Victor Bristol (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pulledunder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
zenderael_mmo2013-03-19 11:19 am
pulledunder) wrote in zenderael_mmo2013-03-19 11:19 am
Entry tags:
[Ashtaroth/Siegmund/Victor] - Exhaustion
Who: Victor, Ashtaroth, and Siegmund
When: Friday, July 15
Where: Pakerion --> Giza
Before/After: After the bersunters agree to chill with the assassins.
Warnings: Everyone's a little moody but you would be too.
In which everyone is tired, thirsty, and just wants this to be over.
The moment Rhys knew of the alliance with the assassin's guild, he needed a plan for Victor, and likely Ashtaroth with him. Short of options, he contacted Siegmund for help, and without any subtext of obligation. The request came with a please.
What he sent Victor was an I'm sorry. All Victor knew now was that the assassins were (nonviolently) among the berserkers, that they couldn't afford him being caught up in that, and that, despite it, there was one assassin he was supposed to be able to rely on to find safety: Siegmund. Knowing he was a friend of Rhys' did not put Victor at ease. They two of them had fought over something recently. Victor wasn't deaf to the rumors as to why, but he didn't believe them. Victor had been kept too close for that idea to hold.
But Victor had to trust that must have been trivial to their new, precarious situation. He found himself reluctant to leave. Rhys had a tendency for reckless decisions, like getting himself hurt never quite reached his mind as an actual problem. Now the Undertow was gone, and maybe Virelai put on a confident face, but Victor didn't trust that, either. His frustration at needing to leave them both right when he could have been useful left him initially terse.
Victor trudged through the Pakerion jungles, following Siegmund's lead, and offered his hand to Ash when they passed over roots popping from the ground or terrain thick with mud. Rations were short, so he traveled light, with nothing more than a satchel and his own equipment. He sensed a tension from Ash that went beyond his own guild prejudices, and silently opted to keep himself between her and Siegmund as a buffer as much as possible. Some of that may have been his own guild prejudice, anyway.
"How far away is this place?" he asked, his breathing hard and heavy. None of them had much chance to rest. "If we meet monsters in this condition, it's as bad as Aerveas."
Her skirts were torn and dirty, and she'd made a half-hearted effort to complain about it when they'd started, but it had died quickly, knowing it to be the least of their problems. Her shoes were in a similar state, and she'd given up also trying to keep them in good condition. At some point, she'd actually given up wearing them altogether, when one had gotten stuck in some mud. She was just too tired to try and pull it out, and had slipped out of the other and kept going.
It was quickly obvious that she wasn't made for this type of work. The outdoors did not agree with her. It was also quickly obvious that their chosen companion did not suit her tastes, though she kept her eyes averted and lips pursed. She hadn't said anything to Rhys, and wouldn't to Victor without the right kind of prompting, and it was as much, if not more because of the shame on her part than her anger that kept her silent. She responded to him shortly and with some venom, which took more energy than she should have been using. Which was probably why she'd been so distracted and tired when she'd lost her shoes.
She trailed behind the two of them when Victor spoke, their path, for the moment, clear. It was humid and disgusting, and even with her hair pulled back it felt twenty pounds heavier, bouncing against the small of her back. Her own breathing was laboured, each breath a chore. She was just so tired, and so sore, and she hated this, hated Pakerion and Aerveas and the stupid internet and-
Ash stumbled and caught herself on a low-hanging vine. She let go of it quickly, staring at it. Nope, just a vine. Still, she stopped a moment and seemed to have trouble getting going again, reaching a hand up to her forehead to wipe at it unsteadily.
"C-can we stop a minute?" she asked finally, not looking at either of them and her voice low, almost unheard, clearly embarrassed to be asking.
Siegmund had no inclination to refuse Rhys's request. He still felt bad for what he'd said to Ashtaroth, and he'd come to know Victor through Wolfram, which gave him a sense of familiarity and fondness. Both led to him being perfectly willing to lead the two away to safety, outside the reach of the assassins' guild.
Plus, with Siegmund knowing the guild's location and being able to find his own way there, he was the best candidate for this, because it would be a simple matter for him to rejoin the rest of the group whenever he wanted.
They were all exhausted from the running and fighting. Siegmund had used up more mana on shadow-poisons and evasion techniques than most assassins did in a week. Not enough to burn himself out, but enough to leave him feeling weary and drained. Victor was right. If they ran into any monsters in this state, their chances would be slim.
Giza, the Egyptian city that had followed the Sphinx into Zenderael, was the closest establishment to the Undertow right now. Siegmund had been there a few times. He knew the way, and he knew it would be very easy to hide in because of its size, so that was where he was leading them now.
"A few miles more," he answered, pausing to look back only after he heard Ashtaroth's request. He didn't want to refuse it; he was tired, too, and sympathetic because she obviously wasn't used to this sort of thing. Just like he hadn't been before coming here. But stopping would make it easier for any monsters to find them, too.
He looked from Ash to Victor, waiting for him to tell her why it was a bad idea, or to agree to take a break. She'd listen to him. Not Siegmund.
Victor met Siegmund's look, briefly offended by being put upon before exchanging a knowing silence with him. He settled his attention hesitantly back on Ash. "This isn't a safe place," he said, tone startlingly gentler than it had been when they first set out. There were no hunter skills left to aid him, but Victor had a hunter's memories, and there was nothing nearby to shelter them.
A few more miles. That was more daunting than it sounded when they had to fight against mud, humidity, and the jungle's thick flora. He was nearly spent himself, dragging with each step, but Ash would have been the most worked in battle. There were few healers. She had to do the work of several, and she was stubborn enough to try.
Victor bent down with his back to her and nodded over his shoulder. "Come on."
She dug her hands into her skirts, gripping the fabric tightly, just barely keeping her fingernails from piercing the palms of her hands, the pressure was so great. She caught Siegmund's look, and glared at him for his answer. A few more miles. That sounded familiar.
She bit back what she wanted to say, literally, by biting her lower lip. She looked over at Victor, her defiance flickering uneasily into a sort of hopeless uncertainty, and seeing him kneel down made it worse.
"No- no, don't be stupid," she said, glaring at the ground, looking about ready to cry. "You're as bad off as I am- we'll keep going. I was just asking."
She swallowed thickly as she started walking again, not looking at either of them. She glanced up to the canopy above them, as she had been doing. It was never quite light, never quite dark- she hated not knowing. "Does it get dark here?" she asked instead, trying to get her mind off of how hard it was to simply walk.
He was glad Ashtaroth had refused on her own, because yeah, that was a stupid idea, Victor. Like he was any less tired than the rest of them. But Siegmund was familiar with his self-sacrificial nature, so it didn't surprise him to see it, and he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he'd kept quiet for most of this trip, keeping his opinions to himself and sticking to factual statements when necessary or when asked.
He continued on, leading them further into the jungle, this time scanning their surroundings for anything they could use as temporary shelter for a short rest. Though, he suspected, it would be even harder to keep going once they'd had a taste of rest.
"Yes," he answered, almost automatic. "We hurry, to get there before sunset." Sunset marked the start of Shabbat, too. He would prefer to be safely inside a Gizan hotel by that time.
Victor let out a sigh, wanting to argue the point, but there was a reason he hadn't voiced his intentions: he couldn't without revealing the poor odds. Standing up from the kneel had his muscles go hot with agony, and all he wanted was to fall back down again and stay that way. He had spent his time in the Undertow being taken care of, and still could not pay back the favors to any of them.
