in time. Amber was more of an apprentice, and knew nothing of Victor. Well, there was always Nayan. He owed him another drink sometime. Just for, well, existing.
"It is my name." There was half attempt at a smirk before Rayu's eyes found the ground. "Don't worry about it."
"Rhys looked surprised," she said. "I guess you didn't tell him much about what I know. Not that... not that I knew... well, I did, but..."
She trailed off awkwardly, looking down again, rubbing her hands together and trying not to look anxious. She could wander about as she pleased, she had no doubt of that, but she wasn't sure if that would be a smart idea. Rayu didn't look all that good either. She looked back to where Rhys had disappeared to, wondering.
"Have I helped you at all?" she asked abruptly, looking back to him, even as he tugged his hat down his face again.
Sometimes he wondered why he tipped the brim of his hat back up at all.
"Why would-- Th-that's not why--" Not why either of them were supposed to be here. "Yes," he said, answering in the middle of his own stammering. She had, maybe more than she knew, or meant to do, but-- "But." He sighed, running his fingers over the back of his neck. "You shouldn't feel like you have to."
"No! No, of course not," she said hastily. "That's not- I mean, I do feel like that, but not because of anything..."
Hands on her thighs, she wiped her hands down them and then pressed down so that it straightened her back and her arms. "It's not a ... a 'have to'. It's a 'want to'. It's just... hard to tell if it's really what I feel or not right now, I guess." She reached up to push her hair back. "I've spent a lot of time, helping... and I know at least one thing I was... 'helping' with... doesn't even matter anymore... and with Bastan falling apart, I... well, it all seems a little futile."
Staring at the floor, it took her a moment to look up again. "N-not that I think- not that I think helping you is a futile effort, I just- I guess I just need some confirmation right now."
He slid his hat back a little, frowning as he listened. "... If it's possible for a soul like mine to find solace, you're the closest I've ever gotten to answers." Rayu started to close the distance between them, but stopped himself, more uncertain. He ran his thumb over his palm and stared idly down at it, unable to keep his eyes up. "More than that, too. This whole mess... and different ways to think about it." She was a grounding presence, perhaps a trait of her Order.
"But there's a lot going on. For all of us. For you, too." He managed to meet her eyes. "Don't hesitate if you need anything. Time. Space." Rayu gave a weak shrug, letting it fill in the blanks for what he couldn't think of.
She watched him as he spoke, then turned her head away, looking at the wall opposite. Time... space... she felt like she would have a lot of that now.
"This is fine, for now," she said, brushing her lap off and standing, her chin tilted up stubbornly. "I don't know what I'll do, but I can think on it while I'm doing this. One think I'm pretty sure of, if I'm not busy, I'll go crazy. So this is good for now. I'll worry about the rest as it comes."
What distance he hadn't covered, she did, and without hesitation she took his hand and squeezed it, hard, a certain determined fierceness about her. "So if you need any help with this, even if it's just someone to rant to, do it. I'm here. You need to keep your cool for him, too," she said, meaning Rhys. "He's doing the best he knows how. And I'm not saying he's doing the right things... but he's just a young man who happened to eat a god-organ. He's got a lot on his plate just being responsible for himself right now so just... support him. Once this is out of the way, he'll have more time for all those questions. So be patient. And if you can't be, talk to me. All right?"
Rayu looked to his hand in hers, pliant to her squeezing. It was a moment before he gripped back, though weaker than she, and took a slow breath. Ashtaroth was right. That he couldn't place his frustrations made them even more frustrating than they needed to be. And that was even less fair to Rhys than letting himself go during the tournament.
His other hand started to reach for his neck, but he stopped himself, trying not to fidget. He smiled faintly instead. "That's more than I deserve. But thank you." He shook his head.
Support. He was rusty, and the relationship was hard to place... But it was necessary. And that made it worth trying.
When: Friday, 03/06
Where: The Berserker tournament
Before/After: After Acher and Rhys' match
Warnings: Blood and magical fixin' uppin'.
