The Night the Fire Fell (aka "I F***** The Mage Out Of Him") (Alkereth & Emery) [M]

[Avelithe]

"It's... not easy." Alkereth gave a tired sigh, not meeting her stare, and looking straight ahead with heavy eyes. He shouldn't feel exhausted already; it was still morning! "Just can't afford to lose my head when you're clearly about to lose yours. Give me some credit; I'm doing my best."

"You don't want to be the person giving a doomed world bad news, and you certainly don't do it with a smile on your face. When I tell otherworlders, some times they do not believe a word I say until they witness the light fading from their sky, and then... it might be too late. It does something to you. So, no, it's not normal. Nothing I do is normal. But it was my job. I had no choice. I had time to learn to cope with it. Does not mean I'm over it."

Emery's deal was met with a little smile. "Very well. I'm an open book moving forward. No cherry-picking truths, no secrets."

[Rhindeer]

Oof. Emery winced as he corrected her, immediately feeling a pang of regret. "Ah...shit. I...I didn't mean—"

She already felt like a bull tiptoeing through a field of teacups when it came to heavy topics; now she had the extra disadvantage in that she couldn't fathom what Alkereth truly did, what his former life was. It was on a scale so beyond her that she had no personal experience to draw from, nothing she could compare it to. Telling an entire world that they were doomed? Being dismissed when you knew they would all die of they didn't listen? As Alkereth spoke, she tried and failed to do some quick mental math, imagining some of the larger cities she'd been in and their thousands of people and trying to apply that to an entire planet, multiplied several times over. Trying to imagine the weight of millions of people and animals and plants and earth just...dying like that...it was unreal. She couldn't wrap her brain around it at all.

"I don't mean to be...dismissive?" Emery finally said with an awkward glance his way, voice quiet. "I didn't mean to imply it's normal normal or...you know? I just mean, I don't know, that this isn't new for you. Right? Not that that makes it any better! Fuck, Alkereth." She gave a short laugh but there was no humor it. "You've lived all that and I'm losing my shit just hearing about it."

He certainly made her own issues seem small.

At least he was receptive to her deal. Of course he would be. Emery nodded at his words but did not look at him, fingers worrying away at the reins. The two of them had covered a lot of what for her was new ground—and maybe opening up like this was new for him, too. 

It was fucking hard.

But it was only fair. She couldn't expect Alkereth to expose all the soft, vulnerable bits if she refused to do the same, and it felt like they owed it to each other.

"Likewise," she said at last, swallowing against the dryness of her mouth. "It's a deal. Let's just, ah, stop for a moment then. Take a short break. I'm not reading and riding."

[Avelithe]

"Well..." A grimace indicated discomfort; he was not used to giving his secrets away, not so openly like this. "I know you didn't mean to. It's as I've said... I was going to tell you, eventually. I really was. But the gods seem to have other plans." And he was in no position to question their divine authority. "Perhaps they knew I would struggle. Ripped off the bandage, as it were..." He shrugged. "They knew we'd both struggle."

Alkereth abruptly took his gelding off the road. "There's a copse of trees we may rest and talk for a bit, just a brisk ride away."

No pointing was needed; a group of thick and gnarled oak trees trees hung out in the middle of a grassy field. No gates meant that the field was not privately owned. Perfect for the horses to take off and eat, if they wanted to.

"Emery," he said softly. "It's going to be okay."

[Rhindeer]

Emery barked  a dry laugh. It wasn't a bad point. Rip it off like a bandage, eh? Perhaps Alkereth was right, because God help her, she hadn't actually had any plans at all to tell him about this anytime soon. Not because she didn't trust him, but because it was too difficult to relive. She would tell him eventually, just as he'd planned to tell her eventually, and who knew when eventually actually was?

What an icebreaker, goddamn.

"I believe you," she said at last as she pulled Hilda to a stop in the shade of those trees. "I can hardly blame you for being, erm, hesitant to tell me about—" She made a vague, helpless hand gesture, grimacing. "—all that. You know. Me being me and everything."

She dismounted and gave Hilda a pat on the rump, then took a deep breath, letting his reassurance ground her. It was going to be okay, he said, and she knew he was right—but she still wanted to flee. With trembling hands, she fished the letter out of her pocket and tried to hide her shaking by taking her time and smoothing out imaginary creases.

Fuck, she was going to puke.

