:: All He Can Do ::
Sorcerous Stabber Orphen
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. All the legal rights go to ADV and Akita Sadanobu.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Hartia+Orphen, Orphen+Azari, mentioned Childman/Azari
Warnings: SSO spoilers, angst, shounen ai
Notes: Finally did an introspective piece on someone other than Majic. I haven't done that since the Rai-fic last year. o.o; And Illusions is being evil, and I need to write, and I love flooding the SSO section with one-shots, so...
This was inspired by Chevira-san's new liking for both SSO and Hartia, so this will be dedicated to her. Welcome to the fandom, Chevira-san! I hope this suits your tastes!
* * *
All he could smell was blood. Though it wasn't a heavy smell, and the substance wasn't splattered everywhere, only leaking from numerous small cuts on his own body, it was the only scent that reached his nose. Not surprisingly, it was also the only taste in his mouth, a warm, metallic taste that was very unpleasant.
Hartia shifted restlessly on the borrowed bed, hissing softly as the simple movement disturbed his injuries. It hurt; his whole body did. Azari sure had done quite a job on him, and he suspected that it hadn't even been a fraction of her power. She had mistaken Hartia for being weaker than he was, perhaps dismissing Childman's private tutelage.
But it had been a close call. Hartia *had* managed to escape, limping, to the teleporting runes. Blood had left an obvious trail behind him, and he'd realized he had scant time to make it in time while the sorceress was momentarily blinded. But he *had* made it, and thank the Higher Ones that Cleao had found him! He was in debted to her, for sure.
The redhead closed his eyes, dark lashes coming to rest on freckled cheeks. He was tired, understandably so, and hurt in more ways than physically. Despite his recounting, despite the numerous, small but deep cuts decorating his pale skin as proof, despite all the evidence before him, Orphen believed that there was still someway to help Azari, that she was *quite* normal, thank you very much, and only confused.
Had he had the strength, Hartia would have loved to knock some sense into his friend, the way he should have so many years ago when they were still children, before Krylancelo had denounced his name and turned into Orphen. But he couldn't; Hartia could barely even raise his voice.
And it just... Hurt.
He would scar, he knew, especially since even Orphen's spells hadn't been able to heal him completely. Azari wasn't stupid; though she may have underestimated his ability to survive, she had used a complicated, very effective spell. *Should* any victim live through such an attack, they wouldn't be able to heal much by sorcerous means. No, it would have to happen the human way, the mortal way-- with time and rest and patience.
Patience was one thing Hartia was running low on at the moment, and he knew that was saying something. He didn't have a short fuse as Orphen did, nor the imperturbability of his teacher, Childman. But he was by no means short-tempered, and he could handle situations with more composure than most could.
Behind the closed door, he could hear the muffled voices of Orphen and Stephanie, arguing. He could only catch snippets of the heated words, such as Azari's name and phrases like, "It's not worth it," "You're too stubborn," and "You're being completely insensitive!" Not surprisingly, most of those words came from the normally calm, logical man-turned-woman that was Stephanie.
Even after all she had done, Orphen was still willing to exonerate Azari simply because he loved her? Hartia couldn't completely understand that. He cared for Orphen -- or rather, Krylancelo; they were very different people despite sharing the same body -- but he couldn't imagine completely ignoring his wrong acts simply because of that care.
What Orphen had for the sorceress was infatuation -- admiration, even -- but not love. Hartia believed to know the difference, after watching Childman, understanding his silent cries of pain as he mourned over the "lost" Azari. Despite Azari's mistakes, Childman had continued to care for her, and despite her faults, he had accepted her as a whole. Even so, not once had he condoned with all of the horrible things she had done. Kidnaping could be overlooked, but murder was an entirely different story.
Azari had not been, as many people mistook, mindless as a dragon. Childman had said it himself that she had been the ultimate monster with human intelligence.
So why, then, was Orphen determined to stay blind to the truth?
Hartia couldn't have been laying still for more than ten minutes, trying to figure the current puzzle out, when the door opened and the said brunette peered at him, his sienna eyes unreadable. "You're still awake?"
The redhead couldn't resist smiling, even if it agitated his sore face. "I have a lot to think about. My view of Childman-sensei has been skewed, Krylancelo."
For once, it seemed his childhood friend had no smart remark to make. Orphen came in without permission, though in all honestly Hartia didn't mind. However, his friend made no move to walk over to him. Rather, he sidled over to the window, leaning heavily against it as he peered outside.