It had been easier than it probably should have been to convince Rhys to take Ashtaroth as a healer. Rayu was half relieved it had gone without incident, but half annoyed Rhys didn't show some healthy amount of suspicion. There were those out there with more violent thoughts toward their creators. Not that Rayu was one of them, but for Rhys to assume it... What frustrated Rayu, in the end, was not knowing if Rhys was aware he could trust Rayu, or if he simply did. Rhys was not a careful person.
His first match had proved it. Rayu left the stands as soon as the fight was over, weaving through cheering crowds with ease to reach the inner arena halls. A little hunter buff let him move quicker, able to get to Rhys' waiting room before Rhys would. He waved to Ashtaroth, silent and not hiding his annoyance, before crossing his arms and falling back against the wall. He had only a moment of rest there-- barely time to say anything to Ashtaroth, had he wanted-- before Rhys entered in behind him.
And promptly gave him a thunk against the head. "The hell were you thinkin'?"
It didn't hurt, but it did startle Rhys enough for him to reach to where he'd been struck with a wince. His mind caught up with him before he could think to retaliate, and seeing (and hearing) Rayu, whatever solemn look Rhys had evaporated immediately in favor of sheepishness. C'mon, Rayu, it'd worked, hadn't it? He lowered his hand and grinned at Rayu, nervous as it was, and cleared his throat to approach Ashtaroth when that did nothing to melt Rayu's scowl.
He ignored the eyes burrowing into the back of his skull as he gave Ashtaroth a more genuinely apologetic smile (sorry, Rayu-- only not so much) with a to the gash he'd given himself across the chest. The singed flesh from holy attacks he was less sorry about, willing to credit that to Acher.
"I would warn you from injuring yourself purposefully in order to incite Fury in future matches," Ashtaroth added, eyebrows raised so that they hid under her bangs. It was still a little strange to see the two of them interact- the Ahura acted so young sometimes. That dopey smile of his didn't help his case.
It was also strange to expect an answer and not get one. Well, not exactly. A mute. He communicated mostly by writing, which was tedious, but the most effective method in short order. "And it doesn't help to go beating him up, either," she said with the same warning tone to Rayu. Already she was sorting her supplies, and she motioned for Rhys to sit down in the spot she herself had occupied moments earlier before Rayu had come in. She'd watched the match from a short distance, and once it was called had turned back immediately to go in and make sure everything was ready.
"I know you're new to this, but let's try not to go making rookie mistakes like not being able to Fury for the next match, all right?" she asked, eyes narrowing somewhat at him. Perhaps she shouldn't talk that way to the Ahura? Ah, but it was so hard not to say what popped into her head. She bit her tongue and wet a cloth in a bowl of clean water. Well, if she'd ever been shy about healing others before, all her work during the collapsing of Bastan a few weeks ago had cured her of it.
See, Rhys? Even Ashtaroth was on his side about this. Rayu sighed, looking almost smug, but any threat of that died when Ashtaroth gave him a scolding too. He cleared his throat and looked away, properly chastised. After a moment to recover his dignity, he took a step forward toward Ashtaroth. "Would you like any buffs to go with that?"
Unable to plead his case, Rhys' smile fell. If the Ahura was supposed to look angry at being corrected, Rhys wouldn't have been able to pull it off if he tried. He looked more like a dog that knew he wasn't supposed to knock over the trash, and he still had the lid stuck around his neck. Or across his chest, as it were.
He took his seat as directed and removed his shoulder armor to set it aside. Was he supposed to remove his shirt too? With some hesitation, he pulled it off, wincing as the fabric brushed against his torn flesh. It looked worse once he revealed it to himself, having done little to try and stop the bleeding. ... Maybe that had been too much.
Her forehead creased a little at Rhys' dejected look, not quite sure how to take that, before looking at Rayu... who had a similar expression on his face.
What had she gotten herself into.
Keeping her sigh to herself, she helped Rhys with the shirt, frowning in concern this time as the shirt peeled away, but hid anything further when she saw the extent of it. She also just barely kept herself from bopping him on the head the same way Rayu just had. It looked like he'd done more damage to himself than the paladin had.
"Focus would be great," she said, putting the cloth over the side of the bowl for a moment while she inspected the wound as best she could before cleaning it up. "I forget, do you have anything for acceleration?"
