Wow, just about half a year since I've last posted. I'm not dead, and I've certainly not given up on this! It's just that I'm rather preoccupied with… stuff. Uni, training, church errands, and the rest are long periods of indulgence in fictional imaginings. No thanks to Emmy, that last one.
On the other hand, thanks still go to Emmy, Luna, Virali, Metastasis, InnerFire, Razbash, and all those who have alerted me one way or another during this huge, HUGE hiatus. Shortish chapter, this, but things are gonna get pretty hectic from now on, I think. Then again, I often surprise or shock myself by how the chapters actually end up. Murex has stolen my brain and ran away with it, maybe.
Disclaimer: Blizzard owns Diablo. Damn.
Chapter 34
Sweet Imprudence
For once, the red fiery landscape of Hell was replaced by one of grey dust. The wind felt thinner, though not hollow, as it carried the ashes of hellions through the air, sending them surging about in wild currents, which sometimes eddied within the walls of the Fortress, whistled in the corridors, lifted the fabric of the tents with its invisible force.
We had left the ashes to pile up for several days, as we focussed on the living and still-existent – wounds were treated, walls were rebuilt, enchantments were reinforced. We barely spoke; I did not know what exactly we were all recovering from. Exhaustion? Shock? Despair? Depression? The more important question, however – as I had asked myself so many times before then, and still do now – was… Would we ever really recover?
My companion and I – the two, Oread and Nyhl – sat together several days after Leaf's passing. Within the larger tent beside ours, Kande was moaning and sobbing softly, plagued by nightmares as she slept uneasily. Then came footsteps, and the infant's utterances were muffled as she was held by one of her parents.
Amongst the three of us, we sat still and silent. For several minutes, we did not speak, and our eyes did not meet. We were each engrossed in our own thoughts, which were probably all a far distance and time away.
Then I was embraced; I jumped, snapping back into the present reality, and caught sight of several loose tendrils of long, silvery-wheaten hair. Her cheek was warm against my scalp. I felt wet, warm trails stream from my eyes; they ran down my face, and the cooled droplets dripped onto my lap.
"I'm sorry, Celadon." Oread's voice was low, but it was even. Controlled.
Somehow, that set the world back into motion, where in time things do come to pass. The dead is gone, and the living must live on despite that. Nothing that had passed can truly be set right, and Leaf… her existence, her identity, it all began as a mistake, and it probably ended as a mistake.
The dead may be gone, but the living carries the burden of their memories, the marks that the dead had left upon them, burnt into their souls.
Outside, the wind-borne ashes howled through the emptiness, as if in mourning.
With the building threat and dying defence – of the Fortress' physical rigidity and its inhabitants' morale – of the Fortress, Master Deckard Cain was sent back to Kurast hurriedly, escorted by the archangel. Tyrael then proceeded upon some errands and did not return until over a week later. Upon his reconfiguration into the human child, he collapsed, and did not regain consciousness until the following night.
"It is unfortunate." Those were his first words as we sat at the small dinner table, the six of us. Kande was asleep in another partition of the tent.
We waited, but he did not continue.
My master utters a low growl. "That's it?" Her hands fisted upon the table, the knuckles whitening. "A little girl died and it's all just a matter of fortune?"
Tyrael's eyes snapped instantly onto Oread's, the mercury orbs somehow duller than usual. "There were… unforeseen consequences. I've been preoccupied since the disturbance caused by the Soulstone's destruction, in an attempt to contain the damage and most importantly, keep the seals in place, so that Diablo may not feed off his brother's power. We are divine, but we're not almighty, you see." Taking note of Oread's persistent glare, he added, "What would you have me do, then? Resurrect her?"
There was another pulse of silence, before Tyrael continued, lowering his eyes. "It is true that it is within my power to return some creatures to life, but firstly, the girl once known as 'Leaf' was not merely mortal, but part-hellion. I am thus unable to bring her back through means of divine intervention."