His face was blank and unreadable, something that greatly disturbed Hartia. Krylancelo and Orphen were both very open with their emotions. When Orphen had furiously told Hartia to never come near him again, his expression had been cold and angry, true to his emotions. His outrage had shown through at Azari's funeral. Watching from afar often on the journey, Hartia had seen how he had reacted around his partner, Cleao, and apprentice, Majic. He was never false to them-- lying and hiding your feelings were two entirely different things.
"Krylancelo?"
Orphen didn't acknowledge him, but his eyes did close. After a long while, he murmured, "So she really did this to you. Azari."
Hartia stifled the sigh that would have hurt his already aching ribs. "Yes."
The brunette's hands clenched, his arms shaking as he trembled with barely restrained emotions. Whether he was angry, upset, or depressed beyond all belief, Hartia didn't know. It was obvious just by looking that Orphen was emotionally and mentally suffering, and it stung that there was nothing he could do, no comfort he could give-- he couldn't even embrace his dear friend, not in his condition.
"So you guys just want me to give up?" the fiery-tempered sorcerer grit out, finally turning blazing mahogany on Hartia. "What do you want me to do? Say, 'Oh, you were right all along. Azari deserves to die for everything she's done.' Is that what you want?"
Hartia turned his head to face the ceiling, which hurt his sore neck. "Of course not," he murmured, swallowing to rid himself of the uncomfortable dry feeling in his mouth. His voice croaked as he spoke. "I told you before, Sensei said--"
Orphen motioned fo him to be silent, a movement Hartia noted from the corner of his eye. He obliged, and was mildly startled a few moments later when Orphen was taking great care to sit him up part way, holding a glass of water to the freckle-faced sorcerer's lips. Hartia winced in pain, but swallowed the blessedly cool liquid with abundant gratefulness. Now it didn't hurt nearly as much to speak. He was talking before Orphen had even moved to lay him back down. "Sensei said that there was a way, remember? That as long as we had the heart..."
"I remember," said Orphen quietly, something akin to hurt flickering in his slanted eyes. Not hurt over the memory, Hartia knew, but more likely over the remembrance of what had seemed to be Childman attacking his precious Azari.
"We could still save her," said Hartia. "But the force... The power of that sword as a whole, it would kill you. Childman and I, we didn't want to see that."
"I know."
Hartia breathed softly between his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion began to take over. With as much blood as he'd lost, it was difficult to utter even as much as he had without draining his energy immensely. That, and he was emotionally tired. There were so many bottled up feelings inside-- that was one way he and Krylancelo were exactly alike. They showed their affectionate emotions in subtle, almost unrecognizable ways, but that was the only way they could portray those feelings, for fear of being shot down otherwise.
"Krylancelo--"
"I'm going to go see her," interrupted Orphen.
Golden eyes opened again, and the redhead gave him a sad glance. "Why?" he whispered, trying not to sound disappointed or broken.
Orphen sank into a wooden chair nearby, his head falling into his hands, mussing his spiky hair as he pulled fretfully at the locks. "Because I can't understand *why*. Why would she do that? Does she hate Childman?"
"I doubt that, Krylancelo."
"So do I," Orphen agreed. "Which is why I'm completely stumped. I need to have my questions answered, Hartia. Regarding Childman, I am satisfied, but Azari's actions confuse me. I don't understand at all."
Ah, confusion; an emotion Hartia knew well, was very familiar with, outside of its close friend, Hurt. He contemplated the admission for a few minutes. When he spoke, his dark tenor was strangely soft. "Some people do strange things to show affection."
Orphen blinked at him, frowning. "That doesn't make much sense, Hartia."
"I know," he admitted. "Which is why I would like to know a few things myself... Will you go to her now, Krylancelo?"
The chair creaked as Orphen shifted, lifting his head. Dark tresses fell in his eyes, dim and sad as a rainy day. Hartia emotionally reached out to him, silently willing for him to understand how he felt, that he cared for him, *loved* him... But, of course, it was all in vain.
Orphen sat up, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. His tanned fingers went to the silver symbol of the Tower of Fangs, caressing the dragon in his touch, tracing it as though to engrave the feel of it in his memory. His gaze slid from Hartia to the window again, eyes growing darker, almost black in colour as he thought. Finally, he murmured, "Yes. I will."
