The walk back to Quarrycrest was a somber affair, and nobody dared to say a word the entire journey into the city. Tressa was holding Ali up, and he leaned against her clumsily. H'aanit and Cyrus had done all they could to heal both him and Alfyn, but it was clear that they were both still a bit out of it after all the physical punishment they had taken. Alfyn still struggled to look straight ahead as he leaned into H'aanit's side, and Ali stumbled over his feet every few steps. Nobody was perfectly put together after the fight, but Alfyn and Ali were clearly the greatest victims.
Ophilia had been silent ever since the battle ended, her eyes still puffy and red from tears as she stared down at the ground ahead. She didn't seem to be aware of her actions in the slightest, instead simply pushing forward on autopilot. Primrose was guiding her onward carefully, eyes shaded and unreadable. The blood in Ophilia's gloves was starting to stain, though the travelers weren't going to be able to wash them out until after they had settled down in the inn again.
Tressa wound up leading Ali away from the rest of the group to his inn room, and he practically collapsed against the bed once the door was closed behind them. Tressa was worried about the rest of the group, but she knew that Primrose would be the best fit to look after Ophilia at the moment. Revenge was the last thing that Ophilia had wanted, and yet, she had been pushed to carry it out regardless. Of course it still hung heavily over her head. How could it not bother her?
It would be a while before any of them were back on their feet, and Tressa couldn't help wondering just how easily everything had fallen apart. It felt as if they had been fine that morning, all their ducks in a row and their plan perfectly recorded in their own minds. They should have been able to take care of all this without any problems, but instead, there they were, struggling and stumbling with no idea of what they were meant to be doing next.
Ali wound up drifting off for a short while once he was on his bed, and Tressa winced as she looked down at his injuries. She pulled up a chair beside him before letting healing magic wash over them both. Tressa still wasn't the best at it, and she certainly wasn't anywhere near talented enough to begin preparing for Aelfric's gift of the second chance, but it was still enough to start mending Ali's injuries. That was all she could really ask for as long as he was this hurt.
It would take a while for the majority of the injuries to heal. Magic could help to close injuries and repair broken bones, but the body still needed to recover. Bruises remained even after casting magic, and the blood that was lost in the skirmish would need to be replaced. Ali hadn't lost much blood thankfully, but his body was too exhausted for the magic to be able to help him completely. That was another thing about healing magic; it couldn't replace lost energy either. What Ali needed most then was rest. Omar hadn't given him even a moment to breathe.
Omar... Tressa hadn't expected to find that Morlock had a bodyguard that morning, but she should have expected that someone as rich as Morlock would know better than to wander around alone, especially after he had already tried his luck with the church and failed miserably. Omar had been yet another casualty of all this, and no matter how many times Tressa tried to tell herself that this was how it had to end, she still felt sick to her stomach thinking about it. The only other people that the group had been forced to kill before now had been Rufus, Gideon, and Helgenish, and those three had undeniably been monsters. Tressa knew the same to be true about Morlock and Omar deep down, but her stomach still churned at the idea of all that had happened.
She knew this was an inevitability. Morlock wasn't going to give up as long as he was convinced that he had power, and Omar was going to stand by him no matter what. Regardless of how the fight ended or how much the travelers tried to spare them, it wouldn't have ended with the two alive. They had already made their choices and visited their atrocities upon the world, and they would have to live with that forever.
Tressa just wished that it wasn't her burden to live with forever too.
She was glad that she hadn't been the one to deal the killing blows either time. Olberic was used to fighting and killing from his time as a knight of Hornburg, and defeating Omar just felt like another job in a long line of the killings he had been forced to carry out. Tressa was just a merchant from a sleepy seaside town. If not for its bustling trade industry, Rippletide would have been blown right off the map by a stiff gust of wind. Tressa wasn't meant for fighting or war, but there she was.
Ophilia wasn't made for killing people either. She was a healer, there to do all she could to help those around her when they were suffering or hurting. Ophilia had said again and again that she didn't want to kill Morlock because she didn't want others to think of it as revenge. There were no people out there who could judge her for it in the first place since the travelers would never hold a grudge against her over something like that, but the fact remained that Ophilia did not want to have to kill. Of course she didn't want to kill anyone. Who wanted to have to be the one to end another human being's life?