The dark. Victor winced. "Then we hurry." There was little he could do to speed them up. His mana was dwindling and with Ravindra as a partner, Victor hadn't need for a single support skill. He took Ash by the hand to help lead her more carefully over the terrain. "A little longer," he said, meaning to be encouraging, but he could not meet her eye.
She kept her fists bunched tightly into her skirts, and it took a moment's coaxing to get her to shift that grip to Victor's hand. At the confirmation she'd threatened to go still, the look of fear dampened, though not quickly, into a sort of blank expression.
"Mm," was all she managed at first. "Yes. We'd best hurry."
She didn't have the energy to create a light. If she had, she wouldn't have the energy for anything else.
With the density of the rainforest, with all of its noises, with their trampling through it, maybe only Victor heard the whimper she couldn't quite keep back.
But she kept walking. It was mindless, and she stumbled, increasingly moreso as the walk continued to stretch on. She wanted to stop, but couldn't, too stubborn to allow it, to make herself any more of a burden, in front of Victor, in front of Siegmund. She hadn't quite told them what she had been texting about earlier, only that at one point she'd actually thrown her phone and had to go retrieve it from the underbrush. She was hesitant to mention the Mazda- or who may have been posing as the Mazda. It didn't matter right now. She could barely think on putting one foot in front of the other, nevermind their current political situation.
It was a long trek through unfriendly terrain, but they thankfully managed to avoid both detection and monsters. Their worst enemy was their own exhaustion. Siegmund, though he put up a good front, was not immune to it. There was a point where he tripped over an outstretched root, stumbled, caught himself against the tree, and then stopped there for several seconds before moving on, taking it as an excuse to catch some respite, however brief, from the walking.
True to his word, three miles later the jungle floor abruptly turned to sand, and a giant stone figure could be seen through the increasingly sparse trees. Beyond that, a paved road led the way into the city proper. Siegmund cut through the sand, taking the shortest, most direct path to the street. It was much, much easier to walk on asphalt than in dense jungle.
Giza was a large, sprawling city, no different from any other Earth city if you hadn't acquired a taste for the subtleties yet. The signs were in a different language, and the native chatter too, but there was little in its appearance to set it apart.
The sun was so low at that point that it hadn't been able to pierce the foliage well. Siegmund had been using a pocket flashlight to lead the way, but he turned it off now and stowed it in a pouch on his belt. Without the tree cover, the early twilight light was enough. None of the streetlights were on, though. Having had the misfortune of appearing in Pakerion, Giza hadn't benefited from the alchemists' rush to restore power to Earth's displaced cities. They'd been left to generate their own, which meant reducing power usage where they could because there wasn't enough to go around.
He pulled out his phone, which he'd turned off at some point to conserve battery life, and turned it back on so he could look up directions to the closest hotel while they walked.
Victor kept his pace without further complaint, settling for a journey without monsters if he could take it. Once they reached the city, he released Ash's hand, something he regret the more unfamiliar their surroundings became.
Up until now, Earth influence was something Victor had been able to avoid. He tensed as he surveyed the city, and despite his former distrust, moved closer to Siegmund to keep from losing sight of him here. The jungle had dangers, but they were ones Victor knew. Rhys had explained some of Earth to him, but written descriptions failed to capture the full picture. Vehicles gave him a flash of warning. There were some things about road rules, but most of them were pulled to the side, unmoving. Fuel was not easy to come by either.
The falling sun cooled the air, but now that they were out of the forest, the humidity had tapered off. The mark it left on them hadn't, and Victor resisted the urge to shudder as the evening air brushed against his clammy skin.
He stopped with a blink at one of the signs, thinking for a moment he might recognize some of the runes. They were similar, but nothing he could decipher. "Can you read any of this?" Victor hurried to keep up again, even if his legs would have rather stayed. He caught occasional words from the natives, at first blaming his tiredness before realizing the words they spoke were completely different. It was too much stimulation for as exhausted as he was, and he nearly ran into one of the unlit streetlamps before he caught himself.
A good thing it was closer to evening when they hit the sand- it wasn't scorching when she set foot to it. Hot, but not unbearable. She'd stopped a moment, exhausted and shocked, at the sudden difference, a queer expression on her face as she took in the feel of the sand under her feet. She'd never experienced it before. Dry and shifting, and as she began to walk again, she nearly slipped and fell again, almost amused, too dizzy to remember to be upset Victor had let go of her hand.
She hardly noticed anything at all, bumping into Victor and making some kind of noise as she stumbled back, catching herself, but still swaying on her feet. The question made her look up, even if it wasn't made for her. If it had been, she still hadn't actually heard what he'd said, so everything she saw came with a vague surprise.
The writing looked familiar in some places, and not so much in others. It didn't occur to her that Zenderael and Earth shared language in such a way- alchemists and mages made greater use of such things, though clerics as a magic class also did.
But there was no use for it now. She looked around, wondering if she was dreaming, not understanding where they were, having missed the transition from desert to city. Was she dreaming?
"No," he answered, but he swapped out apps on his phone, trading the GPS for a translator. He moved over to where Victor (and Ash) had stopped, holding the phone up to point its camera at the nearest sign, angling the screen so they could see it. The view in front of them was echoed on the screen, like a mirror facing the wrong direction. The Arabic letters on the sign scrambled and rearranged themselves into Latin letters, translating the text into English. It was an advertisement for a guided tour package of the Sphinx and Great Pyramids.
Once they'd had a chance to see what that could do, he took the phone back and pulled up a second translation app, vocal instead of visual, and said, in German, "It can translate spoken language too. I've used it here before. We'll be fine." The phone repeated his words in English, though through a robotic, pre-programmed voice. After the demonstration, he set it to seek Egyptian Arabic and translate it into English, and then switched back to his GPS to resume leading them toward the nearest hotel.
Victor caught Ash when she bumped into him, steadying her. He didn't let go this time, even as he stared at Siegmund in dumbstruck silence. The words Siegmund spoke sounded different from what the locals here were using. How many twists on the spoken word did Earth have?
Siegmund got a few steps away before Victor remembered himself and followed after him, but stopped to look back. "Ash?" She looked pale. Er, more so than usual. He urged her forward with a hand at her back, the other checking her heartbeat at her wrist.
He hurriedly looked back to Siegmund, not wanting to lose him. They were in the city now, and it couldn't be that much further. The thought helped keep him calm.
She leaned on Victor too much, staring past him to the app Siegmund toyed with on his phone. She seemed dazed at all the gibberish coming from it- and from him- and simply stared, wide-eyed, while he set about translating the sign. She looked from the phone to the sign itself and stared at it blankly, requiring the additional touch from Victor to get her moving again, nearly needing to be dragged. Her breathing had become shallow and peaceful, like someone entering sleep, looking up to him at the calling of her name, though nothing else registered. She'd gone on so little sleep, so little of the rations- nothing that would cause permanent damage, yet.
"It's getting dark," she whispered after a moment, showing some sign of awareness, though it sounded far away. Where were they going? She didn't know. The buildings were so different from what she knew, the sounds and the sights were all so bizarre. Rhys had handed them over to Siegmund so trustingly, it had to be all right. Did Rhys know he'd said such terrible things? Siegmund didn't seem to be on about it anymore...
Should she forget about it? It seemed a cruel thing to hang on to, knowing he'd lead them out and would be finding them shelter...
Siegmund wouldn't let them lose him. He checked over his shoulder to make sure they were still there, pausing if they needed to catch up.
The GPS finally gave him something that seemed favourable, and he led off toward it, checking the street signs with the text-translator to make sure they were going the right way. Without any satellites for the GPS to work from, it was useless for giving directions. All locations had to be entered manually. Thankfully, it was close enough that he could just follow the labeled streets.