She took up Rhys' arm and inspected the thin cut there he'd taken at the beginning of the match. Strangely, it was the holy burns she was most unfamiliar with. It wasn't often she was healing because of a paladin's attacks.
"Is there anything else I can't see that's bothering you?" she asked him, putting his arm down, flicking her glance over to Rayu as well, as if he might have caught something she hadn't. "I have to clean that gash out before I can heal it. If there's fabric in there, it can rot once it's healed over..."
Did he know that? She was just talking now. She quickly took up the cloth and carefully began to clean up the wound on his chest.
Rayu nodded and moved closer into her space, hand hovering near her back, but respectfully not touching. "That I do," he said, and with a pair of faint animal calls blurring into one another, he wove energy into her being to share what a Hunter's blessing gave him: sharpening her senses, not unlike finding the perfect lens, and allowing her own magic to spin together quicker.
Not sure he trusted Rhys in this department based on what he'd learned, Rayu gave Rhys a more critical eye to inspect for further wounds. He briefly considered prodding Rhys for bruises to prove his point, but decided Ashtaroth probably would not have approved. Even if this was something Rhys needed to learn. He knew he shouldn't have been so frustrated, but he couldn't shake the feeling Rhys was going to act all apologetic, then go and do it again next match. (Because that's what Rayu would have done.)
Rayu replayed the fight in his mind. Rhys' hands. Of course. He took hold of Rhys' arm and removed a gauntlet, expression flat when Rhys wiggled his unscathed fingers with a knowing smile. "...You're going to have to be unpredictable to win this. Don't go using the same trick twice."
Enchanted gauntlets, Rayu. Give Rhys some credit. But his smile grew softer, and continued to fall until it was conflicted. There was a point to that statement, but he knew Rayu's behavior was that of being legitimately upset. Worried. That was a surreal pill to swallow, and tasted a bit too much like self-insert fan fic. But "self-insert fan fic" might have described a lot of his life lately.
Relenting, Rhys removed his greave to reveal where the holy bolt had first struck him. It had been protected and he didn't feel much of a sting, but he couldn't afford to carry any pride for his pain tolerance right now. Sure enough, his shin was burned by the holy bolt, red marks forking like lightning across his flesh.
He looked to Ashtaroth, giving her his full attention when she spoke. Admittedly, he hadn't ever come across that particular tidbit of information. He filed that one away, rubbing at the back of his neck (in the same way Rayu did when nervous-- sorry, Ash) before dropping his arm to lean slightly back on his palms. Awkward exposing his chest purposely like this? Yes, but also part of the consequences for the risk he'd taken.
Luckily, he had given her a lot of work to do, so her mind was distracted from most of the awkwardness of the situation as she took stock of the various wounds, carefully clearing away the blood and beginning to wipe at the edges of the cut.
"I need you to be completely honest with me," she said, though her eyes were fixed on the cut. "This isn't some small thing you're doing, after all. I can't heal a missing organ. And I can't bring the dead back to life." That part came out a little strange, though it was hard to tell how- she didn't even know, really. Almost, she thought, returning the cloth to the water again. She'd kept her sleeves pulled up most of the day anyway, one of few methods she had of combating the heat.
"So you need to promise me," she said as she turned back to Rhys, giving him a sharp glance, "that no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, you're going to tell me about every cut, every bruise, every burn. Every match and if anything happens in between. If you aren't at your best before every match, it could mean your life. You realize that, right?"
Harsh, maybe, but she had to make sure he did realize that. She was confident of her abilities, but as she'd stated, she had limits. (Not for a lack of trying, though.)
If Ashtaroth had been someone Rhys was familiar with, it would have easier to fall into the role of smiling, telling her not to worry, and how everything would be fine. Those he called friends didn't like arguing otherwise at length. This was a healer with a job to do, and that wasn't something he knew how to ease.
He listened, silent, even for him. Not a bit of him moved or made a wince as she cleaned out his wound, his attention to fixated on her words because he couldn't escape them. Of course he realized that. Of course he thought about it. He'd stayed up the night before the challenge, weighing his death versus every other potential outcome. If he died here, he wouldn't be able to survive what was going to follow, and the berserkers-- and everyone else-- would need someone who could. He'd seen first hand what a lack of stability in the guild did. It was easy to write the tournament off as a small, terrifying piece of something bigger than his own life.