But that was just how it had all ended. Tressa could tell that Ophilia and Primrose were going to have a lot to talk about when Ophilia could finally bring herself back to her senses again. Ophilia preferred the crying she had heard from Ophilia earlier if only because it was a sign that the other woman was actually experiencing emotion. The numb staring was terrifying, something so out of character from a woman who had been so lively and kind ever since they met. Ophilia was the reason that Tressa had been able to leave home at all, her sway over the religious affairs of Orsterra convincing Tressa's parents to let her go. All this time, Ophilia had been a constant, a light in the darkness with a smile on her face all the while.
But all of that was gone now. Tressa knew that Ophilia would get back on her feet eventually, but for the time being, the fact that Ophilia was so quiet and distant at all was terrifying. Tressa would be there for when Ophilia decided to reach out, but until then, there was little she could do. No words would be able to soothe the blow that Ophilia had been dealt by her own actions. She would have to go out of her way to heal on her own terms, and all of them knew it wasn't going to be easy. How could it be?
Tressa looked down to Ali's sleeping face, noting the small cuts and bruises that lined his skin. This was the conclusion she had been granted, and while Morlock and Omar gone, it still didn't feel like a happy ending. Somehow, everything felt even more broken than it had when they first arrived in Quarrycrest and then ventured into the sewers. Somehow, Tressa was more sure now than ever that putting the pieces together would be a brutal, excruciating affair.
There was no peace for people like them. They had too much ambition and kindness, and it would bring them all to shatter.
Alfyn's world had been a blur ever since Omar hit him. He wasn't sure how hard he had been hit, but if the sound of his head slamming into the wall was anything to go by, he was probably concussed to some degree. Cyrus' healing skills and H'aanit's natural inclination for first aid had helped him to calm the majority of the damage, but Alfyn was still on strict bedrest for the rest of the day. The magic was helpful, yes, but it couldn't recover every aspect of the wound. That was one of the reasons Alfyn had decided to take up apothecary work in the first place.
Cyrus had left the inn behind a short while ago, leaving Alfyn in H'aanit's hands. Linde was curled up against Alfyn's body, a warmth that kept him grounded against the racing of his own mind. He didn't think he had ever been concussed before, and unsurprisingly, he didn't like it at all. For the most part, all Alfyn could do was stare at the ceiling, the lights dimmed and the room quiet. The only sound that pierced the quiet was the sound of H'aanit repairing her equipment after the fight. She hadn't said much since they got back to the inn, opting instead to let her actions speak for her. Alfyn couldn't blame her. He didn't know what could even be said after all of that.
Linde purred when Alfyn began to pet at her chin, gently tickling the space just beneath her jowls. She curled a little bit closer to him, and Alfyn laughed to himself as her tail continued to flick in the air. Linde was much lighter than Alfyn would have expected, and even though it was a bit of a tight fit, the two of them could easily fit on the bed without compromising its structural integrity. Alfyn was happy for that; he didn't think he would have been able to focus on recovery so much if he didn't have someone by his side. He was a touchy and affectionate person by nature, and he needed to have someone there to comfort him when he was suffering through his darkest hour.
Besides, if he was focused on petting Linde, he could pretend he didn't remember the moment where Ophilia had completely snapped. Alfyn didn't know entirely what he was supposed to say to her, and he was glad that he didn't have to talk to her yet. She was elsewhere in the town for the time being, no doubt trying to work her way through her own struggles with Primrose at her side. Ophilia had never wanted to be the one to kill Morlock, and yet, that was the hand she had been dealt. There was little any of them could do about it now, but Alfyn wished he could have helped her more.
He was grateful though. That much he could stay for sure. He was glad that Ophilia had saved his life. How could he not be? Alfyn wasn't about to just let Morlock kill him as long as there was another option. He was relieved that Ophilia had been there, but he also wished it hadn't fallen into her lap to begin with. She hadn't wanted to kill him, and Alfyn understood why. He didn't want to have to kill anyone either. The other travelers had already made up their minds about who they thought deserved death, but Alfyn... He didn't want to be the one to take a life. That wasn't his job. He was meant to heal people, not harm them. What sort of apothecary would he be if he allowed himself to take the life of another?
