Siegmund + Ashtaroth // No Means No

[vast_oceans]

Who: Ashtaroth and Siegmund
When: Tuesday, 5/7
Where: Virelai's treehouse
Before/After: After Siegmund talks to Rhys
Warnings: two gloomy teenagers in one room, what could go wrong?

In which Siegmund wants something Ashtaroth won't give.


Siegmund did not actually leave the Undertow after handing Rhys the painting. Spying on the Ahura was still his job, so he stuck around, even if he wanted nothing better than to go hide in his room and shut out the world.

Instead, he hid in the branches of the Ahura's tree, watching the walkways below. Distantly, his eyes out of focus, because his mind was terrified and that overwhelmed everything else. He didn't want to tell Rhys, but he had to. Now, before the fighting resumed and he had to wait until the Ahura could afford to be distracted again.

He caught sight of a set of black robes passing by, and for a moment failed to connect any significance to them. Then his gaze snapped into focus and followed Ashtaroth across the walkways.

The cleric. She wasn't an uncommon sight in the Undertow. She was the one who'd resurrected Rhys's hunter. That wasn't something he knew for sure--just a guess through circumstantial evidence. But the hunter was resurrected, and Ashtaroth was weak for days after, and what other clerics were even around to do something like that? So it must have been her.

Seeing her, remembering the conclusion he'd drawn, the gears started turning in his mind. If he could have Evelyn resurrected... That would be the only way for him to truly make up for having killed her.

Silently, he began to tail Ashtaroth, following through the branches all the way to the tree she called home for now. Virelai's. He knew it. He waited a few minutes more, and then dropped down.

He hesitated before knocking. Was it right to do this? He would still tell Rhys after, of course; it wasn't an attempt to cover up his sin, it was an attempt to make it right. Yes. Okay.

He knocked.


It took her a moment to answer, not realizing right away that there was someone at the door. She usually hesitated in answering- it wasn't her house, after all, and if it were Victor or Rhys, they'd just come in. But the real reason for hesitation at that moment was because of the phone in her hands.

It was a simple black touchscreen phone with a few apps on it, and she was in the process of going through each of them- this one was specifically for music, but why? How did people get music on it?- when she finally realized someone was at the door. She hesitated, still holding the phone, though she pressed it to her collarbone as she went to the door and opened it slowly, peeking out.

It took a moment to place the face on the other side. Dark hair, glowering expression, glasses. Rhys' assassin friend. Siegmund? Yes, she was sure it was Siegmund. She'd seen him mostly during the tournament off and on, and also while she was here in the Undertow.

"Hello..?"

That was all well and good, but that gave her no explanation as to why he was here... "I'm sorry, Virelai isn't here at the moment... I think she's taking Bonecrusher for a walk."


He noticed the cellphone and wondered if he'd interrupted her in the middle of a call. It was strange to think of Zenners using phones and calling one another, but that was reality now. His eyes went from the phone in her hand up to her face, his expression neutral--which, for him, was still a little surly and dark.

"I came to ask you something," he said, keeping a careful lid on the wave of nervousness he felt in starting this conversation. What if he was wrong? How would he find the one who had resurrected Rhys's hunter to ask them?


Ah, she forgot what a strange accent he had! She was hardly ever around when he spoke. It took a moment for her to get over that and realize what he'd said, which only seemed to surprise her more. Come to ask her something?...

"Siegmund, right?" she asked, though the pronunciation was off. She hadn't really heard it said aloud. Maybe once or twice by Virelai. The spelling she knew, though, thanks to Rhys. "...yes, you may. What can I help you with?"

She was completely at a loss as to what he could want, but she gave him the courtesy of her full attention, bringing the phone up to turn it off, though it took a moment's confused searching to find the off button. Rhys had only given it to her recently, and already she held it like it was some precious object, carefully storing it away in one of the pouches on the belt around her waist.


He was used to people pronouncing it wrong due to accent differences, so as long as she got the ie vowel sound right, he didn't bother to correct it.

He waited for her to finish fiddling with the phone before he answered. He was in no rush. A few minutes made no difference in this case. "Inside."

Nobody had been talking about it. It was obviously intended to remain a secret. Not something to discuss in a doorway.


She looked at him a moment, her expression shifting from its earlier openness to something a little more... uncertain? But she nodded and stepped inside, door open. "...careful. There are a lot of- of things in here."

Virelai did have a tendency to collect things that were at once pretty and bizarre, and there was a lot more pink than the girl would ever let on she owned. Ashtaroth felt a little bad for bringing Siegmund in without her permission.

She didn't offer him anything, since nothing there was hers to offer. It wasn't until Rhys gave her the phone- while giving Virelai and Victor one as well- that she realized how little she owned. Even before Bastan had been cut off from her, even. But none of that meant she could just go and offer someone else's things...

"What is it?..."


He did raise an eyebrow at Virelai's decor choices, but actually, it made perfect sense when he thought of her. He didn't linger on the room, turning to face Ashtaroth once they were inside, with the door shut behind them.

It was for the best that she didn't offer anything. He would've refused anyway.

"You can resurrect," he said, looking her in the face. There was no hint of uncertainty in his expression or his voice.


The words hit her ears sharply, and she flinched, though she didn't look away from him, almost as though she weren't quite sure what he said.

The look he gave her though was so steady, she couldn't help but be certain. She clenched her jaw shut briefly. "No."


