Closed Left Behind (Saidra)

[Glen Fiddich]

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44th Winter, 514

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Three dusks and dawns had passed since the lighthouse had burned red through the night. Lucern's Lodestar, he had heard the drunken locals at the Drunken Fish call it, and apparently it was an ill portent indeed. Glen understood too little of the local legends to know quite why, but there had been slurred speaking of ghosts and haunted isles, and that was as much as Glen needed to hear. Not a day had passed since when he had not kept his axe, Vera, close at hand; with luck, and the grace of Lhex, her cold iron would be enough to safeguard him if he found himself the subject of undead ire.

The night had been long, dark, and cold; and they would grow colder still if the weather continued it's trend. The night had chilled him to his core, the mound of blankets he buried himself beneath in the cabin of his casinor offering little more than the illusion of warmth, rather than the true effect. A fire would have been most welcome, but also most unwise; contrary to what first glance logic might suggest, being surrounded by water did little to help you if one's ship burst into flames.

There were rooms he could rent of course; he had the coin, and the Drunken Fish provided the opportunity. Were he to do so, he could perhaps even avoid the entire winter, never needing to stray beyond the tavern until Syna's full warmth began to return in the spring. It was shrewd; it was smart; perhaps that was why Glen had not done so yet, neither being traits with which he was usually associated. It was not as simple as it seemed, though. To another man, it might merely seem like a few weeks of warmth and comfort; to Glen it was surrender, and the loss of his freedom. When home was his ship, a single swing could sever the rope and remove everything that moored him to this city, letting him drift away to wherever Zulrav's breath propelled him. As soon as he lay his head on land, his pillow became an anchor; he was not yet ready to think of Sunberth as a place he might stay, befitting as it might be for a man such as he.

With a sigh, and heavy boots, Glen stepped from the reassuring, rocking surface of his ship onto the unsettlingly steady planks of the dock. Glen had been born at sea, and raised at sea, and while the urge to flee the known had gripped him - just as it did almost every young man - and spurred him to seek a future where the earth beneath his boots, the familiarity of a ship at sea was still a comfort. A swaying ship felt relaxed and at ease; solid ground felt tense, poised, and menacing, biding it's time for the inevitable harm that it would bring to him. With all that had happened this last year, the reassurance of his home at sea was most welcome.

Petch this shykestorm of a year.

Glen grunted, unfurling the tensed muscles of his aching back. If 514 was to end and begin this coming night, it would still have not been soon enough.

Glen's lips pursed, and a short, sharp whistle pierced the cold morning air. "Come, Frith," he demanded, uttering commands in the almost impenetrable vocabulary of Fratava. Wiser people who had paid more attention to their studies told him that the language had almost nothing in common with any other, and that suited Glen just fine. The less people understood of what he was saying, the longer it would take for them to realise that he seldom knew what he was talking about either.

A scampered flurry of scraping steps sounded before a bundle of white fur hurled itself from the Crimson Tide and onto the dock. As ever, the tiny terrier seemed startled that it's acrobatics had been successful, and turned his shimmering, eager eyes towards his master, panting mouth hanging open as he sought recognition and approval.

As ever, Glen's dour mood softened at the sight. "Good boy," he uttered, and all it took was a wordless pat of his thigh for Frith to come to heal and remain there, as if bound by a chain, trotting patiently alongside his Svefra as Glen strode his way into town.

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Common | Fratava | Nari

[Saidra]

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She had to be completely and utterly petching insane. That was the only excuse for why she was up at this Krysus forsaken hour and in the Drunken Fish well before any of it's patrons had even begun to wean themselves off of the prior night's revelries. Not that there had been much of that, Saidra guessed. The red light coming from the ruined lighthouse on the nearby isle had seemed to put just about everyone in a foul mood. Well, fouler than the apparently unusually cold weather had already done. If anything the uneasy calm that had fallen over the tavern the night before had made her question her plans for the next day all the more. Spotting and scouting out a location on an ill-deemed night was one thing, but sitting at one of it's tables as nonchalant as you possibly could at far too early of an hour the next day? Insanity. That could be the only viable reason.