The hotel, a large steel and glass structure like all the others, had an unlit sign that read the correct name when translated. All of its windows were dark, but for the faint glow coming from the first floor where the lobby was. Siegmund glanced back again to make sure Victor and Ash were still behind him, and went inside, motioning for them to follow.
A bored-looking Egyptian man tended the counter, reading a book by lantern-light. He heard the door opening and suddenly became attentive, calling out a heavily accented, "Welcome!" (These customers were dressed like natives, and he knew the natives spoke English.)
Siegmund flipped to the speech translation app, setting it for conversation, and switched English out for German. It would translate all German into Arabic and all Arabic into German, which, unfortunately, meant that Ash and Victor would be utterly unable to understand any of the negotiations between Siegmund and the concierge. They would, however, be able to see the surprise on his face when Siegmund started speaking in German instead of Zenderean English.
After an exchange of words, Siegmund excused himself and stepped away from the counter to confer with Victor and Ash. "Five gold," he said, hushed, pausing the app to avoid any accidental translation. "It's cheap for a place like this. But I can't pay right now." Money changing hands was generally considered forbidden on shabbat, and it wasn't life-threatening to ask Victor or Ash to pay instead, so there was no reason to break that rule.
Victor led Ash inside and found her a seat right away. It would be agony to get her up again, but this was more important. He looked her in the eye a moment and pressed his hand to her cheek to feel her skin. Shaking his head, he grabbed his canteen from his satchel. Only a little water sloshed at the bottom and his throat hurt at the sound of it. "Here. Drink," he told her, but he helped keep her steady for it.
He glanced back to "listen" to Siegmund's conversation with the native, but was dizzied again when he instinctively tried to make sense of what he couldn't understand. Victor ignored them, focusing on Ash until Siegmund returned.
Rhys had given them some supplies. Victor assumed that's what Siegmund had meant about pay. "Right. Keep a close eye on her," he said, but his tone was more of a request. "I think the heat's gotten to her."
Reluctant, he squeezed Ash's hand and stood to pay at the counter. Even with a language barrier, it was easy enough to exchange money for a key.
Her skin was cool, clammy, not quite seeing him as he tried to meet her eye. His hand was an uncomfortable pressure against her face. She sat, slumped but still with the echo of a straight back, her hands limp in her lap. All the same, she leaned into his hand, as though it might steady her- she still felt like she was moving, still walking, had trouble finding her center of gravity. At the offering of water she refused, thirsty but nauseous, pressing her hand to the canteen and pushing it away fussily.
"It's yours," she said, her words slurred from exhaustion. "It's yours." Her tone still came through as adamant, using what little energy she had to continue refusing. She just needed to rest, she was sure of it. She'd be fine, just a few moments to sit...
The small struggle with him ended when Siegmund called him away. She realized too late he'd taken her hand and squeezed it, and she dragged at his hand, though he probably didn't even notice, her grip was so weak.
She put her hand to her forehead. She'd be fine. Victor would be fine. Everyone else- she didn't have the room to think about anyone else. She couldn't even feel guilty about it.
Bastan, gone. The Undertow, gone. She stared ahead bleakly, unable to get past that.
"...will they be all right?" she forced herself to ask Siegmund.
He was relieved that Victor went off to pay without inquiring about why Siegmund couldn't do it himself. It was a long explanation that he didn't really feel like getting into right now.
He claimed the chair to Ash's other side, leaving the one Victor had vacated free, and slumped into it with a sigh. His everything hurt. Fighting, running, and then walking through a jungle to get here, it all took its toll. He knew he wasn't going to want to get up, but he didn't care.
"I hope so," was all he could say to Ash.
The concierge exchanged Victor's gold for a pair of keys, then pointed to the large metal doors at the far side of the lobby's space, giving him a heavily accented and slightly broken warning that the elevators weren't working so they'd have to take the stairs. Then, he produced a lantern from behind the counter, lit it with a lighter, and handed it over to Victor, apologizing that there was no power so they would have to use this for light. Not that it would make much difference for Victor or Ashtaroth, who were used to relying on lanterns for light instead of electricity.
Their room number, handed over with the keys, was a 300 number. That meant three flights of stairs.
The stairs and the lantern were easily accepted. It was what Victor was used to. The keycard, less so. Victor looked it over, flipping it a few times before he caught onto its purpose. Earth. He returned to Siegmund and presented him the key, wordlessly hoping he could handle that mysterious part of this scenario.
Any animosity Victor may have had was gone with the rest of his strength, and he owed Siegmund more than that. "Thank you," he said, soft. It wasn't yet quite mission complete, but it was the first lull they had in their journey. He could tell neither one of them wanted to get up.
With a deep breath, he gently tugged Ash to bring her to her feet. "Come on. We have a room. Then you need to drink water, all right?" He glanced to Siegmund. "You too." He may have not been showing the same signs, but any of them could start.
"Mm," she said, responding more to Victor's voice than his words. I hope so. Not very promising. Would the assassin's guild harm any of them? They were such a secluded, uninvolved sort, unless they were called upon- nothing but a sense of morality would keep any one of them from joining in the war, if she understood the process (which she really didn't).
She still couldn't understand how the druids had come to accept him...
Ah, Victor had said something. And she'd responded, hadn't she? Her head hurt so badly, she kept lapsing into thoughtlessness, lest she focus on it. A tug on her hand and she looked up and through him, dimly aware of the request. She stood slowly, swaying again, her head exploding in pain. A cold chill ran down her back. Not good, not good...
Up the stairs. She dragged, following up two flights before collapsing against the wall, sinking to her knees on the stairs, breathing shallow, too fast. Up. Up, she had to get up.
Her body wouldn't respond and she remained there, unable to get going again.
Siegmund took the keycard and slipped it into his pocket, so accustomed to the use of them that he thought nothing of it. He gave Victor a nod in response to his thanks, all he had the energy for.
Reluctantly, he pushed himself to his feet and led the way up the stairs. It was an arduous climb, but he blocked everything out, taking it one step at a time, so that his entire world became nothing but the next step, over and over, until a landing gave him a brief respite before it started up again.
Because of this, Ash's collapse took a moment to register. There was a sense of something off, then he stopped on the steps and turned to look over his shoulder to see her on her knees. He sighed. Not because he was annoyed by it, but because it seemed hopeless to fix. He had to try anyway.
He crouched, taking out his own canteen, which was about as empty as Victor's, and shoved it into her hands. "We all are tired," he said. "If you fall here, we can't take you. You sleep on the stairs."
Victor kept close to Ash, his hand pressed against her back again to help guide. He had a delusional notion he might be useful if she collapsed, but when she did, he sunk with her, unable to lift both their weights. He closed his eyes and set the lantern on the step above them.
"We need to get to the room," he said, firm. Ash wasn't just tired, but Siegmund was right. They weren't in the condition to get her up for her.
The stairs were not as private as a room, but they were running out of options. Victor pulled the knife from his boot, knowing she wasn't going to approve of this later. With a mental apology, he cut into her sleeves to tear them off, and tore her skirts into something shorter to help expose her skin. Without sunlight, it was doing them more harm than good, and they were going to have to be replaced anyway.
He discarded the remains in humid, heavy piles on the stairs and tried again to nudge her. "Let's go."
Her fingers enclosed the thing within their grasp, but without understanding what it was or its purpose, and ended up hugging the canteen to her. Her own supplies had been meager to begin with, having had so little time to prepare, and so many to look after. It meant little to her to have it now.