He could still remember the haunted look on Ophilia's face when she realized what she had done. Her body had acted on its own, and Alfyn could see it. Morlock going down hadn't been in the plan either. It had all been a matter of accident and fears that should have never been made realized. Alfyn remembered the way Primrose's dagger had stuck out the other side of Morlock's dagger, only barely but just enough to release a small smattering of blood across Alfyn's cheek. All he had been able to do back then was stare ahead numbly, waiting for all of it to stop. What a coincidence; that was all he could do at present too.
After H'aanit had adjusted the bowstring of her weapon of choice, she lifted the bow and examined it from every angle. She set the weapon down when she was satisfied and looked back to Alfyn. Her eyes were unreadable, and he could tell that she was trying to be strong despite the fact that she felt anything but. "How art thou feeling?" she questioned carefully.
Alfyn continued to stroke at Linde, letting the leopard's warmth flood into his body in each place they were touching one another. "I... I'll be fine," Alfyn replied. It felt like a muted response, but Alfyn couldn't bring himself to say much of anything beyond that. He sure as hell didn't feel fine yet. His head was still throbbing, and no matter how many herbs he took to try and numb the pain, it felt like the agony wasn't ever going to go away. He had guided other people through concussions before, but being on the receiving end of the blow made the process infinitely harder than it had been previously.
H'aanit seemed to recognize for the lack of an answer that it was, and she moved her chair a bit closer to his bed. "I was not just speaking about thine injury," she countered slowly. "A lot hath happened today. What dost thou thinken of it all?"
Alfyn hesitated at that, and he knew H'aanit saw him falter too. He stopped petting Linde for a moment, and she nuzzled against his hand. He pressed his eyes shut so he didn't have to look at H'aanit directly. "I... I don't know," he admitted softly. "I don't blame Phili for what she had to do. But... I guess it never really occurred to me until he was already dead. I suppose part of me was still hopin' that we might be able to get Morlock to surrender without needin' to fight him. Then, he was standin' over me, and... It was all over." He rubbed at his cheek with one hand. H'aanit had tenderly wiped the blood away when she was first helping Cyrus to tend to Alfyn's head injury, but the apothecary felt like he could still feel the lingering crimson stain across his skin. It was a phantom sensation, but in his mind, it felt much too real for his liking.
H'aanit was silent for a long moment before she leaned forward, pressing her elbows against her knees and looking to the ceiling. "I never thought I would needen to fight the beasts of man," she confessed. "There are many monsters across Orsterra, and some... Some must facen death for the sake of humanity. I always assumed that wouldst be my path eternally. Now... We seen humanity for what it truly can be."
"Rotten," Alfyn finished for her, and he opened his eyes just enough to see her nod. "Morlock would have done anythin' to get his hands on more money. Even if it meant hurtin' everyone in this town, he would've done it. He destroyed Creek and killed everyone in Phili's village because that was what he thought would suit his ends best. He let people walk to their dooms at Gideon's hands. He never did enough to look after anyone, and now... We see that he's rotten-rotten and dead."
H'aanit nodded her agreement, and Alfyn let out a hefty sigh as he continued to stroke at Linde's head, letting all of his pent-up energy leave his body through the tips of his fingers. "I can still see his face," he admitted. "I just can't stop thinkin' about it. Whenever I close my eyes, he... He's there."
"It is not uncommon to strugglen under the weight of one's past," H'aanit told him. "Thou did not awaken this morning under the expectation that the battle of the afternoon would enden in the death of a man just before thine eyes."
"I know I shouldn't feel any sympathy for him. I don't think I really do. But... At the same time, I know that as an apothecary, it's my job to heal people, not hurt 'em," Alfyn frowned. "It doesn't feel right knowin' what Phili did was to save me. I'm not goin' to say that Morlock deserved to live, but... I think what happened is goin' to haunt the both of us until the day we die."
