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Bloodstained Reunion (closed for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
boarrowedyourwife and maybe aheadofmyself)
Sola-ui knew she had died. Even though she had no memories of how she had met her end, it was impossible for her not to know, what with her body being riddled with bullet holes and the unique feeling of knowing her heart has already stopped and her blood had congealed in her veins.
However, even so, her body did not rot. Nor did her consciousness disappear. She had no breath and no heartbeat. She needed no food nor water. Yet her body still moved and thought like one still alive. The bullet holes and the stump of an arm now seemed natural to her body. As if she had always borne them, even she was just born.
Perhaps, she is in hell. Certainly the dark, barren landscape would indicate that. As would the chronic burning pain and itch she would receive from her blood-caked wounds. But something else occupies her mind. And it is that something else which makes her feel like a damned soul.
Diarmuid is not here.
No matter how she searches, she can find neither hide nor hair of him. Nor can she find any trace of Kayneth (not that she cares). In life, she could only watch as the hero ignored her in favor of her ill-tempered fiancee. Had he gone back to the man he insisted was his true Master after her death? Now, in death, was she to be eternally deprived of her hero's presence?
Technically, she knows that it is a very plausible thing. She is but a normal human while he is a hero. They could never head into the same afterlife, if she even had one upon her soul returning to the Root.
But a miracle had occurred. She had continued to live this twisted life after death. What was it for, if not to meet him again? Surely, her love would not meet such an abrupt end.
"Diarmuid? Diarmuid? Where are you, Diarmuid? Come here. I love you..."
She chants with her cold, cracked lips, wandering through the dead landscape with tears flowing out of her eyes. She doesn't know how long she has kept at this, or how much longer she must continue to do this. Maybe she would search for an eternity. But she won't stop. Not when there's the slightest hope of them meeting again.
Since she is already dead, she can walk and walk and keep on walking day and night. Even if she doesn't know the difference since both look the same under the dark sky. She doesn't know how far she has walked, or if she has even left the place she "woke" in.
This day, however, the landscape changes. Where before, it had been completely barren, now it played host to a strange mansion pained in dark tones. It is constructed in the Victorian Gothic style, with pointed arches and steep gables The windows are nailed shut, but the door is ajar.
Since she is already dead, Sola-ui figures she has little to fear from whatever monsters may lurk its hallways. Thus, she steps inside with little hesitation.
The inside is as somber as the outside. Though it might have looked splendid once, right now its floors and furniture are covered in dust. The wall paper is peeling. The entranceway chandelier had fallen down and shattered into glass shards on the faded rug. It is a house as dead as the landscape outside it and the woman within it.
As she steps into the house, for the first time since her death, Sola-ui experiences fatigue. Her feet hurt. Her wounds itch. Her throat is sore. She wants to rest.
So she drags herself into a sofa and awaits whatever might come find her.
However, even so, her body did not rot. Nor did her consciousness disappear. She had no breath and no heartbeat. She needed no food nor water. Yet her body still moved and thought like one still alive. The bullet holes and the stump of an arm now seemed natural to her body. As if she had always borne them, even she was just born.
Perhaps, she is in hell. Certainly the dark, barren landscape would indicate that. As would the chronic burning pain and itch she would receive from her blood-caked wounds. But something else occupies her mind. And it is that something else which makes her feel like a damned soul.
Diarmuid is not here.
No matter how she searches, she can find neither hide nor hair of him. Nor can she find any trace of Kayneth (not that she cares). In life, she could only watch as the hero ignored her in favor of her ill-tempered fiancee. Had he gone back to the man he insisted was his true Master after her death? Now, in death, was she to be eternally deprived of her hero's presence?
Technically, she knows that it is a very plausible thing. She is but a normal human while he is a hero. They could never head into the same afterlife, if she even had one upon her soul returning to the Root.
But a miracle had occurred. She had continued to live this twisted life after death. What was it for, if not to meet him again? Surely, her love would not meet such an abrupt end.
"Diarmuid? Diarmuid? Where are you, Diarmuid? Come here. I love you..."
She chants with her cold, cracked lips, wandering through the dead landscape with tears flowing out of her eyes. She doesn't know how long she has kept at this, or how much longer she must continue to do this. Maybe she would search for an eternity. But she won't stop. Not when there's the slightest hope of them meeting again.
Since she is already dead, she can walk and walk and keep on walking day and night. Even if she doesn't know the difference since both look the same under the dark sky. She doesn't know how far she has walked, or if she has even left the place she "woke" in.
