Ashtaroth + Victor (+ Rhys) // Bound

[vast_oceans]

Who: Victor and Ashtaroth (with a brief appearance from Rhys)
When: Monday night, 20/6
Where: The Undertow
Before/After: After Victor's resurrection.
Warnings: sad bbs



Victor's consciousness drifted in and out, but it was more in-between than one or the other. Rhys lingered, and Victor took the chance to collect information he had neglected in his more lucid moments. How long had he been dead? What exactly had happened when they found him? The Spenta-- was he okay? Where was Ashtaroth? Rhys had been more reluctant to answer the last one, but surrendered that Virelai was taking care of her. Each time they tried to feed him, Victor couldn't keep it down. Food didn't have much taste, anyway. Tea didn't, either, but at least it was warm.

Rhys couldn't say inside forever. Whether for errands or Ahura business, Rhys stepped out. But Victor found his body was still too weak to move far. Dragon mail, then. Rhys had not made it easy. The supplies had been picked up and put away while Victor slept, probably with the intention of keeping Victor quiet. He must have still believed they could hide him, but Rhys couldn't feel it. Victor's soul had a hole in it, and no amount of bed rest would bring that back. It wouldn't have been right even if he could.

The spare room had what he had. Rhys probably didn't expect Victor to make it there himself. He did not know all who to speak to, but knew he owed it to Ravindra at least. It turned out it was all he had the energy for. He drifted, again, until nightfall. As it turned out, even demigods had to sleep.

Victor sat for a minute before he stood, and stood a minute before he walked. Rhys blocked the door even though it hadn't worked the last time, and Victor let himself out in much the same way and slipped away into the night. He knew where to find Virelai, and willing to gamble that they were both asleep, Victor let himself in.

He found Ash on her furs under lantern light. He tensed, momentarily frozen, but realized she was, in fact, asleep, restless as it may have been. Victor knelt down beside her and cupped his palm over her mouth before nudging her awake.

"Don't scream," he warned. "We need to talk."


Sleep was not easy come by. The first night had been continual interruptions, continually forgetting where she was and awakening with choked screams, or not awakening at all and sobbing through her nightmares. When she awoke, late in the morning, she felt no more rested and her head pounded, but she stayed awake, delirious for the heat and sun. She paid what attention she could to Virelai, but it was very little. If she hurt the girl's feelings, she was not aware enough to notice it.

She passed the day in something of a stupor. As with pain and keeping still, if she focused on not thinking, her mind could not wander and venture into undesired territory. Rhys did not show up to visit. She was fine with that, if it meant he was with Victor. So long as someone was. Someone who wasn't her.

She fixed the tear in her robes, finding some other gown to wear in the meantime, some mage-like business in a pale violet. She did not put her robes back on.

She was surprised, jumpy when Virelai told her she was going to bed, and that she should, too. She was tired, not wanting to sleep, but knowing she would prefer to try of her own volition than be dragged under again she submitted to the girl's nervous suggestions and laid down again, though asked in a frightened, timid way for the lantern to be kept lit. She fell asleep with it on.

She was dreaming again. She was in the Dark, standing in it, stuck in it like someone trying to walk through sucking mud, and with each step she was being dragged down further and further. Something was trying to pull her up, but it was claws and ice, and she did not know if she wished to be pulled out or dragged down. She could feel the cold, but it was the nudge that woke her up.

The colour of his hair did not disguise him. A muffled noise escaped her, but she didn't scream, and she jerked, but otherwise did not move, paralyzed where she was, still tangled in dreaming, uncertain how this would play out. She stared at him a long moment, already shivering, before she nodded, a small unsteady tilt of her head, her eyes moving to where Virelai slept. She then looked to the door. Outside. She would go outside with him to talk.

Victor's eyes followed Ash's and he nodded, pulling back to free her. It felt like a risk. She could shout or flee and he'd end up back where he was. If she chose to shove him, it wasn't something he could recover from in time to hope to catch her. A hesitant moment passed, and when none of those things occurred, he brought himself to his feet more carefully than was natural. He reached for her wrist when she stood, not her hand, icy fingers wrapped up in gloves. Victor had prepared for the cold, also using a sash to keep the tunic cinched to him. It helped. A little.