"And I'm a fucking chickenshit about this, so...who knows how long I'd pussyfoot around it." She shifted a look over to him. "'She said, as she stalled...again.' Ah, fuck it. Get over here."

Before she could lose her nerve, she broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter—which was blank.

Until ink slowly spread across the page.

Woah there Emery.
Calm down.

Emery jumped so hard she nearly dropped it, sucking in air through her teeth. "What the—"

Ease your grip, you're gonna tear the paper.

Reflexively, she relaxed her grip a little, though her fingers left damp spots on the paper. 

That's better.

You finally decided to open the letter. That means your argument is in a lull and you and Alkereth are resting on the shade of a copse.

Try to keep calm, your shaking hands are going to make it harder to read.

Do you need Alkereth to read it to you?

I knew appealing to your pride would do the trick.

"Oh, screw you," she muttered under her breath.

Now-
I promised I'd tell you where the mage is, and in this letter you'll get what you want. But consider if it's what you need?
Ansgar was not as anti-mage as you Connlaothians are today. When he waged his war, he wanted to protect everyone from any further tragedy that unchecked magic could cause. He wanted magic controlled, and regulated. He himself understood that mordecai and adhara are psionicists. Alkereth can explain what that means.
Ansgar didn't want mages wiped from the Earth. The genocide the Connlaothians have endeavored toward has caused countless tragedies. Mothers and fathers taken from their families simply for having the ability to use magic. Untrained children accidentally killing family or friends because they didn't know how to control the powers they came into. That mage that killed your family? His family was taken from him when he was the age you were when he took his vengeance on the mordecai that caused it, your mother. Now you will do the same, and perpetuate the cycle of violence and suffering.
Just something to consider.

You will find the mage, Torley, in Serendipity, in a small town named Sableview. You won't find it on any current maps Connlaoth has, but the people of Featherfall can direct you. The small town is fairly well known. An older mage there is locally famous for saving several families from a burning temple.

On a side note.
If you want to learn more about psionicists and the varying powers they can have, you should make a trip to Adela. They have many there. Even their dragons use psionics.

Oh, and Alkereth is amused by the fact that you have a sun and moon emblem on your back. Not of my doing I might add, I did not imagine this outcome when I mentioned the goddesses. There are some things that even I can't foresee.

I wish you luck in your travels. If the goddesses deem you need my intervention, or meddling, in the future, you can refer to me as Ritousaey, or just Rit.

-<3

Emery was silent, save for the sound of her slow, shaky breaths.

[Avelithe]

The horses were let loose, grazing nearby while their masters went about their business.

There was a low-hanging branch on one of the oaks that looked inviting, so Alkereth chose to sit there. The strong oak did not even bend beneath his weight, but it was high up enough for his boots to hang inches off the ground. There was enough room if Emery decided to sit next to him. If not, he could see over her shoulder just fine.

"It's not just hesitancy. I was under an unbreakable contract." Was—past tense. He fell quiet, because in this moment he had absolutely no interest in discussing his work. His focus was all on Emery and her letter. Noticing her anxiety, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

What they both found came as a bit of a surprise. A sentient letter?

No—it was not just a sentient letter. This was something else. Alkereth stared hungrily, his scarlet eyes flared with each new word that seemed to write itself on the paper.

Slightly shaken himself, he swallowed hard and prompted, "Psionicist. Practitioner of extraordinary psychic powers." Even as he said it, he was now looking at Emery in a brand new light. He never thought of Mordecai, for as little time as he got to know one, to have abilities locked away inside them. It made sense, now that he thought about it—Mordecai are innate magic-blockers; but didn't that mean they harnessed a little bit of power? Perhaps they chose not to tap into their powers long ago..., he thought. And spread some silly propaganda about how 'Mordecai' aren't mages. Only mage-hunters. Killers. Blessed shields for the good of anything non-magical. If this was all true, then he couldn't help but grit his teeth and murmur out of earshot: "Hypocrites."

Then came the earth-shattering bit: the Mage that killed Emery's family had his own killed by her mother's hand. This needed some time to chew on; he was already wavering on what stance he'd take. He needed more information. They would have to meet Torley. Emery would get closure. No doubt her sword-hand would itch like hell. But Alkereth would hear the other side. No end to the violence. Vicious cycle.