Surely it wasn't any shred of guilt or weight of conscious that brought her here. Her intentions had been carefully noted and left behind. And if popular theory was to be believed, it wasn’t like Saidra could even feel such a thing anyway. Still, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling some sort of apprehension towards the entire thing. As chimes passed she had continually had to talk herself into remaining still, in keeping her vigil until man she was seeking finally arrived.

To be honest, Saidra hadn’t even been certain at first if the man was even in Sunberth, all things considered. It wasn’t until a chance sighting of the Crimson Tide docked at one of the harbours that she felt the confusing churn in her stomach that came with the realization that, if anything, he had probably arrived before she had in the city. Thing was, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to be here. Sunverth was supposed to be a haven where she could be who and what she was without putting allies in potential danger. While he had never really shied away from the violence that sometimes was left in her wake, there was still some want for something better for the man. He was one of the few people she felt had truly earned that right.

But no, he was here, same as she, for better or worse. Delaying contact any longer than she already had would only make things even more awkward once Lhex decided to royally petch the both of them and somehow manage to make it happen regardless. That didn’t mean she came in dolled up and apologetic, though. The black leather armor she owned had been adorned that morning, strangely proving more warm than most of her other clothing. It was as if she was dressed for battle, and in some respects, Saidra was. A moment had even been considered to lurk in the shadows and wait for an opportune moment to show herself to him. It was far more her style, that was for certain. Which was why, maybe, she chose to sit at the table in plain view instead and meet the man straight on. It was unusual, it was awkward, it was what he would have done.

As the door to the tavern finally swung open and the familiar silhouette filled the entry way, the small woman tried to appear as casual as possible. She could have made a spectacle of herself and the situation for certain. A dramatic wave of a wine glass and some snide remark could have been managed for a few mizas and a certain amount of brainpower but it wasn’t worth the effort; they were both beyond that sort of thing. Instead she silently drummed her gloved fingers against the scarred tabletop in time with the slowly increasing pounding within her head.

Several first words were considered, abandoned, reworded, and abandoned again before she finally settled on the simple and familiar, "Hello, stranger."

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"Common" † "Nari" † "Frativa"

[Glen Fiddich]

A snarl growled it's way between Frith's bared teeth; it saved Glen from having to do the same. The first wave of emotion crashed into him from nowhere and, completely caught off guard, he struggled to comprehend which direction was up, which was air that he could gasp into his lungs, and which was a drowning plunge into dark depths from which he'd never escape. Like storm waves, thoughts and feelings hammered against him; anger was the shining beacon amongst all that, the only thing that was simple and clear, and he clung to it with a vice like grip, as if it were some shattered fragment of driftwood flotsam that might carry him blindly back to shore.

She was here. Not just in Sunberth, but here. His tavern. Not just here either, but here and waiting; here and knowing that it was a matter of time before he would be as well. She sat as if everything was normal, as if the last time they had spoken was the evening before, as if he had just wandered in from a restful night of sleep, rather than countless days of worry and confusion, several seasons of sinking despair and regret and guilt. She acted as if she had never been gone; and of course she did. This was her way. These were her games. She knew exactly how to play him: exactly what strings to pluck to make him sing any tune; exactly what bluff to make so that he would gamble or fold; exactly what move to make to sacrifice him in some elaborate game of strategy. She was - had been - so many things to him, so many irreplaceable things that he had felt the absence of like a missing limb. To her, it seemed, the only thing he had ever been was a fool. Worse, a willing fool, enslaved by a sweet smile, a sweet kiss, and those all too intoxicating eyes.

"You left me."