But it was his life, and all he could do was remember what his mother had ever told him about stage work: act like you belong there, even if you don't believe it. If he said he'd win, if he convinced everyone-- himself-- that he would, then he would. He couldn't let them see him shaking. If Rhys visualized for one moment his own death, if he let himself see it, it was a moment of weakness that might let it happen.
Rhys closed his eyes-- a second, a second and a half, whatever he could steal to collect himself-- before he managed to pull his expression back into another one of his forced smiles after a flicker of stoicism. Better they think him a dumb kid who didn't get it than someone who spent every second trying not to be terrified. He held his hands up to signal surrender, nodding his promise to Ashtaroth.
Rayu clenched his jaw and threw his arms down. "No. Just-- no. Stop it." Did Rhys think this was a game? Still? Or was he infuriating enough to think so little of his own life? It didn't add up. Cutting himself was a stupid move, but one that took enough willpower to hint at a desperation Rhys was refusing to show them now. Instead, he'd come back in grinning like an idiot.
It wasn't fair. Any attempt to be 'Rayu' dropped, his irritation no longer forced through a faked edge. Victor was mad. "You think you can show up and build our to help with your problems, then ignore us once we're here? Tell us to take care of ourselves, then it's your turn, and you can't even get that stupid smile off of your face? You know everything, Rhys! Who I-- we are, how we think, how we hurt, but you don't even try--"
Not that Rayu had asked, not that he was even certain. Not that he hadn't tried to imagine Rhys as a being immune to hardship and feeling. Not that this was precisely on topic... He stopped short, glanced guiltily to Ashtaroth for threatening to derail the conversation. "Sorry," he mumbled, and he folded his arms, refusing to look at Rhys, frustration persisting.
"Rayu," she said, warningly, as he began to rant, but her tone shifted to something closer to concern as he continued. "Rayu," she tried again. He kept going. Finally, just as he cut himself off, she said a bit louder, "Victor."
And then it fell silent in the room.
She'd stopped moving, her expression sad as she looked at him. She hadn't meant to start this conversation, not to have it roll into this. Rayu's apology fell flat in the quiet room, swallowed by the silence for a long moment, and she went back to her work quietly.
"...so you need to keep these things in mind," she said softly, putting the cloth aside when she was done. She held her hand above the skin and light and warmth blossomed beneath it, closing up the wound as though it had never existed. "Your life is more than just staying alive. It's more than the god-organ. It's everything you're responsible for, too."
Rhys' attention snapped to Rayu with the outburst, stunned and wide eyed. He only looked away when Ashtaroth used his name, double taking in shock. But his mind didn't have room to sort out the importance of that detail, the silence bringing back Rayu's words. His gaze drooped as he took a deep, shaken breath. What was it Gunnar told him? There was a lot Rhys didn't say. Better to wait for them to ask, he thought, because it seemed more offensive to assume they even cared, because what was his sob story of a life compared to what he'd put Rayu through?
Responsibility. It was something he was trying to learn to take. Even the tournament, in his own way... But what did they want him to say? Revealing injuries, that was easy enough, but neither seemed convinced he was taking this seriously. Should he show fear? Smile less? He wasn't smiling now, that was for certain.
Once the warmth had mended his wounds, Rhys motioned to Rayu and held out his hand.
Ashtaroth's use of Victor's name was still ringing in his ears, burning away at his lingering anger until he felt too guilty to hold onto it. It was to her he glanced too first, catching Rhys out of the corner of his eyes. Annoyance flickered, but dimmed into confusion until he finally guessed Rhys wanted his hand. He offered it questioningly, then found it taken and his fingers pressed against Rhys' neck. What did that even--
Rhys' pulse quickened, confusing Rayu further until he paired it with the somber look on Rhys' face. Rayu pulled his hand away to run his fingers through his hair and adjust his hat. "... It's fine, if you understand. Listen to your healer, and try not to give her so much work to do."
His back was turned to Rhys, but it was enough to side glance Ash. "... Thanks."
