Court of the Fallen
self-inflicted scars - Printable Version

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self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-03-2021

He hesitates upon the soot-flecked doorstep to the Temple: his pale hand ghosts against the massive doors, fingertips questing for details, for texture, but it all seems so muted after the vibrant senses of the dragon.

All around is death and destruction.

It mirrors his heart.

Slowly, Aamu pulls the doors open and slips inside. It hides the mess from sight, but he knows it's still out there. Within, the Temple is better off, the stone having spared it from much of the fire. Filthy footprints track this way and that but Aamu pays them no heed, knowing where he is going already. After all the work they put into cleaning up the clinic, and the joy it brought her, he hopes it's mostly untouched by the destruction.

He looks as he feels: disheveled, messy, streaks of soot and grime on his fingers, face, in his white hair. There's a strange sheen to his eyes, an oil-slick shimmer at their corners, because let it be known: Aamu cannot look at the destruction of those who came before him and not feel anything.

[say]"Isla?"[/say] he calls hesitantly into the clinic once he's pried one of the doors open, peering into it with trepidation.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-03-2021

It's a mess, but wonder of wonders, it's mostly untouched. Aamu will find Isla - of course - dilligently cleaning up the infirmary. The floors need mopping and there's a faint smell of smoke on the air, but the medic considers herself very lucky indeed to still have a workplace after the efforts of the Spark Bird's wrath on much of the Hollowed Grounds. Glancing up as she hears her name, it doesn't take long for her to connect the dots.

The last time she'd seen Aamu had been in the midst of chaos; a pitched battle fought in oil and blood and smoke, and gods if Isla doesn't want to put that to the back of her mind. To see him, though, it's as though he's walked straight out of that nightmare without pausing for breath. Isla, on the contrary, is clean and pressed and ready to help. One would think that alone would stop her from rushing forward as she does, and yet here they are. White coats can be washed. Souls are a more difficult thing to clean.

[say]"Aamu, how are you?"[/say] Riding the words out on a relieved sigh, she steps in to wrap her arms around her fellow Ascended in a hug. There are times for politeness and hesitance, but tonight is not one of them. Not after all they'd been through.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-04-2021

He's old, he should be better, stronger, fiercer—but he isn't. He was decisive there in the darkness, and now all that's left of him are the broken, shameful parts. And even in the midst of that he feels vaguely guilty for dragging all the soot and smoke-stink back in when she's busy scrubbing it from the floor.

From one war to another. From one side to another.

He's become exactly what he fought against.

Aamu is limp and ragged, as if he contemplates becoming boneless and dead weight but somehow remains upright: he's surprised, he's grateful, he doesn't want to think. Rests his head against her shoulder, watching her golden hair.

He imagines it smells like Meadowreach.

[say]"What have we done?"[/say] he whispers as he raises his arms around her waist, suddenly overcome with the need to just hold her close.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-05-2021

[say]"What we were told,"[/say] Isla replies to him, sounding neither happy nor sad about it. For better or for worse, they'd done what they were told to do. They didn't have much time to prepare, or understand, or realise what it was they were really doing, but it's too late for that now. Still, it's the only answer she can give to Aamu, the medic holding him close for a few moments more, and she isn't really sure who is the one offering the comfort, and who is receiving it.

Eventually she lets out a shuddering sigh, riding it out on a breath she doesn't need, and steps back from her fellow Ascended. [say]"Come on - I always find work is a good distraction. Want to help me clean this place up?"[/say] They can talk while they mop. At least that way they're killing two birds with one stone.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-07-2021

If only it is that easy: if only he could lay it all at the feet of Wessex and the Voice, say this is your mess, wash his hands of it and walk away.

But he can't. Their burnt fingers reach for him when he closes his eyes. The silence of their circuits haunts him. He was a naïve fool and he can't—won't—hide from that. (But what could you have done?)

There's nothing he can do to change it now. Things happened as they did, and when Isla steps back he nods slightly. He'll agonize about this for a long time: he might as well be useful while he does it. [say]"Yeah,"[/say] he breathes, trailing into the clinic after her, self-conscious about the stains he leaves on her floor. So the first thing he does is wet a rag to wipe the soot from the underside of his boots, slow and meticulous.