She was having a hard time understanding, though she knew she was being talked to. Above the sound of her heart and the blood pumping through her body she could hear the rise and fall of syllables and consonants, but making sense of them was difficult, Victor's tired, steady drone, the lilting unfamiliarity of Siegmund's speech. She just wanted to sit, sick and shivering, where she was, wherever it was she sat.
She gave no resistance as Victor pulled her arm up, cutting through the cloth without any protest. The skirts received a similar silent treatment, though it would change to one of fully aware, furious mortification later.
There was a sense of lightness, however, and when Victor prodded her again, she pulled herself up, almost too quickly, dropping Siegmund's canteen so that it clattered down the stairs, catching herself on the next one up. Her breathing was more like a fish out of water, but she forced herself up, hands splaying against the wall she leaned on. Up. Better than down, wasn't it? She believed it, if only to keep her going up the next flight of stairs.
Siegmund sighed in frustration when she dropped his canteen down the stairs, spilling out what was left in it.
"Take her," he told Victor, grabbing up the discarded rags of Ash's robes, pushing himself to his feet and slipping past her to retrieve his canteen from the landing. He made an attempt to mop up the water with the rags, but not a very strong attempt. He didn't care that much. He was just trying to not make work for the hotel staff while also making sure nobody would slip and fall on the stairs if they came through after them.
That handled, he put the canteen back in his belt and hurried to meet them at the top of the stairs or in the hallway, wherever they were by the time he caught up.
Victor nodded, and by the time Siegmund caught up, they hadn't made it up the last flight. He was slow, careful, and tired. If Ash fainted now, she could tumble and add fall injuries to the list of problems. Once they were in the hallway, he paused less with every waver, and once Siegmund opened the door to the room, Victor guided Ash immediately to the bed. It was hard to resist falling in it himself.
He removed his gear and let it drop haphazardly against the side of the wall, just wanting it off, before storming into the bathroom to wet a washcloth under the sink. It took him a few clumsy tries to get the water running, and he couldn't keep standing when he returned to Ash. He sank into the bed beside her and gently wiped over her face and neck with the cool rag. That rag might as well have weighed as much as a war hammer.
"How are you faring?" he asked, searching over his shoulder for Siegmund.
Ah. Bed. It took a long, dizzy moment for her to realize she was on a bed. When Victor's presence moved away, everything else seemed to move away as well, noise turning into an easily ignored buzz, vision going grey from blurring before her eyes simply shut, passing out or falling asleep partly on her side, legs off the end of the bed.
Though unresponsive, she breathed a little easier, not deeply but deeper. Dirty, bedraggled, and totally uncertain of what must be happening to Rhys and Virelai and all those others she had come to care for, this was, perhaps, as merciful a respite as ever she would get.
Siegmund let them in, sticking the card key into the slot on the door and pushing it open when the light went green without a second thought. He'd realize later, maybe, that Victor wouldn't know how to use them and he'd show him then, but for now, he was too exhausted to bother.
He tossed the rags into the trash and followed Victor's lead of un-gearing himself, dumping his armour, belts, pouches, sheathes, etc all in the far corner of the room without any care for organization. He pulled open the curtains to allow for some of the moonlight to shine through, adding to the lantern's.
He couldn't sit yet. He'd be down for the night as soon as he did. He went to the bathroom, where there was a stack of paper cups next to the sink, and filled one for himself. It was gone in seconds. The second cup took slightly longer, but not much. He set it aside, grabbed two fresh cups, and filled them both to bring them to Victor. One for him and one for Ash.
"Terrible. But not as terrible as her," he said, handing them over to him. "Make her drink."
Victor was wise enough to down his own glass first, shuddering when he could feel the water crawling down his body. He always hated that feeling.
He propped Ash up the best he was able with the stiff hotel pillows and fed a gentle trickle of water into her mouth. It was difficult to keep his hand steady, and some spilled to the sides, but he could dry that later. They had enough water available that he didn't have to fret over lost drops.
"Sorry," he said after a long silence, "That I was short with you before."
Siegmund felt obligated to help, but he didn't have the patience for this sort of thing, and Victor was obviously willing. It left him feeling slightly awkward, standing back and watching as Victor tended to her.
It annoyed him that Ashtaroth had ended up like this, unconscious and needing Victor to pour water down her throat for her because she'd been too proud to accept it from him sooner. They were all tired. Victor, too. The unsteadiness of his hands said that clearly enough. It wasn't fair to force them to tend to her when they were also exhausted and needed rest.
It was stupid, he thought. Refusing to take care of herself left them taking care of her instead, wasting their own energy on something that could've been prevented.
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He immediately felt awful for them. It was uncharitable to be angry at her for becoming vulnerable. It wasn't as though she could've foreseen this happening. Still, his emotions were in conflict, the angry part that wanted something to blame against the moral part that wanted to follow God's guidance and be a good person.
"Don't worry about it," he mumbled. A pause, because he considered it done there, but then decided maybe it warranted more than that. "I know you can't trust an assassin easily."
Because paladins and assassins didn't get along. Victor managed to get back up to refill their cups now that he had some of his own and some time in the shade. Once he was down again, he was sure that was it. He left Siegmund's on the nightstand between the beds.
It was after he started giving Ash her second drink that his mind caught up with that thought. Because Siegmund was from Earth. And friends with Rhys. He stopped before he spilled anything and looked carefully back at Siegmund.
"How long have you known Rhys?"
When Victor moved away, Siegmund glanced after him, then back to Ash, then decided to claim the second bed. He didn't need to stay standing anymore. It was okay if he couldn't get up this time.
He pulled the covers back to make just enough space for himself to sit cross-legged on the sheets, in front of the pillow, facing Ashtaroth and the nightstand. He looked up as Victor returned, watching him set the refilled cup on the nightstand for him, but said nothing. (Because it took him too long to realize that was why he'd put it there.)
He was taking his glasses off and folding them up when the question came. It caught him off-guard, because the conversation had seemed over. He looked up, mildly puzzled. Victor's face was a blur of shadows, his features discernible, but not his expression. "Since two years."
Siegmund wasn't missing out on much. Victor was so tired even his face was finished for the day. His mind was hazy, slow to put words together and give them meaning. How did two years of Rhys' life translate to Victor's?
"You knew me."
Something in him warned him that this conversation wasn't important right now. The words fell out anyway in realization. Who? Each of them seemed little reflections, in small ways, of those that had made them. Needed, some of them. Like Ash. What piece of Siegmund had he already met?
Siegmund's had been needed, as well.
Because of that, perhaps the answer would give Victor a significant insight into who he was.
He didn't turn away or avert his eyes from Victor's face. He kept still. It was easy to keep looking when the reaction was too indistinct to make out. "Wolfram."
He had not met many players and their linked characters, but those he did know followed the pattern. They could deny it-- he had, for a while-- but the pieces always seemed to be there. To him, the links were significant.
So Victor stared back with that answer. "Wolfram," he repeated. He turned back to Ash to help her finish with her cup. Wolfram. Victor hadn't seen him since the betrayal. He asked for advice, if vaguely. Siegmund had written it and given it.
Victor had ignored it. He swallowed, throat still sore from the dryness.
"You should get some rest."
Siegmund remembered the advice he'd given, through his cleric, though it did not come to mind now.
How do you choose between two responsibilities?
Choose whatever accomplishes the greater amount of good.
He nodded, thankful to leave it at that, and set his glasses on the nightstand. He slipped under the blankets, lying down, turning away. It was an excuse to avoid awkwardness, but he was sound asleep in minutes.
Victor's eyes fell shut. He did not have the strength to think on it. Maybe the morning. Maybe, though, another cup for Ash first.
