Chapter 35: Only Justice, Only Vengeance (Role Quest)
There ought to have been something when Vartinoix turned into a blasphemy but the only thing that he felt was a tired resolve on the matter. He would figure out later if that was something to be concerned about as he pulled his book into his hand - his hands were starting to get cold; already there was some resistance as he flexed his fingers in order to handle the book properly - but before he could even think about casting Energy Drain, Aymeric had dashed forward, slicing through the blasphemy with a show of skill and power Echo'a hadn't seen in quite some time.
"Your Grace! Noooooo!" Clem called out, rushing forward as if he could do something for the downed blasphemy. Echo'a stowed his book; ah, there was the remorse he was supposed to be feeling. He watched Clem collapse to his hands and knees as the blasphemy dissipated. He didn't even try to pretend to know what could be going through the clergyman's mind.
"That it should come to violence yet again," Artoirel muttered at his side. "Would that your hand had not been forced, my lord."
Echo'a silently agreed.
Artoirel was quick to inform Aymeric upon the man's approach, "Deacon Clem should not be alone at this time. I shall remain with him while tending to the aftermath. When things have settled, I will return to the Congregation." Artoirel's gaze flickered to Echo'a. "Pray go on ahead and get some rest."
Echo'a nodded.
For a breath - visible in the frigid air before it was swept away by the wind - he hesitated to follow after Aymeric, not sure if the man would be up for company on the walk back, but the thought of being on his own for the duration of the walk set him on edge for some reason. It took two bounding steps to catch up but Aymeric smiled gently at him and slowed his pace enough that Echo'a wasn't straining to keep up with those long strides as they started down the stairs.
"Apologies, my friend. I had not thought of your accompanying me back to the Congregation."
Echo'a shrugged. "I'm not surprised. You keep getting pulled left and right around this mess that any chance to take your leisure certainly hasn't happened."
Aymeric laughed at that. "Tis indeed quite difficult to do when there is so much to be done."
"So you wouldn't mind the respite of the walk being when we catch up?" Echo'a asked, teasing as he was hopeful. "There is certainly much we could talk about and being able to talk to you in the capacity of frien-"
"Lord Speaker!" cut him off.
Aymeric shot him an apologetic smile before he turned to the figure quickly approaching. So much for their respite. Echo'a lingered near the bottom of the stairs to give them some semblance of privacy, flexing his hands in his gloves as he drifted closer to one of the brasiers. It was too high to truly give him any warmth but the sound of the crackling flames would be enough. Ishgard's cold was seeping in through everything and the gloves on his hands had long since become ineffective. His hands ached and it was all he could do to tuck them under his arms in hopes that it would lend them some heat.
But that didn't help. Standing still wasn't helping. He was only growing colder and it was making him more and more agitated. He flexed his hands in his gloves again as he pushed off the wall, gaze falling to Aymeric where the man was still talking. He chewed on the desire to interrupt. Certainly the conversation was wrapping up. Ishardians hardly lingered in the cold to have lengthy conversations. They had learned how dangerous the cold could be. How crippling it could be.
Purchase only came when he got his fingers through the layer of powder and into the layer that held more ice, was more compact, but that also ran the risk of wearing through the gloves-
No. It didn't matter. He had to get there, even if it meant he had no use of his hands once he arrived.
He had to make it even if it was just to see-
No! He would make it in time.
He had to.
His tolerance for his gloves vanished in what felt like a heartbeat and he ripped the offending articles off his hands. He knew it was a bad idea, what with the cold wind curling through the space as if to remind him of just how dangerous it was to expose himself anymore, but every slight movement, every shift made it feel like his hands were being rubbed raw and at least being able to see them meant he could make sure they weren't bleeding. He rubbed at one hand and then the other, trying to get both the sensation of them torn raw within borrowed gloves to leave them and some heat into them from the friction in turn.
His grip failed and his hand came back towards him. He flinched, prepared to pop himself in the face, but the borrowed body was failing in the freezing cold and that arm barely made it halfway before it stilled in the snow.
The snow clinging to the glove was pink.
He shoved the hand forward again. It didn't matter. He had to keep moving.
It wasn't helping. The wind wasn't helping. His back reconnected with the wall a bit harder than he intended but the jolt from it barely registered as he clamped his eyes shut, trying - and failing - to quell the sudden swell of memories.