The words echoed in his head even long after the letter had finished. It didn't surprise him that the invisible hand had a name. The same god that came to them with 'good tidings' and blessings.

Ritousaey.

"Well, well. Thank you, Rit, for your invaluable information." He said this quietly, shifting on his branch so that he could lean back on the tree to think. Then he addressed the ginger. "Now you have the name and place of the one who murdered your parents. I imagine you feel the need to beeline for Sableview. I must caution you not to act so rashly. First we must take care of our personal affairs. But make no mistake: I have a terrible need to glean some answers from this Mage as much as you."

[Rhindeer]

It was...a lot to process.

This whole day—no, the past several days!—was one giant, earth-shattering infodump of things Emery was struggling to process.

She stared at the parchment long after the letters stopped forming, and it was only Alkereth's voice that snapped her out of her daze. Folding the letter up, she looked up at him hollowly.

"No, I...I know." She rolled her shoulders back, working at a knot of tension that had formed between them. As she shoved the letter away, she stubbornly clamped down on the emotion clawing at her, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. Just look at things objectively. If she just did that then maybe she wouldn't cry.

"We lack resources. We have things we need to take care of," she said, summing up his own words to try to convince herself. Just stick with the facts. "Even assuming we have our affairs in order, what I want doesn't really matter when I'm being cockblocked by geography." Emery slumped back against the tree and let herself slide until she was sitting, knees pulled to her chest.

"He's in Serendipity. That's a long ride south through treacherous mountains straight into a country full of mages who hate Connlaothians and, especially, Mordecai. I go there and I might as well go in with a bullhorn announcing myself as the enemy. God. What a fucking coward."

She raked her hands through her hair. Her mother killed his family. But surely she had a good reason for it? She was a Mordecai—it had to have been a job. Mages weren't just flat-out executed unless they had used magic, unless they had proven themselves dangerous. They were much softer on mages in her mother's time than now—and thinking about it made Emery's stomach turn all the more with Alkereth right there, the man who had proven so many of her assumptions terribly, terribly wrong.

And what of the rest of the letter? About...psionicists?

About Ansgar?

She jerked her thoughts away from the topic. It was too...blasphemous to consider.

"I'll figure something out. We are going there. I just..." She took a deep breath, fidgeting. "I know it sounds bad. But my mother was...she was a good person, Alkereth. She wouldn't have done it for no reason. Whatever that God said, trying to get me to feel for him or whatever—Torley is a fucking monster, alright?"

[Avelithe]

Alkereth could sense the struggle within Emery, and felt his heart soften and leap for her. He had his own thoughts that he was determined to keep private; despite this, he understood how she must feel to finally know.

"Seren...? I see." That was good. The long distance was on his side. And the fact that Emery mentioned 'we' made his heart swell with fresh affection for her. He slipped off of the branch and grasped her shoulders. "We'll have a plan long before we step foot in that country."

"Torley is a fucking monster..."

Alkereth wordlessly let his eyes travel the length of Emery's facial scar, and kissed a spot just below her eye. Tender, warm.

"I do know that revenge is ripest in moments of great pain." He swallowed. "I've... been there." He inhaled, burning to ask, but knowing how awkward it might sound: "How old were you when...?" He dare not finish, but the question lingered in slightly parted lips.

[Rhindeer]

Emery's shoulders were stiff under his hands and her body jerked a little at the contact, snapping back to the moment right as her mind began to drift. But it was only Alkereth, of course, so she let out a slow breath and forced her muscles to unclench.

Right. A plan. Of course.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, and she focused hard on his touch to stay grounded. Because she was trying very hard not to panic. She was safe, it was fine, the mage was an entire mountain range and country away. She was older now—and he would be, too. And though she wanted this, the opportunity to confront him as she was now, for some reason now that she could do exactly that...fuck, was she actually ready?

Alkereth admitted he'd been in her position before. Wanting vengeance after trauma? Emery opened her mouth to ask about that, but he was quicker, asking the inevitable—if uncomfortable—question.

She winced, turning her face away. She really didn't want to talk about it—but it was too late. And they had promised each other honesty, had they not? She could do this.

"Twelve," she muttered, mouth dry, and a shudder went through her. "Rory was only three." She hugged her knees tightly, still not looking at Alkereth. "I saw everything."