"Please be careful, Krylancelo."
"Don't worry about him," the brunette replied, standing and pushing the chair back against the wall. The smile he gave his childhood friend was bitter and self-mocking. "I'm Orphen, not Krylancelo."
Hartia was not the first to look away. In fact, it was Orphen as he asked, "Then why do you care for her the same way Krylancelo did?"
The brunette said nothing, turning his back on the injured man as he walked out. To anyone else, he looked angry and dejected, but Hartia saw the underlying determination, the firm stride in his walk. He was determined to do what he was setting out to do, and until he got answers, Orphen would refuse to go to his grave-- ever.
It wasn't fair, thought Hartia angrily, that he should be so dedicated to her, so blinded by her that he didn't even notice the glimmer of affection Hartia let shine through for *him*.
So while he was out there, heedless of the danger that lay ahead, here was Hartia, laying half-dead in an uncomfortable bed. There was nothing he could do, nothing *to* do... But he could change that.
He heard scuffling noises out his door a short while later. At his call, the person outside entered. It was Majic, Orphen's apprentice, and he looked at Hartia with both surprise and vague discomfort. Though they had met on several occasions, all Majic had seen of him was the Black Tiger guise. No doubt because of Orphen's anger, Majic was apprehensive of his master's old friend.
"Is something wrong, Hartia-san?"
"I need you to do me a favour," he said, struggling to sit up. Pain flared in his side, in his ribs, all throughout his body. Majic made a noise of surprise and quickly moved to steady him, perhaps to make him lie down, but the redhead gasped, "Krylancelo is... We need to find him. Now."
The blonde was uncertain. "But... Oshou-sama said--"
"Trust me," Hartia choked, his golden eyes hardening as the apprentice moved to loop an arm careful behind his back. "It may improve the outcome, in the end."
There was little he could do, thought Hartia as the blue-eyed boy so obviously struggled to help him dress and get out the door. But he *could* do something, and if done right, perhaps he could help Azari -- *and* Krylancelo -- see the truth. Because Hartia was not about to sit around while his dearest friend went out to practically commit suicide.
Because there was something he could do to help, and Hartia had to take that chance.
Sorcerous Stabber Orphen
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. All the legal rights go to ADV and Akita Sadanobu.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Hartia+Orphen, Orphen+Azari, mentioned Childman/Azari
Warnings: SSO spoilers, angst, shounen ai
Notes: Finally did an introspective piece on someone other than Majic. I haven't done that since the Rai-fic last year. o.o; And Illusions is being evil, and I need to write, and I love flooding the SSO section with one-shots, so...
This was inspired by Chevira-san's new liking for both SSO and Hartia, so this will be dedicated to her. Welcome to the fandom, Chevira-san! I hope this suits your tastes!
* * *
All he could smell was blood. Though it wasn't a heavy smell, and the substance wasn't splattered everywhere, only leaking from numerous small cuts on his own body, it was the only scent that reached his nose. Not surprisingly, it was also the only taste in his mouth, a warm, metallic taste that was very unpleasant.
Hartia shifted restlessly on the borrowed bed, hissing softly as the simple movement disturbed his injuries. It hurt; his whole body did. Azari sure had done quite a job on him, and he suspected that it hadn't even been a fraction of her power. She had mistaken Hartia for being weaker than he was, perhaps dismissing Childman's private tutelage.
But it had been a close call. Hartia *had* managed to escape, limping, to the teleporting runes. Blood had left an obvious trail behind him, and he'd realized he had scant time to make it in time while the sorceress was momentarily blinded. But he *had* made it, and thank the Higher Ones that Cleao had found him! He was in debted to her, for sure.
The redhead closed his eyes, dark lashes coming to rest on freckled cheeks. He was tired, understandably so, and hurt in more ways than physically. Despite his recounting, despite the numerous, small but deep cuts decorating his pale skin as proof, despite all the evidence before him, Orphen believed that there was still someway to help Azari, that she was *quite* normal, thank you very much, and only confused.
Had he had the strength, Hartia would have loved to knock some sense into his friend, the way he should have so many years ago when they were still children, before Krylancelo had denounced his name and turned into Orphen. But he couldn't; Hartia could barely even raise his voice.
And it just... Hurt.