He wasn't going to make it. He was going to drag himself across that accursed frozen wasteland to find everyone slaughtered, Zenos galavanting about in his body looking absolutely bored at the carnage around him and to what end? What did Zenos get out of this?
His hand slipped again. He couldn't feel anything anymore, couldn't tell if his hands were making purchase without watching them sink into the snow as far as he could shove them.
When it slipped a second time, he gritted his teeth against the desire to scream.
Or maybe he did. Maybe he screamed with everything he had as he dragged borrowed knees up to a borrowed chest through a fresh bout of pain. Maybe he screamed until he was up on those borrowed legs he couldn't feel, unsteady but upright and still able to move. Pain that could not be silenced by the cold accompanied every small shuffle he managed, tearing at him as much as the snow and ice had torn at his borrowed hands.
He wasn't going to make it.
Twelve preserve, he wasn't going to make it.
But he had to get there. He had to see, had to witness before it was all buried in snow and the true details forgotten to time.
He had to keep moving. He owed it to them to keep moving.
He had to.
He had to.
"Echo'a!"
He jerked back at the shout, sucking in a breath like he had been drowning. The only reason his head didn't connect with the wall his back was still pinned against was Aymeric's quick reflexes, managing to get his fingers between Echo'a's head and the wall just in time.
The all too familiar dynamis aura dissipated from between them, allowing Echo'a to see Aymeric's panic stricken face without obstruction.
And all at once, Echo'a was suddenly aware of himself: of how his heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing ragged in his lungs, the shivering that was making it hard to remain upright. Of the pain in his hands.
Of Aymeric's hand still against the back of his head, the other hand gripping tightly at his hands now clenched near his gut.
"Aymeric," came out on a shaky breath, barely more than a whisper.
Aymeric's rigid posture collapsed with relief and a breathy laugh preceded a strained, "Are you alright, my friend?" The laugh had brought a wane smile but the humor left in a hurry, the fear and desperation replacing it. "You nearly-" A forced breath stopped that statement; Echo'a didn't need him to finish it to know what was on the man's mind. He had seen the evidence for himself. Instead, Aymeric's expression settled more into a stoic determination, a rather familiar expression that Echo'a saw whenever Aymeric had to lead when others were panicking. "What set about the change? Do we need to prepare for more to change as well?"
He shook his head, pulling a hand free enough to pin Aymeric's hand between his own. Pain was the only sensation he felt. "No, no one else is in danger," he reassured Aymeric. At least, not any more than they already were. "It was…" Twelve, what did he tell him? "An error on my part. It won't happen again."
Aymeric's expression both fell and tightened in the same breath. Echo'a only dropped his gaze when Aymeric withdrew enough to talk to - Echo'a assumed - the very person he had been talking to before Echo'a had nearly lost it. "Please inform Lord Artoirel that our meeting must be postponed and should he want for answers to find them at my home once he has completed his business. Last we parted ways he was returning to Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral."
"At once, Lord Speaker," the person said before hurried footfall disappeared up the stairs.
Aymeric turned back to him. The hand that had been against the back of his head moved to the side of his neck. A shiver shook his body and he gritted his teeth in hopes of staving off more as he met Aymeric's gaze. The expression he found there was…complex but at least there wasn't pity. He didn't want pity. "Come, my friend," Aymeric gently coaxed. "Let us get you somewhere warmer and tend to your hands."
Confusion drew his gaze back down to his own hands, finally paying them some mind since he had taken his gloves off.
The skin had split in quite a few places, leaving his gray cast skin with smudges of pink where he had smeared the blood about.
Aymeric tucked him into his side as they walked, refusing to let Echo'a put even an ilm between them; not that Echo'a attempted to. As soon as they were out of the shelter of the stairs, the wind wrapped its frozen little fingers around his very bones and sent the shivers he had been trying to suppress rampant through his body. Clenching his jaw kept his teeth from chattering but there was no helping how his body shook against Aymeric's side.
It wasn't long before the arm around his shoulders moved lower to support him more properly as the shivering made walking more of a challenge than it had any right to. "S-st-stupid sh-shiv-v-vering," he ground out when Aymeric's arm settled more across his back, hand settling on Echo'a's waist.