"I thinken of the monsters I have foughten in the past," H'aanit told him. "It getteth easier with time to move past the grievances of our history. But it requireth time. Given yourself the space thou needeth to processen all that has happened today. I am suren thou needeth it."
Alfyn nodded once again, though that just made the pain in his head rocket through his skull like a bolt of electricity. He hissed at the pain as he raised one hand to stare at his palm blankly. He knew there was no more blood there, whether it belonged to him or Morlock. It had been thoroughly washed away by now thanks to H'aanit's dutiful efforts. Even so, he couldn't seem to escape the sensation no matter how desperate he was to ignore it.
He was right. He would remember this for the rest of his life, and he absolutely hated that he could see that already.
Primrose had known Ophilia to be many things.
The first thing Primrose had learned about Ophilia was that she was kind and understanding. At the time they met, the two had been complete strangers, but Ophilia had still done all she could to help Primrose in her quest to chase after Helgenish. Ophilia had helped Yusufa as much as she could before the dancer's passing, doing all she could to ease the pain of Primrose's first friend in a decade just before she passed. Ophilia had stood at Primrose's side when they fought off Helgenish and made their escape from Sunshade, stood nearby dutifully as Primrose buried Yusufa with tears in her eyes and blood on her hands.
The second thing Primrose had learned about Ophilia was that she was much sharper than most people would expect at a first glance. Ophilia had watched Primrose with concern after their initial battle against Helgenish, unsure of what to say or do in response to Primrose's sudden twist for the brutal and violent. Even so, she had been caring, compassionate, and generous, doing all she could to help Primrose through her grief. Through all of the group's travels, Ophilia had been a constant, a smile eternal on her features and kindness endless in her heart.
When Prirmose looked at Ophilia now, she saw none of those things.
Primrose had pulled Ophilia's bloodstained clothes off her, though the cleric hadn't done much to register what the dancer was doing around her. Primrose had helped Ophilia to change into a clean set of robes while she went off to clean the crimson out of the cloth. In the time that Primrose was preparing the washing process, Ophilia didn't move an inch, instead just staring straight ahead with glossy eyes that understood nothing of the world around her. She was statuesque and shattered, a shadow of the woman that Primrose had come to admire as the group's unofficial leader throughout their shared travels.
The dagger at Primrose's hip felt like a lead weight that constantly wanted to drag her into the earth. Ophilia seemed to think the same. When she looked up at Primrose as the dancer settled down beside her, she pointedly ignored the pull the knife had on her eyes, instead just staring up at Primrose passively. Apathy didn't suit Ophilia in the slightest, and the sight made Primrose want to be sick.
She knew that she wouldn't be able to put the broken pieces of Ophilia together right away though. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and spoke slowly and carefully, making sure Ophilia could understand everything she was saying. "I know you probably don't want to talk yet, but when you're ready, I'll be here to listen," she told the cleric gently. "I know this isn't what you wanted, and I understand that you need some time to think it all through. Take all that you need. I'll be right here."
Ophilia didn't bother with nodding, but her hands clenched into fists before she looked down at the ground. Primrose wasn't sure how much time came and went there in the silence before Ophilia spoke, but she was too impressed by the fact that Ophilia had talked at all to even bother with wondering. "Do you remember what happened when we first fought Helgenish?" Ophilia asked softly.
Primrose hesitated, her stomach twisting at the mention of the monster who had ruined so much of her life and love. She would have killed him a thousand times over for everything he did to her, but she knew that wouldn't help anyone, so she instead simply tilted her head ever so slightly to the right. "What exactly are you referring to?" Primrose questioned in return.
"When it was time to fight Helgenish... It was like a switch flipped," Ophilia began. Her hands clenched together a little bit more, her fingers shaking ever so slightly. "You were so full of rage and grief all of a sudden. It was justified against a man who had done such horrible things, but... It still surprised me. I didn't know what to do about it."
