[Flashback] Second Chance (Poison)

[Laszlo]

She was distraught, the old woman with a young maiden's name. It looked as though she were about to break down, to fall on her brittle knees and begin sobbing. Laszlo was paralyzed to watch her, a mix of pain and awe written across his stolen face to see her remember the things he couldn't. Her devotion, her crushing loneliness, the desperation to believe that Laszlo was real and flesh, it was all there. It was shown so powerfully that even Laszlo himself could feel her pain piercing his own heat.

This was for him.

Vethis Orthilia, the man he'd once been two lifetimes ago, had left his family and his lover here alone. This was how much he'd been loved. This was how devoted his young, beautiful Nassanye had been to him, that half a century later, she would still need him this much. Laszlo realized in that moment that this was the power of a single life. It didn't end when the body died and the soul departed. It sent ripples through time, living on in other people. Like the Matriarch. Like… Vikenti?

Laszlo turned toward the door to find the man again, the one who'd looked so much like him, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of Nassanye for long.

Nassanye. That name belonged to lithe, graceful woman with flowing tresses of alabaster. It shouldn't have been this old woman, fighting off the grip of senility and a face sagged with age. If Vethis had lived, however, he would look just like her, if he even still survived. Laszlo couldn't combine the women in his head, but… Vethis… if this was your Nassanye… how would you see her?

For a long moment, Laszlo hesitated, having no answer for the woman, while he waited for something inside him to answer.

"Dear heart," Laszlo whispered as his features all at once softened, moving a step forward and wrapping his long arms around Nassanye's thin, fragile shoulders. He tucked her head gently against his chest, resting the side of his face against her thinning hair. Running his thumb lovingly around the curve of her shoulder, he kissed her hair. "I can't believe you've waited so long."

Closing his eyes, Laszlo swam in the warmth of this reunion, surrendering himself to this woman's devotion, her love for him. The Ethaefal wasn't alone anymore. He'd found a place! Somewhere he'd been missed, somewhere he belonged. He wanted so firmly to believe it that he ignored the trace of doubt that shadowed his emotions.

Releasing the woman, he took a step back so he could look at her. "Of course I'll come home with you. I… I don't remember much of anything, I'm afraid. You'll have to… fill me in." He glanced briefly skyward. "Viratas had no hand in this. I'm… different, now. I'll explain it to you when we arrive back at the Nest."

Lifting his hand, he traced his thumb across Nassanye's cheek. "I'm so very proud of you."

[Poison]

As Laszlo moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, the old woman finally relaxed a little. For a moment, for the fraction of a second everything was as it should be again. For a moment she didn’t feel her age, and the cruel joke that the gods had decided to play on them didn’t matter. There were just the two of them, and everything was the way it had been before ... before the murderer had taken him from her, before she had nearly gone mad with grief ...

She rested her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beat. The last doubts she might have had vanished. He was alive. How could a man she had watched die, a man she had buried have such a strong heartbeat?

„I had no choice but to wait“, she whispered. She felt the tears again, moisture in the corners of her eyes, but she fought them. If she started to cry, she would never be able to stop, and she couldn’t lose her composure, not here, where other people could see them. „Our children, they needed a mother, and for a while I believed that it wasn’t true, that it was all some kind of nightmare. I saw you in my dreams. In my dreams you were always alive. I never dreamed of your funeral. They called me insane because of it ...“

A bitter laughter escaped her lips.

She let a bony hand run across his face, to feel him, like she had all those decades before. For a moment she wished that she could kiss him, like she had kissed him in her dreams, but she was an old woman now. She wasn’t sure if she should. She was painfully aware that they would never be lovers again, that she would only have the memories even if he had come back.

She stepped away from him and averted her gaze for a moment so that he couldn’t see the look on her face. „I don’t care how much you have changed. The only thing that matters is that you are back. And don’t be proud of me. Never be proud of me. I have done nothing to deserve that. When I dreamed of you, when I dreamed that you would return to me, I tried to stay young for you, but nothing I did helped. I failed you, Vethis. I aged while you remained a young man ...“

She took his hand. „Let’s go home, Vethis.“ Her touch, as she led him out of the tavern, was exceptionally gentle. She took him to her house that was located not far from the red strand road, in one of the past parts of the city, a sign that she was or had once been somebody of importance. „This is where we used to live together“, she said to him as they stood in front of the door. „Our children grew up here. You said you don’t remember, but does anything about this house seem familiar to you now that you are standing in front of it?“

She didn’t know why he had lost his memory, but she would do what he could so that he remembered, so that he became whole again.

