"When all is lost, you will still be a Guardian, and you will still be enough." - Dawning Fortune
Heavy. Dense. Burdening. The weight of the blade coerced her arm downward as she wielded it. The gravity of the situation swirled around Ysolde but did not fully penetrate as she mentally grappled with her thoughts, seeking to puzzle the shards of understanding back together.
This Eliksni. That seemed the place to start. Valthyx. He showed restraint. Echoes of their first meeting bounced about - he had not pulled the trigger. Now, in this suspended moment in the expanse of space and time, he wait, stooped over and head bowed. In a way, he was asking if she would pull the trigger.
Her consideration navigated to Arae. The sweet Arae who had braided flowers into Ysolde's hair and whose compassionate smile could disrupt a crusade. She imagined her cowering in fear, Valthyx backlit and grinning after inflicting immeasurable pain. Was this also Valthyx? He said he'd broken them.
Her digits tightened around the hilt of the blade and she momentarily contemplated the act. A fleeting sense of satisfaction, of revenge, of punishment, danced tantalizingly near. But when she looked down... down to him, that unnatural desire born of anguish fled.
"Hell..." her voice escaped in a hushed whisper, like an intimate confession to the unseen cosmos. Finger by finger she released her grip on the swords hilt until it clanged to the floor. Valthyx's head shot to the weapon before raising to meet Ysolde in silent question. His mandibles twitched as he swam through his confusion.
Compassion was not something the Eliksni has known since the times before the Whirlwind.
And so Valthyx remained that way, looking as clueless as a freshly rebooted Exo. Eventually, Ysolde decided to release him from the trappings of his confusion.
"I do not forgive you Valthyx, but this is not how things get righted," her words were a loosed arrow inflicting the Eliksni captain with a sedated panic. He struggled and writhed against his need to accept her judgement that balanced precariously with his need to object.
A low, broken crackling escaped from deep within Valthyx, his voice a tortured symphony of anguish and desperation. "Ysssolde, my Kelll demandsss my docking" he murmured, his words carrying the weight of an unbreakable oath. "If it is not your handss, then sheee will asssign another." His gaze lowered once more, weighed down by the burden of his words.
"Then I will do it," Ysolde corrected, sparking muscles in Valthyx's face to tense momentarily, "but if their demand does not specify the exact time, I will...," she grit her teeth, "I will do it later. For now, I need your help - mutilating you will not serve my purposes." Advancing with a half-step as if to reach for him, she paused in hesitation before withdrawing again. The space between them oscillated between a tantalizing proximity, where their souls almost touched, where they could almost truly reach one another, to a daunting chasm, a void with no hope of convergence. That space held their shared history, as brief as it was, their unspoken words, plentiful enough to fill a library, and the profound consequences of their choices.
Their eyes locked, and the universe held it's breath as it stood upon the precipice.
Valthyx drew in his extended secondary set of arms and crossed them along his chest in a gesture akin to a bow or a salute. Though a distinctly Eliksni gesture, Ysolde needed no translation for this display of respect - or servitude, "they will not like thisss loophole," he hissed, his voice a blend of defiance and resignation, "Yettt, I will aid you. I will aid you untilll you no longer have neeed of me."
All Ysolde could manage was a curt nod before surrendering to it. In a heartbeat, she fell back into Valthyx, seeking solace in the arms of the monster who had broken innocents. The arms of the kindred soul who had swapped nightly stories with her beside a crackling warmth. The arms of both those beings and neither of those beings. Valthyx, eyes wide, instinctively caught her, his grip tightening around her trembling form. Ysolde let her tears flow freely while she could - for soon, there would be no time for tears.
"Even paradise becomes a prison if you can't leave." - Riven
Her human body shook with silent sobs, Valthyx held her with a tenderness so foreign to himself, his four arms encircling her in a protective embrace. His concern for her was palpable, his mandibles quivering with unspoken concern. He'd initially worried that the liquid that leaked from her face was some vital biological fluid, that she was hurt, or that this was some illness wracking her body. Worries always came to the forefront first.
Then he stopped worrying, and was simply silent, permitting her to bury her face further into him, fearing that any movement might startle her, might send her flinching away from him. In that moment, Valthyx cursed himself, wishing he could have been a true sanctuary for her - more than just a temporary refuge, more than simply her only option right now.
Closing his eyes, Valthyx let his distaste for that thought wash over him. A feeling akin to dishonor. No. Not dishonor. Something slightly different. Perhaps shame.
As Ysolde's breathing fell into a more regular pattern, she moved to pull away. Panic gripped Vathyx's throat, demanding he maintain his hold, to not release her. Though as her intentions became distinctly unable to misinterpret, he reluctantly yielded, arms falling away with resignation.
His. He'd earlier exulted in The Hound's delivery of her, as if her return were some triumph, some victory, some grand conquest. In his arrogance, he'd thought her to at last be his. A smirk came to life on his face. No, no, no. He could not rightly believe she belonged to him - not when, deep down he recognized the multitude of acts he would undertake if she so commanded. If she only gave the word, he would move mountains, defy his own kind, and even forsake his own principles. He belonged to her. And it was disgraceful. What a disgrace to Eliksni.
Pain hung in the air between them, ends tied to their souls like a clothesline. Redemption. He could find redemption in serving her. He could pay the Eliksni price once she'd finished with him.
Heaving a heavy sigh, he climbed to his full height, his frame like that of a titan as he gazed upon her. A rough, scarred hand sought out hers with as much tenderness as he could summon to lead her to his nest - the half sphere filled with furs, cloth, and feathers. Reaching the edge of the nest, he nodded in silent invitation, urging her to step into its embrace. "Ysssolde, ressst. Tomorrrrow we plannn with minds of fresh-ether," he whispered in a low, soothing rhythm, not entirely sure if the Eliksni proverb translated adequately enough to be understood.
As she hesitated, apprehension flickering in her eyes, he sensed her fear, her lingering doubts. Then came the realization of how the height of the bed might pose some difficulty for her to climb in. With a gentle chuckle, he swept her off her feet, effortlessly lifting her petite form and placing her into the welcoming embrace of the soft bed. The transition was fluid, seamless, and the touch of his arms dispelled her fears as swiftly as they had surfaced.
The world awaited their next move. But the world could wait for them to rest.
"If you believe your weapon wants to murder all existence, then so it will." - Toland, the Shattered
Radax grumbled, stalking out of the gathering room with a predatory posture. Counsels, hearings, forums, meetings... these were not the responsibilities of a warrior. Yet, reluctantly, Radax attended each and every one, dedicated to untangling the intricate mess that Valthyx had inadvertently set upon their house.
The young bastard had better appreciate the loyalty that drove him to endure such affairs... but perhaps it was less loyalty than it was gnawing guilt that propelled him forward. In the depths of his heart, Radax couldn't entirely absolve himself of responsibility. After all, it was he who had suggested that Valthyx approach The Hound. Of course, he had little choice in the matter. It was either that, or watch his once proud friend wither and rot away, slowly dying with each passing day she did not return. He would reprimand his friend for such weakness in due time. For now...
Air shot from his nostrils in a huff as he stood at the closed door. A bang of his arc staff against the stone ground serving as the closest thing to a knock he would offer. After tirelessly shouldering the endless work of fostering a détente, he was in no mood for pleasantries - though to be fair he rarely ever was in such a mood. With a forceful push, he swung open the door and strode in to find Valthyx on his knees at the edge of his nest, staring down at the sleeping human cradled within. He did not remove his stare from the guardian, locked in as if he needed to witness every rise and fall of her chest as she slept.
Radax snarled at the distinctly un-Eliksni display before him. Without hesitation he swung his arc staff and wacked his friend across the head with the butt of his weapon. Valthyx's bared his teeth in return, mandibles clenching in annoyance. 'That was more like it,' Radax decided, far more satisfied with this new demeanor.
The older Eliksni's mouth opened to speak but Valthyx swiftly interjected before any words could escape, his tone laced with a commanding edge, "We wait for her to rest. Then we talk." Radax's gaze met Valthyx's, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes at the audacity of his friend's order. However, he understood the unspoken message conveyed through the growl in his friend's voice - a plea for patience. With a nod of agreement, Radax settled into a corner of the sleeping chambers, seeking a comfortable position that would not irritate his aching joints. He knew not how long guardian's slept, but Radax had patience if he had nothing else.