[say]"I wonder why she wanted this,"[/say] he finally says.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-08-2021

[say]"There are some clean, spare clothes in the stock room,"[/say] Isla murmurs as they walk further into the infirmary, as if just noticing the state of Aamu and the ash stains that cover him (and her as well, now). [say]"There's a shower as well, if you'd like to clean up."[/say] She won't mind, and he can take as long as he likes. Whether it's helping to put the infirmary back to rights or using it to help himself, Isla still considers it worthwhile work.

In the meantime, she reaches out for the bucket of warm water she's been about to use to mop the floors, pausing while she waits for the other Ascended to make his decision. [say]"I don't know,"[/say] she confesses. [say]"It was a decision made before either of us returned, I suppose. But I..."[/say] Isla shakes her head. [say]"I have always found the Voice to be quite meticulous. Logical. This is quite... chaotic, for her standards."[/say] At least from the medic's experience.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-13-2021

[say]"Thank you,"[/say] he says—and he will take her up on it, just not quite yet. He doesn't want to take all of this with him: it's almost symbolic in some way, the way he scrubs it from his boots, but—something he can't wash out of his spirit, something he can't hide, something he can't put away as easily, the filthy waters running through his veins instead—

In a way, he's relieved Isla doesn't quite understand it either. [say]"I suppose,"[/say] he echoes, hollow and quiet. But whose decision had it been? Certainly not Sam's. It wasn't unified. The whole thing is just—bizarre.

[say]"She was always very practical,"[/say] he tangentially agrees, brows furrowing in something far more expressive than his previously just empty and lost face. [say]"But I can't see what she stood to gain from this."[/say] Slowly he straightens up, the soles of his boots clean enough. Almost apologetically, his gaze flicks to Isla's. [say]"I'll be back soon."[/say] And then he's gone, into the stock room and the shower, but he can't scrub the genocide from his skin.



Some time later he returns: damp hair neatly braided, skin and clothes clean (and perhaps it's a bit odd to see Aamu without that worn old coat of his), eyes still haunted. He looks at Isla in silence, as if suddenly a little unsure of who he is, or what he's doing there, and if he's imposing too much on her or not.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-15-2021

[say]"Maybe nothing,"[/say] Isla admits with regard to what the Voice might have stood to gain from the decision with the monsters. Little does she know that it was a decision made by the Ascended rather than their goddess. Had she known, perhaps a conversation would have been needed between them all regarding all of this. For now, though she merely smiles and lets Aamu wander away to get himself clean.

Whilst he's gone, Isla works on that mopping, and the floor will be clean and the windows wiped by the time Aamu returns. Honestly, she doesn't mind - it's more important to her that he's taking care of himself than helping with chores she's already doing. Still, as he returns and gives her a look that seems so lost, she beckons him over to help wipe down the window sills this time.

[say]"How are you feeling?"[/say] she invites, polite and tentative.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-20-2021

The floors are clean once he's back outside, and he finds Isla by the windows. Like this, he can almost pretend they're back at the start of Deepfrost, freshly returned to life and consciousness, with the Settlement bustling and alive outside.

But hiding from the truth has never helped anyone, and as he comes over he peers out the glass, nearly pressing his forehead against it. It's a mixture of the untouched and the charred staring back at him.

[say]"Still confused,"[/say] is the first thing to come off his tongue. He licks his lips tentatively and turns away from the window. [say]"But better. Thank you."[/say] Unasked, careful, he reaches for a clean rag, and steps to the next window to collect the filth from the sill. It's better than wandering aimlessly through the destruction, and it gives him an anchor for his spinning thoughts. [say]"I went to see her, before LongNight, but... She didn't have time for me."[/say] And now, he bitterly regrets not trying harder to see her.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-21-2021

They work at ease with one another, Isla more than used to her own company and feeling no need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. She gives Aamu all the space he might need to voice his thoughts, however difficult they might be to wrap his mind around. And when he finally does speak, the medic smiles across at him and tilts her head.

[say]"Perhaps it was the coming of LongNight that made it difficult for her to make contact with you. I've heard that gods, both old and new, cannot be summoned when the darkness comes."[/say] In truth, though, it may have just been arbitrary circumstance that led to Aamu's lack of an answer.