Outside, where they would not risk waking Virelai, they would find the streets had gone still and quiet. Virelai kept secluded enough, but he chose to wander a little off place, under one of the bridges. It felt safer, though it likely did not matter. Uneasy, Victor looked to Ash, slow to release her arm and again afraid she would flee from him. He had been angry. ... He still was. He had meant all that he said and the tone he'd said it in.

"You brought me back," he said, trying to swallow that anger, but unable to hide the intensity in his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

She knew, it was only because of his physical state, that he did not grab her more roughly. Knew that he wanted to. She did not fight him, did not think to throw him off. She stared at him, wordless, as though expecting something, but it never came, whatever it was. She felt heavy as she moved to follow him. There was no question of denying him this. She did not want it. She dreaded it. But there was no resistance, only trembling within his grasp.

As they walked outside in the dark and the quiet, she wondered idly if she was dreaming again, letting him lead her by the wrist. The wrist. She had lost the right to anything gentler than that. It was not unlike a criminal that she walked after him, wondering where they would stop. Afraid, but she could not deny him whatever anger he would visit upon her. She had denied him too much already.

When they stopped, when he released her, she stood, drawing her arms close to her, folding them in front of her, head bent down. It took effort to lift it, to look at him. She was not well either, though much better off than he. She knew he should not be up, should not be walking around. Two days... two days was too long. The process would be slow. But she could not admonish him. Her own anger had been quelled by her wronging him.

But she did look at him, because there was that much that she had to give him. He did not deserve her guilt. That was her burden to bear, not something to push in front of him and force him to deal with.

His question did little to hide the anger underneath it. She tried, but she could not keep eye contact. She looked away. "...to live," was all she said, her voice low, barely audible.

Angry, yes, but he owed her, feeling tied by some form of forbidden contract. Ash knew the story. She had been the one to tell him where peace would be found. She had even been furious with him when she first heard it. Disgusted. It was the only appropriate response. They had helped one another since then, but she tolerated it only because people like him were part of her duties as a cleric. Ash never forgot he was a traitor.

So that had not been the answer he was expecting, so quiet and small, spoken like a curse. Victor stared back at her, repeating her in disbelief. "Live." He shook his head, staring a moment longer. "... How?!" It came out a sharp, hoarse outburst with desperation overtaking anger. "What life did you think was left for me?"

She shook, and her arms tightened about her middle. She could not get enough air through her nose, and breathed through her mouth. She could not apologize again. Apologies meant nothing.

She flinched as he repeated her, and gulped in air to replace a sob when he yelled at her. What life...? "Any life!" she exclaimed. "Why should you pay for actions someone else wrote you to take??" Her voice broke and she fell back a step, looking away again. It wasn't anger. It was confusion, it was pain, that made her speak. "...I don't know why. I don't know. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. No one else tried. No one else even wanted to try! Why?? Why not?? You saved the Spenta! Another paladin! You died for them! So why- why not-??"

Victor's anger continued to slip away, and the more he lost, the more his features sank and left him tired. He brought his hand over his face, holding his head up, and curled his arm around himself in a feeble effort to keep warm. "It was written for me," he agreed. That was true. "But it was the circumstance that was fabricated. Do not, for a second, assume I am not that sort of person." To say it might not have happened was not enough for Victor. Even if he could erase the past, that simple fact would not change: he was someone who would do what he did.

"You still don't realize what you've done." There was no accusation in his statement, only defeat. "You've tied yourself to me. You've brought back an enemy of Bastan. Do you-- what did you think-- why?" He closed his eyes and breathed a shuddered, tired breath. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

She was torn on what to do. Help him stand, leave him be. She wanted to be gentle, but wondered if he would allow it. She would let him refuse.

"Sit down," she said finally, her own voice tired. She didn't know what to say to that statement. To say he would not do something similar again... She wasn't sure she believed that. But how much did she really know?

She couldn't see it. Couldn't understand it. A traitor, yes- even she had accused him of it. But all of his actions pointed towards a kind of longing that expressed a remorse, a desire to return, to set right. Actions- those were the heart of a paladin. His was not the kind of betrayal which spoke of selfishness, or at least, the kind one could look down on. What had brought him to that decision? Nothing good had come out of it for him. She had witnessed a paladin's betrayal. There had to have been a reason...