[Avelithe]

Taking a deep breath, he settled down by her side and invited to pull her in, one-armed, and leaning so that his chin brushed her hair. He could feel the heaviness settle on her, like a visceral thing, an all-encompassing feeling—familiar, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking. He hoped by instigating human contact, he could take away some of the pain.

"Your family was torn away from you too soon. It is unfair. You did not ask for this." He paused, weighing on whether he should ask another question. Emery showed every sign of wanting to avoid discussing her dreadful past, but her walls were already crumbling before his eyes. How long before she cloisters herself again? They promised to be more open, but... damnit. Easier said than done. He wouldn't blame Emery if she decided to stand up, right now, and blow it all off with a joke and a laugh and an offer to find the closest tavern for good beer. The last thing he wanted was to push too far. His own curiosity was not worth losing his lover and only friend in the world. In the end, he decided to approach his question with cautious sincerity.

"Were you let go, or did you escape?"

The scar on her face was living proof that she had, at least, not gotten out of that situation unscathed.

[Rhindeer]

"Neither."

Every part of her was primed and ready to bolt; Emery had already told him more than anyone else and it left her feeling exposed and raw. Other people had edged close to the topic, asking about the scar (hard not to get curious looks and invasive questions when it was literally all over her face), and she had always danced around it. A mage did it, yes, but during a fight out in the field. A lucky blow.

But Alkereth had never asked about it. He acknowledged it as part of her, kissed it as he had every inch of her, but he never pried or poked fun or drew attention to it, and that...that had always made her feel strangely safe. Just as he made her feel safe here, his warmth like a shield.

So as much as she wanted to run, she was surprised when she didn't. Instead, she tucked into him with an arm around his waist and a loose grip on his shirt, grounding herself. Opening up was difficult, always had been, probably always would be, and she hated feeling this vulnerable—but once she started speaking she found she couldn't stop.

Because she had been so focused on burying it inside her that she hadn't realized how fucking heavy it was to carry it alone.

She was tired.

She trusted him.

And he probably deserved to know why she was such a goddamned wreck, seeing as that nearly got him killed and all. Call it penitence.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. "It was our neighbor," she said quietly. "He heard. It was night, storming bad. Wind damaged his chicken coop and the hens got loose. He was out looking for them—probably the only reason he heard me." Her voice grew thick and her hand tightened in Alkereth's shirt but she pushed through it stubbornly before she could lose momentum.

"Thunder woke me. Kind of spooked me, you know? I was that dumb kid thinking they're all brave while still scared of lightning and not wanting to admit it, so I was just...going to go sneak into my parents' room. But things felt...off. Everything was so loud, but way too quiet. Does that make sense? And Rory...I could hear Rory crying. That was weird, because Rory slept with them still. He shouldn't be crying like that, they always soothed him. I...I went to their room—door was open...the smell..."

Emery stopped, feeling that familiar tightness in her throat as that image flashed through her mind, the one replayed in so many nightmares as lightning lit the room bright as day. Her parents, lifeless, eyes and throats open and sheets soaked dark. Rory between them, covered on their blood. Her eyes stung, but she had to keep going. Alkereth had to understand. It didn't matter what her mother did or why, whatever that god said—Torley was a fucking monster.

"My...my parents—he'd already—shit. I-I don't think they ever woke up. I fucking hope they didn't. Rory did, and he—he—" Deep breaths, get through it. "I was a fucking coward. I couldn't do a damned thing about it. I screamed. That's all I did, I just screamed. Rory cried and reached for me. He reached for me and I just fucking watched him—I watched my brother get—" Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. Hot tears wet Alkereth's shirt before she could stop them, her face pressed against him as though that could hide the evidence, but she forced herself to keep going even as her words came out choked. "Then he came for me."

It was difficult to speak, and for a few moments she couldn't. She was trembling, her chest heavy like someone was sitting on it, making it difficult to breathe. It was almost over. The worst part was done. Just finish it. Get it over with. Don't be a coward.

"Things are...a little fuzzy after that," she finally said. "Everything happened too fast. He was so fast—of course he was, I was a fucking kid. I remember running. I remember him grabbing me—I slipped loose. My whole face was on fire—I think that's when he cut me? I got outside and it was raining and I fucking fell in the mud and he was on me—but so was Seamus. He'd come running with his sword. Always carried the stupid thing wherever he went, everyone always teased him, but...but not after that. Mage took off. Seamus didn't go after him. Should've, but...I don't know. I guess when you have a bleeding, screaming kid clinging to you..."

