[SE] Roads we walk in the dark

The memories of his lost friends and loved ones lingered long after his return from Hak Etme. For Ray he could leave flowers at Aumakua. For Harper he could drink a silent toast at sunset. But for Maea - lost now in seasons past, presumed dead in the desert - he had been at a loss. She was no daughter of Safrin, her soul once-claimed by the Voice and now by Dygra, and he was uncertain whether that goddess now held her in some fiery afterlife or if the Ancients joined Caido's other souls in Mort's realm.

He passed through the Burrows, night above and below the burning land, his feet a silent whisper over black stone. Starlight twinkled from the tines of his trident, casting a faint light that was enough for him to find his way to the ancient - and now Ancient - temple held within the darkened halls.

True, he paused at its entrance. He was no follower of Dygra, but neither was she an enemy, and he had come today seeking peace. Peace for himself, to lay one of his ghosts to rest. He finally stepped within, making his slow, deliberate way to the altar cube in the middle of the black, black room, and bowed with reverent courtesy to it.

Blood, he knew, was the usual offering to the Ancient goddess, but his blood was filled with starlight and not for her to taste. And so it was rubies that he scattered across the black mirror surface, perfect and polished to a scintillating clarity as he let the stillness of prayer come over him.

"Dygra. Greetings, and my respects. Please, watch over Maea as I could not. And let her find peace." And though he lapsed back into silence he remained with his head bowed, lost in memory and an old, quiet grief.

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Hidden within a crevice, her back pressed against the rock wall, Maea felt a twinge of guilt. Did he think her dead? Or was he really concerned enough about her well being that the mer felt compelled to beseech a god to look out for her? It was true that she had kept out of sight since the incident in the desert, but she had thought the dramatic scene of Remi and Ronin resucitating her by the fountain would have spread. But perhaps not.

Drawing a soundless breath, she caught her tail in her hands and picked at a scab, considering her options. It had been habit that drove her to hide when footsteps approached the Cathedral, but now it felt more and more like eavesdropping. For all that their last conversation had ended poorly, Hadama didn't deserve that. Nor did he deserve the kind of worry that caused him to bend his head like that. Not over such a petty reason as wanting to avoid more trouble.

"Dunno if you know this," she murmured, voice whispering hoarse from vocal cords rarely strained, "but Dygra isn't exactly about peace." Pushing away from the wall, she emerged from the shadows of the far end of the vast chamber. Fiery motes of light spring up like fireflies around her, caught on her hair as she pulled down the hood of the cloak and shook it out of the collar. "Not sure there is such a thing to be found in this world."

Approaching the altar, Maea cast only a cursory glance at the rubies before halting, her gaze traveling the familiar figure before her. "Hello, Hadama. Long time no see."

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

He did not startle at the hoarse voice from the dark. He might not have expected an answer from the Ancient goddess herself but he had knelt before a shrine to make his request and more than gods were known to listen to such prayers.

Hadama raised his head slowly, bowed shoulders straightening before he turned to face the ghost of a woman. Small fires bloomed around her, flowers that burned and sparked and revealed a face he had not expected to see again. The light was ruddy and warm, painting the pale canvas of her hair and skin in a false glow of health - or of fever. He watched her approach soundlessly, not moving to rise as he considered the horned and tailed woman who may as well have stepped out of his memories as from the crevice in the Cathedral.

His silence stretched, his expression stoic and inscrutable as he studied the woman who wore Maea's face, and finally he tilted his head in a slow nod of greeting. Cautious. Not, perhaps, entirely trusting the evidence of his eyes. Not in this place, and given his recent prayer. "Maea. Thalassa said that you were... gone. We thought that you might be dead." And whatever else they had thought or felt he kept to himself for the moment. At least until he knew more about who - or what - he was speaking with.

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

She was glad for the understated response. Leery of raising a ruckus again, Maea simply tucked her hands into the sleeves of her coat and nodded laconically, her eyes falling to the rubies though did not seem to really see them. Though her countenance was whole and hale, there was a weariness in her gaze that seemed bone deep, and a quietness in her presence that felt somehow brittle. "I was," she replied simply. "Then Ronin brought me back. I've been... lying low, since." And doing a fairly good job of it too, it seemed, if rumors went around saying she had perished. Again, guilt slithered through her insides, heavy and nauseating, as she though of Thalassa.

"How... is she? And you?" Perhaps she ought to apologize. It felt pointless though. Words... words were useless, in the end. They could never make up for the harm she was causing the people around her. Whether she was around, or, apparently, if she wasn't, it didn't seem to matter.

She was sure Dygra was most pleased with her, and the chaos she was bringing wherever she went.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

With every passing moment the body language of the young woman spoke truths that a face or a voice alone could not guarantee. And though Hadama had encountered spirits that were shy or slow to speak he had never heard of any that seemed so uncomfortable to be at the shrine. And the words she spoke were...

All too familiar.