"I know what I did," she said softly. She couldn't stop thinking about it. "I know now." Which didn't help circumstances in the least. It was not simply something he owed her- she owed him now, too. He, his life, was her responsibility. "I didn't think- I didn't think at all. I didn't think past the trying. I didn't even know if I could, but I felt I could. And then I had to prove it. I had to try." She was weeping again, quietly, her head bowed. "I didn't think- I didn't."

The curse of the young. Curiousity and arrogance. And those with power, without the wisdom to use it properly, unable to understand the consequences, or how to deal with them.

"I had to know. Why couldn't my mother come back. Why not Evelyn. Why not you? And I don't know. There's no reason to it. The Dark gave you back. I didn't think about after that."

He thought to refuse her on some sort of principle, but principles, he realized, were not so easily afforded. Victor tipped back against a tree behind him and let his body slide to the ground, knees up for him to rest his arms and head on. Now that he was down, he wondered if he'd be able to get back up. Nothing for it.

And that was another question neither one of them had the answer to: why had the Dark released him? Resurrection was for the righteous. "It may not last long," he admitted, quiet, almost sorry. He lifted his head to look to her. "I'm still a wanted man. I lied to the paladins about who I was and my identity was revealed during the mission."

That they thought him dead did not matter. The only way he could protect that was to run away. From everyone. Forever. It seemed foolish to try, and twice as unjust.

Yes. Yes, she knew that. The paladins had been talking about it. But they had seemed confused on how to approach the matter.

She looked at him and slowly sank to her knees, gathering the violet skirts and guiding them underneath her legs as she knelt in front of him. She had not thought about what would happen afterwards. She had simply wanted him back, and taken the steps to see it done. But what now?

"Situations change. You did a lot to save the Spenta... and you were able to be resurrected..."

Of course, if he weren't accepted... that was on her. And more heavily than it sounded. She might not be accepted, either, for what she'd done. She'd told no one what she'd done, sought no advice, no help from her elders.

She had never been close to much of anyone, but she had never felt lonely before. It started to press on her then.

It was a relief to hear her beginning to suggest it. No matter how misguided he thought her actions, he was here because of her, and he feared trying to go against her wishes. It felt binding, like a contract, even if it was one he was not given the chance to agree to.

Victor met her eyes. He wasn't sure any of what he did was ever enough, and did not expect to be welcomed.

"It's best for both of us if I got back," he said. "I will put myself at the mercy of the Spenta. ... From there, I suppose fate decides."

At the mercy of the Spenta. She looked at him only briefly before her gaze fell again. How would he react, she wondered. He had been just as torn over Victor's death as anyone.

"...he's an earther, too... with how well he knows Rhys... he must have known about you already." Had they traded stories of their characters? How could Rhys have explained Rayu without referring to who he had been?

But that would not help Victor feel any better. She shook her head slightly. "But he has the feelings of those beneath him to consider..."

She spoke more calmly, but did not feel calm. Ashtaroth reached up and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"If you want me... to go with you. Let me know. If... if you need anything. Let me know." She clasped her hands in her lap tightly, knuckles white. "And if anything happens, I-... I won't interfere."

Damning words for a cleric.

Victor reached after her own hand to help her wipe her cheek. This is what he came to say, and it had ended in the answer he hoped to have. Yet a new unease he hadn't expected was building.

"Don't come," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. "We don't know how they will react." His hand stilled, then withdrew. Victor curled his fingers into a fist to keep them warm. They might ask. He would have to give them silence, no matter what it might mean for him. And there was another factor. "... I'm certain Rhys won't allow it. I'll have to find a way to leave without him."

She was willing to risk her position. In her mind, it didn't matter anymore. She didn't want the power she had. She wasn't worthy of wielding it. It would be best to be stripped of it.

But she would not argue with him on this point. If she stayed behind, she could be of some use. She looked up when he touched her face, her expression sullen. Not a new thing, but it was deeper, truer in a sense. Everything else had been written in. This was a real experience that had been etched into her features. She looked to his hand as it rested by her face. So cold! He pulled his hand away, but she kept her hand to her cheek. It felt like burning.

"I'll distract him," she said. "...give yourself a few more days. And when you're ready to go, I'll take care of him for you."