For all his bulk and towering frame, for all his gruff demeanour, for all his warrior prowess, the voice that escaped him sounded as if it belonged to someone else. It was timid, weary, and spoke of someone invisibly wounded far worse than any of the scars he possessed. His hand went subconsciously for his shoulder, the injury that had plagued and irritated him all winter thus far aching more now in the presence of the woman he'd willingly received it for.

He didn't look at her directly, part by design, part by inability. He couldn't bring himself to do so, and he knew that if he did, one glimpse of the woman who so frequently haunted his dreams would shatter his resolve, and he'd fall into the game that she'd laid out before him: the one where they both acted as if nothing had changed, and nothing was wrong. He wanted to be angry now. He needed to be angry. He gripped more tightly onto that, his gaze focused intently on a knot in the grain of the wooden floor, studying the way the grime clung to it's cracks and edges.

"I woke up, and you were gone."

An edge crept into his voice; his anger burned warmer, and instead of clinging to it, it began to cling to him, gripping tightly around his chest, talons digging into his gut.

"I was dying and you were gone."

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Common | Fratava | Nari

[Saidra]

Glen's anger caught her by surprise. She knew on some level it was a very possible outcome, that his reaction could be this way, but it was near the very bottom of the list of expectations; just above the one where Vera sought out her neck.

The composed manner she had conducted herself faltered, a look of confusion flickered across her features and settled in her eyes as she continued to regard him. Left wasn't exactly how she would describe her exit, it had far too many negative connotations, but the way Glen spoke certainly made it feel apt. Abandoned was the word she could almost hear in his tone and Saidra didn't have the foggiest idea of why.

"I had to," she finally said, though it felt like the words had to be fought for. "You know I had to."

Of all people in the world who may have suddenly woken up one day to find the half-Inarta woman had vanished from their life, it was Glen that she had expected to understand. She had made mention of it before, after all. He knew how she never stayed in one place too long, how she had felt their little crew was starting to become too familiar, how the things he let her do couldn't continue. It shouldn't have come as some great surprise and when the opportunity arose, Saidra had taken hold.

Yes, she had left him dying, but she hadn't left him alone, but rather in the care of their mutual associate who was more than qualified to handle such things. Glen had been safe, far safer than he ever had when she was around, that was for certain.

"I was gone because you were dying, Glen. I know. I'm the one who did it to you, after all." The quizzical look remained, a touch of her own anger flaring in response to his. "Didn't the old bear explain things? Didn't he give you the letter I left?"

That was the real reason for her confusion. Had Glen just been left with nothing but the ghost of her presence she may have found logic in his growing rage, but she hadn't. All premonitions aside, her exact plan had been laid out, she had stated she was coming to Sunberth and all the reasons for it. He had to know, otherwise why would he be here in this gods-forsaken city?

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"Common" † "Nari" † "Frativa"

[Glen Fiddich]

"The letter."

He said the words almost with disgust, his innards twinging with pain as he thought about it. Yes, it was true: when he had finally awoken, finally regained consciousness, he had found the note she had left him. It was the same note that he now slowly pulled from his pocket, the paper crumpled and creased, softened by the number of times it had been unfurled and stared at, as if the intensity of his gaze would somehow force the ink to unveil some meaning that he had not been able to comprehend before.

Perhaps it truly did explain everything, but that helped Glen little. He recognised the curving, curling shapes of the letters that described his name, but everything beyond that, each scrawled sentence, each allegedly informative paragraph, was an utter mystery to him. He stared at the words, and they were nothing more than shapes, no more comprehensible to him than if he had heard them uttered in some unfamiliar language.

There were a great many things that Glen Fiddich was incapable of, a great many things he had failed to learn, or refused to learn over the span of his years. Out of all his failings, it was reading that was chief among: his greatest, secret shame, the one he concealed as best as he was able. It wasn't a total inability of course: there were words he recognised for their familiar shapes, and others he understood more from context than anything else; but to confront him with a letter, or worse with a book, had the same effect as placing the same challenge in front of a small child.