Emery squeezed Alkereth tighter as she said it, face still pressed against him as she breathed him in, trying to calm down, feeling stupidly like that panicked child she'd been so long ago.

[Avelithe]

A cold chill took hold, making Emery's companion deathly silent as she told her story. It was only when she had finished did he remember to breathe, and unfurl his hands so that his fingernails ceased biting into his palms. When he tried to speak, he had not even known that he had clenched his teeth, rendering his jaw quite sore.

"No, you're not a coward."

It was a start, but the words stumbled clumsily out of his mouth.

"You were just a child. There was nothing you could have done. You would have been killed. And I would never have met you. Thank God you ran."

Hands that clung around the trembled, but held her ever closer, fiercely protective.

"I'm sorry I made you relive your past. It is a memory, now."

That all being said, Alkereth brooded on his own words. If they will go to meet this man, now aged and likely feeble, what then? He decided not to ask. Not yet. It was nasty business, either way—and Alkereth already resolved that he wanted a part in it, to give more than just a scolding for marring the face of his beloved. But that idea only satisfied in the moment. He could not help but agree that the cycle needed to end, so that the innocent bystanders would no longer suffer in this blood feud.

But on the other hand...

God be damned, he thought savagely, gritting his teeth. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. He shoved the thoughts away, focusing his attention back onto the woman he held close, kissing her temple.

"Emery... thank you for entrusting me. I know it was not easy, telling me this. I am glad you're here, with me. I am glad you're able to tell your tale at all."

[Rhindeer]

It was so stupid. It had happened so long ago, but the pain of it was as searing as the day she'd lost everything, like a scar sliced open to bleed anew. Emery held onto Alkereth tightly, and her shoulders only shook harder when he spoke—not with judgment, but with understanding, speaking the words she didn't realize she desperately needed to hear.

She felt a sob hitch in her throat, breath hiccuping. Goddamn him. Goddamn him for always knowing what to say. She wasn't a coward. She was just a child. He was glad she was here, and glad she trusted him. She squeezed him like he was the only thing grounding her and kept her face hidden against him even as he kissed her, too embarrassed to look at him as the tears wouldn't bloody stop—but hoping he could feel her gratitude.

"Thank you. For saying that," she said when she could speak again, voice rough, and stubbornly rubbed at her eyes. "I think...I think I needed to hear that. I mean...I know. I know couldn't do a damned thing. If he hadn't fumbled his knife, if Seamus was just a little slower...I know, but...it just..." Her throat tightened but she forced it all out, all the guilt she had never even shared at confessional but felt safe enough to share with Alkereth for God knows why. 

"It feels like I failed them. That if I woke up sooner, or grabbed Rory, or...or something! It's not fucking fair. That I'm still here and they—"

She choked, stopping short before she could lose it again. Come on, rein it in. She had held it together all these years, hadn't she? Not in a particularly healthy way, sure, but God she felt like an idiot for breaking down now.

"Fuck. All this time. All this time I never understood why he did it," she said. "I knew he was a mage. I knew because he, ah, he told me. When he was choking me in the mud. 'Mordecai bitch', he said. That's how I learned what I am. Neat, right? I didn't even know yet but I guess he knew because...if I'm the last one standing and he still couldn't cast...yeah. Takes a dumbass to miss that connection."

A shudder went through her and she rubbed at her neck, shrugging uncomfortably. "I always thought he was just...evil. He's a monster, but I thought...I thought it was the magic. That it was just random violence, because that's just what happens. That people go mad. It's what I was always told but—"  

She felt sick. It was her mother. He took vengeance on her mother—and then there was her. She had followed in her footsteps, hadn't she? Become the good little soldier and condemned how many people? And all because...

Emery finally looked up at Alkereth, eyes red and puffy, tears still damp on her cheeks. "Fuck me. It wasn't the magic. All this time and it wasn't the fucking magic. And you—I should be thanking you for trusting me. Alkereth, you almost died because of me. Because I thought it was the fucking magic. I almost—" Her chest tightened at the thought, at how awful she had been and still was, at what she had almost done, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"I'm so fucking sorry. For hurting you and hating you. For everything I did and almost did." 