She didn't know if she should have said his name, and looked equally guilty for having done so. She rested her hands in her lap for a moment, watching the two of them, startled when Rhys pulled Rayu over. Whatever it was that passed between them seemed to, perhaps, satisfy the hunter. She watched him as he turned his back to them, though she glanced away when he thanked her. What for?
She rubbed the back of her hand, then tilted her head up again, looking at Rhys. Her smile was slight, a little bit faltering, disappearing into what seemed a more common gloom as she pushed her chair back slightly in order to examine his shin.
"I've never had to heal a paladin's attack before," she muttered. "I didn't... I didn't realize they could be so vicious."
But the man himself had seemed vicious. The paladins in Bastan could be grumpy, certainly, and quite serious. Those she had met of the Queen's Guard had been the haughty sort, chosen perhaps for just such a feature. But that man... she frowned to herself as she healed the burn, the heal a cooling sensation on the sensitive skin. "Do you know anything about him, Rayu?" she asked, going back to the, perhaps, more comfortable moniker.
The subject change was welcome, and Rayu was more grateful for that even than her better handling of Rhys. He fell in with it easily, willing to pretend he hadn't released any of his anger to poison the air if everyone else was. "I've never met him, but..." There was a glance to Rhys, free from accusation, but questioning. Unfortunately, there was only a shake of the head and a shrug in return. Rayu frowned in thought, shaking his head.
"Paladins wouldn't have had the chance to join before." Actually, for what looked like a gutsy move, Rayu thought the free for all was working in Rhys' favor. By throwing in that unpredictable element, more experienced berserkers were losing matches they might have won against their fellows, and it wasn't the kind of excuse pride would let them admit. "But if the Spenta and Ahura are as friendly as rumors suggest, he's not here with anyone's blessing. Beside that..." He gestured to Rhys. "... Even for a god organ, murder is still murder. A paladin's power wouldn't survive that kind of behavior."
Did it count as murder? The organs and their hosts might have fallen under different rules. Paladins killed monsters. Whatever force judged murder may have considered Rhys the same, especially if an arena match counted as self-defense. Under Fury, he was almost indistinguishable from a beast, and he suppressed a wry smile at the thought that some monsters appeared so intelligent, it was only their lack of speech that separated them from humans.
But enough of entertaining that. He breathed in deep, relaxing with the burns and glad to have them gone as Ashtaroth's magic cooled his skin. He smiled to Ashtaroth, keeping it weaker now, but no less genuine in his thanks.
Were they that friendly? She looked to Rhys for some kind of confirmation, but in the end it didn't seem to matter much whether it was true or not. She looked down again, realizing then how limited her experience of her own people were. Could she say that of paladins? Perhaps it was just so deeply ingrained that paladins were a certain way that the idea of one being unbeholden to anyone had never quite crossed her mind until this tournament.
Shin healed, she took Rhys' arm, examining the thin cut there, and easily sealing it. She didn't feel any drain on her powers as she did so, wiping the rest of the blood off of his forearm and his chest before she held her hand out and cast a more generalized heal, stronger than she thought it would be. Any other cuts and bruises faded away in mere moments, leaving him as good as- if not better- than he had been before the match, give or take a good night's sleep and some food.
"There," she said, leaning back again with her hands in her lap. "Good as new." She looked satisfied with her work. She was still hesitant, though, unsure of what to do now, or what to say. Rayu had just let loose a fair bit of venom, though, she suspected, not without reason. But Rhys didn't quite seem the type to warrant it completely. He didn't seem to be doing it on purpose in quite the way Rayu imagined him to be brushing it off. She could understand it, in a way. He had something else to focus on. There was no use in acting otherwise. Perhaps it was just the way it appeared to be so flippant that had angered Rayu so much...
Lost in thought, she'd been staring at Rhys. She blushed darkly and stood up, moving back to the bowl with the warm, pink water and bloody cloth.
"Do you know who you fight tomorrow yet? I think I'll just stick around here. I don't want to get caught up in too much trouble myself."
Rayu didn't even know if the rumors were true, but after his little fit, it was not the time to pry. Instead he decided to behave himself and keep quiet, watching Ashtaroth finish her work. When she finished, his look turned to concern when Ashtaroth went still, then his neck hair pricked up again as he picked up Rhys' shirt and flicked it over his head. "And you're done."