He would scar, he knew, especially since even Orphen's spells hadn't been able to heal him completely. Azari wasn't stupid; though she may have underestimated his ability to survive, she had used a complicated, very effective spell. *Should* any victim live through such an attack, they wouldn't be able to heal much by sorcerous means. No, it would have to happen the human way, the mortal way-- with time and rest and patience.
Patience was one thing Hartia was running low on at the moment, and he knew that was saying something. He didn't have a short fuse as Orphen did, nor the imperturbability of his teacher, Childman. But he was by no means short-tempered, and he could handle situations with more composure than most could.
Behind the closed door, he could hear the muffled voices of Orphen and Stephanie, arguing. He could only catch snippets of the heated words, such as Azari's name and phrases like, "It's not worth it," "You're too stubborn," and "You're being completely insensitive!" Not surprisingly, most of those words came from the normally calm, logical man-turned-woman that was Stephanie.
Even after all she had done, Orphen was still willing to exonerate Azari simply because he loved her? Hartia couldn't completely understand that. He cared for Orphen -- or rather, Krylancelo; they were very different people despite sharing the same body -- but he couldn't imagine completely ignoring his wrong acts simply because of that care.
What Orphen had for the sorceress was infatuation -- admiration, even -- but not love. Hartia believed to know the difference, after watching Childman, understanding his silent cries of pain as he mourned over the "lost" Azari. Despite Azari's mistakes, Childman had continued to care for her, and despite her faults, he had accepted her as a whole. Even so, not once had he condoned with all of the horrible things she had done. Kidnaping could be overlooked, but murder was an entirely different story.
Azari had not been, as many people mistook, mindless as a dragon. Childman had said it himself that she had been the ultimate monster with human intelligence.
So why, then, was Orphen determined to stay blind to the truth?
Hartia couldn't have been laying still for more than ten minutes, trying to figure the current puzzle out, when the door opened and the said brunette peered at him, his sienna eyes unreadable. "You're still awake?"
The redhead couldn't resist smiling, even if it agitated his sore face. "I have a lot to think about. My view of Childman-sensei has been skewed, Krylancelo."
For once, it seemed his childhood friend had no smart remark to make. Orphen came in without permission, though in all honestly Hartia didn't mind. However, his friend made no move to walk over to him. Rather, he sidled over to the window, leaning heavily against it as he peered outside.
His face was blank and unreadable, something that greatly disturbed Hartia. Krylancelo and Orphen were both very open with their emotions. When Orphen had furiously told Hartia to never come near him again, his expression had been cold and angry, true to his emotions. His outrage had shown through at Azari's funeral. Watching from afar often on the journey, Hartia had seen how he had reacted around his partner, Cleao, and apprentice, Majic. He was never false to them-- lying and hiding your feelings were two entirely different things.
"Krylancelo?"
Orphen didn't acknowledge him, but his eyes did close. After a long while, he murmured, "So she really did this to you. Azari."
Hartia stifled the sigh that would have hurt his already aching ribs. "Yes."
The brunette's hands clenched, his arms shaking as he trembled with barely restrained emotions. Whether he was angry, upset, or depressed beyond all belief, Hartia didn't know. It was obvious just by looking that Orphen was emotionally and mentally suffering, and it stung that there was nothing he could do, no comfort he could give-- he couldn't even embrace his dear friend, not in his condition.
"So you guys just want me to give up?" the fiery-tempered sorcerer grit out, finally turning blazing mahogany on Hartia. "What do you want me to do? Say, 'Oh, you were right all along. Azari deserves to die for everything she's done.' Is that what you want?"
Hartia turned his head to face the ceiling, which hurt his sore neck. "Of course not," he murmured, swallowing to rid himself of the uncomfortable dry feeling in his mouth. His voice croaked as he spoke. "I told you before, Sensei said--"
Orphen motioned fo him to be silent, a movement Hartia noted from the corner of his eye. He obliged, and was mildly startled a few moments later when Orphen was taking great care to sit him up part way, holding a glass of water to the freckle-faced sorcerer's lips. Hartia winced in pain, but swallowed the blessedly cool liquid with abundant gratefulness. Now it didn't hurt nearly as much to speak. He was talking before Orphen had even moved to lay him back down. "Sensei said that there was a way, remember? That as long as we had the heart..."
"I remember," said Orphen quietly, something akin to hurt flickering in his slanted eyes. Not hurt over the memory, Hartia knew, but more likely over the remembrance of what had seemed to be Childman attacking his precious Azari.