His body would have none of it, nor the time and energy for chivalry. He slumped in the bed beside Ash and fell asleep there.
When: Friday, July 15
Where: Pakerion --> Giza
Before/After: After the bersunters agree to chill with the assassins.
Warnings: Everyone's a little moody but you would be too.
In which everyone is tired, thirsty, and just wants this to be over.
The moment Rhys knew of the alliance with the assassin's guild, he needed a plan for Victor, and likely Ashtaroth with him. Short of options, he contacted Siegmund for help, and without any subtext of obligation. The request came with a please.
What he sent Victor was an I'm sorry. All Victor knew now was that the assassins were (nonviolently) among the berserkers, that they couldn't afford him being caught up in that, and that, despite it, there was one assassin he was supposed to be able to rely on to find safety: Siegmund. Knowing he was a friend of Rhys' did not put Victor at ease. They two of them had fought over something recently. Victor wasn't deaf to the rumors as to why, but he didn't believe them. Victor had been kept too close for that idea to hold.
But Victor had to trust that must have been trivial to their new, precarious situation. He found himself reluctant to leave. Rhys had a tendency for reckless decisions, like getting himself hurt never quite reached his mind as an actual problem. Now the Undertow was gone, and maybe Virelai put on a confident face, but Victor didn't trust that, either. His frustration at needing to leave them both right when he could have been useful left him initially terse.
Victor trudged through the Pakerion jungles, following Siegmund's lead, and offered his hand to Ash when they passed over roots popping from the ground or terrain thick with mud. Rations were short, so he traveled light, with nothing more than a satchel and his own equipment. He sensed a tension from Ash that went beyond his own guild prejudices, and silently opted to keep himself between her and Siegmund as a buffer as much as possible. Some of that may have been his own guild prejudice, anyway.
"How far away is this place?" he asked, his breathing hard and heavy. None of them had much chance to rest. "If we meet monsters in this condition, it's as bad as Aerveas."
Her skirts were torn and dirty, and she'd made a half-hearted effort to complain about it when they'd started, but it had died quickly, knowing it to be the least of their problems. Her shoes were in a similar state, and she'd given up also trying to keep them in good condition. At some point, she'd actually given up wearing them altogether, when one had gotten stuck in some mud. She was just too tired to try and pull it out, and had slipped out of the other and kept going.
It was quickly obvious that she wasn't made for this type of work. The outdoors did not agree with her. It was also quickly obvious that their chosen companion did not suit her tastes, though she kept her eyes averted and lips pursed. She hadn't said anything to Rhys, and wouldn't to Victor without the right kind of prompting, and it was as much, if not more because of the shame on her part than her anger that kept her silent. She responded to him shortly and with some venom, which took more energy than she should have been using. Which was probably why she'd been so distracted and tired when she'd lost her shoes.
She trailed behind the two of them when Victor spoke, their path, for the moment, clear. It was humid and disgusting, and even with her hair pulled back it felt twenty pounds heavier, bouncing against the small of her back. Her own breathing was laboured, each breath a chore. She was just so tired, and so sore, and she hated this, hated Pakerion and Aerveas and the stupid internet and-
Ash stumbled and caught herself on a low-hanging vine. She let go of it quickly, staring at it. Nope, just a vine. Still, she stopped a moment and seemed to have trouble getting going again, reaching a hand up to her forehead to wipe at it unsteadily.
"C-can we stop a minute?" she asked finally, not looking at either of them and her voice low, almost unheard, clearly embarrassed to be asking.
Siegmund had no inclination to refuse Rhys's request. He still felt bad for what he'd said to Ashtaroth, and he'd come to know Victor through Wolfram, which gave him a sense of familiarity and fondness. Both led to him being perfectly willing to lead the two away to safety, outside the reach of the assassins' guild.
Plus, with Siegmund knowing the guild's location and being able to find his own way there, he was the best candidate for this, because it would be a simple matter for him to rejoin the rest of the group whenever he wanted.
They were all exhausted from the running and fighting. Siegmund had used up more mana on shadow-poisons and evasion techniques than most assassins did in a week. Not enough to burn himself out, but enough to leave him feeling weary and drained. Victor was right. If they ran into any monsters in this state, their chances would be slim.
Giza, the Egyptian city that had followed the Sphinx into Zenderael, was the closest establishment to the Undertow right now. Siegmund had been there a few times. He knew the way, and he knew it would be very easy to hide in because of its size, so that was where he was leading them now.
"A few miles more," he answered, pausing to look back only after he heard Ashtaroth's request. He didn't want to refuse it; he was tired, too, and sympathetic because she obviously wasn't used to this sort of thing. Just like he hadn't been before coming here. But stopping would make it easier for any monsters to find them, too.
He looked from Ash to Victor, waiting for him to tell her why it was a bad idea, or to agree to take a break. She'd listen to him. Not Siegmund.
Victor met Siegmund's look, briefly offended by being put upon before exchanging a knowing silence with him. He settled his attention hesitantly back on Ash. "This isn't a safe place," he said, tone startlingly gentler than it had been when they first set out. There were no hunter skills left to aid him, but Victor had a hunter's memories, and there was nothing nearby to shelter them.
A few more miles. That was more daunting than it sounded when they had to fight against mud, humidity, and the jungle's thick flora. He was nearly spent himself, dragging with each step, but Ash would have been the most worked in battle. There were few healers. She had to do the work of several, and she was stubborn enough to try.
Victor bent down with his back to her and nodded over his shoulder. "Come on."
She dug her hands into her skirts, gripping the fabric tightly, just barely keeping her fingernails from piercing the palms of her hands, the pressure was so great. She caught Siegmund's look, and glared at him for his answer. A few more miles. That sounded familiar.
She bit back what she wanted to say, literally, by biting her lower lip. She looked over at Victor, her defiance flickering uneasily into a sort of hopeless uncertainty, and seeing him kneel down made it worse.
"No- no, don't be stupid," she said, glaring at the ground, looking about ready to cry. "You're as bad off as I am- we'll keep going. I was just asking."
She swallowed thickly as she started walking again, not looking at either of them. She glanced up to the canopy above them, as she had been doing. It was never quite light, never quite dark- she hated not knowing. "Does it get dark here?" she asked instead, trying to get her mind off of how hard it was to simply walk.
He was glad Ashtaroth had refused on her own, because yeah, that was a stupid idea, Victor. Like he was any less tired than the rest of them. But Siegmund was familiar with his self-sacrificial nature, so it didn't surprise him to see it, and he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he'd kept quiet for most of this trip, keeping his opinions to himself and sticking to factual statements when necessary or when asked.
He continued on, leading them further into the jungle, this time scanning their surroundings for anything they could use as temporary shelter for a short rest. Though, he suspected, it would be even harder to keep going once they'd had a taste of rest.
"Yes," he answered, almost automatic. "We hurry, to get there before sunset." Sunset marked the start of Shabbat, too. He would prefer to be safely inside a Gizan hotel by that time.
Victor let out a sigh, wanting to argue the point, but there was a reason he hadn't voiced his intentions: he couldn't without revealing the poor odds. Standing up from the kneel had his muscles go hot with agony, and all he wanted was to fall back down again and stay that way. He had spent his time in the Undertow being taken care of, and still could not pay back the favors to any of them.
The dark. Victor winced. "Then we hurry." There was little he could do to speed them up. His mana was dwindling and with Ravindra as a partner, Victor hadn't need for a single support skill. He took Ash by the hand to help lead her more carefully over the terrain. "A little longer," he said, meaning to be encouraging, but he could not meet her eye.