[Avelithe]

"Survivor's guilt," Alkereth murmured, understanding completely. "I'm sorry." It was a rare occasion where he found himself at a loss for words. This was easier when he was the High Priest of his Order—easier to supply comfort to an anonymous people. With someone he loved wholly, he could only feel a riot of terrible emotions that clung like a vicious leech, egging him to do something about it. Enough words—he desired action.

Jostled out of his private thoughts, he looked at Emery in slight alarm. "I—"

Before he could finish, he was bombarded with Emery's puffy-eyed apologies. A little overwhelmed by this, Alkereth shook his head firmly, and pulled the Mordecai to him in a firm embrace, burying his nose into her neck. Several weeks ago, he would have felt a triumph unlike any other, taking the 'sorry' as a victory and a 'I told you so'. But none of this even crossed his mind. If he felt anything, it was with gratitude and a swell of adoration for Emery's willingness to tear down her walls. Her trust was a fragile thing, and Alkereth took it with great care, holding it in his heart like a Fabergé egg.

"I do not blame you for anything. We are here now, a pair of broken people working to temper our dreams into reality." He gave Emery a soft, optimistic smile. "If it's any comfort... At least you can say that you have known family. You got to have them, people who loved you completely, however short a time that was. Yes—it's terribly cruel that they have been taken from you. I wish to God it never happened. And you have a pair of lovely people who took you in, after everything. That said, I... I would have given anything to have lived a normal life. A normal childhood."

Alkereth sat hunched with elbows at his knees, knowing that, at any moment, the story-time baton would pass to him. He bided his time, simply because his mind was heavy with thoughts of Emery and her trauma. He plucked up a stray stick, and began worrying it with his fingers, breaking off piece by piece, and mindlessly flicking them away.

[Rhindeer]

It was a comfort that she had loved and been loved. Emery had been around plenty of people who came from broken, abusive homes, or even just neglectful ones. Her childhood hadn't been without its scuffs and bruises, of course, but it had been secure and happy. But sometimes she wondered if that comfort wasn't also a curse. Which was worse: having happiness and knowing the pain of its loss, or just not dealing with that bullshit at all?

Couldn't get hurt if you didn't get close, after all. That's how she'd gone about her life—until Alkereth came along and she shattered every rule she'd imposed on herself.

Emery let out a slow breath and some of the tension eased out of her as she soaked in the warmth of his embrace, his breath tickling her neck. It took a lot of pride-swallowing vulnerability to admit she was wrong, and Alkereth could have rubbed her nose in it to his heart's content; she wouldn't have blamed him an ounce after what she'd put him through. (Though, admittedly, it would have hurt like hell.) He didn't, though. He only gave her compassion.

And hope.

It was more than she deserved.

His little smile made her ache in a different sort of way, and she quickly lowered her eyes.

"Thank you," Emery said again, sniffing, and as he pulled away to sit all hunched and awkward, she took a moment to compose herself, wiping her face dry and scrubbing her hands through her hair. "You're right. I'm very lucky in a lot of ways—and I'm grateful, I am. Sometimes it's just...difficult to keep perspective, I suppose. Sex and booze definitely helps. Anyway."

She mustered up a crooked smile, then lightly bumped his leg with her own. "C'mon, then. Let's hear it. If I'm going to be a stupid, snotty disaster, goddamnit, I'm taking you down with me."

Her expression softened then, the humor fading, and she put a hand over one of his own and gave it a squeeze. "Seriously, though, you don't have to if you really don't want to. But I want to hear your story if you're willing. You said you don't know your father but you were close to your mother...?"

She trailed off, hoping that gave him a starting point. She would be lying if she said she wasn't intensely curious, for she knew close to nothing about him save for the few breadcrumbs he'd scattered. Hell, she didn't even know his age, though she assumed it was close to hers. He was from an entirely different world of realm-eaters and monsters. At this point, anything was possible.

[Avelithe]

Alkereth laughed. "You needn't drag me down with you. I dived in right after you did. There's no turning back." He nodded sagely, lightly bumping his shoulder against Emery's. "Sex and booze are fickle creatures. Who knew that such wicked vices ended up being my ultimate downfall. Although," he added with some mirth, "I couldn't think of anyone better to share them with."

There was a dreamy expression on Alkereth's face when Emery shifted the topic. Bless her; she was doing him a favor by easing into it without jarring force. To bring up his mother was a good start, and he was only too eager to talk about her.

