[closed] a long time coming

[stonefaith]

Date & Time: 10/03, RIGHT AFTER GETTING OUT OF THE CATACOMBS
Location: Startin' off at Koltira's lake but probably eventually ALL AROUND THE CITY, they're bar-hopping.... or, er, scavenging, given the recent bombings....
Characters: Koltira Deathweaver (deadelfwalking), Bariyan e Kodhi (stonefaith)
Summary: Bariyan cries a lot and makes some long-overdue apologies, Koltira is forced to put up with this sad sack of shit
Warnings: N/A

---

[ The one good thing about the bombs is that it's temporarily alleviated Bariyan's (very recent) money problems. Clean-up of the destruction has hardly even begun, yet -- which leaves Bariyan free to pick through the ruins and collect alcohol that he would have otherwise had to pay for.

He's got about seven bottles and a bucket of ice when he's through. And that's what he shows up at Koltira's lake with, a few hours later -- having had to walk the whole way over -- though at that point the seven bottles have gone down to three-and-a-half, and Bariyan is well on his way to being stupid drunk.

Which is nice. Bariyan hasn't gone drinking since... before Darkov.

He pauses to look around -- at the broken trees, the scorched land, the ruined framework of Koltira's cabin, where he spots Koltira's silhouette -- and then approaches over one of the bridges. He all but drops the bucket at Koltira's side, melted ice splashing out over the sides, and nudges it towards Koltira with his foot. ]

You. The rest. Is yours. I've already drunk.... [ Bariyan coughs, and makes a vague gesture with his hand. Then he reaches down to snatch up the half-empty bottle. ] Except this one. [ He steps back, and takes a long drink. ]

Comments

[stonefaith]

Burning.... [ Bariyan echoes the word, trying to feel the syllables as they leave his mouth, if they leave at all; gods knew he didn't always have the breath with which to form them. And he tries to remember what burning feels like, fire at his fingertips, against his skin, mouth, throat.... no, but he forgets everything now. so quickly.

he sighs. ]

That's still more than I taste. [ He looks at his hands; he thinks. ] I miss....

[ He misses quite a few things, none of them worth saying aloud. And quite a few of them painful to think about. Perhaps that explained this sudden, keening yearning for Martin....

But no. Not yet. Gods knew Bariyan spent enough time hovering over Martin these days.

With that thought, he sighs and tips his now-empty bottle over, and sends it rolling with another flick of his wrist. Then reaches for the next drink. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira watches Bariyan, wanting to hear more, but, again, balking at the thought of intrusion.

He can feel a light buzz at this point; gentle and barely noticeable, but present nevertheless. It's enough to push past at least one social inhibitor.]

... go on, Bariyan.

[a beat, then, more quietly.] If you would like, I mean.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan keeps his silence. Not quite buzzed enough for that yet. So he waits, and he gets about three-quarters of the way through this next bottle in the meantime, and stops to let it settle in.

All right, now he's buzzed.

Bariyan leans back, holding a hand in front of his face. Clenching and unclenching his fist. ]

Sensation, mostly. [ A small lie; he does miss it, but not as much as other things. ] It was strange. At the beginning. Having to walk without feeling. I spent months trying to cope. [ Months, too, trying to avoid the rest of the world. Hoping that it had changed, and hoping that it hadn't. ] And. That's done with, now, but I still miss it all, even.... [ Pain, he's about to say, before he realizes that might be just slightly insensitive. Considering his current company.

He grins emptily. ]

That. Among other things. People. Dead, mostly. [ Or not. Bariyan turns away. Time to finish this bottle, too. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[That pain begins to dull as he continues on, though it's not nearly as much as he'd like. The only solution is more, of course, and fortunately that little fridge was just about full--though not, at their rate, for long.

He listens carefully to Bariyan; nods, but doesn't press.]

I understand. I miss many people, as well. [a long drink.] They were all slaughtered in the invasion that killed me.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan turns back to look at Koltira, then. The man is familiar now, strange and out-of-place but familiar nevertheless. And always singular, in Bariyan's mind. He finds it hard to imagine more like Koltira -- not just in undeath, but in life as well. Always alone.... ]

They were not raised, as well....?

[deadelfwalking]

Some were, yes. But no others in my family.

[staring up at the shattered ceiling, at the clouds roiling in the bleak sky above them.]

They were simply killed, and their corpses left to rot. [he pauses, murmuring, because he is alone, and has been for quite some time.] It was years ago.

[stonefaith]

They found rest, at least. [ He's most certainly buzzed now, otherwise Bariyan would have taken slightly more care to be considerate. But really, dying, decaying away -- an end. A proper one. They were lucky.

Bariyan frowned as he set upon the next drink. So... ]

Why just you, then.

[deadelfwalking]

[he's talking about himself again thIS IS NOT FAIR, BARIYAN. But he answers, regardless.]