Distracting Rhys was not something Victor could reliably do on his own. Not with what he lost. He nodded. "Thank you." Yes, the Spenta and the Ahura were close, but that made things more difficult, not less. No one wanted to weigh their duty against their friends. ... Or family. But Victor needed to do this, and if he could prevent Rhys from knowing, the two would not have time to discuss it and tangle the web.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed as he focused only on breathing. A few days... The longer he waited, the more he felt there was reason for accusation. She was right, unfortunately. Victor would need his strength to make the trip, and it wouldn't be good form to greet the Spenta only to blackout.

"... It may be for the best if you asked me anything you wanted to know now." The Dark. His past. Anything. That seemed fair. She had invested so much into... what he was. She was dedicated to her job, but young, and maybe a little naive for it to dedicate the effort she had to him.

The thanks was met with silence. A reactionary phrase, perhaps. People said it all the time without thinking about it. It was the least she could do, though it made her feel terrible. Rhys was one of the last people she wanted to betray in any way. But she would have to do it.

She watched as Victor settled somewhat, or focused on settling. Concerned, encouraged by his own touch, she leaned forward, one hand on the ground to steady herself, the other reaching out to his face. Still so cold-! Unsettled, she pulled back slightly, and then returned to her earlier sitting posture.

The offer puzzled her. She rubbed the heel of her palm onto her leg. "...tell me about... about what happened. Why you betrayed them." But she could not look at him while she asked.

Her fingers couldn't have been much warmer, but they were warmer than him. Victor breathed deep and slow, unmoving even with her touch. There was no energy to react. Only when she spoke did he attempt to move, looking at her and seeing she did not meet his eye. It was the first time she had ventured to ask what she had been spending her time on.

For a moment, silence. Then: "My brother." Victor could not obfuscate the truth, no matter how much it always sounded like an excuse. "The assassins had him poisoned after I was promoted to lead an operation against them. The terms were simple enough: my men died or he did." Absently, he felt over his own hands, rubbing for meager warmth. "... Our parents died when we were young. I became a paladin to take care of him. When it came down to it, I chose my responsibility to him over Bastan." It had been necessary. That didn't make it less morally wrong. The reverse would have also been. "I... settled it after the fact, stopping those who would threaten him-- or Rhys had. He's safe now... so I have no reason to run."

Bewilderment slowly crept across her features, and she rose her eyes to meet his. A new story, this- she could not understand why he was telling it to her, though. Not now. Why he hadn't told anyone at all.

Oh, she didn't know what to do with it. To kill many to save one... but to have that one be the most important person in your life... it was unfair, though that had been the point. But the choice not only to see who lived and who died, but how it would represent a person for the rest of their lives... heartless paladin or reckless traitor... who was to say he wouldn't have left their ranks anyway, had he chosen the other way?

She hesitated then shifted, slowly moving to sit beside him. She reached over and gently took one of his hands, rubbing it between hers with a little more vigor.

"Why did you run so long? You weren't innocent... but you weren't completely guilty, either."

"I'm guilty," he corrected, firm, but not harsh. "I would not lose my brother, so I took those of others." It had been conscious and willful. There was no innocence in that.

His hand gripped reflexively, if grip was the word to use. Rather, his fingers curled inward, brushing without pressure. In a moment, his hand relaxed again, getting a little warmer as feeling returned and pushed away the numbing pins.

Victor's tone fell back into neutrality. He wasn't without an undercurrent of emotion-- regret, mostly-- but it was distant in his eyes and in his voice. "I hid from the assassins as much as he paladins. They wanted more work. I was found again and blackmailed before I put a stop to it. If I didn't cooperate, he would die." Victor looked to his other hand, opening and closing his fist a few times to flex his fingers. "... If I died, he would die."

His breath came slow, almost as if the story was over, but after a sigh he started again: "And after that-- after it was over... They would stop me. My brother. The one survivor from that day." The distance of emotion was closing, but rather than regret, it was distress that crept into his voice. He understood. He didn't like admitting it, but Victor got it. They did not want to see him die, they felt they needed him, but-- "They didn't know. They don't know what it's like living with this, to not--- to not be able to make it right. To live as a fake..."

Trying to remember brought the coldness back. Victor curled his knees closer to himself.

She hesitated when he flexed his hand, wondering if he would pull it away from her. When it remained in her grasp, she continued to rub his hand between hers. She glanced up, nervous, and back down to his hand, trying to ignore how dark out it was. If she stayed close, she could see him dimly. She tried to convince herself it was enough.