"Shivering is a good sign," Aymeric offered in a soothing tone. "Should you stop…"
The sentence was left open but Echo'a was certain that the other would not hesitate to toss decorum out the window and run with him in his arms. He ducked his head, turning it into Aymeric's shoulder. "Y-you have me," he finished, mildly pleased he had managed to not let his chattering teeth muddle that one up.
The walk seemed endless as it did short and Echo'a blinked at the threshold they passed over as Aymeric opened the door. The House Borel steward was quick to make an appearance before the door had fully clicked shut behind them. "My lord! What-"
"Pray, wait on the questions for a moment," Aymeric said, brushing past the steward. "I require warm food - soup would be best - and a bowl of hot water with a cloth along with what medical supplies we have on hand. After those, extra blankets to be brought down."
"At once, my lord," the steward said. Echo'a couldn't tell if the man had followed them into the living space Aymeric entered or had paused at the door until the entirety of Aymeric's request was said.
"I can heal myself," Echo'a said, the words slow and deliberate to negate the chattering of his teeth.
Aymeric sat him down before the lit hearth. "That you could but it would do naught for the cold that will linger." Aymeric shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Echo'a's shoulders. "And as much as I would prefer to have taken you to the infirmary," Aymeric's hands lingered on Echo'a's shoulders as he took to a knee before him, "it seemed ill-chosen a place to discuss what despair had taken you at that moment." Echo'a's ears flattened briefly at that as he set his annoyed gaze on the flames to his right. It did not surprise him that Aymeric was keen on understanding what had happened but that didn't mean he couldn't be mad about it. Aymeric's hands tightened. "I will not judge you for it, Echo'a, no matter what it is; however, I refuse to stand idly by and watch you change because of your refusal to burden others with your woes." There was only enough of a pause for Aymeric to pull in a breath but it was enough that his next words were heavier. "Please, Echo'a. As your friend, allow me to at least hear what it was that consumed you so. My knowing could only benefit your capacity to not succumb to it a second time."
Echo'a couldn't fault him that. Blessedly, the steward returned at that moment with the first set of requested items. Aymeric took the proffered items with gratitude and set the bowl of soup at Echo'a's hip as the steward disappeared again. With the arrival of materials, the topic changed but the look in Aymeric's eye told him it was only temporary. "Let me tend to one of your hands and then you can start getting something warm in you."
Echo'a's ears fell when he proffered his left hand and remained in that down position as he set his gaze back on the fire.
Echo'a felt nothing through the pain and had no idea when Aymeric was done until his hand was suddenly not supported anymore. "That should do it for now," Aymeric said, filling the silence briefly. "Try and eat something while I tend to the other but take care with the bandages. The salve underneath will make it difficult to handle the spoon."
The bandages were surprisingly minimal, covering only that which Aymeric had put the spoken salve upon. The majority of it covered his knuckles and between his third and fourth finger. The thumb was the only finger that had the last knuckle and everything above it bandaged. It made bending his thumb a challenge but he could hold a spoon without it. Would be a bit of a challenge but nothing he hadn't done before.
Aymeric tugged his other hand closer, drawing Echo'a's gaze with it. Yes, he should be eating but, honestly, he wasn't hungry and watching Aymeric tend to his hand was oddly hypnotic. The man's touch was careful but sure as he used the utmost care wiping the dampened corner of a cloth gently across the freezing, split skin. Had he any sensation in his hand beyond the agony of a thawing appendage, he was certain there would be little pain caused by Aymeric's touch.
The salve was spread over the open wounds - he somehow had a nasty split across his palm; he must have worried his right hand more than his left - before Aymeric once more meticulously bound the injuries with bandages.
"There we are," Aymeric said, letting go of Echo'a's hand. Aymeric's hands hovered as Echo'a took control of it again and did not lower until Echo'a pulled it away. Aymeric's gaze fell to the bowl still sitting untouched at Echo'a's hip. "I understand eating may be the last thing you wish to do but you really must get something in you. Even if just a few bites."
Echo'a reached up and tugged at an ear. "Fine," he eventually muttered, meeting Aymeric's concerned gaze. "A few bites, but don't push if I don't eat more."
Aymeric nodded. "Of course."
Echo'a carefully placed the bowl in his lap before he started to eat. Both hands were sources of pain causing his hands to feel oddly weak but while his right hand was fine enough to use now that it was tended to, Echo'a still used his left, logically aware that his right hand was in worse shape, what with it looking like he was wearing some odd fingerless half-glove.
Aymeric stood after he had taken a second bite and disappeared from Echo'a's line of sight. Muttering behind him told him the man had not wandered far but the sounds of the conversation left Echo'a with the impression that Aymeric would be a while. Idly, he stirred the soup, ignoring the drifting thought of just dumping it in the fire or setting the bowl aside without another bite. Aymeric wouldn't know the difference, certainly.
A down comforter was tucked in around him, followed by a thick quilt. Echo'a glanced up, finding Aymeric alone in the process of cocooning Echo'a in the oversized blankets. He caught Aymeric's gaze and gained a soft smile for it. Aymeric offered, "Once the blankets have warmed up, I will remove my coat so that you may be more comfortable."
He dropped his gaze back to his bowl. "Was barely noticing it."
He managed another spoonful before the lack of appetite won out. A whole five bites. Certainly not what Aymeric probably wanted but it was a miracle he had managed more than two.
Aymeric took hold of the bowl before Echo'a could finish putting it on the floor in front of him. "All done, then?" Aymeric clarified even as he stepped away with it.
Echo'a tugged the blankets closer around him as he gave a short hum as confirmation.
Aymeric sat down on the floor opposite him and a bit to the left so that he could use the chair as a backrest. It was a long minute before Aymeric gently coaxed, "Shall we hear it, then?"
Echo'a brought his knees up to his chest and propped his crossed arms on top, giving him a place to rest his head as he kept his gaze on the fire. "What did Lucia tell you of the event preceding the initiative to take out the Tower of Babel?"
"I am assuming you are referring to your own kidnapping and of Zenos taking temporary control of your body, correct?" Echo'a gave an affirming hum. "Little if you are asking after it." When Echo'a did not immediately start talking, Aymeric continued to. "She spoke of how you had gone missing, plucked from the camp in the midst of the Garleans being tempered. Once things had calmed down and someone realized you were missing, they set about to search for you only for you to return on your own…not as yourself." A pause. He couldn't tell if it was because Aymeric was looking for confirmation or a reaction. He gained neither. "But then you appeared in a different body and interrupted what could have been a deadly first encounter of which was between Zenos, and Alisaie and G'raha Tia."
A Reaper's Avatar, stark against that white and gray background, behind his own dark appearance contrasted by the softer colors of G'raha and Alisaie, a swath of colors, barely shapes as he struggled to remain coherent through the hypothermia.
He flinched from the memory, curling more into himself as his fingers sought purchase on the comforter.
There was a slight stutter in the flow of words but Aymeric did not stop talking. "She did mention that the body you had been in had been in quite the state once you had departed it and returned to your own. She regretted not asking after what had happened, fearing that having left it be has caused more harm than good despite the circumstances and timing of it all."
"Getting to the Tower and stopping the primal was the priority."
"And yet her concern had merit: you still struggle with what you had suffered through."
It was canted like a question despite it not being a question. Echo'a closed his eyes and found only memories of the snow and the pain waiting for him. He opened them again, answering wearily, "It's the cold." A pause that went unbroken. "Usually it just makes me irritable but, on the very rare occasion, it puts me back there." Back in the snow, struggling to move, struggling to survive. He blinked, his breath shaking as it filled his lungs. "It's worse when I can't keep my hands warm." His grip on the blankets tightened. If any color had returned to them, the force of his grip had sent it all away again. "When I was kidnapped, I woke in a different body. There was some chatter but in the end, Zenos took control of my body and Fandaniel ditched me just outside the tower and told me to hurry after Zenos." He huffed a bitter laugh. "To hurry. When moving alone was an effort in that already stiff body."
Tempered bodies shuffled just on the other side of the wall as he took the chance to breathe. He could see the magiteck armor from where he was crouched but there were at least three tempered far too close to it to his liking.
He gritted his teeth, flexing his hand around the gunblade's handle. He was running out of time but he couldn't risk getting more than one on him as he was. His skills be damned; the body he was in just wouldn't respond right.
