[eysuria] lydon's decision
9/6/09 21:59![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
karriezaiTitle: Lydon's Decision
Genre: Fantasy - Eysuria
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,300
Written for a challenge at RCR, yet again. Getting some good writing inspired there! The idea was to have a character reflecting on a traumatic event and how it changed them. I interpreted this loosely. He is remembering a traumatic event and it has changed him, but the main point of the memories is to help him make an important decision.
It’s too much to ask, but I can’t seem to dismiss it.
And I can’t figure out why I trust this man. He’s a stinking spirit wraith. Literally--the sense of decay rolled off his body, more feeling than scent. I can still almost smell it even though he’s waiting patiently outside. But he’s out of range of influencing me, and so this senseless trust I’m feeling is my own.
Do you still love him? It’s a ridiculous question, but it lingers in the air. I stopped loving Braden a long time ago. I thought so, at least. I fell in love with Triel, and--well, he’s the reason Triel is dead. Even if I did love him, how could I forgive him that?
But I let the memories come to me. Maybe one of them will help me understand why I just can’t dismiss the choice the spirit wraith gave me.
I try to think of the happy memories, the ones that might explain why I still feel this attachment to Braden. There were good times. We were Whips then--and though I’m not proud of it now, I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t happy at the time. I didn’t know then what I do now, and it’s true that ignorance is bliss. I was young and, yes, in love with Braden. But these memories slip away, and the ones that replace them are the ones that make me ache.
I stare at the grains in the wooden floor, but all I can really see is Triel’s face. He had strong features--they matched his powerful, stubborn personality. A squared jaw. A long, straight nose. Eyes so dark they could have been black. He opened me up to all the painful truths of what I’d been doing as a Whip, but despite his hatred of my kind, he gave me a chance to redeem myself. I loved him for that.
The trouble was that he never loved me back. The phantom pain of his fist against my jaw that night I first kissed him.... He apologized, but he couldn’t quite get the stunned disgust out of his eyes. He convinced me to stay, to finish what I started--to help them find Braden, because we’d been friends, and maybe I knew something that could help us stop him. I was afraid that this was the only reason they tolerated me, but I stayed.
Worse, though....
I pull my fingers free from my hair and glance out the window. This will be the hardest memory. When I swallow, it sticks in my throat. Outside it’s hot and green with summer; Triel would have liked that.
The distraction doesn’t work.
Triel’s body in my arms. I could be there again; the weight of him is real, and the painful almost-disbelief strangling my heart. I remember screaming at her--Dreya, the woman we trusted, the woman hired by Braden, the woman who put the knife between Triel’s ribs. The ache is full to choking with irony. He fancied her, and she betrayed him.
But I push it away. I remember this pain vividly; it’s an ever-present ache in my chest. Not that he died. That faded with time, as grief does. No, it’s what I did to him after. Dreya killed him, but she also had the power to bring him back. I forced her to do it. But people aren’t meant to be brought back that way, and the Triel who woke in my arms that day was not the same man. He was... a spirit wraith, in a way, something like the man I have waiting outside--
And maybe that’s why I trust him. In part, at least. He reminds me of Triel and of what I did to him before I finally let him go.
Still, Triel is gone, and my love and guilt and sorrow over him may still be powerful--but it is not in question. He isn’t a part of the decision I have to make, except perhaps as the reason I couldn’t forgive Braden at the end.
I remember.
We fought to exhaustion. He’d always been the better fighter when we were Whips, but I had practiced since then, and I did well. Still, it ended with my back against a wall and his knife sharp against my neck. We both breathed heavily, and every breath worried the knife against my skin. Braden was slick black with sweat, and his eyes flashed that eerie gold color that had once been (or maybe always will be) so uniquely attractive to me.
But anger burned in my chest. Dreya had been his, and she’d killed Triel.
“He said you’d betray me.” His voice was small, out of place, and completely devoid of the anger I’d felt from him the entire time we fought. It was broken, hurt. I didn’t know what it meant then, but I couldn’t help responding anyway.
“You betrayed me.” It was supposed to be angry, but it came out a whisper. Irony of ironies. “You exiled me. You killed Triel. You became... this.”