Better than before, most definitely. Ashtaroth's healing made him realize there were a few scars and bruises he'd simply come to accept as normal. The only thing her magic hadn't improved was his throat. And the shirt in his face. He scrambled to get his vision back, but didn't argue, pulling his shirt back on (too oblivious to think to note Rayu's expression) and reaching for something to write with before he'd pulled it all the way down.
Mordecai, he wrote, using a stub of charcoal against the parchment they had packed as an addition to Ashtaroth's tools to cover for such communication. He didn't bring his slate into the matches-- Virelai was in charge of it between. After today, depends on who wins.
Deciding that wasn't much of an answer, he drew an arrow from the name and began to list extra details. Berserker. Tall, dark. Boastful, but jovial. Fairly certain his weapon is a tree trunk.
It wasn't a family fight she wanted to be involved in. And it did seem a little like that. She'd seen (or thought she'd seen?) brothers fighting similarly, and it was nothing to put her nose into (any further). She dumped out the bowl and kept the cloth in it to deal with later, washing her hands and drying them before she walked back, focused on pulling her sleeves back down and buttoning them up.
She had to pause to lean over and read what Rhys had written. Her eyes widened. A tree trunk? "Really?" she asked in all shocked seriousness, turning her head to look at Rayu to see if it was possible.
"It's probably an exaggeration," he said, lightly but certain. That certainty waned as he slide his eyes to Rhys. "... Right?"
Rhys mimed holding something about as thick as a tree and gave it a swing, smiling in spite of the earlier confrontation. He tried to bite it back, thinking of a way approach this without some kind of joke. It probably was more finely crafted that grabbing a tree from the ground, but he didn't know else how to describe the wooden pole Mordecai cracked skulls with.
It could break some bones, but he's slower for it.
My injuries would be blunt force.
He paused, glancing to his dagger's sheath.
Promise.
She sighed as she finished up with her sleeves. "You can use it, just... not on yourself."
She'd never thought she'd have to say that out loud before. Went to show how much she knew about berserkers.
"I still don't know what I think about all of this," she answered Rhys' written statements after a moment, not meaning to be entirely off topic. "I know I did a lot of strange things because of my player... it isn't my line of work to go crawling around in underground caves... but I think, story-wise for me... that's the best way I can put it, really- a lot of my healing was done in times of crisis. Part of me thinks this is frivolous, but... it really isn't, though some of it take it that way. So I apologize now. If it seems like I'm not taking this seriously either."
She sat down again, looking between the two of them. "....so. What now?"
Sorry, Ashtaroth. Welcome to Rhys.
Parchment mostly used, Rhys flipped it over for a new message. Don't worry. You do great. Today's work is done. I'll send payment to the inn. He paused, tapped his pen, and wrote. And thanks for being there for him. It was there a moment, turned for Ashtaroth to see, and then crossed out in his equivalent of a whisper, finger to his lip. She might tell him, regardless. She must trust Rayu more than Rhys. But it was not being in the same room when it got back to Rayu that counted.
To make sure of it, he nodded to them both and stood up, stepping out without further fanfare.
Rayu noticed the secret exchange and straitened, as if he could grow tall enough to see. That impossible, he said nothing, returning Rhys' nod-- almost guilty-- before looking back to Ashtaroth.
"Hey," he said, just to stave off the silence while he tried not to sound redundant, "Sorry. Again. That you had to see that."
"It's fine," she said, watching Rhys as he headed out. She shook her head for her own sake before she looked back up to him. Thanks for sticking with him? She hadn't had much choice, had she? ...well... she supposed now she did... and she'd debated that little tidbit a few times now. But with her relationship with Artemis undiscussed and up in the air, who else did she really have?
Well. That wasn't a sad thought at all.
"Really," she added, backing up her statement. "It is fine. Well, it also isn't my business, so... I wouldn't worry about it."
She looked thoughtful, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair, holding it in front of her. "Did you- do you have a lot of people around you, Rayu?" she asked after a moment. "...sorry I called you Victor," she added sheepishly, tempted to simply hide in her hair.
