Akorae: Painful Truths

[Eira]

“I am selfish and petty and I will not treasure you like I should or as you deserve. I give my affections freely and I mean nothing with them for my heart is bleeding and it will not heal.”

“That is okay.”

“I just do not want to be alone.”

“You are not alone.”

[Eira]

"It's my fault," she said after being told of his departure. If not for who she spoke to, she would have laughed until the pain was not so strong.

"How come?"

The urge to laugh disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I grew fond of him," she said, as if it were that simple. "When that happens, they end up dying or disappearing."

She was dangerous like that.

[Eira]

As they spoke, minute by minute and word by word, she relaxed. Her words still held their blunt edge; any amusement she could muster was dulled by the bleak and bitter tinge of her voice. She allowed herself for a moment, just a moment, to think that they weren't all that terrible. Not that different.

"It is nice to not be alone," she admitted. A memory of a similar talk spasmed forth at her words, and she covered her face with the helm again to mask the grimace twisting her lips.

"I think that is very drow of you," the smooth and powerful voice reminded her from where it nestled in her memories, as clear as when the words had first been spoken. "Misery seeks company, does it not?"

[Eira]

She huddled in the corner, balancing nearly on her toes and focused on the painful press of stone digging into her skin. It was alright. It would be alright.

She was enough.

[Eira]

She had just drawn breath to speak further when the demons stepped out of the rift and the abyssal fires rained down across the building. Her words settled on her tongue as she flitted to the side, sidestepping everyone who... well, cared more than she did.

When they drew back into the corner to speak quietly, she could hardly keep from bouncing with the utter force of keeping quiet as her grin grew the more the other spoke.

He continued, each pause more and more tempting her to interrupt.

"I was right," she finally blurted out quickly, her smile stretching so wide it even hurt her mouth. "And you were wrong."

She could have left it there. Could have settled for that. But it wasn't quite enough.

"I told you so."

[Eira]

The words around her faded to something distant as she focused on the odd instrument. The discordant sound from his attempt still rang in the back of her mind, bringing an amused smirk to her lips. Her eyes did not have to lift to focus on the other to know that he leaned forward, impatience crying forth in the set of his stance.

Her fingers drew close to the strings at a maddeningly slow pace, something mischievous turning her movements into a patient creep as her awareness teased the intent gaze of the other.

As one string was finally met, the note broke forth in a hum akin to the gentle chime of crystal.

[Eira]

"Speaking of faces, what happened to yours?"

She just stared at the other, her initial delighted smile at seeing him again, freezing into something brittle and false. As always the scars tugged at her lips, reminding her yet again of how each expression was mangled.

He coughed awkwardly. "That was rude- wasn't it."

[Eira]

All she could do in response was run at the chair, pummeling it with fist and feet until it was little more than a pitiful pile of shrapnel and shards.

"It's not fair!" she cried out, swinging around to kick at the pile of books and send them scattering across the floor.

It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't.

[Eira]

The knife hilt fit comfortably in her hand.

[Eira]

“I hate you,” the drow murmured, staring at the prone figure pinned under her blades. His face turned; throat bared to the sparking edge of her sword to accept it. He would do nothing. There was no excuse for hesitation.

And yet…

She stood slowly, keeping her blade to his neck. If only he’d attack her. If only there was something to make this simpler. But that was never how it worked.

Movement from the one laying there, ever so slight.

Rage swelled in her chest and drove her blades to slash across his face, his neck, his chest, over and over and over until he stopped twitching.

I am sorry, she wanted to say when finally she stilled, but pride and misery collided in her throat to produce only a strangled croak. She didn’t allow her eyes to rest on his fallen form, turning away and fighting her way out the door to run run run run run away from the betrayal.

But was it her betrayal or his?

Killing brought no answers. Just the loss of another teacher.

[Eira]

“Who don’t you hate?”

A twisted smile struggled its way through the scarring of her lips, resting there in that mangle more akin to a pained grimace. The answer came naturally, as careless of words as her thoughts were not. It didn’t quite feel like her body in these moments. Most moments.

Who didn’t she hate?

A larger list than her words might imply. A shorter one than she would have liked. Or perhaps it was simpler than that. Who did she hate? What did she hate?

One word had answered that, from one too perceptive for it to be false.

[Eira]

The face haunted her dreams and so she dared not sleep.

Meditation, perhaps. Something from a time when both mind and body shared one discipline and such things as anger and fear could be kept separate from each other and her actions. But no... not now. Not after all this time and all the growth. Surely it must be growth. For that mingling of rage and terror into the bitter hatred brought strength to her arms and set her blades to bite ever deeper in the flesh of those before her.

Were that she had been a scholar or mage, and yet had either of those been her pursuit, the one she hated above all else would never have troubled her. Simple irony, that. Both blessing and curse, as it seemed every aspect of her life ended up.

“I don’t hate others. Not like that.” Not like you.

The words of a naïve child.

Oh, yes, she could hate now. It was an exhilarating feeling at times; the fire in her blood and heady rush of seeking mindless vengeance. All the feelings were... new. Letting them guide her steps and rage; she knew she was breaking every lesson she had been taught since coming to this place.