His heart sank at her answer, but it was only a brief flicker of a disturbance across his face. Her reaction meant he was right. She was only trying to deny it because it was supposed to be a secret.

His eyes narrowed by a degree. "I know everything that happens in the Undertow." A bluff, but with enough truth to it that he could back it up if she called it.


Again her jaw clenched shut, an obstinate jut of her chin to try and offset how pale she became. If people paid attention, of course... anyone here could figure it out. It was just that no one cared, really.

But ... was she being threatened? There was almost a spark of anger that she sought to keep from bursting into a full flame, scrambling instead for some kind of answer.

"So what do you know?"


"I know you resurrected Rhys's hunter." He didn't consider how the phrasing might offend. Siegmund wasn't the most sensitive person normally, and he was even worse when he was nervous.

Her defensiveness was only making that nervousness worse. He responded by folding his arms and furrowing his brow, which served to make him look as though his mood had darkened. "His sister is also dead."


She swallowed, but kept her head tilted up that little bit. "Maybe I did. What of it?"

The comment on Rhys' sister- Evelyn- seemed to make her shy away some, and her dark gaze dropped sharply, tracing some invisible line on the floor, past his feet, towards and up the wall. "...yes, she is."


"You could bring her back." His tone allowed no room for any other possibility.


"No," she said, too quickly, too sharply, too certain. She looked back to him, but just as quickly looked away.


No.

Was she refusing?

His front fell. He got desperate, and it showed on his face and in his posture as anger. "Why?" he demanded.


"Do you have the body?" she snapped, her fear making her harsh and confrontational. "Show it to me! And the components- I had only enough for one. Do you dare enter Bastan to get me more?"

Reasonable things, but she drew on them in desperation. Had she all those things, she would still refuse. Even for Rhys. She could not do it again- she would not. She would not risk going back.


The body was at the edge of druid territory, but he knew exactly where. He was desperate enough to sneak in and retrieve it, and to risk the druids in the process. "I can get it," he insisted, his tone growing heated along with hers. "And the components, too."

That...would be much harder than retrieving the body. But he'd gotten into Bastan once. He could do it again. If not...surely there were places outside Bastan where one could acquire resurrection components.


"Don't speak so lightly of such things!" she said sharply, with the tone of one snubbing another. "Several of those things are precious and not easily gotten, even for those well-trusted and trained. A single life crystal is worth more than a high-ranking guard of the Queen's employ could make in two years' time!"

She couldn't. She couldn't do it again, couldn't risk herself, but also couldn't risk another botched resurrection- which she was sure what had happened with Victor, stripping him of the ability to tell even the smallest lie. She'd become careful in speaking to him now, in asking him questions, realizing he could be evasive only in silence. Nevermind what she had snatched him from to begin with-! What might she end up doing to Evelyn?

...were Earthers even subject to the Dark?...

"She is too long dead. Let it be!"


"I don't speak lightly!" he snapped back. Money--if money was a problem, his family had plenty. They'd give it for this--wouldn't they? But the dragons weren't running mail, and people didn't sell these things on credit, and he didn't even have an ATM card to try finding an ATM that would take it in one of the Earth cities that had crossed over.

He could break into Bastan and take what he needed. That was trading sin for sin, but he was desperate enough right now that this didn't cross his mind. He'd realize it later and hate himself for considering it as a legitimate option.

"She isn't! Clerics say everyone will be resurrected one day, so there isn't such a thing!"


"Then find one of those clerics that say that!" she told him, her voice beginning to grow shrill, her hand making a cutting motion in front of her. "She may get resurrected someday, but today, by me, is not that day! I won't do it!"

She stepped back from him, her stance defensive. "I won't do it again," she said, crossing her arms tightly in front of her.


Outright refusal. There was nothing to convince. This had been a dead end.

His jaw set, and for a moment all he could do was glare at her in silence. Depair set in, and some of it snuck onto his face through the anger, making it into a hopeless, impotent sort of anger that simmered but had nowhere to boil over to.

So close. She was right here. If he could just get an agreement--just that--then none of the other obstacles mattered. But she wouldn't allow him even that small degree of hope.

Her stubbornness clashed with his stubbornness, and in the end they were both losers of this battle.

He turned suddenly and went to the door, but he stopped just before it to face her again. His voice was cold and level but no less angry for it. "Remember, when you see the Ahura, that you can bring his sister back, but choose to do nothing."

Later, he'd regret his words, because they only served to cast blame away from himself and onto someone else, but at the moment his emotions ran too high for him to care. He'd locked himself onto this path, but for now, all he could see was her holding a key and refusing to use it.

He threw the door open and stalked out, leaving her behind with those last words.


A cut to her heart, visible the moment the words left his mouth. But they froze her in place and left her struck dumb, unable to say anything in defense or attack, unable to follow after him and shut the door on his parting figure.

She had already blamed herself for that, already begged her forgiveness, already shed tears. Bringing Victor back had been impulsive, reckless. She hadn't thought twice. Evelyn, the thought had never even crossed her mind. There had never been any talk of her ability then, of course. It had been before the war. It had been before that unspoken permission had been granted, when she'd begun to study resurrection in earnest.

But she hadn't learned enough of the drawbacks, hadn't learned enough of the warnings and the things that could go wrong. She would never do it again. There was no force in Zenderael that could make her attempt resurrection again.

It did nothing to assuage the crushing guilt his words had put on her chest, and so she simply stared after him, wordless, not having needed any more convincing of her failure in this venture. But she could not.

Mercy, but she could not.