His entire body tensed when a warm hand covered his sending pins and needles through the still aching appendage. He tightened his curled posture, refusing to pull his gaze from the fire beside him. "I managed to make it most of the way out of the city proper when I ran into some folks that were having troubles with beast and machine alike. And some tempered." It was all a haze, really, but he remembered enough to piece together what had happened. "I helped because they helped me but something went wrong and some fuel tanks exploded." The concussive blast had hurt. "I woke from it in severe pain, both from the blast itself and the body growing colder."
He reached out with a strangled cry of pain as everything seemed to come alight, be it burning or tearing or stabbing. His fingers dragged through the snow, failing to gain purchase. He tried with the other hand, dropping it harder and feeling it catch on something. The entire arm felt like it was suddenly on fire and freezing all at once as he pulled himself forward a few miniscule ilms.
"You don't realize how hard it is to drag yourself through the snow until you're unable to do so without pain. I struggled to get my fingers deep enough in the powder to reach the more icy layer beneath. The powder lacked any sort of substance to hold on to but it clung to everything. The longer I went, the harder it became to even see my own arms. The only reason I could see my hands was because the icy layer destroyed the gloves." It was a feat to not let go of the blankets and start rubbing at his hands. Aymeric's hand still resting on one helped. The man seemed to pick up on the desire and started to rub soft circles into the back of his wrist. "By that point I couldn't tell if my hands had been rubbed raw within the gloves themselves or torn to shreds by the ice once the gloves started to give out in the fingers, but it didn't matter." It couldn't matter. "I had to make it back." He had to. "Even if I didn't make it back in time, I owed them all to at least return."
The crackling fire filled the brief silence before Aymeric asked, his voice nearly a whisper, "How did you get to your feet?"
Fresh pain coursed through him as he brought borrowed knees up to a borrowed chest. Those borrowed legs he couldn't feel held but the act of standing was a haze.
"With a lot of pain," he muttered. "Once I couldn't feel anything, I knew it would be faster to get up and walk, so I did."
Just another step. He could keep moving.
Just another step.
"Is there ought I can do to help?" Echo'a frowned, finally looking to Aymeric. A part of him was certain he had missed something. The rest of him was too cold and in too much pain to care. Aymeric met his gaze steadily. "Simply being warm and safe has not been enough; you are clearly still struggling with the remnants of what you went through." Echo'a flexed his jaw as his down ears pinned themselves to his skull. As much as he counted Aymeric as a friend, Aymeric was not Thancred, nor G'raha, nor the twins, and the idea of leaning on Aymeric in the same way sent a bitter rush of shame down his spine. Aymeric's hand stilled in favor of giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It does not matter the request, Echo'a. Should it be within my ability to grant, it shall be done."
Within reason, he wanted to add, because there had to be stipulations. There were always stipulations.
Aymeric seemed to deflate at his lack of response. Sounding equal parts frustrated and defeated, Aymeric asked, "May I at least hold you? Should the embrace not bring comfort, it would at least be another source of warmth for you."
The offer had merit but his immediate reaction to shy away from such offers - out of obligation; out of a misguided idea of how much that meant taking on - nearly won out. The only thing keeping him from following through were the encouraging words from his friends to lean on others, to accept aid whenever it was offered so that he didn't hurt himself more.
He nodded.
Aymeric sighed. "Thank you."
Echo'a uncurled from within the blankets as Aymeric moved back to sit on the floor against the chair. It seemed oddly closer? Or maybe he hadn't been paying much mind to just how close the chair had been originally. Either way, it mattered little to him as he shuffled on his knees after Aymeric. Aymeric snagged a corner of the blankets before Echo'a could lose them fully and pulled the heavy mass close, tossing his coat off to the side where it landed with a plop.
Echo'a rested his forehead against Aymeric's shoulder, knees to the chair and his side flush with Aymeric's, but Aymeric seemed to be having none of it. As soon as the mass of blankets was situated, Aymeric wrapped his arms around Echo'a's torso and pulled the smaller man sideways onto his lap. Echo'a went rigid but all Aymeric did was cover them both with the blankets, making sure every bit of Echo'a was covered except for his head, and then wrapped his arms back around Echo'a under the blankets. The hand that ended up on his back lazily rubbed back and forth within the wrist's natural range of motion, as if the man wasn't quite aware he was doing it.