She was silent, not knowing what to say. When he flexed the other hand, she held her hand out for it, while still holding on to the other. She found herself listening to his breathing, trying to gauge his general, physical state. He shouldn't be outside- he shouldn't have gotten up to find her, he should be safely tucked away in bed- but there was no way Ashtaroth could tell him all of that without first hearing him out.

When he began to curl in on himself, she gripped his hands, a reflex of alarm, but she made herself breathe out slowly and continued to rub his hands between hers.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" she asked quietly. There was no accusation in her voice, only a sad, simple wondering. Had he ever spoken to anyone about his feelings on this? Or had he always assumed 'fake' feelings as well?... Her own hands were warm now, but it didn't seem willing to travel through to the rest of her body. She felt foolish for not having brought one of the blankets with her, and there was little she could do with her magic to compensate...

Her grip made Victor tense, as if only now aware. His hand had been given absently, and he watched them now, still almost unaware as he allowed himself to relax.

"No, but... Rhys knew," Victor said, not looking up from their hands. Yeah. That had been what finally drew him toward Rhys. That someone knew. That someone might understand, and that Victor wouldn't have to explain. Not just this, but... everything. There was a comfort in that, if a struggle-- a strange need-- to have it go both ways. And yet Rhys was the one they had to fight their way through now. Rhys, who should know, would do what he thought necessary to protect Victor.

It was their most dangerous similarity.

"It doesn't matter. I can set it right now. I have to."

She was getting tired from the motion, but she kept warming his hands. And when she felt she couldn't anymore, she simply clasped them, letting them drop between them.

Rhys knew. Of course Rhys knew. But Rhys couldn't change anything now. Influence some things, maybe, but he no longer had the power to control what happened to Victor.

"Do you really believe this is the only way to make it right?" she asked after a long moment, her voice soft. She had started to shake again, slightly, a shudder running through her frame every few seconds, without her even conscious of it. "I don't mean- I'll do it. I'll help you go. I just..."

But it ended weakly, and her words trailed off.

When Ash started to shake, Victor gripped back on her hands. It was weak, but still a soft, consistent pressure. "Yes," he said, quiet. "And even if it wasn't, I don't have any other options."

He didn't... no, he probably didn't.

She sniffed. Holding his hands, she took a few moments to breathe, to calm herself, before she looked at him, her jaw clenched. Her eyes darted away nervously, and she lifted her hand, summoning a small orb of light. It didn't illuminate much, but it was enough to settle some of her anxious shivering.

"...we need to get you back," she murmured finally. Could he stand? Could she? She was tired, and cold, and drained. Still holding on, she shifted and forced herself to stand.

"Can you...?"

Could he? Victor follow Ash up and leaned into the tree beside him for support. His vision sank into blackness as was becoming obnoxiously common. A few moments more and he was able to see Ash's small light again.

"Evidently," he finally said once he had steadied. He lifted his head to look at Ash and nodded before he slowly made his way forward. Virelai's place was only around the corner. He could make it that far, and waited outside the door for Ash to return inside. "I can take it from here." Perhaps not without waking Rhys, but whatever look Victor would receive was a small price to pay. (The struggle it would take to find dragon stamps again was not.)

It was one of those moments where he might have said it will be all right, but that wasn't true. He didn't know. He had no idea how things would turn out, and he was afraid.

She stayed by him, hands outstretched, never quite staying and never quite leaving. While the darkness passed his vision, she put a hand to his arm in case he couldn't stay upright. Her hand hovered by his torso as they went, and she focused on him so intently that she didn't notice until he stopped where they were.

She looked at Virelai's door a moment before she looked back to him.

"...let me walk you back," she said finally. "Please. You can just say it was me that pulled you out..."

Victor stared at her a moment. "Ah--" His voice caught, shifting from worry to uneasiness-- maybe embarrassment. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"I can't say that."

If he were still angry, it would have been easier to explain why.

"It's all right, I don't mind..." She reached up to fold her arms over her chest, though less out of stubbornness and more to rub her arms for warmth. "I don't think he'd question it anyway, if I were with you."

Victor closed brought his hand to the back of his neck, sighing. "It isn't that. I can't say that. You..." He managed to find her eyes with his. "You didn't bring all of me back."

"What do you mean?"

The words were out of her mouth before she even thought to think on them. But she caught on quickly enough, staring at him a moment, the wheels in her head slowly, slowly turning. Because Victor- Rayu- had never really been forthright with her.

"...o-oh... oh...!"

A look of horror crossed her features as she realized what he'd meant. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she sagged against the frame of the door. "Ooh..."

Both hands to her mouth. She said nothing else.

Victor glanced away again when Ash began to sink. "Like I said... I don't have any other options." He frowned in thought. "I asked you once... Rayu or Victor. But Rayu isn't my name. It never was." Calmer now than he had been when first waking, Victor took a slow breath and closed his eyes. "Even if I were able, I have no desire to hide the truth."

He wondered, partially, if that was because he wasn't able. It was difficult to want what he couldn't consider. He knew he had done it, that there were times it had protected him-- made him money through stories-- but now... there was that void.

Eyes still shut, forcing down nausea, she nodded to his words. She'd stripped him. She'd brought him back and taken away more than she could ever give to make up for it. The idea of it made her dizzy. She'd failed. She'd failed so spectacularly she couldn't quite believe it.

And he wasn't even angry with her... right now. He wouldn't be able to hide it anymore if he were. She took a moment to try and breathe. It had suddenly become painful to. Why, why, why had she tried, why had she ever thought she could- life was the only thing she could give him, and it wasn't enough for everything else that had been taken.

It was debatable if she had heard him. The sickness passed slowly, though her chest didn't quite ease. She pulled herself back up slowly, having begun to sink to a crouching position.

Unable to look at him, she repeated herself roughly. "Let me walk you back." There was no real feeling to the words- a kind of shock, a numbness had settled in her voice, disconnecting her, for the moment, from the situation, thinking ahead only to what she felt she needed to do.

Earlier in the day, he had wanted to say it, wanted to see her reaction and understand the true extent of what she'd done. He wanted her to know that she had cursed him, not saved him.

He didn't want it now. Victor didn't want to see Ash closing up in front of him, with even only breathing being the effort that it was. He didn't want to see her wilt, or shiver, or sink to the ground. It should just be him that suffered, and he'd foolishly focused on that. With a slow realization, he wondered if her behavior wasn't only fear and uneasiness. If-- of course. If she saw some of it herself...

Hesitant, Victor set his hand on her arm. "... All right," he said. Maybe Rhys could walk her back...?

All of her life she had been working towards this, towards resurrection. It had not been a long life, in practice or in theory, but she had dedicated herself to it wholeheartedly.

And lost it. Lost all her motivation, her passion, her will, to continue on. Had it swallowed by the Dark. She didn't want it. She would never do it again. If she promised not to- would it keep her from the Dark again?

She looked blankly at his hand on her arm, and nodded, everything about her vague. She slowly reached up to press her hand to his side, then around his back, a supportive gesture that left his arm around her shoulders, encouraging him to walk with her.

She didn't open her mouth again throughout the whole of the walk, her little orb of light bouncing along just ahead of them. Even with it, the night around them felt oppressive, dangerous, but she continued to walk without hesitating. She knocked on the side of Rhys' tree, still holding on to Victor with a surprisingly steady hand, waiting for an answer from inside.

He wished now he hadn't said it, but what could he have told her? What else was there to say? All he could have done was say nothing. Perhaps that would have been better.

Victor needed more support than he thought he did, but he was determined to carry as much of his own weight as possible. The Undertow was not without trees and ropes for its bridges for him to grab onto, pulling and pushing against those instead of Ash. The further they walked, the more tired he became, eyes half closed as he leaned into Ash, almost forgetting where he was. Only when they were at Rhys' tree did he blink back awake, but only just. There was something that Victor was supposed to put here, something in response to the look Rhys would give them both, but it required actually being sorry.


There were a few different looks to cycle through. Rhys woke to an empty hammock again, mentally cursing himself and rushing to the door with tired, clumsy steps. He stopped abruptly to look at Ashtaroth and Victor, eyes a little wide, then relaxed with a breath of relief. Anger took its place, but Rhys didn't show it. He was too tired. Sleep had been the first thing to go when the war plans were made, and watching Victor had made it worse. There were growing shadows under his eyes and a stiffness in his neck he couldn't shake, but soon, he kept telling himself. Eventually, he'd get some rest.