She kept her fists bunched tightly into her skirts, and it took a moment's coaxing to get her to shift that grip to Victor's hand. At the confirmation she'd threatened to go still, the look of fear dampened, though not quickly, into a sort of blank expression.
"Mm," was all she managed at first. "Yes. We'd best hurry."
She didn't have the energy to create a light. If she had, she wouldn't have the energy for anything else.
With the density of the rainforest, with all of its noises, with their trampling through it, maybe only Victor heard the whimper she couldn't quite keep back.
But she kept walking. It was mindless, and she stumbled, increasingly moreso as the walk continued to stretch on. She wanted to stop, but couldn't, too stubborn to allow it, to make herself any more of a burden, in front of Victor, in front of Siegmund. She hadn't quite told them what she had been texting about earlier, only that at one point she'd actually thrown her phone and had to go retrieve it from the underbrush. She was hesitant to mention the Mazda- or who may have been posing as the Mazda. It didn't matter right now. She could barely think on putting one foot in front of the other, nevermind their current political situation.
It was a long trek through unfriendly terrain, but they thankfully managed to avoid both detection and monsters. Their worst enemy was their own exhaustion. Siegmund, though he put up a good front, was not immune to it. There was a point where he tripped over an outstretched root, stumbled, caught himself against the tree, and then stopped there for several seconds before moving on, taking it as an excuse to catch some respite, however brief, from the walking.
True to his word, three miles later the jungle floor abruptly turned to sand, and a giant stone figure could be seen through the increasingly sparse trees. Beyond that, a paved road led the way into the city proper. Siegmund cut through the sand, taking the shortest, most direct path to the street. It was much, much easier to walk on asphalt than in dense jungle.
Giza was a large, sprawling city, no different from any other Earth city if you hadn't acquired a taste for the subtleties yet. The signs were in a different language, and the native chatter too, but there was little in its appearance to set it apart.
The sun was so low at that point that it hadn't been able to pierce the foliage well. Siegmund had been using a pocket flashlight to lead the way, but he turned it off now and stowed it in a pouch on his belt. Without the tree cover, the early twilight light was enough. None of the streetlights were on, though. Having had the misfortune of appearing in Pakerion, Giza hadn't benefited from the alchemists' rush to restore power to Earth's displaced cities. They'd been left to generate their own, which meant reducing power usage where they could because there wasn't enough to go around.
He pulled out his phone, which he'd turned off at some point to conserve battery life, and turned it back on so he could look up directions to the closest hotel while they walked.
Victor kept his pace without further complaint, settling for a journey without monsters if he could take it. Once they reached the city, he released Ash's hand, something he regret the more unfamiliar their surroundings became.
Up until now, Earth influence was something Victor had been able to avoid. He tensed as he surveyed the city, and despite his former distrust, moved closer to Siegmund to keep from losing sight of him here. The jungle had dangers, but they were ones Victor knew. Rhys had explained some of Earth to him, but written descriptions failed to capture the full picture. Vehicles gave him a flash of warning. There were some things about road rules, but most of them were pulled to the side, unmoving. Fuel was not easy to come by either.
The falling sun cooled the air, but now that they were out of the forest, the humidity had tapered off. The mark it left on them hadn't, and Victor resisted the urge to shudder as the evening air brushed against his clammy skin.
He stopped with a blink at one of the signs, thinking for a moment he might recognize some of the runes. They were similar, but nothing he could decipher. "Can you read any of this?" Victor hurried to keep up again, even if his legs would have rather stayed. He caught occasional words from the natives, at first blaming his tiredness before realizing the words they spoke were completely different. It was too much stimulation for as exhausted as he was, and he nearly ran into one of the unlit streetlamps before he caught himself.
A good thing it was closer to evening when they hit the sand- it wasn't scorching when she set foot to it. Hot, but not unbearable. She'd stopped a moment, exhausted and shocked, at the sudden difference, a queer expression on her face as she took in the feel of the sand under her feet. She'd never experienced it before. Dry and shifting, and as she began to walk again, she nearly slipped and fell again, almost amused, too dizzy to remember to be upset Victor had let go of her hand.
She hardly noticed anything at all, bumping into Victor and making some kind of noise as she stumbled back, catching herself, but still swaying on her feet. The question made her look up, even if it wasn't made for her. If it had been, she still hadn't actually heard what he'd said, so everything she saw came with a vague surprise.
The writing looked familiar in some places, and not so much in others. It didn't occur to her that Zenderael and Earth shared language in such a way- alchemists and mages made greater use of such things, though clerics as a magic class also did.
But there was no use for it now. She looked around, wondering if she was dreaming, not understanding where they were, having missed the transition from desert to city. Was she dreaming?
"No," he answered, but he swapped out apps on his phone, trading the GPS for a translator. He moved over to where Victor (and Ash) had stopped, holding the phone up to point its camera at the nearest sign, angling the screen so they could see it. The view in front of them was echoed on the screen, like a mirror facing the wrong direction. The Arabic letters on the sign scrambled and rearranged themselves into Latin letters, translating the text into English. It was an advertisement for a guided tour package of the Sphinx and Great Pyramids.
Once they'd had a chance to see what that could do, he took the phone back and pulled up a second translation app, vocal instead of visual, and said, in German, "It can translate spoken language too. I've used it here before. We'll be fine." The phone repeated his words in English, though through a robotic, pre-programmed voice. After the demonstration, he set it to seek Egyptian Arabic and translate it into English, and then switched back to his GPS to resume leading them toward the nearest hotel.
Victor caught Ash when she bumped into him, steadying her. He didn't let go this time, even as he stared at Siegmund in dumbstruck silence. The words Siegmund spoke sounded different from what the locals here were using. How many twists on the spoken word did Earth have?
Siegmund got a few steps away before Victor remembered himself and followed after him, but stopped to look back. "Ash?" She looked pale. Er, more so than usual. He urged her forward with a hand at her back, the other checking her heartbeat at her wrist.
He hurriedly looked back to Siegmund, not wanting to lose him. They were in the city now, and it couldn't be that much further. The thought helped keep him calm.
She leaned on Victor too much, staring past him to the app Siegmund toyed with on his phone. She seemed dazed at all the gibberish coming from it- and from him- and simply stared, wide-eyed, while he set about translating the sign. She looked from the phone to the sign itself and stared at it blankly, requiring the additional touch from Victor to get her moving again, nearly needing to be dragged. Her breathing had become shallow and peaceful, like someone entering sleep, looking up to him at the calling of her name, though nothing else registered. She'd gone on so little sleep, so little of the rations- nothing that would cause permanent damage, yet.
"It's getting dark," she whispered after a moment, showing some sign of awareness, though it sounded far away. Where were they going? She didn't know. The buildings were so different from what she knew, the sounds and the sights were all so bizarre. Rhys had handed them over to Siegmund so trustingly, it had to be all right. Did Rhys know he'd said such terrible things? Siegmund didn't seem to be on about it anymore...
Should she forget about it? It seemed a cruel thing to hang on to, knowing he'd lead them out and would be finding them shelter...
Siegmund wouldn't let them lose him. He checked over his shoulder to make sure they were still there, pausing if they needed to catch up.
The GPS finally gave him something that seemed favourable, and he led off toward it, checking the street signs with the text-translator to make sure they were going the right way. Without any satellites for the GPS to work from, it was useless for giving directions. All locations had to be entered manually. Thankfully, it was close enough that he could just follow the labeled streets.