"Oh, yes," he said fondly. "We are close, despite her work doing its absolute damndest to separate us. But when we are together, when we could snag those precious moments, she made sure to make every second count. All my best memories are with her." Then his smile fell away as his thoughts crept toward something darker. "Despite it all, I don't know her well. She is a powerful sorceress. She belongs to the Great Nine. I don't understand the nature of her work, but I know my being a Harbinger pales in comparison. When she spends time with me, she never talks about herself."

He sighed, leaning back against the trunk of an oak. He was willing to open up, inspired by Emery's willingness and bravery to break down his own walls, and to spill every secret he had. To give testament to this, he gave Emery a bracing smile. "No... no, it's alright! I do want to tell you. But rather than struggle to tell it all at once, I think it would be easier if you asked questions. My mind is in a mad jumble; I don't think I am capable of giving a straight story. What else would you like to know?"

[Rhindeer]

No turning back, indeed. Emery snorted at his comment but her grin was genuine, relief written in every line that after all that heaviness, nothing had changed. "Right back at you," she said, and settled in against him to listen.

Good, her instincts had been correct. He hadn't talked much about his past, of course, but he had mentioned his mother--and she still remembered the first moment he had, because it had hit her hard, humanized him when she had been desperately trying to keep her distance. That same familiar fondness settled over him, but her eyebrows rose when he mentioned that he didn't actually know her. She and her own mother had been close as well but there weren't any secrets or anything between--

...Scratch that, new information proved that very false.

She shook the thought away and cocked her head up at Alkereth. "So...huh. You have no idea what she does? But wouldn't you as her son inherit a title like that or...hmm...is that not how it works there? Or is because you're a Harbinger and you can't be both? Or, I guess...maybe you don't even know if she doesn't tell you anything?" Then a very obvious thought struck her and she winced.

"Or...does it have to do with your father or lack thereof?"

He had opened the floodgates with his open book policy and the most difficult part was going to be deciding where to begin. Emery was dying to dive right in--but she reminded herself to show a little restraint. Maybe ease in a bit first? Start with some easy questions like that? Not that that one was easy, probably.

Well, shit.

[Avelithe]

Alkereth was impressed with his audience. "An astute observation, my Sunfire. It's strictly confidential to all." He was pleased to speak of such mysteries, even if they were frustratingly out of his reach.

"Hm—one born with great power could, in theory, become a member of the Great Nine. But that's just a guess. I am—was—quite powerful. I can boast that much, especially with the kind of, ah... work I used to do, among my many deeds and accomplishments." Indeed, the lad looked proud to say this, but it was fleeting. "I could never hope to take up my mother's mantle. Too many are fearful of me." While this was said with a bit of a lighthearted tone, his eyes appeared to be downcast.

"My mother could not be persuaded to reveal who my father was to anyone, not even to me, and no one would dare challenge her. I have been bullied as a child for being fatherless; some seem convinced that there was no father at all. That perhaps some evil craft had been done, and made me as a result. Mother would firmly remind me that they were only silly rumors—yes, she had extraordinary abilities, but not even she can summon a baby out of thin air. No, she insisted that she gave birth to me. And that I was so dearly wanted. I am compelled to believe her."

Alkereth possessed that far-off look again. For a moment, he let his eyes close. "I cannot express enough what an excellent mother she's been to me. I never doubted her love for a second. Every embrace was tight, never wanting to let go. I never had the heart to resent her when she had to be away, but I sorely missed her, especially since I've known what it is to feel ostracized and lonely. Anyway," he sighed, scratching at his nose. "My path became clear the day I met Lunrath. I no longer had to worry about inadequacy."

[Rhindeer]

Emery's lips quirked in a wry smile as Alkereth so casually mentioned his great power and 'many deeds and accomplishments'. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded pompous as hell--but she knew he wasn't bragging. Coming from him, it was just the truth, and she had seen the proof with her own eyes. A mage that could cast his power even through a Mordecai's block...

The part about others fearing him made her eyebrows lift even higher. She could sort of see it; his cold fury had intimidated even her back at the brothel and he had scrambled a man's brain with just a touch. Still, it seemed odd.