Rhys gently took Victor from Ashtaroth's grip, nodding to her in gratitude, but then frowning. She wasn't looking so well herself, and that light was so small...

She said nothing at first, heavy and tired, careful to dislodge her arm from Victor before letting Rhys take over, not noticing the look on his face. She laid her hand instead on the frame of the entryway, looking up only to make sure Victor would be looked after.

She did see the look on Rhys' face then, but didn't seem capable of answering it. "He'll stay now," she said blankly, for Rhys' benefit. "I'll return in the morning to check up on him."

She didn't want to. Didn't want to return. Didn't want to be here. Didn't want to wake up. What damage would she cause tomorrow? What new thing would she invariably ruin? She held on to the entryway a moment and then let go, stepping aside as she did so. "You need to try and rest as well. I... I shouldn't risk alarming Virelai."

So heavy, like a weight pulling her to the ground. It was only the promise of tomorrow that led her away.

Rhys found Victor unresponsive when he took him, startled. A moment passed and he realized that whatever Victor had attempted, it was about as far as he could go. He'll stay now. Rhys nodded, hopeful. Ashtaroth might have been able to get through to him...

But he watched after Ashtaroth, frowning. Victor first. Rhys returned him to bed, piled in furs, and lingered a few extra seconds to make sure he wouldn't try to escape again. If Ashtaroth hadn't said something, Rhys would be tempted to tie him to the bed now.

Confident Victor wasn't going to be able to crawl away anytime soon, Rhys rushed back outside to meet up with Ashtaroth. He offered her his arm, but even if she didn't take it, he'd sleep better seeing her safely to bed.

She hadn't gone far, though she seemed stable enough. All of her attention went to walking steadily, no more room to think or energy to feel. When Rhys caught up to her, she barely noticed him, but stopped to look at him. Her hand reached out reflexively, but curled back, and she turned to walk again, instead lifting her hand to rub her shoulder, her other wrapping about her middle, hugging herself tightly. She wanted to be alone, but making any kind of demand or letting any desire on her part be known seemed impossible.

She did stumble, and then simply stopped walking. She knew she should continue, but suddenly it seemed impossible to take the next step, staring at the ground. Her orb illuminated so little. She could barely see the path beneath her...

Wordless, she covered her face with her hands, paralyzed.

When she pulled back, Rhys grew more concerned. He hesitated, but followed, trusting his instincts on this and glad he had when Ashtaroth came to a stop. There were no words to comfort her with, but he placed his hand softly on her back. What had happened between them? It was their business, but it was business that must have cut them both deep.

He stepped from her only a moment to find one of the lanterns of the Undertow, opening it and letting the sweet nectar fill the air. Slowly, fireflies came searching for it, gathering one by one with their collective light glowing. It was never as strong as firelight, but it was more than the dwindling orb Ashtaroth had. Rhys set his hand on her back again and held the lantern in front of her, letting it light their immediate area.

She couldn't tell him. He probably already knew, already realized just how greatly she had failed, and that she would pay for it for a long, long time. But to confess to it, to say it aloud- no, she couldn't do it. It had been bad enough the first time. To know it had only gotten worse-

His touch to her back seemed to free her from her paralysis, though it was slow and unfolding. By the time the light was on, she had dropped her hands again, shivering. She didn't care. She had to care. Her life wasn't her own anymore.

Bound to him. She had bound herself to him.

She was easily led back to Virelai's, her steps automatic. Upon reaching the entrance, she stood in front of it.

"...thank you. For walking me back."

A polite, automatic response.

Rhys nodded, frowning, but tried to force himself back to neutrality. Her steps were heavy and she was shaking. Fatigue, maybe. She was still tired. It hadn't been long... they both needed rest. But there was a heaviness about her-- about Victor-- and he felt increasingly more helpless. That Victor had died had been a shock, but bringing him back had not made everything right. It had brought to light just how wrong everything had gotten.

They could fix this. There was a way out of this. And if they were too tired, too exhausted, to see it, he would hold them up and find it himself. Rhys squeezed Ashtaroth's shoulder to see her off, hanging the lantern by the door. After an extra moment to look into her expression and futilely read what might be there, Rhys turned and returned home.