hotelcaelum | 🌹 OPEN

[... Magic and pain are a given everywhere, she supposes. The latter doesn't suit Gale who had begun this small adventure with Amelia with optimism that drew even her out. He didn't deserve to have this shame laid bare for her to hear, not when his emotions were so clear that even a stunted woman like her could see what it was doing to him internally.

The issue with the goddess having a mortal lover aside, it was the stark rejection that rings in her ears and makes Amelia sympathize with Gale. No matter what the witch's opinion was, he loved and had been loved by a being so central to his life only for that to disappear for whatever reason.

It was like and unlike what happened to herself. But where Gale somehow managed to be someone good, it had taken her years to pick herself up to be just a little functional.

Amelia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She opens them again and looks directly at him unflinchingly.]

If you would like to talk about it, then let me know. Not now, of course, but I can listen. Just like with your other afflictions, it sounds like you've been carrying a lot, Gale.

[She glances down at the ground, feeling especially odd about extending such a courtesy.]

All magickind carries a weight. No matter where we end up or what form we take seems.

Edited 2023-11-20 08:51 (UTC)

[The fact that she doesn't seem to feel entirely at ease with making such an offer only makes it more meaningful, he thinks— his gaze softens, and he offers a faint nod in return. Not-so-coincidentally, it ties in with what he'd been prepared to tell her earlier, and he thinks the time for sharing that bit about himself may come sooner rather than later if they're going to have any kind of real friendship. There were certain things you simply didn't keep hidden if you wanted others to trust you— but this was not the moment.]

You're very kind to offer.

[And he'll certainly keep it in mind, should the need arise. Amelia, he thinks, would understand his part in it all better than most. His companions back home had been sympathetic, for the most part, but none of them had made magic their entire lives as he had. They did not know the full extent of what he had done, or what he had given.]

I'm afraid you may be right. We all have our burdens. I intend to carry mine dutifully— I accept the consequences of my actions, for better or for worse.

[He might have said more, but a glimmer of purple catches his eye, drawing his attention, and his brows knit together once more.]

It would seem there is more this place would have us find yet.

[She frowns and turns her gaze to the newly appeared arrows. Another path has opened up as a result of Gale recovering his fragment. What makes it even more eerie is the childlike scrawling in more shimmering violet that accompanies the arrows that move farther back.]

ɪᴛ's ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴜʀɴ 🌹

[Amelia's silent as she stares at the message. Vague as it is, she understands its meaning clearly.]

Let's move, Gale.

[The opened path is a series of ledges that ascend and descend in several directions until it leads them back outside. There's a small hidden grove they wouldn't have been able to access in their normal size and it looks to be a garden full of red roses that tower above their heads. The witch looks back and forth, trying to see where the light fragment is.]

See anything?

Let's.

[She'll hear no argument from him; though there had been nothing more overt than Mystra's symbol to taunt him in that place, her voice— as well as his own— still rings in his ears, the scene those very words had been stolen from still fresh in his memory even after more than a year in his self-imposed confinement.

He is glad to move on, though he finds himself concerned that Amelia might find herself faced with something equally unpleasant.

When they come across the grove, it is the roses that make him think they must have found the place, given the one that had been included in the message, and his gaze narrows as he surveys the area, even before Amelia asks.]

Not as of— wait.

[He spots it: there, difficult to see among the roses that now tower above them, there's one that's smaller and markedly different, made up of light that stands out against the bold crimson of the rest once it's been seen. He gestures ahead before he starts forward at an even pace.]

Just there, tucked away past that rosebush.

[Amelia wordlessly moves toward the fragment of light that Gale points out to her. She hadn't noticed it before as they traversed but her heart rate had increased and she had been holding her breath. Swallowing she approaches the rose of light and stops mere inches in front of it.]

...

[It's not as if she's buried her memories so that they lay forgotten. No, Amelia was someone who had held on for all these years. They're her reason for being, proof to herself that she could endure and keep going.

And yet.]

... Gale?

[She turns to look at her traveling companion.]

I don't really have anything to hide.

[It feels like she had to say that, more for herself than for him.]

I just don't know what we'll hear.