Because I was a warrior, and the man who killed me saw that, I suppose.

[stonefaith]

[ SORRY, MAN. this one's not terribly fond of talking about himself, neither. ]

Unfortunate. [ Reason. At least there is one, for Koltira. There was some thought, some greater goal in bringing Koltira back. Someone had plans for him. Whereas Bariyan -- Bariyan, who knew so little about his own raising -- he could find no reason for his continued existence, except to cause one man unease. Unease, not something greater, not even fear. Cat had never feared him.

Reason....

Bariyan spends the next few minutes brooding into his newest drink, saying nothing. Until he's wound himself so deeply into his own thoughts that he's all but dying to claw his way back out. So he speaks, again: ]

Is there anything that justifies bringing the dead back?

[deadelfwalking]

[his gaze slides over to Bariyan.]

There is no justification for undeath. But priests and the like resurrect the fallen with little consequence on Azeroth, provided they are able to reach the body in time.

[a pause to drink--he's starting to feel it now, truly.]

--Why do you ask?

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan grabs a new bottle and shifts, moving away, seeking support against a section of fallen wall. He leans his shoulder up against it, pulling one knee up, stretching his other leg out. And he resists the urge to reach for the medallion around his neck.

Revenants, undeath, resurrection and revival; none of them things that Bariyan had ever even believed in, let alone wanted any part of. Death used to be sacrosanct to him. He used to hold so fiercely to the belief that all things were to someday wind their way down to an end. The mortality of things was what made them precious. What made every day worth waking up to. His faith in the finality of endings had made up the entirety of Bariyan's outlook on life, gave him reason to exist, to be who he was....

Now that man is dead, and in his place some empty shell. This entire existence a mockery of everything he'd believed in, as if the circumstances surrounding his death had not been punishment enough.

And now. Now Bariyan's grasping at the chain around his neck. Staring blank-eyed and frozen into the distance. ]

I may have done a terrible thing.

[deadelfwalking]

[well, that kind of talk is definitely alarming. Koltira's progress into inebriation is painfully, frustratingly slow, so he's still very much sharp enough to focus in on what Bariyan is saying and doing. His gaze flicks from Bariyan's face to the medallion between his fingers, and Koltira frowns.]

... what do you mean?

[stonefaith]

You all-- after I. Recovered. I still don't know why you all thought that I-- [ He cuts himself off. This isn't about that. Bariyan distracts himself by drinking. When he comes back down, he looks away, slumping against the wall with his forehead pressed to concrete. And the rest comes out not in a rush, but in a slow drip. ]

But Martin did die. I killed him. He died by my hand. [ He sounds strangely flat. ] I've done so much wrong by that child, and I thought that was the worst of it, but -- it was over, then. I thought I was done. I thought -- at least -- I thought I had finally sent him home. As I had promised.

[ He is silent for a while.

Over. He had thought it finished. Eight months and then some, and done. He had thought it a passing moment, Darkov blinking in and back out of his life before he could even start to reach for the boy. Eight months. Not even a year. Nearly nothing, and had Bariyan gone on, he knew that he would have forgotten the boy's voice and his face and all his sadness, and he knew that his grief would have eventually faded to a dull ache. As all things did. He would have moved on. There would have been more mistakes, more sorrows, other children, other chances for a redemption that he would never achieve. He knew all that, even then, but he did grieve, and he had left the city, and he had found....

He looks at Koltira, now, eyes dull and spiritless. ]

I brought him back, Koltira. He was dead, and I brought him back.

And I-- [ Once more, Bariyan turns away. His next words come quiet and slow, heavy with guilt. ] --I do not know that I did the right thing.

[deadelfwalking]

[so RIDICULOUSLY IN DENIAL, but Koltira isn't going to press it. There's definitely something more pressing here, and it's always seemed difficult enough for Bariyan to open up to anyone, about anything. So Koltira responds carefully, keeping his voice as gently neutral as he's able.]

You say that you brought him back, eh? Tell me what happened.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan stiffens at the demand, and for a second he threatens to shut himself down; and then he does, a little. His heart quickly closes itself off from his mind and his words come hard and flat. ]

I don't know. You would have to ask him.

[ But he can't just leave it at that. He blinks, turns, looks back at Koltira. ] I called him back. I asked him to return. I made a contract. I am his anchor here, I... [ and, with something like a sneer: ] I keep him here.

[ Whatever expression there was on his face fades as fast as it'd come. He resumes staring at the wall, dead-eyed as ever. Done. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira is on his eighth bottle by now, and continuing to work quite rapidly through the collection he found in that fridge. It's not near enough for inebriation, but it's the most solid foundation for drunkenness he's experienced in--well--since coming to Exsilium, really.

He exhales as he feels the beginning of a more persistent, pleasant burning, both because of the feeling and because of how Bariyan has shut down. He stands up, stretches, and then moves to sit beside the other man--not so close that he's invading personal space, but close enough to suggest some intention of support.]