Hadama drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before pushing himself to his feet with unhurried grace. As she confirmed her death he closed his eyes, something tightening in his chest. His jaw. And then he released the emotion, lifting his head to contemplate his old friend anew, seeing the weariness in her but finding no fresh wounds to cause alarm.

"She is... alive," he said slowly, each word dropped like a stone into a still pond. "Your disappearance... was difficult for us. But worse for her. She... blames herself, I think. For your... loss." His large hands hung at his sides, outwardly relaxed though there was a piercing intensity to the emerald gaze that rested upon Maea. "I am... well enough. Torchline endures. But you are not the only one who disappeared last year." He tilted his head slowly, attempting to gauge what she knew before his voice gentled on the difficult words that followed. "Harper is also... lost. To us." Dead, according to reports from the Hollowed Grounds where his body had been found.

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Her shoulders sagged, as though weighed down by heavy burdens. Swallowing against guilt and grief alike, the waif-like ancient slowly rounded the altar and slumped down onto a stone pew. The dark velvet skirts of her dress pooled around her feet, blending into the shadows of the hall so that her hands and face seemed disembodied in the firelight. Hadama could be excused for thinking her a spirit; she looked like one. Felt like one, too.
"I heard, about Harper," she murmured, pain lacing through her voice. "Hoped it was false, but..." Gesturing helplessly, words failed her. It was hard to process that he was gone. Used to long silence on his part, she found herself waiting for some sign of life. A letter, a surprise visit - a glimpse of his face across a crowded room. The thought that he was gone forever... it left her feeling hollow. More than just aggrieved; he had understood her better than any other, and over the years grew into more than just a friend.

As for Thalassa... Maea passed a hand over her face, too tired to cry. "I'm the one who is to blame," she said. "I nearly killed her. I'm sorry, for disappearing on you, but... it seemed like the only way to prevent hurting anyone else."

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

In Harper their grief was shared, though the passing of seasons had offered some scarring of the wound. It was not yet old pain, but it was no longer quite so fresh. So raw. Hadama exhaled slowly and took a few steps towards the pew a few paces away from Maea. He lowered himself down onto its warm, hard bench and let his hands rest on his knees, fingertips pressing small indents into the leather of his trousers where the fabric pulled taut over the joints.

"It is not," he confirmed, voice lower than usual with the weight of it. He lapsed back into silence, their mourning filling the obsidian cathedral with quiet echoes of Harper's loss. But his was not the only death that had weighed heavily on certain hearts. Maea's passing - however brief - had also taken its toll. All the moreso because of the disappearance that had followed, lending credence to the rumors that she had truly died this time. He made no move to push the pale Ancient but when she spoke again he turned to watch her weary face, taking in her words without a change in his stoic expression.

He made no denial of her claims, no attempt at assurance or comfort that she was wrong in her beliefs. He absorbed her apology in the way the ocean absorbed light, letting it fall into hidden depths, swallowed down without protest.

But neither was their acceptance.

He tilted his head a fraction to the side as he considered her, emerald eyes implacable in the light of her sparks. "Did you think," he began, each word chosen with deliberate care, his tone controlled and neutral, "that your disappearance would not hurt anyone?"

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

So, for once the rumors had been right, and she had lost yet another friend. The world was one good man shorter, and it was utterly unfair that the sun kept rising and setting like it did not matter. Would that she could trade places with him, and bring back even just a sliver of the  warmth, kindness and understanding that had been Harper's hallmark.

Silence hung heavy in the air. It had her shifting uncomfortably that Hadama broke it, his question flat and filled with admonition. Leastways, that's how it seemed to her. And she knew what her answer should be. 'Of course not', and 'I'm sorry' like repeating the words might somehow soothe whatever the man was feeling right now. But it wouldn't be true, and Maea suspected they both knew that.
"I think, that hurt is all I bring to anyone, whether I intend to or not," came her slow response. Matter of fact, because that's what she believed. "Whether I am around, or not... it doesn't seem to make a difference." Harming when she tried to help, shots going wild and striking wrong targets when she actually gave in to the destruction... discord rippling from everything she touched like oil spilled onto water. It was so fitting of a child of Dygra, and so ironic that it was the opposite of anything she had ever wanted to be.

"At the very least, staying away should have minimized the damage I inevitably do."

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

He was, as always, willing to wait for her to think through her answer, and to hear her out once she had begun. However her words made him feel, he kept his face still, holding his thoughts within to give Maea the space she needed to put her belief into words. Whether or not they were the words he wanted to hear mattered not at all when she was gracious enough to answer his question with honesty.

When she had finished he drew a breath in through his nose and let it out slowly, watching the fires that danced around her face and hair and that sent flashes of light scattering from the reflective black stone that made the Cathedral.

"Who do you know who has not caused hurt to others?" he asked at last, his voice quieter, perhaps a little softer, but holding a genuine curiosity as to how she measured being a purveyor of disaster.

