What I Want
Astia missed the wind. Strange how she hadn't realised it until this moment, sitting on a windowsill with her back against the metal wall, one leg dangling above the chasm outside the tower. Wind would feel nice, but it had no place in Sotha Sil's artificial world. She wondered if he remembered what the gusts of wind felt like and if he did – did he ever miss it.
Her fingers caressed a brass chain around her neck and closed around a pendant, the latest symbol of Sotha Sil's favour. She wished the gift expressed something more, surprised by the longing that felt as though it was etched within her, almost like the cog engraving on Sotha Sil's pendant that her fingers were tracing. Among challenges and tribulations that her life seemed to revolve around, she wished for something, someone to call her own, aware that the one she wanted was beyond her reach.
Her fingers drummed against the windowsill to the well-known rhythm of "Red Diamond", but Astia felt despondent and resigned. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept circling back to the sorcerer. A movement at the bottom of the ravine caught her attention; she leaned out and observed a large fabricant before leaning back against the window.
"You're not thinking of jumping, are you?"
Astia turned towards the familiar voice.
"Don't be silly, Neramo." she replied, "Care to join me?"
"This is good enough, thank you." The altmer mage approached and leaned against the wall next to the vestige, close, but not touching.
"What's wrong, Astia?" he asked. "You seem different ever since you returned from the Mnemonic Planisphere."
"It's nothing."
Neramo smiled.
"You are a horrible liar. Gods only know how you survived meandering the Imperial Court politics for so long."
"Fine, have it your way." he said when Astia refused to answer. "I will have to guess then, though it's not difficult. Since none of us did anything to upset you as far as I'm aware, that leaves only two options. One - you are unhappy because you cannot return to Cyrodiil yet, in which case I'll tell you what I always do – it's pointless worrying over something you have no influence on.
"Or," he continued when the vestige didn't react, "It's the only other person you spend enough time with for him to be able to upset you."
The vestige tensed, and Neramo noticed immediately.
"Ah, it is the latter then. What did he do?"
"Nothing."
"Then is it 'nothing' that is the problem?"
"I don't know what you mean, Neramo. It's what you said first – I'm unhappy because I cannot go back to Cyrodiil."
She didn't dare look at him, knowing her lie would be more obvious if she did. The altmer sighed theatrically.
"Fine, I won't push. You know where to find me."
"Thank you." said Astia, not sure if he could hear her. She watched her friend leave the main tower chamber to disappear in his study and as soon as he did, her thoughts focused again on Sotha Sil.
She hoped Sil would send her home soon. At first his presence had brought her solace, reprieve from her past, but her recent realisation added a new layer that persisted even when they were apart: helplessness, resignation in the face of longing she felt towards him. She knew what it was – before it used to be a budding feeling she'd had for Tanval Indoril, cut short by his untimely death, but this time she'd overlooked the initial stage and was confronted with the full bloom, beautiful, yet doomed to wither away.
Astia knew she needed to go, distance herself as much as she could and forget. What she was feeling was not only hopeless, it was proving distracting and she couldn't afford it. She'd have to move on, yet again not revealing her feelings. They were chaotic and confusing, unwarranted and already drove a wedge between the vestige and one of her friends. Astia never understood Provost Arvel's blind loyalty to someone who she hasn't even seen; yet at present she couldn't stand the elf's proclamations of devotion, fighting jealousy and possessiveness that shouldn't exist.
In the past, Astia's feelings towards Tanval Indoril were only beginning to morph into love, but that was enough to break her heart when he died. It felt as though these intense feelings didn't take a precise shape and welled up inside her, resulting in even more hopeless circumstances she was trying to cope with at the moment. Sotha Sil didn't strike her as someone who'd be able to reciprocate what she was feeling; he wished her well and wanted to protect her, and it would have to be enough until she left. Astia doubted she'd ever see him again after her return to Cyrodiil.
It would hurt, seeing him for the last time, more than it hurt being showered with gifts and not having the courage to touch him.
It came without warning or fanfare. As usual, Astia was summoned to the Basilica, expecting the embarrassment of another gift and the firm tug that her newfound longing caused her anytime she thought of or saw Sotha Sil.
There was no gift.
"I can send you back."
For a moment, Astia looked at the sorcerer without a word, torn between relief and sadness, caught unprepared for the last time she'd see him.
"Your silence is surprising." Sotha Sil turned towards her from his workstation. "I thought you'd be pleased."
"I am." The vestige did her best to look anywhere but at him, worried her expression would betray her.
"When?" she asked eventually.
"Ah, about that." Astia could hear a chair scraping the metal floor and then footsteps as Sotha Sil approached her. "As soon as you tell me what it is that you want for yourself."
Astia looked up, trying to come up with an answer that would feel convincing, and failing. Neramo was right – she was a bad liar.
"I want to know, before you leave." said Sotha Sil calmly.
"Why?" asked Astia. "It's enough for you to send me back. There's nothing else."
"You need to learn a measure of selfishness if you are to succeed, Astia." he replied, "Now, tell me."
Astia lowered her gaze.
"I cannot." she said quietly.
"So there is something. Name it."
The vestige refused to answer, feeling backed into a corner and seeing no escape from the situation.
"What if I were to tell you I won't send you back until you reveal what it is?"
Astia's head snapped up.
"You wouldn't."
Sotha Sil's fathomless eyes bore deep into hers, an unreadable expression on his face.
"You would hold me here, knowing my homeland is burning, delaying me to satisfy your curiosity?" asked Astia disbelievingly.
"Unlike you, I have learned how to be selfish long ago. It is an unpleasant, but necessary lesson." replied Sotha Sil, "Selflessness will get you killed before your time, Astia.
"It will eat at you." he continued, voice trailing away, eyes losing focus. "It will gnaw at you, and your restlessness will never grant you peace or happiness.
"So yes, I will insist." he looked at her again. "I promised to protect you, and this is another way I am choosing to do that, even if you hate me."
"Hate you?" Astia's fingers twitched; she didn't realise her hand was clenching and unclenching without conscious thought. "I can never hate you."
The vestige wasn't sure if Sotha Sil was being truthful when he threatened to keep her in the Clockwork City until she revealed her wish and yet knew that there was no hiding from his scrutiny now that he knew there was something she wanted, that he'd find out eventually by himself. That he would feel disgusted, and send her away as fast as he could.
"It's you, Sil." she said eventually, disliking how her voice shook. "You are what I want for myself."
She raised her head and looked back at him, her face softening from defiance to tenderness, scared of what his reaction would be, but also liberated. Sotha Sil's eyes widened and his posture suddenly grew more rigid – he was used to being alone, and thus he was unguarded, leaving Astia stunned. She closed the gap between them, head craned at an uncomfortable angle so she could maintain eye contact as she gathered the courage she wished she'd had before.
"Now you know." Her hand splayed on the sorcerer's tunic, as she marveled at both her own audacity and the warmth of his skin underneath the white fabric.
"I know I cannot have you." Astia's fingers tightened on the coarse material, and then slowly let go. "I know I must seem foolish. I probably am. It was embarrassing enough to admit it. Now send me home and forget."
Sotha Sil's expression was now unreadable as he remained silent for what seemed minutes.
"I have never considered you foolish, Astia. But it is not wise to cherish one such as me." He said eventually. "Not like this."
"Maybe." replied Astia. "Probably. But it is what it is."
"Why me?" Metallic fingers lifted her chin to make her look up again. "I am not capable of returning your feelings. Not how you'd want me to."
Astia looked at him for a moment, haunted by the memory of the words spoken by another woman, centuries before, trapped and endlessly repeated among wayward stars.
"I never have, nor will ask you to." She said with a faint smile. "Let's not drag this out. Send me back to Cyrodiil."
It seemed that her request went unnoticed, or ignored.
"I don't belong only to myself. Not anymore." said Sotha Sil, a pensive note in his tone. "And as such, I am no longer free to give myself to anyone, even if I wanted to."
It stung, but Astia told herself she knew that was to be expected.
"I understand. I did not expect anything different. In my mind, I created enough memories to cherish."
She dared to rest her forehead against the sorcerer's chest, enjoying the brief moment of closeness and soon was taken by surprise by a delicate touch on her hair.
"Two days." Sotha Sil's voice was unusually muted, barely audible. "To create real memories. This is what I can give."
Astia looked up at him, shocked, unsure how to react.
"I would appreciate an answer." he said as the vestige's body was lifted off the ground until they were face to face.
Astia stared into his unreadable eyes, weighing her options.
"No." she replied eventually.
"Why is that?" Sotha Sil's head cocked to one side. "Isn't it better to have a fragment of what one wants, if they cannot have it all?"
"I don't want it. Not like this." The vestige elaborated. "Luciana warned me… I should've listened. I never wanted to tell you, but you pushed me to give you my answer. Just send me home. That will be sufficient of a prize. And whenever Neramo, Kireth and Raynor want to go back to Tamriel, send them back too."
Sotha Sil raised his arms and the vestige could see his right hand was covered by a glove, obscuring the usual glimmer of brass. He took it off, and she gasped, seeing dark flesh where the mechanical palm used to be.
"Even centuries ago, before my transformation, I had always been distant. And now I am here, on this plane, but my awareness spreads past it. All empirical evidence points at me not being capable of what you'd like me to be. Likely I never have been."
"Your hand. How…?"
"Did you think it beyond my powers to recreate what I willingly parted with?"
"Why would you do that?"
"I was… curious." The hesitant note in Sotha Sil's voice seemed out of place. "Ever since you touched me. I had forgotten, just like you said.
"Who was it that had touched me last, before you did?" he mused, as his hand rose towards Astia's face. "Was it Nerevar? Was it Vivec, or someone else?"
Sotha Sil's fingers brushed her cheek, and then cupped it, featherlike, as though he wasn't sure how to use them. Against her better judgement, Astia leaned into the touch, pressing her face against the sorcerer's palm.
"Your skin is warm." he said. "You are scared of touch, but you lean into mine. I find it pleasing."
It was as he said, ever since the first time he lay a comforting hand on her shoulder in the Elegiac Replication, Astia had known he wouldn't hurt her. She tried to determine when the lack of fear whenever Sotha Sil touched her molded into the need to be touched again, though only by him. They kept looking at each other, no words spoken, as though both were struggling to find the right ones.
"I don't have much to give you." Sotha Sil was the first to break the silence that settled over them. "But what little mortality I have left in me, you can have. You have given me much, it is only fair I reciprocate in kind."
"I don't know what to say." Astia whispered in response.
"You need not say anything. All you need to do is think, just like before. Show me."
Before she could stop herself, Astia's mind was flooded with images and feelings.
"You've already accepted." commented Sotha Sil. "You think that after the time I offered you will never see me again. You want good memories, before you plunge yourself into blood and death once more. You want something to go back to, to keep you sane when the thoughts of the ones you've killed and sacrificed for the sake of many keep you awake."
"Yes, this is what I want." said the vestige quietly, feeling raw and open.
"Your desires already shaped to fill the vessel of that short time, much like water." he continued. "There is a place you want to show me and share with me; the first place that feels like home after the one you've lost. You want me to see real stars shining through the leaves. You want to stand with me atop a hill, hold my hand and watch those leaves swirl in gusts of wind that carry songs of bards as fires flicker in the distance."
The dual voice seemed hypnotic, and Astia felt as though her thoughts were coming alive underneath her eyelids as he spoke.
"You want me to sit with you by the fire and you wish to rest your head against my shoulder. You feel I am beyond tired, and you want me to lay my head in your lap as you hum and watch me fall asleep. You want me to hold you so for a short while you can feel safe. You want to be touched in a way that soothes, not hurts. You are afraid of being touched, but you want me to touch you."
"Oh." He sounded mildly surprised, as though he stumbled upon something he did not expect, and the vestige understood that she had been careless and let him see something he wasn't supposed to. She froze, panicked, but Sotha Sil leaned into her, his lips now close to Astia's ear, almost touching.
"You don't want me to stop." he whispered. "You want me inside of you."
A shiver ran down Astia's spine as he calmly voiced what she'd been trying to hide, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. Two arms, flesh and brass, gathered her closer.
"You need not feel ashamed."
"But you don't see me this way." she tried.
"I promised to protect you, not judge you." he replied. "I have insisted that you reveal what you wanted; how could I fault you when you finally did? You don't want anything from me, you want… me. It chips away at the certainty that dooms me. I need to analyse it more, but I don't find it displeasing."
Sotha Sil's right hand, the newly restored flesh, cupped Astia's cheek again, then moved down her neck and traced her collarbone. She couldn't supress a shiver and he noticed, a spark in his eye that she already recognised. Curiosity.
"Seeing you like this pleases me."
"I accept then." said the vestige quietly.
"Good." Sotha Sil nodded and his arms tightened their hold on Astia. "Hold on to me, and think of the place you now call home."