He looked back to her abruptly, surprise unhidden until he tugged at the brim of his hat to shadow it. Rayu's mind searched for why she would even ask until his mind caught up with him, reminding him he had yet to answer. "Some," he said. But for all the names he could run through his head, it only made him feel more distant than before. He and his brother had long been on rocky ground. Ravindra... he knew that would mend, at least, in time. Amber was more of an apprentice, and knew nothing of Victor. Well, there was always Nayan. He owed him another drink sometime. Just for, well, existing.
"It is my name." There was half attempt at a smirk before Rayu's eyes found the ground. "Don't worry about it."
"Rhys looked surprised," she said. "I guess you didn't tell him much about what I know. Not that... not that I knew... well, I did, but..."
She trailed off awkwardly, looking down again, rubbing her hands together and trying not to look anxious. She could wander about as she pleased, she had no doubt of that, but she wasn't sure if that would be a smart idea. Rayu didn't look all that good either. She looked back to where Rhys had disappeared to, wondering.
"Have I helped you at all?" she asked abruptly, looking back to him, even as he tugged his hat down his face again.
Sometimes he wondered why he tipped the brim of his hat back up at all.
"Why would-- Th-that's not why--" Not why either of them were supposed to be here. "Yes," he said, answering in the middle of his own stammering. She had, maybe more than she knew, or meant to do, but-- "But." He sighed, running his fingers over the back of his neck. "You shouldn't feel like you have to."
"No! No, of course not," she said hastily. "That's not- I mean, I do feel like that, but not because of anything..."
Hands on her thighs, she wiped her hands down them and then pressed down so that it straightened her back and her arms. "It's not a ... a 'have to'. It's a 'want to'. It's just... hard to tell if it's really what I feel or not right now, I guess." She reached up to push her hair back. "I've spent a lot of time, helping... and I know at least one thing I was... 'helping' with... doesn't even matter anymore... and with Bastan falling apart, I... well, it all seems a little futile."
Staring at the floor, it took her a moment to look up again. "N-not that I think- not that I think helping you is a futile effort, I just- I guess I just need some confirmation right now."
He slid his hat back a little, frowning as he listened. "... If it's possible for a soul like mine to find solace, you're the closest I've ever gotten to answers." Rayu started to close the distance between them, but stopped himself, more uncertain. He ran his thumb over his palm and stared idly down at it, unable to keep his eyes up. "More than that, too. This whole mess... and different ways to think about it." She was a grounding presence, perhaps a trait of her Order.
"But there's a lot going on. For all of us. For you, too." He managed to meet her eyes. "Don't hesitate if you need anything. Time. Space." Rayu gave a weak shrug, letting it fill in the blanks for what he couldn't think of.
She watched him as he spoke, then turned her head away, looking at the wall opposite. Time... space... she felt like she would have a lot of that now.
"This is fine, for now," she said, brushing her lap off and standing, her chin tilted up stubbornly. "I don't know what I'll do, but I can think on it while I'm doing this. One think I'm pretty sure of, if I'm not busy, I'll go crazy. So this is good for now. I'll worry about the rest as it comes."
What distance he hadn't covered, she did, and without hesitation she took his hand and squeezed it, hard, a certain determined fierceness about her. "So if you need any help with this, even if it's just someone to rant to, do it. I'm here. You need to keep your cool for him, too," she said, meaning Rhys. "He's doing the best he knows how. And I'm not saying he's doing the right things... but he's just a young man who happened to eat a god-organ. He's got a lot on his plate just being responsible for himself right now so just... support him. Once this is out of the way, he'll have more time for all those questions. So be patient. And if you can't be, talk to me. All right?"
Rayu looked to his hand in hers, pliant to her squeezing. It was a moment before he gripped back, though weaker than she, and took a slow breath. Ashtaroth was right. That he couldn't place his frustrations made them even more frustrating than they needed to be. And that was even less fair to Rhys than letting himself go during the tournament.
His other hand started to reach for his neck, but he stopped himself, trying not to fidget. He smiled faintly instead. "That's more than I deserve. But thank you." He shook his head.
Support. He was rusty, and the relationship was hard to place... But it was necessary. And that made it worth trying.