My apologies. I have never been an expert with words, and I am less so now.

[Undeath had not completely stamped out the speech patterns and mannerisms of his race, but it had done a good job of altering them irrevocably--especially when it came to any notions of subtlety.]

Bariyan ... the magic about him in the tunnel was some of the purest I've ever seen. He seemed at peace.

[in other words: Why does this distress you so?]

[stonefaith]

And he would be at complete peace had I left him alone.

[ His bitterness is sharp-edged and cold. He remains turned away, having barely noticed Koltira's move. ]

I promised him that I would send him home, once. And I did. Not in the way I expected and not in the way that I wanted. But he was home, he was where he belonged, and now I've.... I've done worse than break my promise.

[ Martin said that he wanted to be here. That he was glad Bariyan had said yes. But that didn't make it right. Now Bariyan fights to reconcile the boy's happiness with his own convictions, and he can find no middle ground. Something will have to break, eventually. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Something just isn't coming together, here. Surely Martin would have returned, regardless, as Bariyan had. But perhaps not in the pure form he currently assumed?

Quietly.]

Was his home ever the best place for him, in any state?

['cos Koltira saw that home, and it looked pretty goddamn terrible to him. He surmises that its idea of an afterlife possibly wasn't wonderful, either.]

[stonefaith]

[ Silence. Bariyan had seen it to, and come to about the same conclusion. But he only scowls. ]

That was not my place to judge. Still is not. All that matters is that he wanted to return, and that he did not belong here. [ Bariyan laughs, shortly. ] That became clear enough....

[deadelfwalking]

[all right, well, if we're going to base it on what the child says ...]

And does he still want to?

[stonefaith]

[ Hey, HEY. He knows where you're going with this.

But he just grows miserable about it, instead of angry, or defensive. Shoulders drawing in further together, bowing his head, eyes closing. This is the problem. ]

Things have changed, now.

The dead should have no voice.

[ But...

But he remembers light. Exoneration. If this was truly as awful as his beliefs held, then why had it felt like absolution? ]

[deadelfwalking]

[he leans back against the wall, drinking deeply from the bottle in his hand, his eyes fixed on Bariyan.]

My friend, the strands of life and death--of time in and of itself--are more complex than they seem. You made your promise because you wanted to do right by the child.

As you say, that has changed.

[he pauses, because they've been at this a while, and it's actually starting to take effect. The next exhale has some relief in it, as he feels the pain in his limbs dull. Oh, that's so nice. He goes on.]

My own world is a tangle of magic, of things that I soon learned were impossible in other places. I try to understand the particulars of other worlds on their own terms, but I cannot. I have only my own experiences--and the conclusions I took from them--to go on.

For example, Martin as he is now ... he seems a paragon of the Light.

[shaking his head, clearly laughing at himself.]

It makes little sense to anyone outside of Azeroth, but it is divine magic. It is what saved me from the Lich King's grip. And I sense the same power, or something much like it, in that child.

[stonefaith]

[ Uneasy is the best way to describe what Bariyan feels now. He'd always known where he stood back on his own world, before his death. No gods, not afterlives, no illusions of transcendence. They existed here and now and never again. His truths.

That had changed with his revival, and changed more with coming here. The very existence of other worlds and other universes threatened to invalidate his own views and beliefs. If there were gods and hells and afterlives in other places, then why not in his own world? Why not, indeed, after he himself had returned to life... from where?

He sighs. Eyes open, looking at nothing. ]

I never believed in such things. When I was alive. I....

[ He puts a hand to his forehead, suddenly very tired. Paragon. Light. Things had changed, yes; and Martin had changed with them. He loved the boy no less, but it was clear that Martin was no longer the child whom Bariyan had dedicated so much of himself to. ]

What is he, Koltira? What did I bring back?

[deadelfwalking]

[he's already onto another bottle. This is the best he's felt in ages, and with that feeling comes another relieved sigh.]

If you mean what I sensed from him ... well, he is human. His body, at any rate. But his soul has expanded, somehow. I felt an enormous amount of pure spiritual energy.

[slumping against the wall, his long bangs falling over into his eyes. If only he could sleep.]

More truly, though, I think you brought back a frightened child who deserves a chance to be happy. And I think you have given him that chance.

[shrugs.] But that is only my inconsequential, outsider's opinion.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan falls silent to contemplate these words, and he remains silent for a while, except the clinks associated with the setting down empty bottles and reaching for new ones.

He would not disagree with deserving. But he did not know that that was ever enough to justify what he had done. There'd been many people through worlds and time whom hadn't deserved to die, but that did not mean that any of them deserved to come back... in Bariyan's increasingly hesitant opinion, anyway.

He shuts that down, and the rest with it. ]

No matter. It's done. I am obligated to live with this, whatever choice that I have made.

[ And, gods willing, the only ruination that would come of this would be contained within himself. ]