Echo'a slowly relaxed into the embrace as both Aymeric's body heat and the stress of the day conspired against him and started to fill his limbs with exhaustion. At some point his thoughts turned from ice and snow and raw hands to Aymeric's words and random things about his friends or the world at large or even a random thought after whether or not Estinien would know of any hidden away fishing holes. Not that the Dragoon fished, mind, - not that Echo'a knew of, at least - but the man was well traveled and the kind of fishing holes Echo'a would like to find were those that others didn't usually know about. He couldn't see the Dragoon being opposed to the prospect of helping with something benign for a change, at least.
Helping…
"You asked after what helped," he spoke into the quiet. If he startled Aymeric with his sudden talking, the other didn't show it. "Warmth helps," he confirmed. "Being enveloped, though it's more effective when it's a person rather than a blanket." He shifted his position enough to press part of his face into Aymeric's neck. It was warm there. "I was so alone out there," he whispered, as if saying it outloud would throw him right back into the snow and bitter cold.
Fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his head, the entire hand settling there. That was warm too. "You are not alone now," Aymeric assured him, the man's voice a low rumble of sounds barely louder than his own whisper.
"I know," he said. "Sometimes it feels like it though."
He wasn't sure if those words had made it off his tongue properly. His mouth felt odd. Sluggish.
"Echo'a." He gave a hum at the inquisitive use of his name. "If you are amicable to it, I have a spare room that you can rest in. Proper sleep could only do you more good than not."
He shook his head, drawing away from Aymeric's neck to curl a bit more into himself, as if he could hide from the other while still trapped in the man's arms. The hand on his head did not leave. "Appreciated but I better not. Will only wake you with the nightmares."
He felt Aymeric's chest tense under his shoulder and cheek just before the man's hold tightened. Had he said something wrong? Twelve, the exhaustion was making it hard to think properly.
"Does anything help the nightmares?" Aymeric asked, a bit too nonchalant.
Echo'a shrugged, though only his right shoulder rose with the gesture as his left was well and pinned against Aymeric's chest. "Not really; not anymore." His thoughts wandered to G'raha and the twins, to the others he had huddled against desperate for sleep only to be met by nightmares. "Sleeping with another body in the bed used to work pretty well but even that's failing now, regardless of whether the body is within reach or I'm sandwiched between several."
"Yet you still need some proper rest." Aymeric's face found his hair, the next breath Aymeric let out heating up Echo'a's scalp. "Though it may not prevent the nightmares, I would be remiss if I did not at least offer my bed and my company for the duration of your stay in Ishgard."
Echo'a pressed his head more firmly against Aymeric's chest as he scrunched his face in displeasure at the idea. He was more awake now thanks to that thought, at least. "You don't have to do that, Aymeric. Obligations be damned; just because I'm the Warrior of Light doesn't mean you have to put yourself out just to-"
Aymeric's voice was low, soothing, as he cut Echo'a off. "I am not making the offer out of my position as Lord Speaker or any other sort of standing. I offer as a friend, one who understands how those sorts of dreams work." Again, Aymeric's arms tightened around him. "And with Ishgard's colder temperatures, I have no doubt the dreams that will haunt you once you sleep. At least I will be aware of what you may be waking from."
Echo'a's tail tried to give a sharp swish under the blankets but only managed to aggressively twitch where it was mostly pinned by the weight. "You have work to do," he tried to counter. He probably would have been able to come up with more if the exhaustion hadn't been winning out. "It's not like you can join me now."
"The ninth bell just rang not too long ago," Aymeric pointed out. Echo'a blanched at the notion that he had been that unaware for that long. Half a day, just gone. "And outside of sending a single missive, all else can wait." Aymeric chuckled. "I know quite a few souls who would be more than happy to hear I went to sleep in my own bed at a decent hour for once instead of falling asleep at my desk."
Echo'a sighed, going lax against Aymeric. He was too tired to keep fighting the man on this. "Fine. But if I wake you up, you can't get mad."
Aymeric's face pressed into his hair again, though this time it was accompanied by more pressure and a tightening of Aymeric's arms. "Never," Aymeric assured him, sounding affronted that Echo'a would even suggest such a reaction.