[say]"If you wanted to try again, and would like some company, I am more than happy to come with you,"[/say] she offers. [say]"It has been a while since I paid a visit to the shrine for more than replenishment. And I feel like I should also say my thanks to the Voice in person, for bringing us back. For allowing you to lead us back, I should say."[/say]


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-21-2021

It's easy to get stuck on spots that aren't actually there, carefully wiping the same area over and over simply because his mind is elsewhere. He's just so—so disappointed with himself. (But what could he alone have done, even if he'd understood?)

[say]"Perhaps,"[/say] he agrees, running the rag over the soot-stained sill and watching it blacken. [say]"I'm sure she had her reasons, and I don't mind. She's always been this way."[/say] More or less. His voice is quiet and he doesn't look up from his absent-minded work, carefully folding the rag after each swipe so that the next is with a clean patch.

He nods his thanks at her offer, not realizing she might not see him do it. [say]"That makes my part in it sound a lot grander than it was,"[/say] he says with the traces of a laugh around the words, though he can't quite bring himself to mirth. [say]"She did all the hard work and I barely knew what was going on."[/say] He's not sure what makes him ask the next question, just that the words are suddenly on his tongue. [say]"Why did you ascend?"[/say]


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-21-2021

[say]"Here,"[/say] Isla offers with a smile, gesturing to where more rags are soaking in warm water just behind them. [say]"If you need any others."[/say] Her own sill is receiving a similar treatment, and though it isn't easy work, it does seem to be paying off. [say]"Mercurial, you mean?"[/say] she says of the Voice, her smile growing a bit wry, and she moves to fetch a new rag of her own to finish up her work around the window.

[say]"Well, whether or not you knew what you were doing, it was comforting to have someone lead us through and back into the living world. I think I can speak for all of us who returned on that front."[/say] The sill is left shining after a few more minutes of work, Isla stepping back to admire both of their efforts. [say]"Hmm...? Oh."[/say] A silvery blush dusts her cheeks; no one has ever asked her such a question.

[say]"I was curious,"[/say] she confesses. [say]"And I wanted to learn everything I could about it. And so I chose to Ascend, to experience it all properly."[/say]


RE: self-inflicted scars - Aamu - 03-24-2021

[say]"Mmh,"[/say] he hums vaguely, fingers curling around the rag as he folds it for a last swipe before following her initiative. And suddenly, desperately, he wishes he could recall the pleasant sensation of warm water on his hands, but it's all just—water. Water texture. Impersonal and wet and not much else. [say]"Busy with her own things, I suppose."[/say] He's tempted to say more, but it's been three hundred years of imprisonment and advances. Who's to say she hasn't changed? Who's to say they aren't different from him? Something flutters inside of him, residue of a body that was once more organic. What if they can feel things differently, better..? The sun..?

[say]"I wondered why she didn't do it herself, but... Regardless, I'm glad she told me to."[/say] He pauses to consider a particularly stubborn spot on the sill (or just his imagination). [say]"I'm happy to hear it was appreciated."[/say]

Because of his attention to the sill he doesn't notice her blush as he waits for the answer, just works on making sure the window is spotless. She was curious? He mulls over it for a moment, then decides it fits her very well. He glances up from what he's doing, shyly almost. [say]"And?"[/say] he prompts, softly.


RE: self-inflicted scars - Isla - 03-26-2021

[say]"That's the price you pay for being a goddess, I suppose,"[/say] Isla agrees, smiling a little and pottering around to rinse off the other cloths before grabbing a fresh one to start on the next window sill. Between them they're making good progress, and already the clinic is starting to look brighter, to look how it had done prior to LongNight.

[say]"Perhaps she needed someone who would be a good representation of us,"[/say] she suggests. [say]"I imagine, for those who returned who didn't start off as Ascended, they would prefer someone like you to lead the way back to the land of the living."[/say] Of course, Isla is just making it up as she goes along, but sometimes speculation is the beginning of worthwhile research.

That Aamu asks more about her Ascension is a little surprising, and the returning smile that Isla sends his way is just as shy. [say]"And now I know,"[/say] she confirms, her voice soft. [say]"There are things I miss about being Accepted, it's true. But I have gained the ability to do so much more like this, and for so much longer... I think I would make the same choice again, if I were asked."[/say]

Straightening up, she raises her eyebrows across at him. [say]"I don't suppose you remember when, or why you Ascended...?"[/say]