The Poison Enduring
"Hey," ??? grunted.
The sound of his heavy but swift footfalls soothed Illara as much as the act of them jostled her. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Did you send for Naliya?"
Weakly, she finds the words. "I think so. She didn't… respond. But…"
That pause stretches on for longer than she knows, ending with a stitch of pain from her stabwound, the poison aching its way through her. Her hand remains wound around the extracted knife she'd gifted her son, the very one his ally had gutted her with. As she hisses in distress, the automaton attempting her rescue grunts disapprovingly.
His words are dear, as they've always been. "Stay with me, Illara," he asks.
But then comes the stinger, like always.
"You're much heavier when you're not actively participating in your own escape."
The chuckle that leaves her is faint, if true. Her head bobs with a particularly heavy step, and she slips off into nothing.
Illara blinks hard, and pulls herself back from slipping off into nothing– a once-familiar dissociation from a conflicting yet both distressing set of memories. She sucks in a breath. "Corvin has done what?" Her child. Her heir. Her first-born. She tries to make sense of it. She can't. "This is his home. There's no need to– no reason for him to…" Aurelien wears a guilty expression, and it lights a spark of fury that inspires fear in equal parts. Fear that she could feel that way toward him, and fury over his part in the ludicrous things now come to pass. Over her knowing she'll be unable to do what needs done. "He's our son!" she screams. "How could you?! How fucking could you?" He either offers no argument, or it's one she hardly remembers, head swimming how it is, hooves angrily carrying her fro and to. She yells in her frustration, one that includes knocking apart her vanity, especially for the small shrine on it dedicated to the Divine Suffering. She had done so much in her lifetime to build better relations, to write peace and prosperity after a war that threatened to nearly wipe Dalvath off the map. Hadn't she done enough? Hadn't she deserved to keep that? "You'll tell me everything about this, Aurelien," she vowed. "Every fucking idea planted in his head to make him do this." It breaks her in ways she didn't know she could be, when he explains the Prophet's Lament and how… how it had persisted past their rewriting of the end of the world. She becomes a mosaic of herself, hairline fractures and iron will keeping herself together. She screams in agony anyway.
Screaming in agony, Illara's voice breaks when the last of the pain fades. Why doesn't she hear any cries? Why can't she hear him? "Aurelien," she sobs. "Please, tell me he's okay, tell me he's…" He assures her all's well. Blood is on his fingers as he takes her hand tightly after she seeks his. At last, she hears the sound of a baby wailing, but it's all a haze anyway, it's all… Her eyes roll back into her head and she tries hard and fails to blink herself properly to consciousness.
Her eyes roll back into her head, a sense she hasn't felt in fifty years overwhelming her. "They're gone," Illara whispers fearfully. "We can only hope," ??? murmurs, and presses something cool to her forehead. His hand? She doesn't know. Her brow twinges, and the tightness around her abdomen shifts, is tested.
"--Oh," Illara announces in surprise with a hard blink, one hand over her abdomen as the tightness there shifts, is tested. Aurelien is at her side in an instant, brows raised. She takes his hand; guides it to her. "She kicked," she explains with a light laugh. It's one of the few times she has at all with this. Laurentius was planned– and was a child Aurelien had borne rather than her. The struggle of Corvin's birth hung over them both, but they were all wiser now. This time would be easier. Aurelien attempts to smile for her sake.
As she cracks her joke at the expense of the elves, Aurelien attempts to smile for her sake and meets her halfway. It's something of a standby for them, it always has been– but it's different now. Everything is different now. Corvin has won his crusade, and Illara has decided to salvage what remains of Dalvath and her people by taking them away from the Material Plane entirely. Something that would take her away, too, by default, with them. The last bedrock of her life cracks apart now by her own hand, leaving them with such little time to say goodbye. Because Aurelien can't come with her. And neither can her heaven-touched children. Tears cloud her eyes and she holds onto his hand tightly, more and more as she tries to uphold some semblance of composure. "How?" is all she can think to ask in her grief. "How could it all have gone so, so wrong?" There's an answer, but she hides her face against her husband's shoulder. Glad for all the extra time bought by rewriting history so they could still be together for as long as they had. Mourning, too, for the sword of betrayal impaling them both.
The mark of betrayal is gone when she wakes in the one piece of the palace that had not been spirited away with the rest of the city. So, too, are the other scars she bore. The physical, anyway, have vanished– and the others, the fresh wounds in her mind, twinge without bleeding. Fingers probing the side she'd held onto so tightly, Illara chokes back a sob. The hall of her ancestors who had returned to this point looks down over her with stony eyes and stony countenance. Her eyes turn to the ceiling– To the lack of one, rather– And she tearfully looks up into the gloamy sky void of the Hellmouth's flames. An empty sky over all that's left of her city… of her kingdom. The poison-infused blur of her mind seems almost preferable to the shock she finds herself in now, almost unable to act. Minutes pass before she feels like she can breathe again. She finally swallows hard. "Vrinn?" she whispers to the sky. It's unnecessary. She learned long ago to cast without her voice. But she needs it now to keep her steady. Briefly, she considers advising him and then seeking Aurelien instead, seeking her children now that she knows leaving them behind … may not need to happen. Still, her throat tightens. She remembers Naliya's anger with her over her choices, and feels nothing but shame for not having done better by her and her other children. As a mother… and as a ruler. The thought of undermining Naliya's authority so immediately pains her. A second pain surfaces when she realizes she's uncertain of Aurelien's safety, too. Of what became of him even if he did survive… could he forgive her for jeopardizing them both, if he had? She's relieved when Vrinn replies, albeit confused. She can work past that. She can't work past her own shame and grief to face anyone else. Not now. Not yet. Not for some time to come.