He paused, and shifted in his seat – all these little gestures that made him so childlike, so human. "Secondly, when one requests for someone to be resurrected, they must pay the price, the compensation. One must offer a life in return; this life must be younger than the life that was lost, and one that was loved by the deceased."
"So, in other words," Nyhl spoke up, his tone of voice flat. "No-one would be able to return without being utterly broken."
Tyrael straightens, though his voice grew more solemn. "Exactly." Nyhl muttered something under his breath. Tyrael merely slanted his gaze onto him for a brief moment, then shrugs, the gesture just barely noticeable. "Life and death should be absolute, and one cannot tamper with the balance, or cheat it without making substantial sacrifices. That is all."
"But–" I began, my voice a coarse croak. I cleared my throat, swallowed, and tried again. "But even though she's part-hellion, as you said, Tyrael…" I felt my cheeks flush as my eyes misted over. "That… doesn't mean that she – her soul, is doomed to hell, right?"
Tyrael smiled at that – it was an expression that I had not seen for days. "She was part-human, too, was she not, Celadon?" He straightens just a little. "This is where freewill comes in. Humans have the choice to live the life they want, and thus decide their destination after death."
And so… there was hope. Leaf's heritage, her birth, her predetermined life of suffering that was brutally cut short, there was at least a part of it all that she could make and call her own. She existed, she lived, she died; more importantly, she loved, and she would still be loved.
Tirral, leaf of the flames, daughter of the Zann Esu, dearly beloved companion of mine. May the gods rest your soul.
I was shocked.
"Can you do it, Tyrael?"
"Here? At this point in time? In these circumstances?"
This was the most reckless thing I had heard in the longest time. The seals are weakening, a battle with the Lord of Terror himself might have been just around the corner, and they were asking Tyrael to –
"Marry us."
I did not think it possible for the archangel to lose his composure, but the disbelief in his features was plainly visible. His feet shifted backwards just a little, and he gaped.
In the meanwhile, I had finally found my voice again. It came out shrill and cracked. "You can't do this! Not now, of all times!" I looked right at Oread, hardening my gaze as much as I could manage. "Why?!"
"Why not?" Oread blinked as she turned to me, her expression neutral. "We love one another, and we wish to be acknowledged by the gods as a couple. Is that wrong?"
"That's not the point!" Anger fuelled by exasperation filled my chest and my voice. "It's not wrong, but it's… inappropriate!" I exhaled, the breath hissing sharply through my teeth. "Look, please… pardon my rudeness and let me say this not as a subordinate mercenary, but as a companion and friend – don't you think it's in bad taste to do that here and now?"
"Consider it desperation if you wish, Celadon." Nyhl spoke up, his hand tightening around Oread's. I looked up at him, and saw that he was smiling just a touch – a discreet smile, one that was assertive but not defiant. "Maybe it's the feeling of doom that constantly hangs over this place, but it is what we wish. I wouldn't say that this is the best time and place myself, but here we are," he shifted his hand onto Oread's shoulder and pulled her close, his eyes softening as she leaned onto him. "And we might as well take the chance when we still can."
I jerked my head back to Tyrael, hoping that he would exercise some of his divine authority and convince them otherwise.
The archangel had by now resumed his poise. His head was lowered, as if in contemplation, but after an instant he lifted his eyes, slowly, his gaze sweeping steadily up until it met Oread's. It paused there for a brief moment, and then moved onto Nyhl's, sharp and stern.
After a few still seconds, His lids drooped over the shimmering orbs. "I see."
A wave of frustration welled up within me. Surely thoughts were exchanged during those few seconds of physical silence. Tyrael approved the marriage, and in my position, there really was nothing I could do about it.
Jamella and Halbu gave no resistance to the idea when my companions told them about it over the dinner table. They merely offered their congratulations calmly, and I got the irking feeling of annoyance once more.
As I lay in bed that night, pondering about the turn of events, I eventually found myself thumbing the ring upon my finger, thinking of Jerhyn, all the way in Lut Gholein, and wondered if that was why I was so angry at Oread and Nyhl's hasty decision. Was it because I had abstained myself, that I was now so disapproving of my companions' lack of restraint? Am I jealous that they had achieved what I was too wary of attempting?
I should be happy for them, really, but it just seemed too lightly decided... too spontaneous, maybe a little selfish. I felt shut out; we were companions, and now I was forever going to be an outsider to this married couple.
I glanced over at the empty space on the other side of the room, where Leaf's bed used to stand. Oread was with her husband-to-be, in a separate tent. There was no sound of breathing other than that of my own; the silence was stagnant, and bitterness came over me, bordering on resentment. For fear of my thoughts turning me against my place and duty, I told my mind to be quiet, rolled over, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Jamella paid me a visit the next morning as I lay in bed, feeling down and lethargic. She brought her infant daughter with her, and upon bidding me a good morning, Kande put her little arms around me. That melted away some coldness inside, and I carried the girl up onto my lap, rocking her gently as I sat on the edge of my bed.
"You'd make a good mother, Celadon." Jamella observed, and despite the strong tone that she always carried in her voice, there was a soft smile upon her features – an expression that she did not wear often. Kande was dozing lightly, her thumb in her mouth. "My brother has chosen well."
I felt heat swell onto my cheeks. "It's not like that... I didn't know he'd meant to take me as his spouse until you told me so." I chewed a little on my lips. "He should've just said it."
"You seem to be a very reserved sort of a young woman; perhaps he thought he might scare you." Jamella said decidedly. Before I could respond, she continued. "What your companions are doing, does that scare you?"
I did not like this; it was as if I was being found guilty of a misdeed. "It's... a bit of a shock, is all. They'd met in Kurast, and I don't know how things got the way they are so quickly, but it would seem that a lot's happened during the time when I was recovering, when we first got here." A grumble escaped me. "It just feels like I've missed many things, and that there are some matters on which they're not letting me in."
Jamella considered this, and leans back in her seat, her eyes fixed upon her young daughter. "Nothing can stop people from falling in love; you may think it's best to hold back your personal emotions and feelings for businesses at hand, and that may be the right thing to do in the eyes of most people who are fighting for the Sanctuary, but that doesn't mean it's the only way the world works." She reaches out to touch Kande's cheek, her strong, large-knuckled hands possessing an incongruous gentleness. "We're not mere defenders of the Sanctuary; we are human, in and of ourselves, and the way we want to love and be loved is only in our nature."
I held my silence; Kande's breath was soft and warm against my neck. I remembered the nights when I held Leaf close against my chest as she slept through her nightmares, and realised just how much I missed that, how much I wanted to feel that warmth again, the warmth of another body against my own.
Jamella got to her feet. "Be happy for what they've made out of all these doom and gloom, won't you?" Her strong hand rested briefly upon my shoulder as she straightened. "You can watch Kande for now; we'll have breakfast together in a bit."
"Nyhl Ilvait, Oread Sagen, by the witness of the gods and the hosts of the heavens, you are now made husband and wife. May this divine covenant remain true, through all trials in life and in death, until the end of time."
Oread uttered a mirthful chuckle as she threw her arms around Nyhl, her wedding garments - plain but elaborately-draped robes - shifted between azure and peacock-blue as the light played upon the iridescent fabric. A wide sash of the same material held her hair back in a careless chignon, some finer wisps having already fallen loose at the nape of her neck. Nyhl was adorned in more conservative robes of ultramarine and sapphire. He enveloped his bride in an easy embrace, the plain wedding band of steel glinting with his movements.
After sharing a brief look of absolute endearment, they kissed. I was captured by the serenity of the scene – they did not hold anything back; there was no guard, no pretension, no cares or worries in the feeling of the action. Despite the circumstances, the situation, the place, the time... there was no need to elaborate, and there was no need to downplay.
That moment, it was perfection in and of itself.
Such is humanity. Such is freewill. Such is love.
