Hollow Zeke

Log Info

• Title: Hollow Zeke
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Zeke
• Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
• Time: Wednesday, September 15, 2021, 6:38 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia is conscious and lucid in the Temple of Daeus, with Zeke caring for her. Cryo wants to talk about things, so many things. Zeke wants her to rest. She attempts to explain why she fought Brae, the things that happened to her with Griva and the other Guardians in the Sea of Mana. Zeke begs her to rest, and shares a story to help her do so. He tells her how newborn human babies will die if they are not cuddled and touched frequency, so they are placed in break rooms where the healers can give them attention when they are not doing other duties. Cryo wonders when she was reborn as a softskin, but manages to drift asleep. Zeke is satisfied, but still feels this is a hollow victory, all things considered.

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The temple of the Sun Lord glitters golden beneath the same. Rather than walls, the majority of the temple is composed of what appears at first blush to be a raised round platform made of one of the largest slabs of marble likely in existence. Columns rise into the air as if to hold some massive ceiling, though instead of a normal ceiling, one finds the deep blue sky, studded by a disconcertingly close canopy of bright stars. One should not worry, however, as the rain never falls, and the wind never blows on this particular temple, but for a gentle breeze, whatever the weather outside may be.

Despite the austerity of the columns, warmth suffuses the grounds. A grand, marble statue of the Shining Knight stands a the center, a hand outstretched in benediction. Beside Him, the statue of Althea, their hands clasped in love. The central position of the temple to the others gives view to all of their children, and the two look upon one another with the solemnity of love that has been the center of so many tales and legends.

Masterfully designed mana lamps provide further soft, golden lightning where needed, their pedestals carved in the form of the Dragons of Light, over which Daeus is said to have dominion in His form of Draco Solis. Majesty, justice, and welcome suffuse the temple grounds. Around the central temple are a series of smaller buildings, each with a simple function and form. One houses the sacred book depicting some of the earliest known translations of the Laws of Light, which pilgrims from near and far come to visit. Another houses the well-appointed quarters of the Sunguards, and among all the ground bristle the Sunblades.

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This is familiar.

The specifics are different, the details also.

Lying on a bed, in pain, enduring it, waiting it out. Staring at the wall or the ceiling if her eyes are open, simply sensing them if they aren't. Aware, at every moment, of where her cihuaa is. Listening to him, feeling him minister to her wounds. Smelling him. Being put back together...

This is more familiar than it should be.

Sometimes the rolls were reversed, and she was the caregiver. Usually not, she was her Mistress' favourite project, her beloved pet. Ending up back in this state, in a room, so soon after Winter's visit is ironic, especially after her successful defiance.

It shouldn't be comforting. It isn't really. There is much wrong, but she's in no condition to do anything about it. She will have to wait, and trust others.

Others are here for her. Zeke is here.

He knows of course, how difficult it is for her to be here. To be unable to do anything.

Zeke sits at her side, a tea service near at hand. More for him than for her, though there's a separate pot of tea for her should she need or want it. It holds a mix of more medicinal teas. Things that will ease her pain and help her sleep. The blue-scale sits at her side, his expression lacking, his scent as calm as he can make it.

For him it as reminiscent of old times as it is for her. How many countless times they have been here for one another like this.

He wishes that he could give her good times to match the pain they've been given, but he worries that there aren't enough years left in his life to begin to try.

A snuffle, a snort, a growl of pain, a long exhale. Her breathing is slow and deep. When it is, she's counting, one to eight, inhale, one to eight, exhale. Get through this eight. Get through another eight.

Endure. Wait.

"Zeke," she murmurs, "I don't know where to ssstart."

A heavy chuff, "Merek is dead. I met myself. I had to be there..."

"Am I dying?"

Zeke looks at her, his expression pained for a moment, but he tries to hide it. "No cihuaa... You are not dead." He breathes out, resting his claw on her claw. "Nor isss Merek... though he wasss brought back to life." He tries to reassure her with his touch, but he feels paper-thin today. "You do not need to explain any-thing. Would you like the tea?"

"I didn't want to be there and now she's..." the rest of her words vanishing into a call of grief. Her breath catches, she tenses, then whimpers. It lasts only a short time.

She's concentrating on her breathing. She's been cleaned. The layers of charred molts carefully taken off. She's been bandaged on her side, which seems to be improving. Her scars, her highlight scales, her patterns and markings all continue to glow the strange light. It's constant. Her form is unsettling, different enough she's uncanny, too much seeming 'wrong', when it isn't.

"Yes. This one would like tea."

A long pause again, "Your hand feels weird. Can you put your fingers between mine?"

"Let thisss one get the tea firsst." Zeke replies, pulling away so that he can pour the tea for her. There's a straw nearby, so that she doesn't have to move her head to get to the tea. It's cool enough to drink, but warm enough to be comforting. He's glad for these small favors. It takes all he has not to respond to her call.

He brings the tea to her, holding it in his crystal claw so that he can place his fingers between her fingers. Claw beside claw. Each one unto their own. His crystal claw can bear the burden of the medicinal tea easily. "Here, drink ssslowly."

His crystal fingers are the most comforting. She's held them so often. Her hand, her forepaw, her talon, her claw-hand squeezes, fingers pressing together against his. She takes the straw in her mouth and sips.

A very small sip. It would be better if she took more fluids. She's drinking very slow. There's the quiet gurgle as she does.

"I had to fight Brae, Zeke. It was..."

A sigh. A slurp. "I had to."

He doesn't try to hurry her. After all, he's the one that told her to drink slowly. More liquids are good for her, but not so good if she makes herself sick drinking them. He has cared for enough of the people who were in the sea of mana to know to expect a sick stomach on top of the other symptoms, and Cryosanthia was still very much on the mend. He doesn't argue with her either, but his silence alone bespeaks the fact that he doesn't agree.

"It'ssss... iss how we talk." She says, eyes remaining closed. Another slurp, another long inhale, exhale. "Words wouldn't... the body knows... I would have... I wanted to.."

Her breath catches again, followed by a hissing as she breathes out. "She iss Warrior-Caste. They think differently. We have play fought before."

"Thisss... that... was ..."

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Her hands squeeze, on Zeke's on the bed beneath her.

The tea cup is empty now, so Zeke sets it aside and shakes his head. "Thisss one can not underssstand Cryosssanthia. You risssked your life. Thisss one hass known many warrior-cassste, and they would not have done ssssuch a thing. They would not have fought a grieving, injured female." He lays his crystal hand on top of the pile made up of their fingers.

"I wanted to die Zeke..."

Cryosanthia's voice crackles, her grip tightening, yet still so weak, "I can't... after him... her... any nest we make... it'll never... I didn't want to be there, I wasn't there for her, I can't save even a..."

Her wing flaps, the functional one, her breathing is fast, she's clenching. Another long keening of despair escapes. I am undone. She inhales as if another more powerful wail is coming.

It doesn't. She shudders, exhales. Counts to eight. "I can only beat up my sister."

Inhale. Exhale. "I pretended to be Maugrim."

"That only makessss it worssse." His voice is stiff, hard with the edge of his anger. Not at Cryosanthia, but at Braelnoir for trying to grant a wish that would take Cryosanthia from him forever. "Isss..."

He hesitates, pulls his hands away and sits very still. He can't say it. Because he knows the truth deep in his own heart. It has been the truth since he was born, and remains now the truth as well. So he sits in a well of silence.

"It doesss. It'ss hard to stop." She answers. The removal of his hand startles her, a short cry. Her eyes open and she reaches for him. "Are you ok Zeke? Iss Seldan okay? He has a second Reunion. I think he has it. It's from another dimension. It's wrong."

"There's... Zeke?" She's repositioning to get up.

"Thisss one isss here." He says softly, but he shakes his head. "You need ressst Cryosssanthia. You are not well. Lay down." Zeke is a healer, he will do what he can to help. Always. Even if it is not enough.

She lays back down. She is not well. She needs rest.

She is the broken tower, again. The mental fortress of her mind reduced to rubble she stumbles over and through. Her train of thought assailed by pain bandits and thrown off both sides of its track. They chase around and around, more in random spirals than any direction. Spirals that often go down, and dark.

She wants to explain what she can't even work out. She keeps looking for Lily, she was always watching out for her, and every other minute she seeks a tiny scaled body, then remembers, oh...

"I'll explain later..." Cryo says, her voice growing quieter. "Thisss one is ssorry Zeke... I can't explain now..."

I can't stop hurting you. I can't fix this. I don't know what to do. The emptiness opens up beneath her again.

Are you still watching Ceinara? Are you entertained yet? Or did you look away.

"I had to. I didn't want to."

"You do not need to explain." Zeke sits patiently at her beside, his own tea untouched. He can barely stand the smell of it. Her tea too, makes his stomach cramp in knots. "You do not need to explain." He waits for the medicine to kick in. To make her feel better, because he can not. Can not heal her any further. Can not heal the wounds of her heart and mind.

"Thisss one will tell you a ssstory. Ssso that you can sssleep." Yes, a good idea. "Did you know, that sssoftssskin hatchlingsss are ssso weak, that if they are not touched... They will not sssurvive? They will eventually sstop crying, and then they give up. They sssstop living. Ssso when a sssoft-ssskin nesst-mother givess up her hatchling, they keep the hatchling in a ssspecial room, and all of the healerss take their breaksss there. They go and hold the hatchling. They comfort and talk to it. Ssso that it will live. Thisss one learned from little hatchlingsss to touch again Cryosssanthia. They taught thisss one how important it isss." He looks at her. "You might wonder why thisss one would sssay sssuch thingsss... now... but thisss one thinksss that..."

He looks down. "We touched her. We loved her. Sshe did not wither in our armsss. You sssaved her from that fate. And even if we never have another hatchling, thisss one will care for you. And if you let thissss one... thiss one might be enough... to keep you from withering." He is nothing but sorrow. "If you will let thisss one, be at your ssside."

The medicine kicks in, and the damn breaks. The numbness spreads and her words rush out.

"She was here Zeke, she was right here." Cryo curls her arm against her side, pulling on the bed. "I felt her, I smelled her, I touched her, I held her, I slept with her. I came back I came back I came back I kept my promise. Why didn't it matter?"

The wail and despair undercut her words, which she chokes on as she says them, "She was right here."

No words now, just her call of mourning, for her younglings. Then her call for her mate, her cihuaa, who is not dead but she can't make it in her state without sounding like she's grieving for him too. The call she made when he left. So many times.

When was I reborn as a softskin? "I need you to hold me Zeke. I can't hold myself together. I can't. I need you to hold me."

I watched her break apart. I'm watching myself break apart.

Mourning is important. Grief has to happen, Zeke knows this as a healer, but it still hurts. He answers her call with his own. Meets grief with grief. Lets her know that he's right here. That she isn't alone. He holds her. His hands on her hands. Claws interlaced. It's the best that he can do. It's never enough, but... it's all he has. He holds her until the medicine can take her from him.

He feels hollow inside. Washed out and left clean of anything important.