[Laszlo]

"I saw you in my dreams." It rang so familiar that for a moment, Laszlo lost his breath. So many times, he'd seen the white haired woman in his dreams, calling to him, crying for him, holding him, loving him. To know that the woman in his dreams had been dreaming of him as well… it was like fate. Without question, this meeting was meant to happen. Her golden eyes were so tired now, so old, while his were so young. It wasn't perfect—nothing ever is—but he truly felt as if he were staring into the face of his destiny. Laszlo felt her hand on his cheek, so frail and gnarled. Her skin was like velvety paper, soft and fragile as it clung loosely to her aged bones. She was so worn—he felt like it was his fault. He took too long, he came too late. They were always fated to meet again, but it shouldn't have been like this. The Ethaefal studied the hesitance in Nassanye's glassy, wet gaze. He watched her flick her eyes from his, to his lips, and back up again. Despite the rush of emotion in seeing her again, the white haired woman from his dreams, he couldn't bring himself to have to desire to kiss her. She was familiar, in a distant way, but considering his eternal youth and her fading years, she was as much a stranger. Too much had happened to both of them; she had raised her family alone as the Matriarch of the Orthilia Web. She'd seen her children raise their own children, facing numerous decades alone and scarred. Laszlo… Vethis… had died. Perhaps, in time, something could be reignited, but the gap between them would have to be bridged. She didn't even understand what he was. The future seemed so uncertain now. Would he simply retake his place in the Orthilia Web? No… he couldn't. He wasn't really Symenestra anymore. He wasn't even a Dra. "Let's go home, Vethis." That wasn't his name. 'Laszlo' wasn't even his name. Those names belonged to bodies of flesh. His soul was so much brighter, with a name so much more meaningful. Shaking the notion out of his head, he grunted in frustration. What did it matter what name he used in this life? He was no longer in Syna's realm. Here in Kalinor, he had once been Vethis. He could be Vethis again. Laszlo finally nodded in agreement, and followed Nassanye out of the tavern. They'd best hurry. In a few hours, she wouldn't be her Vethis anymore. Some time later, Laszlo stood next to the frail creature that was Nassanye, at the mouth of a structure she called their home. It all seemed familiar, the architecture and spidery, delicate designs of the floating abode, but untouchable—the way you'd recognize a neighbor's house but never consider stepping inside. He didn’t know the names of anyone who lived there, nor could he recall what the interior looked like, but it was all so familiar. But Vethis had lived here for so long… Laszlo could almost see it, the view of the city as he stepped out onto the ledge. Coming back to a lit home at the end of the day… but… no… it was gone. "Our children…" Laszlo echoed. He had children. And Vikenti… he was too young to be Nassanye's son. Could he be…? "Nrgh!" The Ethaefal hunched over, digging his claw-tipped fingers into his silvery hair and pulling. Laszlo had a son… two sons! At the edge of his mind he could almost remember the birth of his oldest. His younger… "I can't!" Laszlo cried, sinking down to his knees. "I can't remember anything! It's all there, but I can't… I can't reach it. It slips away as I try to remember. Like…" He heaved a sigh, his arms falling to his sides. "Like trying to recall a dream. Nassanye…" Smoothing his lengthy hair back, Laszlo turned to look up at her, his violet eyes twinkling. "I'm not sure I can do this. I'm not who I was before. I've seen… beyond everything. This life, it…" It ended half a century ago.

[Poison]

She stood in front of the door, her hand on the doorknob, about to open it, but as Laszlo sank down to his knees next to her, she turned around. Her golden eyes were wide with fear and worry. She bent down a little, although it took her some effort. She wasn’t as agile as she had once been. „Vethis …“ she whispered. She touched his hand, tried to move it away from his head so that he would stop pulling his hair.

„Vethis, look at me!“ she asked him and gently tried to move his head. „Look at me! You said that it’s all there, but that it slips away. If that is the case, there is still hope. You don’t have to remember now. Nobody demands that. It’s okay, Vethis. I’m willing to wait, no matter how long it takes. I’ve already waited half a century.“
She averted her gaze for a moment. She was old, and she was aware that she probably didn’t have much time left, but what else was she supposed to say? He seemed so desperate. She couldn’t let him know that she would probably die, a few months or a few years from now. He needed a little bit of hope.

„If you can’t do this, you don’t have to“, she told him, although she wanted nothing more than to take him home, despite the impossibility of it all. Her voice was exceptionally gentle, although it nearly broke her heart – again. „Would you like to go somewhere else? Where did you stay all this time? Maybe you would just like to go back there?“

„Who are you now?“ she wanted to know.

[Laszlo]