"I'm not surprised she wouldn't want to reveal your father, if your home's anything like mine, Priest," she said with a nudge. "Uptight, prudish society, right? Holy Virgins and all that, yeah? Emphasis on 'purity'?" She rolled her eyes. "I don't know if your home is the same, but here if a woman has sex out of wedlock that's bad enough. Heaven forbid she gets with child--she may as well be a leper. Life? Ruined. Is that maybe why she won't say? Like, if she's that important, I can see how fooling around would be an issue. Still, why would people be afraid of you? Isn't having power and shit a good thing where you're from, or are they just fucking stupid and think you're an evil magic virgin baby?"

[Avelithe]

OOC edit: i rite gud lmao

As much as it hurt to be the object of Aetherian persecution, he had lived it so long ago and had a long healthy reflection enough not to spiral into a depressive episode. Been there, done that. Now he can pragmatically tell his story, however nervous. For he had never told it to anyone. Emery was the perfect audience: she scoffed at his people, and rightfully so, and called out the strangeness of it all. Her curiosity spurred him to tell his story with enthusiasm.

Alkereth choked from laughing. "Goodness! You're not too far off. Yes, bringing sin into Aetherian society is like trying to mix oil with water. They value purity. Devout worshipers of Lazamar. Perhaps you may wonder how the most feared boy became their High Priest." He laughed again, but it was quick, low, and cold.

"I joined the Order for several reasons. First, I was plagued by spirits. Rather than risk more ridicule by asking for an exorcist, I studied to be a one, the better to rid myself of them. Second, I was less scrutinized. A gifted mage among their ranks are highly prized. And a boy couldn't possibly be demonic if he's a devout follower of Lazamar. The High Priest at the time was the closest thing to a father I had; he had taken a great interest in my prowess. At his dying breath, he ordained me as the next High Priest, to some chagrin of the other priests."

The lad plucked another stick off the ground, fidgeting with that as he continued. "Oh, and they're extremely superstitious. You see... it was strange enough that my mother brought a tiny swaddled baby home without a father, but entirely another when it was discovered that this tiny swaddled baby was born during the unluckiest night of the year. Have I told you what my name means? 'Red as the Omen Moon'... my people named me for the moon I was born under. I was a demon to them. It made school and work difficult."

He considered Emery's words, tapping his stick on his chin. "The thing is... I don't recall a time my mother was ever interested in courting. Or sex, for that matter. As I grew up, I watched as few men begged for her hand. I always thought this odd, but I realized later that they hoped to move up in the world with a powerful and beautiful sorceress on their arm. Stranger still, they pretended to want to be a father to me. It never worked—my mother was content to be left alone."

[Rhindeer]

Emery was quiet as Alkereth continued his story, taking mental notes as he went and holding onto them for later so as not to disrupt his flow. It was good to see him talking so openly, even laughing at her scrutiny--because she knew this couldn't be easy.

A familiar pang of guilt struck her when he spoke of becoming a priest just to escape the judgement of his people, too nervous even to ask for help with being literally haunted? What the fuck? But it was his comment about being viewed as demonic that struck her, because hadn't she called him a demon when she first stumbled upon him? For her, it had been his eyes. Every monster in every story had eyes the color of blood--but given a little time, she had come to see the warmth and the beauty in them. It hadn't taken long.

Mm. Then again, she thought, if circumstances had been different and she had actually been prepared and geared up to capture a mage...

She stopped the thought right there.

As he ended with his mother's disinterest in relationships, a possibility far darker than secret trysts formed in Emery's mind. But for all her own superstitions, her first thought wasn't that he was born of a demon or other such nonsense; it was something far more mundane and depressingly common. She pressed her lips together and kept the thought to herself, not wanting to give voice to such an ugly idea even if it wasn't the reason. There was no sense in hurting him.

He finished, and Emery waited a few seconds to be sure he wasn't going to say more before she blew out a frustrated sigh that she hadn't realized she'd been repressing. "Well, that's...a lot of shit. Thank God you had two people on your side, at least. Good on that priest for seeing you as you are. What a bunch of idiots." 

She shook her head and reached up to run her fingers along the back of his neck, idly playing with the hair at his nape. "So stupid. Seriously, how could your own fucking people, the people who've known you all your life, not see who you are if even I can? Me, with all my baggage and bullshit, and here I figured it out in just a few bloody days. Good Lord. As if you had any say in when or how you were born." Then she paused and flashed him a sheepish look. "I mean, I get it. I am that bitch. But still. You know what I mean."

Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she considered her next question. "So...did you want to be High Priest? Did that make things better or worse?"