This day, however, the landscape changes. Where before, it had been completely barren, now it played host to a strange mansion pained in dark tones. It is constructed in the Victorian Gothic style, with pointed arches and steep gables The windows are nailed shut, but the door is ajar.
Since she is already dead, Sola-ui figures she has little to fear from whatever monsters may lurk its hallways. Thus, she steps inside with little hesitation.
The inside is as somber as the outside. Though it might have looked splendid once, right now its floors and furniture are covered in dust. The wall paper is peeling. The entranceway chandelier had fallen down and shattered into glass shards on the faded rug. It is a house as dead as the landscape outside it and the woman within it.
As she steps into the house, for the first time since her death, Sola-ui experiences fatigue. Her feet hurt. Her wounds itch. Her throat is sore. She wants to rest.
So she drags herself into a sofa and awaits whatever might come find her.
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"Impossible. Or...is this magic just too strong?"
She crawls over to another wall of the room. Nothing to indicate any origin for the barrier either.
"Maybe we will just have to search every room..."
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"Why are you doing this? Why help me when I have spurned you so? Your efforts make no sense to me. What is so special about me that you will do so much to have the chance to posses it even for a little while?"
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To the extent that she would do anything to keep him at her side. No matter how cruel he was to her, she would only remember him as the Diarmuid who had stood at her side during the Grail War. As long as she could keep him by her, there was a chance that she could get him to love her.
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The lines on his hands and neck start pulsing again, but it is not just with anger. It is with shame and frustration as well.
"I was the one who left you alone on that rooftop. I am the one who left you vulnerable to that woman's actions. I am the one who caused your death!" It is odd for Diarmuid to find himself agreeing with his former master's words, but agree he does. It might not have been his intention to get Sola-Ui hurt, but his actions had lead to that anyway.
What do intentions matter when reality ends up so different from them?
"Stop lying and just tell me the truth!"
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Not to say she enjoyed the thought of death in any way, seeing how it would forever separate her and Diarmuid, but if she couldn't live with him, she would rather be dead.
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She's a magus. She knows. She could have fought.
"Maybe I just wanted to love for once. And to love someone more deserving than Kayneth!"
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What is wrong with him? Why is he being so violent? Even if she is trying him beyond all patience, he shouldn't be letting himself hit her.
He lets his hand drop, turning away from her to hide the uncertainty on his face. Very quietly he whispers, "What is wrong with me?"
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Her expression softens as she sees him hesitating.
"I don't think anything is wrong with you. It's just that you're a little confused. Everything's change a good deal, after all."
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Suddenly, he starts shaking, dark tears tracking down his face. He doesn't know what to do or what is going on and the longer he remains like this the harder it becomes to not just give into the dark pool of hatred and rage that lies deep within him.
And whose calls have done nothing but grow louder since he stepped into this house.
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She watches him, unsure if she should abandon her current task to hug him or comfort him in some other way.
"I could ask the same thing. How this..."
She gestures at her body.
"...Could happen to me. And yet I'm still alive. Just give it some time. I'm sure by then your pain will be gone!"
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Diarmuid turns, looking around the house, but not really seeing it, "What kind of magic could cause this? And why? What is the point of trapping us in this place!"
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"Only at first. But as long as I can still think and feel for myself, you are more important."
She pulls his hand up to her face and presses her lips to his fingers.
"As for the second point, I don't know. Maybe they wanted a heroic spirit to toy with, but I'm no more than a human woman."
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Now the idea makes him sick especially when the suffering is for the amusement of a nameless, faceless power.
"I will not do this! I refuse to dance on their strings!"
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Never does she pause to think that he would want to be free of her.
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"We will free ourselves. I probably won't be much help since I do not know much about how magic works, but if you want something from me, just ask."
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"I'll keep that in mind. Even if your knowledge can't help, you can do some heavy lifting, right?"
She points over to the chairs and table.
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He crosses to the furniture in a few steps, pausing to look back at her once he is standing next to them, "Where do you want me to move them to and why? Is this suppose to help us somehow?"
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"Can you tell me more about what I'm looking for? Markings is pretty vague. I don't know anything about this kind of magic..."
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She isn't surprised that Diarmuid knows little of modern magecraft. After all, he was a knight, not a magus.
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She seems to have regained much of her old flame, acting smart, composed, and haughty, as opposed to her lovesick behavior second before.
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Do you think this is about a good place to stop? Maybe start something new when Kayneth can join?
sure
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