"Who—" Or what? Laszlo had a name that he could only remember, never speak, or write, or explain. Vethis was only a small part of that name, some shadowy corner of his soul that had lived without Syna's light. How often did Vethis Orthilia ever see the sun? Did he leave Kalinor for the Harvest, or did he have an older brother to do that for him? Perhaps he'd never left the caverns. Laszlo was more than Vethis had been. To choose this life was to choose a single card from a deck of countless faces. Yet… one mortal man could only live one mortal life. Wouldn't this be enough, to pick up where Vethis left off? Did he have the right to wear that mask? Was he truly Vethis, or was a soul merely the culmination of individual fragments? A soul of many souls? Nassanye's golden eyes bored down at him, vibrant and yellow as the sun itself. She was old, tired, but her hope propelled her forward, held her fast at his side. Laszlo wasn't the only one reaching for Vethis' life through the dark abyss, reaching past the decades to clutch at his sleeve. Her face was etched with the scars of her efforts, all this time spent clinging onto the memory of a person who had gone on to live without her. Without even remembering her. "I'm dead," Laszlo told her softly, releasing a sigh as he pushed himself back up to his feet. His amethyst eyes remained cast downward, searching for memories he couldn't unlock. A slender and relatively young clawed hand placed itself upon Nassanye's frail, bony shoulder. She was barely a wisp of a creature, but to feel her warmth under his fingers was precious. She was alive, and she was devoted to him. "You must understand that I truly died. And then I went on to live and die again. I am no longer Symenestra. This is only the appearance I take at night. When Syna rises to look upon Kalea, you will not recognize me. I am Ethaefal, a fallen son. Do you know what I'm telling you?" He spared a look at the gently lit structure he had long ago called his home. Laszlo couldn't remember how it looked inside, how it smelled, the faces who resided there, but he was staring into the mouth of a treasure trove. What lie inside was destined for him. "Nassanye… I have seen you in my dreams so often that I did not believe you were real. Tell me… will it trouble you to know that I am different from all of you? I want to be Vethis… I'm simply not sure if I have the right. Only you can tell me what I should do from here."

[Poison]

„No! You aren’t dead!“ Nassanye disagreed. Her voice was very firm, as if she were trying to convince herself, as if she were trying to convince both of them of it. „You breathe. Your heart beats. You walk, and you talk, and you are warm. You can’t be dead.“ She touched his hand as if she needed to confirm that. He felt just like the man that she had held in her arms so many years ago. How could be be anything else?

„No, no“, she whispered as he asked her if she knew what he was telling her. She shook her head. Her voice was trembling now, but somewhere deep down she realized that it was possible, that what he was telling her could be true. „You don’t look like a fallen one“, she told him even though she was aware that Ethaefal didn’t wear their celestial form all the time. She knew at least that much about them. „You look just like my husband.“

Did it trouble her? She looked at him for the longest time as he asked this, and then she shook her head. „No, it doesn’t. Maybe … maybe it was the only way for the gods to bring you back to me. Maybe you had to become Ethaefal.“ She couldn’t believe what he had told her yet. Would he really change? She couldn’t imagine it. It seemed impossible that he was anything but the Symenestra that had been taken from her.

„Of course you have the right“, she said. „You have every right to be here. You were him. You can be him again. There is no other man that will ever bear that name. Just don’t leave me.“

She wouldn’t survive if she had to lose him a second time, even though she knew that they didn't have a future together. She couldn't live with him, but it was even harder for her to imagine a life without him - again.

Besides, where else would they welcome somebody who was a Symenestra for part of the day?

[Laszlo]

Nassanye was in denial, and perhaps she knew it. The conviction in her voice and the hardness of her wrinkled features, however, was so staunch and insistent that even he wanted to believe what she was saying was true. Easily over a head taller than she was, Laszlo stood there in the dark city, watching her through pensive, uncertain amethysts. She was so much older than he was, so perhaps she knew better. Or had the years made her frail and weak? Was this the undying love of a faithful wife, or the death throes of her willpower? Those golden eyes… Laszlo could feel it somewhere in him; he'd loved her once. Looking upon her now, however, he wasn't sure that he could again. Perhaps he didn't need to. He swallowed, looked down. "I'll stay." Laszlo's eyes lifted tentatively, rising no higher than Nassanye's chin. What was clear, here, was that she needed him. Laszlo wasn't sure what he needed, where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do. Perhaps this didn't feel completely right, but maybe he was looking at this all wrong. From the start, Laszlo had belonged nowhere. No home, no family. Now, suddenly, he was needed. That was start. "I'll stay, Nassanye. You're the only one who can show me my past. Perhaps you're right. Maybe this was the only way we could be together again." A clawed hand lighted upon her brittle shoulder. "I left you once, but somehow I'm standing here with you now. It's been so long. This is just too… miraculous to deny. I won't leave you, Nassanye. This won't be easy for… either of us, but I think it'll be alright." He tried a smile. It didn't quite fit. "Let's go inside."

[Poison]

THREAD AWARD!

Skills: Observation 4, Rhetoric 3, Interrogation 2
Lores: Acquaintance: Nassanye, Vethis Orthilia's Life

Notes: I really enjoyed the thread, and I hope I'll get the opportunity to write with you again!

You get observation points for studying your environment, the people around you and the way they act. Your descriptions of that were really detailled.

The points in Rhetoric are for the conversations with Nassanye and Vikenti. As far as I am concerned, it was more than just normal small talk.

Rather than giving you 4 or 5 points in Rhetoric I decided to give you two points in Interrogation for questioning Nassanye and Vikenti as certain parts of the thread seemed to fit that skill more.

I only gave you two lores because I prefer to give PCs lores that are actually useful rather than random stuff. You can now assume that Laszlo knows the basics about Nassanye and about his former life.

I realize that I never made it clear who Vikenti is. I just hinted at it. I’ll leave it up to you. He can be anything from a son or relative, the son of a friend to one of Nassanye’s employees (although I’m not sure if a son would talk like that about his mother and call her ‚matriarch‘).

If anything is unclear or you think I gave you too few or too many XP, send me a PM!