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Throwing him a quick side glance, her lips thinned in what might be irritation.
"My brother comes to mind," she replied with a touch of acerbity. "Isla. Deimos. You. At the very least you all seem capable of making reparations, whereas I only make things worse the more involved I get."
Seized by restless energy stemming from stress or perhaps anxiety, she got up from the obsidian slab and stepped up on the next one in line, balancing on the edge for no reason other than needing to do something.

"Look, it's... I'm not whining about it, alright? I realize it's my own fault for screwing up, and I'm the one who needs to fix what I break. I just don't think it's possible unless I change. And I... don't know how to do that being around people I care about. I'm always going to put their needs first. Or what I think they need, at least. And that's part of the problem, you see? I see a problem, I get myself involved, I leap into action thinking I can help... and then it backfires. Making it worse than before." Like the meeting, like with Asta, like the way she'd once nearly gotten Jata killed by sharks and joined the efforts to bring down the Barrier, unleashing the Voice upon all of Caido...

Scowling down at her feet, she couldn't remember who it was that said she got too invested in things. Had it been Sunjata? Maea hated to admit it, but it was true. And there were probably deep psychologic reasons as to why she did that... but she didn't have the tools to find out what they were, or what to do about it. 
So she did the only thing that came to mind, and stayed clear of those who might make her slip.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

He inclined his head slightly to the side in acknowledgment of her brother, a man he'd never known and could not judge. But the rest... "Mmh." A noncommittal answer at best, the faintest of shadows between his brows conveying his disagreement though he did not attempt to make a list of anyone's sins. Not even his own. He watched her begin to pace, and his silence was rewarded a moment later as she spoke again.

He noted as she wound herself tighter and tighter around her self-recriminations, pulling her unhappiness stubbornly around herself like a favorite cloak. He remained seated, stillness to her motion, and waited until she had finished. Emerald eyes considered the enigma that was the Ancient nee Ascended, once Abandoned, remembering...

A past that would never return. A night that had in the end been fleeting and as ethereal as a cherry blossom on the wind. Warmth that had turned to ash in the seasons since they had defied Dahlia in the basement of the Atheneum.

"What do you wish to do now?"

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

Pausing on the very edge of the block, teetering with excellent balance before letting herself slip forward, Maea dropped back to the floor and sank down, to sit on polished ground flush with heat, with her legs tucked tightly to the chest and the back pressed tight to dark stone. As she let her head fall back a horn knocked against the pew with a hollow thonk, and a sigh slipped from her.

Hadama knew to ask the real questions.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Stop being afraid? Stop running? It would be nice to feel like I belonged somewhere... " Turning to look at him, she was quiet for a moment. "What would you wish me to do?" Come to think of it, he had been rather quiet this whole time. Merely asking, saying little, expressing even less. She couldn't tell what went on beneath his collected expression. Was he angry? Hurt, sad, or simply fed up?

Maea supposed the couldn't blame him either way. Not sure she would want to deal with herself either, if the roles were reversed.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3

He watched her dance across the pews, fall to the floor as lightly as a petal, and sink down into a small bundle of black and white, her hair and skin and horns stark against both her clothing and the lightless stone of the cathedral. Her words slipped through the air like minnows, quick flashes of silver and sorrow in the dark. The question she posed in return caused his eyes to close and a deep, slow breath to fill his chest. He did not answer immediately; he so rarely did. Instead he stood, his movement unhurried but efficient, spending no more energy than the minimum to reach his goal.

A step. Three. And he stood over the curled-up Ancient, looking down at her with emerald eyes that held weariness, yes. And hurt, both old and fresh. But there was kindness there, too. A friendship that had strained but never broken.

He extended his hand down to her to help her to her feet.

"To make peace with yourself. With your past." He spoke quietly, his words simple, but echoing his prayer. "To find happiness, Maea Valair. However you define it."

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

It was an impressive sight, to be sure. The Tidebreaker loomed tall and resolute before her, the edges of him blending into the shadows so that he seemed a creature spun out of night and stardust. Perhaps he was, these days. Certainly she sensed the easy strength in the way he carried himself, knew with a feline instinct the magnitudes of difference between their abilities. Greater now than when they had traded blows in front of the Cathedral. She supposed that's what happened when you pledged yourself to the gods.

Yet it was the simplicity of his words that moved her. The kindness she didn't really deserve, considering what she had put him through, and the hand he extended anyway. How many times did that make it? How many times, how many people, kept reaching out to her as she tripped and stumbled and struggled to find her footing in a changing world?

Maybe, Maea thought, she was not cursed with bad luck so much as she was blessed with second chances.

She took Hadama's hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I would like that," she admitted. Craning her head back so she could meet his gaze, the smile that flitted over her lips was fleeting, but genuine. Grateful. "Got any advice on how to make it happen? I'm... a bit lost." The understatement of the century.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3