"We could still save her," said Hartia. "But the force... The power of that sword as a whole, it would kill you. Childman and I, we didn't want to see that."
"I know."
Hartia breathed softly between his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion began to take over. With as much blood as he'd lost, it was difficult to utter even as much as he had without draining his energy immensely. That, and he was emotionally tired. There were so many bottled up feelings inside-- that was one way he and Krylancelo were exactly alike. They showed their affectionate emotions in subtle, almost unrecognizable ways, but that was the only way they could portray those feelings, for fear of being shot down otherwise.
"Krylancelo--"
"I'm going to go see her," interrupted Orphen.
Golden eyes opened again, and the redhead gave him a sad glance. "Why?" he whispered, trying not to sound disappointed or broken.
Orphen sank into a wooden chair nearby, his head falling into his hands, mussing his spiky hair as he pulled fretfully at the locks. "Because I can't understand *why*. Why would she do that? Does she hate Childman?"
"I doubt that, Krylancelo."
"So do I," Orphen agreed. "Which is why I'm completely stumped. I need to have my questions answered, Hartia. Regarding Childman, I am satisfied, but Azari's actions confuse me. I don't understand at all."
Ah, confusion; an emotion Hartia knew well, was very familiar with, outside of its close friend, Hurt. He contemplated the admission for a few minutes. When he spoke, his dark tenor was strangely soft. "Some people do strange things to show affection."
Orphen blinked at him, frowning. "That doesn't make much sense, Hartia."
"I know," he admitted. "Which is why I would like to know a few things myself... Will you go to her now, Krylancelo?"
The chair creaked as Orphen shifted, lifting his head. Dark tresses fell in his eyes, dim and sad as a rainy day. Hartia emotionally reached out to him, silently willing for him to understand how he felt, that he cared for him, *loved* him... But, of course, it was all in vain.
Orphen sat up, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. His tanned fingers went to the silver symbol of the Tower of Fangs, caressing the dragon in his touch, tracing it as though to engrave the feel of it in his memory. His gaze slid from Hartia to the window again, eyes growing darker, almost black in colour as he thought. Finally, he murmured, "Yes. I will."
"Please be careful, Krylancelo."
"Don't worry about him," the brunette replied, standing and pushing the chair back against the wall. The smile he gave his childhood friend was bitter and self-mocking. "I'm Orphen, not Krylancelo."
Hartia was not the first to look away. In fact, it was Orphen as he asked, "Then why do you care for her the same way Krylancelo did?"
The brunette said nothing, turning his back on the injured man as he walked out. To anyone else, he looked angry and dejected, but Hartia saw the underlying determination, the firm stride in his walk. He was determined to do what he was setting out to do, and until he got answers, Orphen would refuse to go to his grave-- ever.
It wasn't fair, thought Hartia angrily, that he should be so dedicated to her, so blinded by her that he didn't even notice the glimmer of affection Hartia let shine through for *him*.
So while he was out there, heedless of the danger that lay ahead, here was Hartia, laying half-dead in an uncomfortable bed. There was nothing he could do, nothing *to* do... But he could change that.
He heard scuffling noises out his door a short while later. At his call, the person outside entered. It was Majic, Orphen's apprentice, and he looked at Hartia with both surprise and vague discomfort. Though they had met on several occasions, all Majic had seen of him was the Black Tiger guise. No doubt because of Orphen's anger, Majic was apprehensive of his master's old friend.
"Is something wrong, Hartia-san?"
"I need you to do me a favour," he said, struggling to sit up. Pain flared in his side, in his ribs, all throughout his body. Majic made a noise of surprise and quickly moved to steady him, perhaps to make him lie down, but the redhead gasped, "Krylancelo is... We need to find him. Now."
The blonde was uncertain. "But... Oshou-sama said--"
"Trust me," Hartia choked, his golden eyes hardening as the apprentice moved to loop an arm careful behind his back. "It may improve the outcome, in the end."
There was little he could do, thought Hartia as the blue-eyed boy so obviously struggled to help him dress and get out the door. But he *could* do something, and if done right, perhaps he could help Azari -- *and* Krylancelo -- see the truth. Because Hartia was not about to sit around while his dearest friend went out to practically commit suicide.
Because there was something he could do to help, and Hartia had to take that chance.