[His normally affable expression remains somber as she turns to him, and he gives a rigid nod in response— what she had heard when he'd reached out to his own fragment had been a moment he was not only not proud of, but one that had lead to the spiral that had taken him to his lowest point. She had been kind, handled the situation with grace. He has every intention of doing the same.]

Whatever it is, I'm here, should you need me.

[Just because she has nothing to hide doesn't mean that she can't be hurt, that an old wound can't be touched upon. He doubts whatever she hears will be much kinder than what he had— though he knows next to nothing about her life before this place, he feels it in his gut.]

When you're ready, Amelia.

[Amelia takes a deep breath. In this instance, not being alone feels like a double-edged sword. She thinks that if she had asked him to leave her be and to face this memory alone, Gale would listen to her and let her deal with it in her own way.

However, the Emerald Witch tries to think of this as an equal exchange. In return for witnessing his pain, he is allowed to bear witness to whatever comes next as she reaches out to touch the rose fragment with her fingers.

The light bursts. A voice fills the rose garden.

And all that hesitation could not have prepared her for hearing him again.]

"Amelia...? It's okay if you cry in front of me. It's okay if you get angry, or frustrated, and if you want to give up. You can even hide again if you want. I'll be with you. I'll even hide with you for as long as you need to.

Why?"

[Her heart quickens. It twists with heavy and overwhelming yearning. His voice was so sweet, like a comforting ray of afternoon sunlight that enveloped her every day after school.

The youthful and gentle voice chuckles with warmth.]

"Because it's so beautiful. Your heart isn't ugly at all. You're so beautiful and shine so brightly it's blinding."

[Who would ever look at her that way again? Who would ever see every imperfection and crack and treasure it the way he did?]

"Living might be painful but it isn't impossible. I don't know much either but... I'll learn with you. I want to be by your side and see it all instead of just waiting and dreaming like before. You don't have to be alone anymore."

[Her mouth opens to respond but just like back then, he said it before she could retort.]

"After all... I love you. I really do.

I love you more than I could ever promise."

[The voice fades and the fragment is no more. Amelia is standing as still as a statue with her hands clasped together, knuckles tight with tension, trying to hold back the waves that were crashing against her defenses.

She tries to speak, but all she feels is a tear slide down her cheek and onto her wrist. And then another. And then another. Amelia keeps her back turned to Gale and she silently takes off her glasses and takes another shuddery breath.]

[He doesn't dare interrupt it, not for a moment, but even not knowing the voice's owner, Gale could feel the weight of its words, their warmth and genuine kindness, their affection. He feels his chest grow increasingly tight; this feels like an intensely private moment, one he shouldn't have been able to listen in on, and yet there had been no telling what Amelia would hear.

Amelia, too, has loved and lost. He doubts there are many in any world who have not— but the drop of her shoulders, the faint shudder that runs through her as her back remains turned long after the voice has faded...

He knows this grief well. This man had been her world. From the sounds of it, a light in dark times. Her reason for being.

He does not know what kind of comfort will be welcome now— he doesn't know her well enough to say for certain, but she doesn't seem the type who would like to be seen as vulnerable, and yet he cannot deny his instinct, either. He takes a few steps forward, coming to a careful halt just behind her and gently laying a hand against her arm, just beneath her shoulder. An offering— he is there, if she needs him.]

Amelia.

[He can see now that her glasses are off, that she's been crying, and he already knows the answer to what he's about to ask— but she had asked it of him. He would be remiss not to do the same. Softly:]

Are you alright?

[She's not, just as he wasn't, but sometimes in these moments, it's easier to lie to oneself.]

[Amelia said she had nothing to hide but it wasn't exactly true. She desperately tries to hide what a weak person she is and the complexity behind what led her there. After he was gone, she allowed herself to drown rather than try to live with the thousand scars from being the Witch King's protege and the fresh wound of magic that was all she had left. Even though she thankfully wasn't alone (he didn't do that to her; he had made sure she wouldn't be alone) and was able to grow... It didn't make her a proud survivor.]

I'm—

[The gentle touch on her arm makes Amelia turn around to face him and her hands reach up to wipe the tears off of her cheeks. For a moment, she looks just like the statue of the crying girl who existed in this vale, cupping her neverending tears.