None of the old fears mattered now that they had truly come to pass. She remained alive, even if the rest were not. And with knowing the one responsible, all that was left was to strike them out of existence. Then she could feel joy again.

It would be enough.

[Eira]

last words are
never what you want
them to be

last words
are
never supposed to be
the last

last words are burrs
sticking tight in anger
lingering after death

last words
could be sweet
like
thank you
until next time
missed you
i love you

last words always
linger
in the mind
in the voice
in the dreams
what could be said
and
what was not

last words
cannot be expected
until they are
or not
they were not

last words could have been
anything else
any
else
but what they were
what they are

last words can
never be words now
only words then
only words unspoken
unyelled
unwhispered
unthought
held back
hidden
now mourned

last
words

last

[Eira]

“What would you have done if you found her?”

At first, the question troubles her, and that conflict is displayed on the ruin of her face as clearly to the other as any emotion she has ever tried to hide from him. But they know each other far too well by now; no display of hers will fool him and likewise, there is still much she can glean from any number of his smiles.

Or so she believes.

“I had played out that possibility several times,” she finally murmurs, the rasp of her voice carrying clearly in the empty vastness of the room. “A quick end? Slow? To be brutal or merciful... whatever she deserved, I could not decide. But-”

She swallows, hesitates, and meets his eyes.

“In the end, I knew the cruelest thing I could do to her was bring her to you.”

[Eira]

"I suppose I did when I thought you were going to kill me."

A different time. Careful words. Touch of threat on each syllable. One hand on the web, sensitive to every shift and tremor she made, caught in that snare.

She had cared more, back then.

The other replies, "What makes you think I won't now?"

She forces twisted smile to her lips. "Part of me might just hope you'll try."

[Eira]

"I do not need to be broken again," she spat out, words hissing through her teeth, sizzling in the air between them. Anger smoldered within her eyes, but only a chill lay in her heart.

Emptiness. She did not need the other to speak the truth they both knew, but he did, tucked in between still more truths that fell no less painfully than the worst of them.

"You are already broken. Don't you understand? I don't wish you to be broken."

She wanted to believe him. She had to. And yet...

[Eira]

"Just a broken soul who needs a bit of guidance."

There was that word again. It appeared in the most unexpected of ways, and yet it was never a surprise. The pain of its sting never lessened, no matter how many times she heard it.

"I am not broken," her voice lashes out, laced through with that sting, a stray mutt baring its teeth.

"Then what are you?"

[Eira]

"I cannot kill you if I am wrong about you. But to be wrong about you would mean my death."

"You could ruin me in far different ways. But you will not have to."

[Eira]

"I would die for them. I would be beaten, tortured, scarred, mutilated, all for them. I would give myself up for them and do it with a smile on my lips."

She pauses, then, considering her own words. Scarred lips part- her breath pauses, words lingering on the tip of her tongue before continuing.

"But they do not understand, so they would rebuke me for saying so; they have rebuked me. So I simply shall not speak of it again. The truth is important to me alone, and there is nothing I would not give up to ensure their future. Especially my own."

[Eira]

They sat in silence until she was ready to speak.

"I hate this," she whispers, the words almost lost in her mask. "I've killed, I've lost- I've had people die, but-" she trails off, shaking her head.

The other remains silent.

"How-" she pauses, the word weak, before she tries again. "I don't want to lose him. How do I fix this?"

The other finally stirs and shrugs. "You don't."

[Eira]

"I never wanted to be a leader," she murmurs, almost ready to laugh. Almost ready to cry. Her words whisper from her, plaintive, saying both more than she ever wanted to reveal, and yet alone, they were not enough for the feelings roiling around inside her. Her gaze lingers on the bartop.

Her companion's answer is not unfamiliar; she had heard it before from different lips. "Which, of course, makes you the best sort."

A shake of her head given; the slight movement is almost imperceptible. "Everyone says that- but Andunor prizes tyrants."

"They fear and respect tyrants," he whispers back, and the way his voice turns could almost hurt for how genuine he sounds. "They love you."

She has no answer for that, some lump finding its way to her throat to still her breath.

He continues. "Reflect on that."

[Eira]

She awaits the next with bated breath, her posture stilling in that cold throne. But there is refuge in the one beside her, and without tearing her eyes away from the entryway and hall laid out before them, she holds out her hand with palm up and fingers splayed.

His hand finds hers and holds it. Tightly.

"Am I doing well?" she murmurs. Hint of the lost girl remains in the necessary question; where she is now feels like an ill-fitting skin, a mask she is still learning how to wear.

But his answer warms her heart and sets smile to her mangled lips.

"I could not begin to describe."

[Eira]

"I'd be dead twenty times over if I ain't had the decades I got- keeping this balance," she growls, spitting out only a fraction of the fury she felt at his words. "So pike off with your doorways. I did what ya asked, an' I ain't gonna bend further."

Her hands itched to curl into fists; she stalks for the portal instead, deliberately turning her back on him.

"I got too many people to protect for that, piker."

[Eira]

"In my father's last letter to me, he told me to take care of my siblings. So that is what I will do."

[Eira]

Hate.

Burning, vicious, hate, the same kind of hate that comes from being cornered, pinned and powerless, with death or obedience as the only options.

She hated him.

When she said as much, he smiled.