The hotel, a large steel and glass structure like all the others, had an unlit sign that read the correct name when translated. All of its windows were dark, but for the faint glow coming from the first floor where the lobby was. Siegmund glanced back again to make sure Victor and Ash were still behind him, and went inside, motioning for them to follow.
A bored-looking Egyptian man tended the counter, reading a book by lantern-light. He heard the door opening and suddenly became attentive, calling out a heavily accented, "Welcome!" (These customers were dressed like natives, and he knew the natives spoke English.)
Siegmund flipped to the speech translation app, setting it for conversation, and switched English out for German. It would translate all German into Arabic and all Arabic into German, which, unfortunately, meant that Ash and Victor would be utterly unable to understand any of the negotiations between Siegmund and the concierge. They would, however, be able to see the surprise on his face when Siegmund started speaking in German instead of Zenderean English.
After an exchange of words, Siegmund excused himself and stepped away from the counter to confer with Victor and Ash. "Five gold," he said, hushed, pausing the app to avoid any accidental translation. "It's cheap for a place like this. But I can't pay right now." Money changing hands was generally considered forbidden on shabbat, and it wasn't life-threatening to ask Victor or Ash to pay instead, so there was no reason to break that rule.
Victor led Ash inside and found her a seat right away. It would be agony to get her up again, but this was more important. He looked her in the eye a moment and pressed his hand to her cheek to feel her skin. Shaking his head, he grabbed his canteen from his satchel. Only a little water sloshed at the bottom and his throat hurt at the sound of it. "Here. Drink," he told her, but he helped keep her steady for it.
He glanced back to "listen" to Siegmund's conversation with the native, but was dizzied again when he instinctively tried to make sense of what he couldn't understand. Victor ignored them, focusing on Ash until Siegmund returned.
Rhys had given them some supplies. Victor assumed that's what Siegmund had meant about pay. "Right. Keep a close eye on her," he said, but his tone was more of a request. "I think the heat's gotten to her."
Reluctant, he squeezed Ash's hand and stood to pay at the counter. Even with a language barrier, it was easy enough to exchange money for a key.
Her skin was cool, clammy, not quite seeing him as he tried to meet her eye. His hand was an uncomfortable pressure against her face. She sat, slumped but still with the echo of a straight back, her hands limp in her lap. All the same, she leaned into his hand, as though it might steady her- she still felt like she was moving, still walking, had trouble finding her center of gravity. At the offering of water she refused, thirsty but nauseous, pressing her hand to the canteen and pushing it away fussily.
"It's yours," she said, her words slurred from exhaustion. "It's yours." Her tone still came through as adamant, using what little energy she had to continue refusing. She just needed to rest, she was sure of it. She'd be fine, just a few moments to sit...
The small struggle with him ended when Siegmund called him away. She realized too late he'd taken her hand and squeezed it, and she dragged at his hand, though he probably didn't even notice, her grip was so weak.
She put her hand to her forehead. She'd be fine. Victor would be fine. Everyone else- she didn't have the room to think about anyone else. She couldn't even feel guilty about it.
Bastan, gone. The Undertow, gone. She stared ahead bleakly, unable to get past that.
"...will they be all right?" she forced herself to ask Siegmund.
He was relieved that Victor went off to pay without inquiring about why Siegmund couldn't do it himself. It was a long explanation that he didn't really feel like getting into right now.
He claimed the chair to Ash's other side, leaving the one Victor had vacated free, and slumped into it with a sigh. His everything hurt. Fighting, running, and then walking through a jungle to get here, it all took its toll. He knew he wasn't going to want to get up, but he didn't care.
"I hope so," was all he could say to Ash.
The concierge exchanged Victor's gold for a pair of keys, then pointed to the large metal doors at the far side of the lobby's space, giving him a heavily accented and slightly broken warning that the elevators weren't working so they'd have to take the stairs. Then, he produced a lantern from behind the counter, lit it with a lighter, and handed it over to Victor, apologizing that there was no power so they would have to use this for light. Not that it would make much difference for Victor or Ashtaroth, who were used to relying on lanterns for light instead of electricity.
Their room number, handed over with the keys, was a 300 number. That meant three flights of stairs.
The stairs and the lantern were easily accepted. It was what Victor was used to. The keycard, less so. Victor looked it over, flipping it a few times before he caught onto its purpose. Earth. He returned to Siegmund and presented him the key, wordlessly hoping he could handle that mysterious part of this scenario.
Any animosity Victor may have had was gone with the rest of his strength, and he owed Siegmund more than that. "Thank you," he said, soft. It wasn't yet quite mission complete, but it was the first lull they had in their journey. He could tell neither one of them wanted to get up.
With a deep breath, he gently tugged Ash to bring her to her feet. "Come on. We have a room. Then you need to drink water, all right?" He glanced to Siegmund. "You too." He may have not been showing the same signs, but any of them could start.
"Mm," she said, responding more to Victor's voice than his words. I hope so. Not very promising. Would the assassin's guild harm any of them? They were such a secluded, uninvolved sort, unless they were called upon- nothing but a sense of morality would keep any one of them from joining in the war, if she understood the process (which she really didn't).
She still couldn't understand how the druids had come to accept him...
Ah, Victor had said something. And she'd responded, hadn't she? Her head hurt so badly, she kept lapsing into thoughtlessness, lest she focus on it. A tug on her hand and she looked up and through him, dimly aware of the request. She stood slowly, swaying again, her head exploding in pain. A cold chill ran down her back. Not good, not good...
Up the stairs. She dragged, following up two flights before collapsing against the wall, sinking to her knees on the stairs, breathing shallow, too fast. Up. Up, she had to get up.
Her body wouldn't respond and she remained there, unable to get going again.
Siegmund took the keycard and slipped it into his pocket, so accustomed to the use of them that he thought nothing of it. He gave Victor a nod in response to his thanks, all he had the energy for.
Reluctantly, he pushed himself to his feet and led the way up the stairs. It was an arduous climb, but he blocked everything out, taking it one step at a time, so that his entire world became nothing but the next step, over and over, until a landing gave him a brief respite before it started up again.
Because of this, Ash's collapse took a moment to register. There was a sense of something off, then he stopped on the steps and turned to look over his shoulder to see her on her knees. He sighed. Not because he was annoyed by it, but because it seemed hopeless to fix. He had to try anyway.
He crouched, taking out his own canteen, which was about as empty as Victor's, and shoved it into her hands. "We all are tired," he said. "If you fall here, we can't take you. You sleep on the stairs."
Victor kept close to Ash, his hand pressed against her back again to help guide. He had a delusional notion he might be useful if she collapsed, but when she did, he sunk with her, unable to lift both their weights. He closed his eyes and set the lantern on the step above them.
"We need to get to the room," he said, firm. Ash wasn't just tired, but Siegmund was right. They weren't in the condition to get her up for her.
The stairs were not as private as a room, but they were running out of options. Victor pulled the knife from his boot, knowing she wasn't going to approve of this later. With a mental apology, he cut into her sleeves to tear them off, and tore her skirts into something shorter to help expose her skin. Without sunlight, it was doing them more harm than good, and they were going to have to be replaced anyway.
He discarded the remains in humid, heavy piles on the stairs and tried again to nudge her. "Let's go."
Her fingers enclosed the thing within their grasp, but without understanding what it was or its purpose, and ended up hugging the canteen to her. Her own supplies had been meager to begin with, having had so little time to prepare, and so many to look after. It meant little to her to have it now.
She was having a hard time understanding, though she knew she was being talked to. Above the sound of her heart and the blood pumping through her body she could hear the rise and fall of syllables and consonants, but making sense of them was difficult, Victor's tired, steady drone, the lilting unfamiliarity of Siegmund's speech. She just wanted to sit, sick and shivering, where she was, wherever it was she sat.
She gave no resistance as Victor pulled her arm up, cutting through the cloth without any protest. The skirts received a similar silent treatment, though it would change to one of fully aware, furious mortification later.
There was a sense of lightness, however, and when Victor prodded her again, she pulled herself up, almost too quickly, dropping Siegmund's canteen so that it clattered down the stairs, catching herself on the next one up. Her breathing was more like a fish out of water, but she forced herself up, hands splaying against the wall she leaned on. Up. Better than down, wasn't it? She believed it, if only to keep her going up the next flight of stairs.
Siegmund sighed in frustration when she dropped his canteen down the stairs, spilling out what was left in it.
"Take her," he told Victor, grabbing up the discarded rags of Ash's robes, pushing himself to his feet and slipping past her to retrieve his canteen from the landing. He made an attempt to mop up the water with the rags, but not a very strong attempt. He didn't care that much. He was just trying to not make work for the hotel staff while also making sure nobody would slip and fall on the stairs if they came through after them.
That handled, he put the canteen back in his belt and hurried to meet them at the top of the stairs or in the hallway, wherever they were by the time he caught up.
Victor nodded, and by the time Siegmund caught up, they hadn't made it up the last flight. He was slow, careful, and tired. If Ash fainted now, she could tumble and add fall injuries to the list of problems. Once they were in the hallway, he paused less with every waver, and once Siegmund opened the door to the room, Victor guided Ash immediately to the bed. It was hard to resist falling in it himself.
He removed his gear and let it drop haphazardly against the side of the wall, just wanting it off, before storming into the bathroom to wet a washcloth under the sink. It took him a few clumsy tries to get the water running, and he couldn't keep standing when he returned to Ash. He sank into the bed beside her and gently wiped over her face and neck with the cool rag. That rag might as well have weighed as much as a war hammer.
"How are you faring?" he asked, searching over his shoulder for Siegmund.
Ah. Bed. It took a long, dizzy moment for her to realize she was on a bed. When Victor's presence moved away, everything else seemed to move away as well, noise turning into an easily ignored buzz, vision going grey from blurring before her eyes simply shut, passing out or falling asleep partly on her side, legs off the end of the bed.
Though unresponsive, she breathed a little easier, not deeply but deeper. Dirty, bedraggled, and totally uncertain of what must be happening to Rhys and Virelai and all those others she had come to care for, this was, perhaps, as merciful a respite as ever she would get.
Siegmund let them in, sticking the card key into the slot on the door and pushing it open when the light went green without a second thought. He'd realize later, maybe, that Victor wouldn't know how to use them and he'd show him then, but for now, he was too exhausted to bother.
He tossed the rags into the trash and followed Victor's lead of un-gearing himself, dumping his armour, belts, pouches, sheathes, etc all in the far corner of the room without any care for organization. He pulled open the curtains to allow for some of the moonlight to shine through, adding to the lantern's.
He couldn't sit yet. He'd be down for the night as soon as he did. He went to the bathroom, where there was a stack of paper cups next to the sink, and filled one for himself. It was gone in seconds. The second cup took slightly longer, but not much. He set it aside, grabbed two fresh cups, and filled them both to bring them to Victor. One for him and one for Ash.
"Terrible. But not as terrible as her," he said, handing them over to him. "Make her drink."
Victor was wise enough to down his own glass first, shuddering when he could feel the water crawling down his body. He always hated that feeling.
He propped Ash up the best he was able with the stiff hotel pillows and fed a gentle trickle of water into her mouth. It was difficult to keep his hand steady, and some spilled to the sides, but he could dry that later. They had enough water available that he didn't have to fret over lost drops.
"Sorry," he said after a long silence, "That I was short with you before."
Siegmund felt obligated to help, but he didn't have the patience for this sort of thing, and Victor was obviously willing. It left him feeling slightly awkward, standing back and watching as Victor tended to her.
It annoyed him that Ashtaroth had ended up like this, unconscious and needing Victor to pour water down her throat for her because she'd been too proud to accept it from him sooner. They were all tired. Victor, too. The unsteadiness of his hands said that clearly enough. It wasn't fair to force them to tend to her when they were also exhausted and needed rest.
It was stupid, he thought. Refusing to take care of herself left them taking care of her instead, wasting their own energy on something that could've been prevented.
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He immediately felt awful for them. It was uncharitable to be angry at her for becoming vulnerable. It wasn't as though she could've foreseen this happening. Still, his emotions were in conflict, the angry part that wanted something to blame against the moral part that wanted to follow God's guidance and be a good person.
"Don't worry about it," he mumbled. A pause, because he considered it done there, but then decided maybe it warranted more than that. "I know you can't trust an assassin easily."
Because paladins and assassins didn't get along. Victor managed to get back up to refill their cups now that he had some of his own and some time in the shade. Once he was down again, he was sure that was it. He left Siegmund's on the nightstand between the beds.
It was after he started giving Ash her second drink that his mind caught up with that thought. Because Siegmund was from Earth. And friends with Rhys. He stopped before he spilled anything and looked carefully back at Siegmund.
"How long have you known Rhys?"
When Victor moved away, Siegmund glanced after him, then back to Ash, then decided to claim the second bed. He didn't need to stay standing anymore. It was okay if he couldn't get up this time.
He pulled the covers back to make just enough space for himself to sit cross-legged on the sheets, in front of the pillow, facing Ashtaroth and the nightstand. He looked up as Victor returned, watching him set the refilled cup on the nightstand for him, but said nothing. (Because it took him too long to realize that was why he'd put it there.)
He was taking his glasses off and folding them up when the question came. It caught him off-guard, because the conversation had seemed over. He looked up, mildly puzzled. Victor's face was a blur of shadows, his features discernible, but not his expression. "Since two years."
Siegmund wasn't missing out on much. Victor was so tired even his face was finished for the day. His mind was hazy, slow to put words together and give them meaning. How did two years of Rhys' life translate to Victor's?
"You knew me."
Something in him warned him that this conversation wasn't important right now. The words fell out anyway in realization. Who? Each of them seemed little reflections, in small ways, of those that had made them. Needed, some of them. Like Ash. What piece of Siegmund had he already met?
Siegmund's had been needed, as well.
Because of that, perhaps the answer would give Victor a significant insight into who he was.
He didn't turn away or avert his eyes from Victor's face. He kept still. It was easy to keep looking when the reaction was too indistinct to make out. "Wolfram."
He had not met many players and their linked characters, but those he did know followed the pattern. They could deny it-- he had, for a while-- but the pieces always seemed to be there. To him, the links were significant.
So Victor stared back with that answer. "Wolfram," he repeated. He turned back to Ash to help her finish with her cup. Wolfram. Victor hadn't seen him since the betrayal. He asked for advice, if vaguely. Siegmund had written it and given it.
Victor had ignored it. He swallowed, throat still sore from the dryness.
"You should get some rest."
Siegmund remembered the advice he'd given, through his cleric, though it did not come to mind now.
How do you choose between two responsibilities?
Choose whatever accomplishes the greater amount of good.
He nodded, thankful to leave it at that, and set his glasses on the nightstand. He slipped under the blankets, lying down, turning away. It was an excuse to avoid awkwardness, but he was sound asleep in minutes.
Victor's eyes fell shut. He did not have the strength to think on it. Maybe the morning. Maybe, though, another cup for Ash first.
His body would have none of it, nor the time and energy for chivalry. He slumped in the bed beside Ash and fell asleep there.