Hurt and hatred warred in his eyes for a long moment. And then he dropped the knife. He pressed me hard against the wall and smothered my mouth with his own--it was angry, it was desperate. And part of me wanted so badly to respond. But I wouldn’t allow it. For Triel.
When he pulled away, I could see that hurt had won the battle. His expression was one of grief. He bent and retrieved the knife--
And ripped it across his own throat.
Oh.
I’d forgotten how much that hurt. The ache is fresh in my chest. I did still love him. I do still love him. Especially now, I can realize that. He wasn’t really Braden anymore, after all, except perhaps right at the end when his despair over me drove him to end it. He was this spirit wraith’s Aerlun, and he had been for a long time. Ever since he exiled me. It explains so much--the sudden change in Braden, the tyrant he became, it wasn’t him. It was Aerlun all along.
I have no love for this Aerlun and what he did to Braden. But I still have a choice to make. If I accept Daemien’s offer, I can chase him into his next incarnation and perhaps save him from the man Aerlun caused him to become. But it will be at the price of my soul.
And so the question becomes: even with all the uncertainty of Daemien’s offer, do I love Braden enough to follow him into another lifetime? Daemien did not offer me any illusions. “I do not know what we will become together,” he told me. “I think you will retain at least some of yourself. And I do not know how present your Braden is inside Aerlun, or if we can save either of them, let alone both. But having followed him once already, I can tell you that I’ll do it again, and as many times after as it takes to save Aerlun.”
I try to wonder if I can forgive Braden for what happened to Triel, but it’s a pointless thought. I’ve already forgiven him. It wasn’t him--it was Aerlun. It’s even painfully clear now that I never really stopped loving Braden, I just felt angry and betrayed. I loved Triel, true, but it was never the same. Triel never could have loved me in return. Braden always did, he’d just gotten lost. And as for whether Aerlun deserves to be saved after what he did to Braden.... Well, there really is no question about it. If saving one means saving the other, then I’ll just have to try my best to save both.
I push myself to my feet. The decision is made. And Daemien’s waiting outside for my answer.
Genre: Fantasy - Eysuria
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,300
Written for a challenge at RCR, yet again. Getting some good writing inspired there! The idea was to have a character reflecting on a traumatic event and how it changed them. I interpreted this loosely. He is remembering a traumatic event and it has changed him, but the main point of the memories is to help him make an important decision.
It’s too much to ask, but I can’t seem to dismiss it.
And I can’t figure out why I trust this man. He’s a stinking spirit wraith. Literally--the sense of decay rolled off his body, more feeling than scent. I can still almost smell it even though he’s waiting patiently outside. But he’s out of range of influencing me, and so this senseless trust I’m feeling is my own.
Do you still love him? It’s a ridiculous question, but it lingers in the air. I stopped loving Braden a long time ago. I thought so, at least. I fell in love with Triel, and--well, he’s the reason Triel is dead. Even if I did love him, how could I forgive him that?
But I let the memories come to me. Maybe one of them will help me understand why I just can’t dismiss the choice the spirit wraith gave me.
I try to think of the happy memories, the ones that might explain why I still feel this attachment to Braden. There were good times. We were Whips then--and though I’m not proud of it now, I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t happy at the time. I didn’t know then what I do now, and it’s true that ignorance is bliss. I was young and, yes, in love with Braden. But these memories slip away, and the ones that replace them are the ones that make me ache.
I stare at the grains in the wooden floor, but all I can really see is Triel’s face. He had strong features--they matched his powerful, stubborn personality. A squared jaw. A long, straight nose. Eyes so dark they could have been black. He opened me up to all the painful truths of what I’d been doing as a Whip, but despite his hatred of my kind, he gave me a chance to redeem myself. I loved him for that.
The trouble was that he never loved me back. The phantom pain of his fist against my jaw that night I first kissed him.... He apologized, but he couldn’t quite get the stunned disgust out of his eyes. He convinced me to stay, to finish what I started--to help them find Braden, because we’d been friends, and maybe I knew something that could help us stop him. I was afraid that this was the only reason they tolerated me, but I stayed.