Primrose bit down on the inside of her lip but said nothing. She knew that she could get intense when she set her sights on something, but she barely even noticed it in the heat of the moment. All she could think about was how desperate she was to spill the blood of monsters among humanity with her dagger. It was the only thing that could even begin to ground her, a beacon at the center of her disaster and hatred for the rest of the world. Revenge was the only thing that had pushed her forward for a decade before she found the travelers, the sole reason she had to live. When the time finally arrived, it was like ten years' worth of rage finally came flooding out in search of an outlet, and Helgenish had just been the first victim. He had deserved it, but Primrose could still understand how that sudden outpouring of hatred would frighten others, especially those who had only met her less than two hours before.
"For a while, I wondered... Which one of those faces I had seen you with was the real Primrose?" Ophilia went on. "But... I've come to see now that they're both part of you. Your desire for vengeance is just as much a part of you as the rest of what I've seen from you. Still... It scares me when I see you that way. I don't like to see you so consumed by hatred. I don't like the way it seems to hurt you afterward. I saw the way you looked at the world after you killed Rufus too. You were... Numb. Alone. Terrified. I didn't want to take revenge against Morlock because... I didn't want to turn into that too."
"Ophilia..." Primrose whispered, her eyes going wide. All this time, Ophilia had been talking about how she didn't want to take revenge against Morlock, but Primrose never would have imagined that this was because the other girl was worried about her. Ophilia didn't want to hurt the same way that she had Primrose suffer because it meant that she wouldn't be able to help those around her. She was afraid of that which Primrose had so readily embraced before even meeting the travelers.
"I didn't want any of this. I wanted to help the people in Quarrycrest he was hurting now, but I didn't want to... I didn't want to take revenge. I saw what it did to you, and... You seem so much happier when you're not fighting for the sake of vengeance," Ophilia continued, her words starting to speed up from her anxiety. "I don't want you to suffer because of all of this. You deserve better than to be weighed down by something like revenge, and I didn't want... I was afraid of what might happen if I went down that path too."
Primrose crept her arm around Ophilia's shoulders and pulled her in a little bit closer. The cleric just fell against her side, head perched on her shoulder. For a long time, they just sat that way, and Primrose felt her throat grow tight. Had it really been so obvious to the rest of the world that her heart wasn't all in her revenge anymore? Did others really see it so clearly that she wanted something else? She had already chosen this path though, and she refused to abandon it until its duties and weight had been carried out in full. That was the least she could do for her father.
All of a sudden, Primrose's knife felt like a lead weight at her side, and she resisted the urge to pull it from its sheath to stare at it. All that would do was send Ophilia into another spiral, and with the cleric just barely coming off the heels of a crisis, Primrose couldn't do that to her. Hell, Primrose was starting to think that she couldn't continue her revenge because of what it would do to the people around her. Ophilia was right. She crossed lines when she allowed her determination to get the better of her, and it would continue to drag her down if she wasn't careful with herself.
"I'm sorry," Ophilia finally managed to say, and Primrose realized that the other girl was crying again. Still, Ophilia didn't rub at her tears nor did she allow herself to sob, instead just staring ahead blankly and emptily. "I didn't mean to... I didn't want to upset you. I know that this is the path you've chosen, and I'm glad to be able to stand at your side, but... I don't know."
"I understand," Primrose cut in before Ophilia could trip over her words again. Ophilia supported Primrose in the journey that she had decided was hers to take, but at the same time, she was worried about what the dancer could do to herself if she didn't start to hold back. In a way, Primrose was worried about much the same. There was so much more to life than she could have thought back when she was living with Helgenish in Sunshade. There was beauty unlike anything she had ever understood, and as she sat there with Ophilia, she knew it. The other travelers had pulled her out of her pit of despair, and now, it felt like everything she had been working toward over the last ten years was worth next to nothing in the face of their love.
Ophilia leaned a little bit closer against Primrose's shoulder. "I hate the people who we've had to fight against," she murmured, though Primrose knew that 'fight against' really meant 'kill.' Ophilia did not hate Heathcote or Orlick, but she certainly hated Helgenish, Gideon, Rufus, and Morlock. Of course she did. After all they had done, they deserved to be hated and then some.
"It was a justified crime, but the weight still follows us wherever we go," Primrose finished for her, swallowing dryly as she tried to ignore the weight of her dagger at her side. She remained quiet for a long time before words forced themselves from her lips against her will. "'Faith shall be your shield.'"