It wasn't something he advertised: people's knowledge always came with indignant questions, of how one could possibly fail to master such a basic, mundane skill. It didn't matter how valid an answer he gave, didn't matter that he had spent more time learning to fight and brawl than learning anything else; didn't matter that he had been born and raised on ships, where there was no motivation to learn simply because there was never anything interesting to read. He had given up, and eventually his tutors had as well. It was merely part of who he was: young Glen, the stubborn, and stupid.

Of all the people in the world, Saidra was one of the people who actually knew: not just the fact, but the sentiment that went with it, the shame that he hid behind macho and threats, the sorrowful resignation that this was the fate he had resigned himself to.

She had known. Known.

That meant only one thing: that the letter wasn't some kind gesture, wasn't some heartfelt truth; it was an insult, a sadistic final jab, a twist of the knife that she had already impaled his heart upon. How cruel of her, to provide him with answers, knowing full-well that he would never be able to understand them.

He held the letter clasped in his fingers for a few moments longer, before at last throwing it down on the table in front of her. "In all the years that you have known me," he uttered, the growl in his voice weakening, other emotions clawing at it, eroding it's edge. "Can you think of nothing that might make a letter to me seem unwise?"

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Common | Fratava | Nari

[Saidra]

At first, more confusion. Just what the petch was he talking about. Among all the little life lessons he had imparted upon her that were so normal to others yet were so hard to grasp, the concept of leaving a letter to one held in highest regards upon your sudden departure seemed a perfectly normal and rational thing to do when you knew you couldn't be trusted to impart the information face to face.

Then, it sunk in. She hadn't thought about it in any other way. Her single mindedness that sometimes could be considered a good thing had worked fully against her in this instance. So much time had been spent not even remotely considering Glen's shortcomings that the reality of the situation hadn't even occurred to her.

"Oh." The single utterance left her and by some miracle she actually managed to look guilty for a tick or two. Perhaps his anger was warranted. "I didn't think..."

Words trailed off before they could betray her further and Saidra let her eyes fall and watched as she ran her finger along a crack in the table that ended just before where the letter sat. It seemed a strange thing to admit to him. Acting without thought was often his role in their dynamic, she was the one responsible for over thinking, over analyzing, coming up with worst case scenarios. It was easy in their line of living, not so easy when it came to dealing with emotions.. No doubt he was well aware of that as well. How many times had it been that he had delicately told her that her response or lack there of were inappropriate at times? Though something told her he wouldn't exactly be so understanding of that now.

"You could have..." Another line of thought that was abandoned. Yes, it was true that Glen could have asked their former associate to read the letter to him, but even she would have been hesitant on that considering some of the its contents.

Her fingertips snared the edge of the letter and pulled it towards her and for a tick she considered simply reading it aloud but the time for it was lost, and no doubt certain admissions and sentiments wouldn't be appreciated in the moment. Best to paraphrase then.

"Like I said, I had to." A chance glance was cast back upwards before she let her eyes fall back to the table that seemed to now sit as some sort of barricade between them. Maybe it was necessary to be there. "I couldn't let you keep risking yourself for me like that. I left because as long as I was around, you would continue to be hurt. I had to find somewhere I could be what I am and not be a risk to those I..."

Another pause as her mind struggled for a term or a word that best fit without coming directly out and saying things that were uncomfortable to admit even on the best days. Saidra took a breath and felt her shoulders slump as she spoke again.

"... Care for."

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"Common" † "Nari" † "Fratava"

[Glen Fiddich]

Glen's jaw clenched, his fingers tightened into fists, his gaze burrowed harder into the tavern floor. "Do not -" he uttered, his voice barely louder than a whisper; he wanted to shout and yell, but that was as much sound as he could manage to squeeze past his teeth. "Do not use that against me."

Finally his eyes clawed their way to meet hers, a cascade of emotions held barely at bay behind his gaze. There was anger, of course, and sadness and pain, but worst of all was the one that effortlessly overpowered the others, the one that threatened to rob him of his precious rage, to turn the hulking Svefran berserker into a loyal and obedient pup once again, eagerly scampering back to the arms of the owner who had kicked it not five seconds before. It was his wonderful curse, his terrible privilege, to feel the way that he did about her; to have shared the kind of life, the kind of intimacy, the kind of affection that he had with Saidra. She was his bane, his torment, his beloved, his meaning. She was the cause that he fought for, the cause of so much of his suffering and woe, and the cause of almost every smile. To the rest of the world it might seem tragic, broken, dysfunctional, and wrong; but to Glen what they'd had was as beautiful as the woman he'd shared it with.

But it was gone now, not lost but taken, ripped agonisingly away. A part of him had been torn off, and now here she was, trying to shove the necrotic flesh back into the open wound as if somehow the fibres would mesh and he would heal good as new, no regard for the kinds of scars she might have caused.

"You know how I feel. What I feel. You know I would sooner saw off my own arm with the blunt side of a spoon than be without the thing I hold most dear. It does not matter if I am safer without you. That is my danger to face. My risk to take. My choice to make."

His head shook slightly, a painful dismissal of a painful sentiment, rebutted by a painful gaze from painful eyes. "Do not tell me that you tore out my heart for my own good."

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Common | Fratava | Nari

[Saidra]

She flinched as if he had shouted at her, though the hand that rose that pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose before sliding upwards spoke that it may not have been entirely a reaction to him. Each word that left him seemed to only strengthen the constant pounding in her head.

"I had meant for us to meet here," She said quietly as her gaze steadily held his from beyond the hand that lingered against her forehead. It wasn't a reason, or an excuse, but she felt that it needed to be voiced regardless.

Tore out my heart. Was that truly what she had done? She wanted to protest that he was overstating things, but Saidra had learned long ago not to try and trivialize the pain of another; at least, not knowingly.

"Hurting you further was not my intention," Saidra stubbornly insisted. "You almost died, Glen. I take the lives of enough others so that I may continue to live, I was not going to have you be among their number."

Her voice wavered despite every effort to keep it calm and even. There must have been some sort of irony or humor to be found in the fact that her attempt at sparing the man further pain had apparently done nothing but caused more. Perhaps it had been a lesson from her Goddess, or maybe it was just that some part of her actually did know what guilt was and was still very intent on making her aware of its existence.

"I was attempting to do something good for a change." This time there was no hiding the forlorn nature of her words. Her neutral gaze on him softened and a heavy breath was let go of. "I don't understand. What would you have had me do? Remain there? Wait until the exact same situation cropped up once more and pray there was a healer close by yet again? You may be willing to endure such a thing, but I cannot."

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"Common" † "Nari" † "Fratava"

[Glen Fiddich]

He could feel her working an angle, sense her constructing an argument that she felt confident in, a route towards victory. But she wouldn't win this, not this time. It wasn't even about her leaving any more: that pain was ignored, set aside until the bigger foe was defeated; until she accepted, once and for all, that there was no scenario where her leaving was ever the right thing to do.

His palm came to rest on his shoulder again. "I have taken arrows for you. I have taken swords. Knives. Puncture wounds. Broken bones. Scrapes. Bruises. Every job we have ever worked, I stand between you and danger, stand in the path of harm's way. It is my job. It is my duty. It is what I am paid for. I accept this. You accept this. It is the way of things."

His brow furrowed, his mind fumbling for words, struggling to describe his own perspective on something he didn't rightly understand. "You do not need me to do this," he continued, as if he were stating something obvious that even a child could comprehend. "You are not some damsel in need of protection; you are one of the most formidable women - most formidable people - I have ever known. You do not need me to guard you, and yet you accept that I will, and you allow me to be your shield. It is what I am. It is what we are."