Illara blinks hard, and pulls herself back from slipping off into nothing– a once-familiar dissociation from a conflicting yet both distressing set of memories. She sucks in a breath. "Corvin has done what?" Her child. Her heir. Her first-born. She tries to make sense of it. She can't. "This is his home. There's no need to– no reason for him to…" Aurelien wears a guilty expression, and it lights a spark of fury that inspires fear in equal parts. Fear that she could feel that way toward him, and fury over his part in the ludicrous things now come to pass. Over her knowing she'll be unable to do what needs done. "He's our son!" she screams. "How could you?! How fucking could you?" He either offers no argument, or it's one she hardly remembers, head swimming how it is, hooves angrily carrying her fro and to. She yells in her frustration, one that includes knocking apart her vanity, especially for the small shrine on it dedicated to the Divine Suffering. She had done so much in her lifetime to build better relations, to write peace and prosperity after a war that threatened to nearly wipe Dalvath off the map. Hadn't she done enough? Hadn't she deserved to keep that? "You'll tell me everything about this, Aurelien," she vowed. "Every fucking idea planted in his head to make him do this." It breaks her in ways she didn't know she could be, when he explains the Prophet's Lament and how… how it had persisted past their rewriting of the end of the world. She becomes a mosaic of herself, hairline fractures and iron will keeping herself together. She screams in agony anyway.
Screaming in agony, Illara's voice breaks when the last of the pain fades. Why doesn't she hear any cries? Why can't she hear him? "Aurelien," she sobs. "Please, tell me he's okay, tell me he's…" He assures her all's well. Blood is on his fingers as he takes her hand tightly after she seeks his. At last, she hears the sound of a baby wailing, but it's all a haze anyway, it's all… Her eyes roll back into her head and she tries hard and fails to blink herself properly to consciousness.
Her eyes roll back into her head, a sense she hasn't felt in fifty years overwhelming her. "They're gone," Illara whispers fearfully. "We can only hope," ??? murmurs, and presses something cool to her forehead. His hand? She doesn't know. Her brow twinges, and the tightness around her abdomen shifts, is tested.
"--Oh," Illara announces in surprise with a hard blink, one hand over her abdomen as the tightness there shifts, is tested. Aurelien is at her side in an instant, brows raised. She takes his hand; guides it to her. "She kicked," she explains with a light laugh. It's one of the few times she has at all with this. Laurentius was planned– and was a child Aurelien had borne rather than her. The struggle of Corvin's birth hung over them both, but they were all wiser now. This time would be easier. Aurelien attempts to smile for her sake.
As she cracks her joke at the expense of the elves, Aurelien attempts to smile for her sake and meets her halfway. It's something of a standby for them, it always has been– but it's different now. Everything is different now. Corvin has won his crusade, and Illara has decided to salvage what remains of Dalvath and her people by taking them away from the Material Plane entirely. Something that would take her away, too, by default, with them. The last bedrock of her life cracks apart now by her own hand, leaving them with such little time to say goodbye. Because Aurelien can't come with her. And neither can her heaven-touched children. Tears cloud her eyes and she holds onto his hand tightly, more and more as she tries to uphold some semblance of composure. "How?" is all she can think to ask in her grief. "How could it all have gone so, so wrong?" There's an answer, but she hides her face against her husband's shoulder. Glad for all the extra time bought by rewriting history so they could still be together for as long as they had. Mourning, too, for the sword of betrayal impaling them both.
The mark of betrayal is gone when she wakes in the one piece of the palace that had not been spirited away with the rest of the city. So, too, are the other scars she bore. The physical, anyway, have vanished– and the others, the fresh wounds in her mind, twinge without bleeding. Fingers probing the side she'd held onto so tightly, Illara chokes back a sob. The hall of her ancestors who had returned to this point looks down over her with stony eyes and stony countenance. Her eyes turn to the ceiling– To the lack of one, rather– And she tearfully looks up into the gloamy sky void of the Hellmouth's flames. An empty sky over all that's left of her city… of her kingdom. The poison-infused blur of her mind seems almost preferable to the shock she finds herself in now, almost unable to act. Minutes pass before she feels like she can breathe again. She finally swallows hard. "Vrinn?" she whispers to the sky. It's unnecessary. She learned long ago to cast without her voice. But she needs it now to keep her steady. Briefly, she considers advising him and then seeking Aurelien instead, seeking her children now that she knows leaving them behind … may not need to happen. Still, her throat tightens. She remembers Naliya's anger with her over her choices, and feels nothing but shame for not having done better by her and her other children. As a mother… and as a ruler. The thought of undermining Naliya's authority so immediately pains her. A second pain surfaces when she realizes she's uncertain of Aurelien's safety, too. Of what became of him even if he did survive… could he forgive her for jeopardizing them both, if he had? She's relieved when Vrinn replies, albeit confused. She can work past that. She can't work past her own shame and grief to face anyone else. Not now. Not yet. Not for some time to come.
Featured Characters: Illara Alessio Zar'ath, Corvin Onasis-Zar'ath, Aurelien Onasis-Zar'ath and Vrinn Dawn
Comments