Ophilia perked up at that, confusion spreading across her face at the mention of Geoffrey Azelhart's words. "We had faith in what we did... Faith guided us ever forward in the name of what our convictions told us was right. But that means we must carry the weight of those burdens with our own beliefs helping us to stay afloat," Primrose continued. "You did what you thought was right in that moment. I can't blame you for still feeling the sting of having to take a human life. Still... You wanted to save Alfyn. You wanted to save all the people who would have suffered and crumbled under the weight of Morlock's actions."
Ophilia nodded. "I... I would do anything for all of you," she said softly, each word filled with a new intensity and fire. "After all that you and the others have done for me, it's the least I can offer. No matter what happens... I want to stand by you and the rest of our friends and defend them."
Primrose smiled somberly. "I know... And while it might not erase the sting of what you had to do, I want you to know that you did what you had to, and for good reason. Alfyn probably wouldn't be in the room across the hall if not for you," she pointed out. "And if you ever find yourself in search of a shoulder to cry on because of all this... You know where to find me. I'll always be right there."
Ophilia turned to look up at Primrose with watery eyes, and for a brief moment, the two locked gazes. That was all it took for the floodgates to come rushing open, and Ophilia practically collapsed into Primrose's arms, allowing sobs to break free of her body once again. This time though, she was crying for a different reason, and Primrose could feel it. She ran her fingers gently through Ophilia's hair, and the cleric practically melted into her grip. In that moment, the world was shattered.
But at the same time, the world was beautiful.
This was... Probably my favorite chapter in a while. Wow.
If you haven't already noticed, this chapter two is going to have the most open emotional impact on the travelers. The changes I've made have kind of forced my hand in that direction, but I'm not objecting in the slightest. I really love this chapter, and I'm excited to write the next few chapters as we round off our time in Quarrycrest.
First is the scene with Tressa and Ali. I'll be going back to the two of them a bit later on since Ali is understandably too exhausted to talk about what happened. For now though, Tressa is going to be remembering all of this for a long time to come. Poor girl. She deserves a break from all of this.
Next is Alfyn and H'aanit. I wound up pairing the two of them together since a) they're a bit of an unorthodox pair and b) I thought Alfyn would know a thing or two about patching up injuries from her time in S'warkii. That was just the impression I got about her, so I decided to have her look after Alfyn. She's no professional, but she's still trying her best. Plus, it offered the chance for a great conversation about mortality since H'aanit has to kill monsters for a living despite not wanting to take lives. Alfyn, on the other hand, saves people's lives rather than taking them away, so realizing that Ophilia killed someone in part to save him... Yeah, he's got a lot on his mind. This is going to lead into absolute torture for him emotionally when we get to his chapter three, and I am incredibly excited for it.
Last but not least, we have the scene with Ophilia and Primrose. Back during Primrose's chapter one, Ophilia's narration showed that she could see the darker, scarier side to Primrose's quest for vengeance and bloodlust, and that's finally coming back. I thought now was the perfect time to go full circle with it. The conversation by no means fixes all of Ophilia's problems, but it's a step in the right direction. She did what she thought was right, and even if it's hard, she has to live with that now. Luckily for her, she'll never be alone again. I love the significance of Primrose's dagger here, and I'm really happy I was able to work it in. It just fits so perfectly, and I love it.
I'm mostly putting this here for the sake of bookkeeping on my end, but we've got a lot left before leaving Quarrycrest. Olberic has a scene on his own, Cyrus has a scene with Odette, Therion has... A secret scene, Tressa talks to Ali again, Ophilia and Alfyn talk, and Primrose and H'aanit will probably talk too. Since this is the hardest hitting chapter two emotionally, we're getting all of the sad out here before going to Olberic's chapter two. That's certainly going to leave behind a bit of a sting for him, but it's nothing quite like this, as I'm sure you can imagine. There's a lot coming up over the course of the next few chapters as we get ready to leave Quarrycrest in favor of greener pastures and less traumatizing locations. I hope you're just as excited for it as I am.
With that said, I'm going to wrap things up here. Next week, we'll continue shuffling through the aftermath of Morlock's death. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital
