voidtreckernet | Getting It Over With - Video

She listened, shaking. And shook her head no at his final question. But rather than defending her own point of veiw directly she did her best to put her shoulders straight and look him in the eyes.

"I don't want my friends to die either," she said, her voice trembling. "But if I had found a way to.. to save Kigi," she swallowed hard, "from the burden that...that killed her..." another hard swallow. She was doing her best. "If I had found some way to let the Dark Lord free sooner, so she would have survived... a lot of people would have died. Even more would have been badly hurt. Everything good anyone had ever done to try and save Rakkan would have been undone. And Kigi..."

Another hard swallow.

"Kigi never would have forgiven me. Or herself. Everyone Kigi ever loved gave themselves to the seal that kept the Dark Lord trapped until the Mistrals could come. If I had forced her not to help... she would have been betraying everyone she ever loved, every ideal she lived with. Kigi might have survived but..." she fumbled, unable to figure out how to express the end of the thought.

"But she wouldn't have been Kigi anymore," Goligan finished for her.

Najaran nodded, tears in her eyes.

"I... I don't want to die," Najaran said in a small trembling voice. "I don't like being hurt. I'm scared... a lot.... since coming here. Since leaving Gilman Isle." Another hard swallow. "But the first time we faced the World Eaters..." she felt like she was going to shake apart. "The Train... The Train forced us to evacuate. No warning, no time, no choice. The Train chose to save us rather than to let us try to save them. Everyone keeps telling me that it was because the Train couldn't bear to lose us that way..."

She started pacing now, hugging her arms to try and control the shaking as tears fell.

"I do not think the Train is bad... but..." she swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes again. "I have never forgiven the Train for that," she whispered. "And I've never forgiven myself. I..." she didn't even feel like herself anymore since then. Somedays she felt like someone hollowed her out like a melon for carving. She turned on her heel and ran. She couldn't be there any more couldn't be still anymore... but...

There was nowhere to run to.

There's too much. There's too much all at once and Esteban can't keep up with everything she's telling him. Kigi died-- he'd gathered that much-- from... from a duty? That kept a Dark Lord imprisoned? He's getting confused and Najaran is talking, and hurting, and he didn't mean to make it so much worse-- he'd just-- it was just.

He's selfish. He doesn't want Najaran to die, doesn't want her to hurt. But she is hurting now and it's his fault, him and his big mouth and his clumsy words and his stubbornness that he shouldn't have shoved in this mess and--

"WAIT!" His hand stretches out; snatches at Najaran's wrist before he can think it clearly, hoping to catch her for just a moment. 'Dians, he's... he's not sorry for his words, he's not sorry for his beliefs, but he is sorry that he's made it so much more worse for her. He shouldn't have pushed. He shouldn't have hurt her. Just... he can't leave it like this. He can't let her leave like this right now. He needs-- he needs to make sure they can save their friendship.

"Please," he adds, because he won't force her either.

Holding her wrist he would feel how badly she is shanking. So when she collapses to the ground it probably isn't a surprise. Goligan managed to stand on his own when she collapsed, and her now free hand went over her face as she sobbed.

Her collapse surprises him, and Esteban panics a bit, immediately letting go of her wrist, worried that he might have hurt her. Well-- he already has it's just-- it's just.

"I'm sorry." 'Dians, he's horrible at this, and he feels horrible, and this all was stupid, he just had to open his big mouth. Why does he always make things worse like this?

No. No they can still fix it. They can, it's just. He just needs to shut up. Offer her comfort, stop talking, except, maybe, to apologize. Find the right words to apologize and back off. He's done enough harm.

"... I can give you a hug, if you'd like?" It's the second time Esteban offers, but this time, it feels more fragile, more broken. He's butchering their friendship one second and asking for a hug the next, but he does hope that the contact might make her feel better. "Or I can just-- sit next to you?" That might work better. Tiny steps. Tiny steps, he has got to stop pushing for too much.

She was crying too hard to answer, so Goligan answered for her.

"I am certain either of those would be fine with her," he said, concern in his voice and his eyes.

The half-elf nods slowly at the staff's offer, but it wasn't Najaran who answered, so he's far more hesitant at first. He sits, delicately, next to her, shifting his weight in a slow, gentle movement, until he's settled by her side, still wary of doing something wrong. The pull at her shoulder is soft at first, a careful hand to guide her to snuggle against him, where she may cry all the tears that he's burdened her with.

His touch is always gradual, a gentle tiny contact at first, gradually, slowly growing stronger. Softly, he rubs circles across her shoulders, and, after a hushed, quiet moment, he shifts, both because he cannot sit still for more than a minute, and because he hopes Najaran might glean some comfort, some grounding from the tiny side-to-side swaying.

Without filly being aware of how it happened, it was so gradual, Najaran was soon sobbing into him, still shaking terribly.

He lets her. All the aches, all the pain that have assaulted her, he lets her spill them against his shirt, rubbing at her shoulders. She's still so young; old enough that Esteban doesn't feel like he needs to hover over her as he tends to with Romeo, but still so small, for how much she'd said. A Dark Lord, and Kigi and her mentor dying, so many people-- and he somewhat got the distinct impression that they were relying on her.

Maybe it's the way she lay so little importance to her own life. That in a bid for good, her survival doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. There's mentions of books and cards, of things that belonged to her and didn't belong to her. The sword that spoke of another card caller, the mention of dragons that gave their lives and Najaran who saw through their eyes. He's not sure how much of it is correct, how much he understands what she is saying. But he doesn't need to understand. He won't force her to relive this again.

So he holds her gently, and carefully sways. Lets her empty out the heart that has seen so much death for how young she is, without care for how time stretches between them, so long as Najaran takes some comfort from this. There is a lot that seems to be broken in her world, and Esteban can't help the desire to fix things, the wish that he could do something... but there is little else he can do, but sit here, and cling to the young girl, and hope that it's enough.

Hope that maybe, maybe some day soon, he can share a bit of sunshine back with her, instead of the dark clouds that he's troubled her with.

After a while spent sobbing into him, accepting the warmth and friendship she finally cried herself out. At least for now. Her eyes remained closed but they were no longer spilling tears as her breathing slowly and subtly evened out. She hadn't quite cried herself to sleep, but she was very nearly there.

She hadn't cried herself to sleep since the train evacuated them from the World Eaters the first time. Since she and Duo had collapses in a hall and clung to each other, crying until they both fell asleep on the floor.

If nothing else... she was so lucky in the wonderful friends she got to keep making over her life. Even if she never got to keep most of them with her...

There are agonies that don't ever really fade. The half-elf with her knows this. But there is relief, from time to time. An outlet for all these fears and frustrations and pain. He hopes, truly hopes that, for all the pain he's given her, Najaran has found a bit of comfort from him, from this, from crying, until her tears ran dry.

He lets her sobs taper down, lets her breathing smooth over the hitch in her lungs, still here, still holding her. If nothing else, he can help her weather the storm that seems to have caught up with her.

A soothing silence comes to cloak them in its embrace, wrapping them in the warmth Esteban can share. A warmth of fire, and a gentle pat between her shoulders, and, letting her rest, seeing her settle and quieten, Esteban draws his hoodie off his shoulders, gently wrapping it around his friend, so she won't grow cold.

His voice rises in a murmur, even and steady, but discreet, like the patter of a gentle rain against a window. The hand returns to settle against her back, and Esteban tries to give her something to anchor her here. Or maybe something to help her slip into dreams, hopefully bright ones.

"I-- don't really know what to say; to make you feel better. I'm not great at talkin' people out of their pain-- I never know how." He repeats. Whether Najaran hears him or not, he can't quite tell, but he can try. He can try. "But I can always try an' distract them. So. You can list'n to me, or not list'n to me, it's okay. I'm just-- I'm here." It's all he can do.

"I'm here." There's a handful of heartbeats again, where the half-elf remains quiet, letting her protest or rise or, or something. Or anything. But if she won't, well. He can offer her this. He's gathered stories from all over his world after all; it's easy for him to settle onto one to share.

She had stirred a little when he shifted the hoodie off and put it around her. She sniffled, confused as to what he was doing, but she let him. She was so tired. Sleep was pulling at her, and the part of her that was fighting it was all but lost on the part of her that was asking why. When he resettled, she found herself snuggling in.

"Thank you..." she mumbled, voice a little slurred with the sleep that was dragging on her.

She felt safe. And that made it hard to think of any reason to not sleep. There was something oddly familiar about this whole thing and her drifting mind came across two... they were as much sensation as memory...

Being curled like this against Duo when they had both been so upset and...

Her dad. Being curled like this with her dad.

Not just one time, but many. Sometimes when she was upset, or he was, or just because it was cold.

Her lips slid slowly upwards as she drifted closer and closer to sleep. And there in the Garden car with Esteban, it was almost like being back with her dad, knowing that no matter what happened, he'd keep her safe. They'd be okay...

They'd be okay....

Somehow.

There are stories that are woven about her as she sleeps, tales of moons and dragons and birds stealing shards of the sky and breaking them into its feathers. Tall tales of mountains and small tales of crickets and everything in-between, clever foxes that learned to walk upright and gentle frogs that weave baskets out of grass. He keeps a steady stream of them going, until her breathing evens out entirely, and her limbs grow lax.

Tomorrow-- tomorrow he can apologize for being so callous. So driven. But today-- Today they can rest. Recover. Ease their burdens aside and linger in the gentle promise that, no matter how broken and hurt they are; neither of them seem about to give up on the other. They can still fix it. Esteban knows they can.

She drifted and dreamed, held and safe. Comforted. Perhaps some of the oddest dreams she had ever had, as the various stories wove themselves around each other. And because she was Najaran she wondered about what kinds of foods could be found on the moons, and what did the dragons eat? Did they eat the thief birds? How did they taste? Of the kinds of food that could be found in mountains, of a cricket leading her to a feast. Foxes walking upright to order food at restaurants and gentle frogs showing her what river plants tasted the yummiest. The last dream she would remember before stirring probably involved her eating salad out of an edible grass bowl....

Her slow waking doesn't disturb Esteban, his arms cradling her close while she sleeps. He's recalling a tale of an imprisoned god, watching the world from atop his tower, and stealing beauty from those surrounding him. However long she seems to have slept, it looks like the half-elf kept a steady stream of words, babbling gently in his unusually soft, quiet voice.

Once the tale is over, he grows silent, taking a deep breath and wetting his lips, as they've grown quite dry over his constant speaking. He tries his best to stretch without bothering the young girl pressed into his side, feeling a few of his bones click back into place with a soft groan. He peers at the staff from his awkward sitting, warm hand holding her shoulder steady as he asks.

"Maybe we sh'ld get her in bed?" he suggest gently. "Don't-- really wanna leave her 'lone for when she wakes up, but she can't be comf'table like this." He's feeling the effects of stone himself, desperately needing a bit of movement, but not daring to until he knows how to handle the sleeping girl against his side.

"Bed...?" she mumbled before Goligan could reply. She tried to open her eyes. Tried again. Managed it the third time and looked up at him, confused and disoriented. "Wh...?"

"Oh." He pauses, his voice still soft. "Did I wake you?" He'd tried to be discreet, but he can understand that his shuffling about had disturbed her. The hand on her back still holds her steady, but he's ready to shift if she wants to move, or to help cradle her once more.

"W'ldn't y'r bed be better? Y' should sleep a bit more." Especially after all this. After the tears and the pain and the aches. She should rest. She should rest, not just her body but her soul and spirit too. Gently ease the last of the grief away. Or at least, he thinks that would be the best thing to do.

She gave a small sleepy shrug. "S'kay," she mumbled. She snuggled in a bit more. "C'fy...' her voce was muffled by his own shoulder as her face pressed into it.

Speaking of muffled sounds, Goligan had his mustache over his own mouth, trying not to laugh loudly enough to further wake her.

Esteban's too used to this.

As someone with no concept of personal space-- and with friends (and family) who are just as oblivious as he is about personal space, there's this sort of understanding that the best spot in any location is leaning against his friends, against the people he cares about. So Najaran's comment doesn't really get him to move much-- just shrug it along and accept it.

"Are y' gonna sleep some more?" he asks, though, because she can-- as much as she wants to. He just... shuffles a bit; needing the stretch along his limbs. "Cold? Hungry? I'm gonna get you some wa--" he pauses, realizing he really can't move when she's tucked so tightly into his side; his unnatural warmth shared between them, and the scent of fire and ashes probably lulling her to sleep anew.

She had almost drifted back off. Almost. But then he asked if she was hungry. Her head popped up. He'd be able to see her face now, and see in it that she was clearly more than half a sleep still. Despite that, she said "Food....?"

His nose scrunches, his crooked smile growing across his lips as the snicker escapes him in tiny huffed breaths, amused again. Yeah. Food would be good-- and not only for the young girl; they should both eat something. And drink. Even if there is comfort to be had now, he does want to tell her--

-- in a minute. First up, food.

"Not the best of cooks 'round, but we can make somethin' together," he prods lightly. His hold comes a little loose as he notices she has a goal now, and they both should be getting up. The hoodie, he leaves to her, as long as she wants it-- it positively floats on her, dwarfing her in its massive size. He still stays near as they stumble back up to their feet, just in case she's not ready yet to go.

She got up sleepily, yawning. "Can cook..." she mumbled. She looked down at the hoodie she was wearing, confused, but too asleep to figure it out. She grabbed Goligan and used him to support herself as she swayed.

"What're we gonna make?~" Seems she's not getting rid of him that easily, and if Esteban isn't the main cook in their endeavour, at least he can make himself usefu-- at least he can be a bit of an entertaining nuisance while she works. His snicker scrunches his nose as he offers, and he has to beat back the offer to just carry her around.

It's been... a long time since he's done that for anyone. The trek to the kitchen won't be long, and the walk is helping him stretch out knots and itches that have lingered in his limbs.

"In my world, there's a cookin' technique that's just a flat stone that you set on top 'f a hearth." It's not important, just mindless blabber as they walk.

"Th' stone's heat transfer's more steady, so it grills everythin' pretty equally. There's pretty table d'signs around that sorta cookin', an' it's pretty popular all 'round, 'specially in winter." Hunger is starting to churn, and Esteban has to grin when his stomach growls. Yeah, they'll get to it pretty soon. He pauses for a bit, before adding.

"What sorta food d'you miss from home?" It's-- it's a bit of a gamble. But maybe he can get her some. A little piece of home back in her hands. Maybe.

"Dunno..." she mumbled to his question of what they were gonna make. She woke up some as they walked and she listened to what he was talking about. She wondered if she could make one of those in the Garden Car.

But at his question at the end, she smiled wistfully. "Pretty much everything except mushrooms and things Joaquin makes," she said with a chuckle. But she thought about it more seriously. "My Master has the yummiest cake sometimes. I haven't had any in ages now. Even before the Train...."

That's twice Esteban prods a bit about food, and that's twice Najaran has brushed his question off, albeit not on purpose. There's a snicker in his lungs again, brightness coming easy to him, despite the heavy weight of their earlier discussion. This is nice. It helps, in its own way, as he teases lightly.

"Y're not a picky eater, are ya? Other than mushrooms? What happened t' make you hate them so much?" Unfortunately, curiosity is not a trait Esteban would ever want to work out of his personality. So his friends are going to have to deal with him being nosy into anything and almost everything. Especially if he can wiggle away with some knowledge of their lives, of their path, of their experiences. He's greedy like that.

She yawned and shook her head when he asked if she was a picky eater. She wasn't. She loved nearly all foods. In part because of how much starving as a child made her appreciate food, and in part because food is just intrinsically yummy.

But when he asked about mushrooms, she shuddered a bit. She was almost fully awake now. "I... told you about Kigi and the Mistrals, right?" she asked, just groggy enough to not be sure.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Ayaaaa, I focused too much on event for a few days, sorry for the delay .__.

No worries, been too brain fogged to function the last few days.

*nodsnods* hope the next few days get easier .__.

Thanks/.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

nodsnods hope the next few days get easier .__.