Worse, though....
I pull my fingers free from my hair and glance out the window. This will be the hardest memory. When I swallow, it sticks in my throat. Outside it’s hot and green with summer; Triel would have liked that.
The distraction doesn’t work.
Triel’s body in my arms. I could be there again; the weight of him is real, and the painful almost-disbelief strangling my heart. I remember screaming at her--Dreya, the woman we trusted, the woman hired by Braden, the woman who put the knife between Triel’s ribs. The ache is full to choking with irony. He fancied her, and she betrayed him.
But I push it away. I remember this pain vividly; it’s an ever-present ache in my chest. Not that he died. That faded with time, as grief does. No, it’s what I did to him after. Dreya killed him, but she also had the power to bring him back. I forced her to do it. But people aren’t meant to be brought back that way, and the Triel who woke in my arms that day was not the same man. He was... a spirit wraith, in a way, something like the man I have waiting outside--
And maybe that’s why I trust him. In part, at least. He reminds me of Triel and of what I did to him before I finally let him go.
Still, Triel is gone, and my love and guilt and sorrow over him may still be powerful--but it is not in question. He isn’t a part of the decision I have to make, except perhaps as the reason I couldn’t forgive Braden at the end.
I remember.
We fought to exhaustion. He’d always been the better fighter when we were Whips, but I had practiced since then, and I did well. Still, it ended with my back against a wall and his knife sharp against my neck. We both breathed heavily, and every breath worried the knife against my skin. Braden was slick black with sweat, and his eyes flashed that eerie gold color that had once been (or maybe always will be) so uniquely attractive to me.
But anger burned in my chest. Dreya had been his, and she’d killed Triel.
“He said you’d betray me.” His voice was small, out of place, and completely devoid of the anger I’d felt from him the entire time we fought. It was broken, hurt. I didn’t know what it meant then, but I couldn’t help responding anyway.
“You betrayed me.” It was supposed to be angry, but it came out a whisper. Irony of ironies. “You exiled me. You killed Triel. You became... this.”
Hurt and hatred warred in his eyes for a long moment. And then he dropped the knife. He pressed me hard against the wall and smothered my mouth with his own--it was angry, it was desperate. And part of me wanted so badly to respond. But I wouldn’t allow it. For Triel.
When he pulled away, I could see that hurt had won the battle. His expression was one of grief. He bent and retrieved the knife--
And ripped it across his own throat.
Oh.
I’d forgotten how much that hurt. The ache is fresh in my chest. I did still love him. I do still love him. Especially now, I can realize that. He wasn’t really Braden anymore, after all, except perhaps right at the end when his despair over me drove him to end it. He was this spirit wraith’s Aerlun, and he had been for a long time. Ever since he exiled me. It explains so much--the sudden change in Braden, the tyrant he became, it wasn’t him. It was Aerlun all along.
I have no love for this Aerlun and what he did to Braden. But I still have a choice to make. If I accept Daemien’s offer, I can chase him into his next incarnation and perhaps save him from the man Aerlun caused him to become. But it will be at the price of my soul.
And so the question becomes: even with all the uncertainty of Daemien’s offer, do I love Braden enough to follow him into another lifetime? Daemien did not offer me any illusions. “I do not know what we will become together,” he told me. “I think you will retain at least some of yourself. And I do not know how present your Braden is inside Aerlun, or if we can save either of them, let alone both. But having followed him once already, I can tell you that I’ll do it again, and as many times after as it takes to save Aerlun.”
I try to wonder if I can forgive Braden for what happened to Triel, but it’s a pointless thought. I’ve already forgiven him. It wasn’t him--it was Aerlun. It’s even painfully clear now that I never really stopped loving Braden, I just felt angry and betrayed. I loved Triel, true, but it was never the same. Triel never could have loved me in return. Braden always did, he’d just gotten lost. And as for whether Aerlun deserves to be saved after what he did to Braden.... Well, there really is no question about it. If saving one means saving the other, then I’ll just have to try my best to save both.
I push myself to my feet. The decision is made. And Daemien’s waiting outside for my answer.