His eyes fell away, words becoming more difficult. His affection for Saidra was complex and hard; she had an intellect far more keen than his, yet her upbringing and her experiences had robbed her of understanding that a simpleton such as Glen could so easily understand. She understood the complexities of the world in a way that he never could; and yet people and their strange conventions were alien to her. Their affection for each other was similarly imbalanced: Glen knew what he felt, and how to act, but feelings were a mystery to her, and that muddied things. Concepts that one could usually expect the one they loved to easily understand were enigmas, and Glen found himself frequently needing to explain his emotions with more honesty and detail than a man such as he was tailored for. It was their great compromise, that each changed the other, and built a middle ground upon which they could find their own brand of love and intimacy; but it was a struggle, like all worthwhile things always were.

"There are times though when you do have need for me to endure pain and harm for your sake. I do so willingly, not because coin or obligation compels me, but because my affection will not allow otherwise. I do not merely choose to endure that pain and risk for you: I want to, need to."

His eyes found hers once again, all emotion but one completely gone from his gaze.

"You removed yourself from my life because you thought it best for me, but you were wrong. I would rather endure a thousand days of the worst pain that you can inflict than a single one apart from you. The lack of you is by far the greater suffering."

He swallowed against the dry lump forming in his throat, delving into the clumsy handful of mispronounced words and fragmented sentences that she had struggled to help him learn. "Without you I have not my heart," he said quietly, shoulders slumped, his poise surrendered, voice almost pleading. It was a line from a story, a fragment of Saidra's half-remembered past that she had shared with him, a part of her that was now a part of him. "It is yours, and you take it with you, wherever place you go."

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Common | Fratava | Nari

[Saidra]

"Glen," Saidra began wearily before the planned retort died on her lips. This wasn't the type of battle that either of them were best at, yet they engaged in it all too willingly it seemed. Stubbornness was weighed against itself and they could continue to speak in circles all day without either one giving any ground. The only change that would eventually come would be the volume and edge to their words. A shouting match was the last thing that Saidra wanted but she knew very well just how easily any disagreement between the two of them could turn into one; the violent rage of a maelstrom versus the explosive outburst of a volcano.

It was much too early for that nonsense.

She wasn't one for admitting defeat, but even Saidra had to admit she really had little ground to stand on. Her own views on the subject were absolute and while she still couldn't quite fathom why she was in the wrong, it was very clear that Glen knew she was. While maybe not among the most intellectual of men, Glen's intuition seldom proved entirely wrong, and it was for that reason that his judgement in most things was something she had come to learn to value and respect. Maybe not always fully go by, but it was always considered.

It was the look he gave her as he spoke in the tongue of her homeland that gained him a far greater advantage than she would have liked to admit, though. There were times, though seldom, that accursed look was all it would take for her to feel as if he could ask her for anything in the world and she would freely find some way to give it to him. Petching man of the sea and those damned blue eyes of his. She was sorely tempted to learn how to banish him to the Void itself for ever teaching her what it was to have emotions. The only problem with that logic was that Saidra would then have to dive in right after.

"What would you have done in my place? If you had been so dangerously close to ending my life, knew it could happen again, and knew you could do something to prevent it? Would you not have done the same?" She paused, not entirely expecting an answer and so only gave him a moment to consider before she spoke again. "You are the single person who knows all I have done, all I will continue to do, and does not look upon me as if I am truly cursed. Do you blame me so much for wanting to preserve that? I'll admit I have acted rashly, but it is you that told me of the illogical choices people make for those they feel such fondness for."

A sigh began to leave her and instead contorted into a short sardonic laugh as her gaze fell back to the table. "Whatever my intentions were, I should have taken your reaction more into consideration. I was warned, you know. The Syliran told me you would not understand, I refused to believe him because I thought I knew you better than he did."

This time as her eyes rose to meet his, the indifferent mask she typically clung to was dropped and for a fleeting instant she allowed the constant pain she felt to be seen, compounded by her apparent failure and it's results. "How is it that I did not?"

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"Common" † "Nari" † "Fratava"