She takes another deep breath and dips her head, shaking away even more burgeoning tears. It's amazing really, that she wasn't outright sobbing; years ago, it had been so much worse.]

—Hard to say.

[She manages to croak out with her head bowed down. But she doesn't reject Gale's touch. With great effort, she chokes down every ugly feeling of despair, every tendril that threatens to drag her back down, and clasps her hands together again.

Control. Composure. It returns somehow and she murmurs in a haze.]

... That wasn't a bad memory. Not at all.

[It was so painfully beautiful.]

[Not a bad memory— it speaks to the type of loss she must have experienced, and he feels something in his chest squeeze even tighter. He is glad that she doesn't pull away, even if she looks down to compose herself, and when she clasps her hands together, he reaches into the pocket tucked beneath the flap of his robe and pulls out a handkerchief from where it rests snugly against his pouch of reagents, offering it to her.]

Here. Take as long as you need.

[He wonders if maybe, for now, they've seen enough of the Vale of Tears for awhile. He, too, had felt the threat of them upon hearing his own memory, upon being reminded of just what had set him down this doomed path of his, but he's glad that he had not given in— if only because he doesn't know how much comfort he could be if he had.]

It didn't seem like a bad memory. That does not make it any less powerful.

[Amelia accepts his offering and grasps the handkerchief in one fist. She unfurls it slightly to dab at the corners of her eyes and no more.]

... It's supposed to be late, isn't it? We should go back.

[Though they had gotten this far, returning to an elevator would probably give them no trouble. It would be something to focus on instead of lingering in the voices of their respective pasts.]

That it is— and I pulled you away from your work, at that.

[He won't ask her anything further about the memory, just as she had not pressed about his. Better to let her collect herself, to keep what is private her own, and perhaps to give this place a wide berth for a short bit.

The fact remains, however, that they had found something quite special, coming here. Unwelcome memories and voices would not change that.]

I remember the way back well enough, or could simply port us somewhere closer to the elevator, though— we're still quite small, I'm afraid.

... In the book, Alice ate some biscuits that said, "Eat Me." It had the opposite effect and made her grow large.

[And just like that, her refuge in stories saves her once again.]

I don't think we should waste time looking for biscuits but I just... Wanted to let you know about it.

[It's a little awkward, but sincere. Something inconsequential to share.]

Let's "port" to the elevator and we'll figure out how to reverse the effects from there.

Edited 2023-11-22 07:55 (UTC)

[Inconsequential, perhaps, but the sincerity of her offering shines through. He smiles, though once more it does not reach his eyes as it usually would— heavier thoughts caused by both of their experiences have put just a bit of a damper on his usual cheer.]

I'm glad to know her little problem was remedied.

[Clearly, he's not feeling so out of sorts that he can't make puns.]

This will take but a moment.

[He puts his hand atop her shoulder to maintain a connection between them, raising the other to trace an arcane shape in the air. Beneath their feet, a circle of light appears and glows bright for the space of a heartbeat before they'll both feel the sensation of being pulled. In the blink of an eye, they reappear in an identical circle just a few yards from the elevator, and that first corridor of mushrooms they had initially ventured through.]

All in one piece, yes?

[There's no real risk with such a spell, but it never hurts to ask.]

[It's a similar sensation when she uses her magic to teleport. There's no discomfort on her end except for whatever's been leftover from the fragments they experienced. When they reappear near the elevator, the witch lets out a sigh.

Her tears are gone and her face has returned to the plain and neutral expression. Not entirely devoid of feeling but she's regained her calm. At Gale's question, she nods.]

Not a hair out of place.

[If he hadn't known better, it would almost appear as though nothing had happened in the Vale at all— Amelia is back to her collected self, as if she had left all of those feelings behind when they'd ported away. Of course, he knows from experience it isn't that easy— his own heart remains heavy, but the bit of physical distance that now stands between the depths of the vale and themselves does feel as though it makes a difference.]

Quite glad I am to hear it. Now, shall we see about finding our way out?

[Better to focus on a way forward than what has been.]

🌹 OPEN

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject