Completed Dissipation

[Isolde Seibold]

A simple connection, his hand upon her knee, and yet it meant so much. Besides Matthew, she couldn't recall another person willingly reaching out to touch her. Not in a gentle way. And even Matthew's motivations had not been innocent --though to be fair he probably couldn't help it, since it was likely nothing about him was. Isolde turned her face back to Orin, giving him a weak smile as he apologized. ”I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to bring that subject up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

"I-It's alright," the Nuit mumbled out, meeting his eyes briefly. "Really. I s-shouldn't be so sensitive about it. And you couldn't have k-known it would be a sore topic. Most Nuit, as I understand it, go i-into i-immortality of their own volition. I've never met another that was f-forced. It's probably not all that common."

Of course, she had not met very many Nuit --only a handful, and even those had been fleeting experiences-- so she wasn't certain if what she was saying was true, but it felt right. She figured most people condemned to become Nuit without permission would likely take their own lives rather than live on in such a wretched state. She herself might have long ago, had she not been too much of a coward to do so. Now... now she was no longer afraid of dying, had even been on the precipice not too long ago, at the edge of the dock before Orin had come. But she was thinking more clearly now. And she believed, at least for now, that she wanted to live. The best explanation she could offer for that was somewhat ironic: old habits die hard.

Orin must have felt her still shaking through their shared touch, because he forged on with his words. Isolde listened intently, dolefully through, and although his voice remained remarkably even throughout the tale, she knew that it was hurting him to say this. She couldn't imagine how difficult his childhood must have been; her own had been relatively carefree, working in the Syliran fields, helping her mother around the house, doing chores, playing with her many brothers and even some of the Knights, skipping school with the man whom she would eventually love and wed and lose. She didn't know the pain of being treated so harshly by her childhood family, and wondered at how hard it might be to overcome such a hindrance and still remain as strong and caring as Orin seemed. Especially when, at the end of the story, he came out with the lesson he had learned: to live on strengthened despite what he had gone through, and more significantly, not to blame himself for something that he could have never controlled.

The look that she received then, the hard, flashing wetness to his eyes, displayed a breadth of emotion that she had not yet seen from him, or so openly from someone else in quite a while. She found she could not break from his gaze as he spoke the next couple of sentences: ”So, I don’t think you made your husband go crazy. I think he did that to himself and he was callous enough to take you with him.” It was an odd place to be, transfixed as she was but equally perturbed by what he had said. Because it was her fault. He had not heard the whole story, not by half. It was her fault. Saying that it wasn't wouldn't change the fact. And saying that it wasn't --placing the blame solely on someone else-- was a debasement of a person she had loved very deeply.

But before she could object Orin looked away, and then it was too late. He made no sound, but his grief was raw and evident, the tears freckling the colors of the sky onto his face. Now it was Isolde's turn to be brought up short, uncertain what to do. She balked for a tick, then two, torn, wrestling with her instincts, which were to comfort him any way she could. But she was unsure if she should touch him. She was a Nuit. An undead being clothed in a corpse. She didn't know if a touch would be welcome. She could vividly recall the fear on his face because of what she was, from not even ten chimes prior.

But she couldn't do nothing. So in the end, that made the decision for her. Gently, as carefully as she could, Isolde placed her cool hand over Orin's.

"I had a daughter once," she said. She didn't know why, or what she was planning on saying next. She just knew that now was the time to speak. "Her name was Wynry. She was named after the god and goddess Kelwyn, a pair of troublemakers, though I found that out only much later... but Kelwyn was also the deity of lost causes.

"Wynry was a good girl, but a handful --she took after me, I think, because I was like that too when I was young, always breaking the rules when I thought I could. She was an only child, and I remember her desperation to keep up with the other children, especially with the twin boys who were two years older and who lived right next door. She would always end up in trouble, one way or another. Wynry came home every day with new bumps and bruises, since the boys liked to fight and pretend they were Knights; once, her father brought back a wooden sword from Syliras, and those twins --they were absolute nightmares-- snapped it in two. Of course Wyn came running home, so upset and angry, more at herself than anything. To me she had seemed just inconsolable. But her father... he always had a way to soothe her.

"That's one of the things I remember most about them, together: Wynry sitting on his lap as he patched up her knee or some other little injury, both of them laughing even as the tears dried on her face. He always had a way of making things better for her. He could always, always make her smile." Here Isolde paused, throwing a cautious look over at Orin, to test how he was taking things. "I, unfortunately, was never as good at comforting her, though of course I loved her and she loved me. Her father just had something special about him. A wickedness to be sure, more like a trickster than an outlaw, and that was a large part of his appeal. There was a light to him, and it showed from the flicker of his eyes to the scars on his hands. He was and still is, in fact, the best man I have ever known."

Isolde waited a moment, considering what next to say. She looked up again at the sky, breathing in the air, which was fresher now that all the mist had gone and the sun and the breeze had come out. Nearby, Shyke abruptly leapt from the water, shooting into the sky to ride the wind, cawing out his goodbye as he flapped and soared. Isolde watched him for a moment longer, then pressed on. Her voice was lower than it had been before, but just as absolute.

"My husband was many things, and one of them was a murderer. He killed me. And he killed my Wynry, too, though he didn't bring her back. And for that I will never forgive him." For the topic being so awful, she was strangely, almost serenely calm. Maybe because one of them had to be. Maybe she was tired of being sad. "Wynry wasn't his to kill. But understand this: he killed her because she wasn't his at all. So please don't tell me what he did was because of himself and his problems and his selfishness. Because it was my selfishness that ruined us both."

Suddenly and spryly, the Nuit took to her feet, feeling an unfamiliar pop in her joints as she did. She stretched her back, looking down the length of the dock towards the city, utterly nonchalant. If she had had a heart, it would have been telling a different story in response to that last revelation, something she had never told anyone, not ever before. People in the Outpost had known that Wynry had been illegitimate, how couldn't they? But Isolde had never said it aloud, not even to her closest friends. Now the Nuit fished around for something to say to break the tension she felt.

"You know you were wrong about one other thing," she settled on, too brightly. "As far as I know, I can taste. I just haven't. I don't eat, and haven't since the day I died. For the first few seasons I just didn't care about it any longer. As you put it, all the color had gone out of the world. And after that I just didn't see the point. So I never even tried eating anything again. To be fair, though, I never was hungry, either."

[Orin Fenix]

A cool touch on his hand startled Orin out of his tears. It was Isolde’s and while it might not be filled with the warmth of life it was filled with another kind of warmth entirely: that of compassion. It brought Orin crashing down out of his cloud of grief and for just one second, he turned his hand over and gave Isolde a small but grateful squeeze, before slipping his hand out from under hers and hugging his knees to his chest. There was nothing wrong with leaning on the strength of others. He flashed Isolde a desperate but hopeful smile before stilling his tears and wiping away what remained. A sudden movement caught his eye and he saw Shyke winging out to see, which filled Orin’s heart with hope again. At least someone was coming away from this encounter unscathed and unchanged. There was something beautiful in the simplicity of birds taking flight. They were beholden to no one and nothing unless they so chose.

Watching Isolde stand up, Orin almost rose to join her, but something held him back. Maybe it was something in the subtle shift in her posture. But soon it became apparent that Isolde was going to reward Orin’s unguarded and raw story with one that was equally central to her being. Orin listened with growing dread as Isolde recounted the life of Wynry, her precious daughter. While the mental picture she drew was one of an idyllic life, Orin was afraid that it was anything but. Especially since something had to have tipped her husband over the edge. So he simply sat and absorbed what Isolde was telling him. For once Orin seemed to have control of his never stilled tongue. And when Isolde reached the point where she mentioned that Wynry was never her husband’s Orin was confused for just a moment before, in a sudden flash of insight, he realized exactly what she was saying.

When Isolde finished, Orin didn’t open his mouth for a long time. He levered himself upright and stood shoulder to shoulder with Isolde trying to match her nonchalance and probably failing. Orin was picking and choosing his words carefully in his mind. He was terrified of shattering the tenuous balance the two of them had come to. But, Orin felt that not responding at all would go against everything he was as a human being. ”You know, I didn’t tell you the rest of my past. After my home was gone, there was a debate. The Order wanted to take me to The Welcome Home, the orphanage here in the castle. However, the leaders of Mithryn refused insisting that they were more than capable of taking care of their own. It was a stupid, proud gesture, but one that worked. And then when the Order left, these people who had decided my fate actually had to come up with arrangements for me. Families agreed to take me in, on the surface seeming to have enough love and generosity in their hearts for me. In truth, it never worked out that way. They always resented me for taking away what they felt was rightfully theirs. The only reason they’d let me into their lives at all was for appearance’s sake or because they felt they had no choice. What they did and said was no indication of how they truly felt.” Orin let his voice trail off. He wasn’t at all sure how Isolde would react to the next part. So he wanted to hold onto this feeling of togetherness for as long as he could.

”I…don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Orin started hesitantly. ”Obviously I don’t know the specifics of what happened to you nor do I need you to tell me. I just maybe want you to think if it was possible that your husband felt he had to take Wynry into his life. I’m not saying he wasn’t a good man, maybe the best man you’d ever known. But my father was a good man. All those people in the Outpost who were my guardians were good people. That didn’t mean that they were perfect. Nobody’s perfect. Everybody’s got a flaw somewhere.” Orin paused to let his words sink in, but he still felt there was more left. ”And, again, just my opinion, but I don’t think causes are ever lost unless we let them be lost. Maybe that’s naïve of me. But I’m not going to stop fighting for what I believe in or who I love while there is breath left in me.”

Thinking he’d pushed his luck too far and maybe crossed far too many boundaries with this, Orin split away from Isolde and turned to face the opposite direction from Stormhold, away out to sea. It sparkled in Syna’s light, waves appeared and disappearing in the distance until they were lost to the horizon. Orin didn’t know what he was doing here with Isolde anymore. He was far from one to be giving life advice. His own life was so messed up that sometimes he didn’t know what was up and what was down anymore. But something in him, perhaps that same something that wouldn’t let him suffer a bully to torture the defenseless, was telling him that he had to try. If he failed, then that was fine, and Isolde hopefully wouldn’t be any worse off than before. But if somehow he could get her to find something to live for again, then maybe it would help validate all the torment that had been heaped on Orin in his short life.

Thankfully, Isolde brought them out of their much more serious discussion onto ground that was much more familiar to Orin. ”If I had a copper miza for everyone who came in to eat when they weren’t hungry, well, let’s just say I’d be a rich man by now, instead of the almost broke assistant chef I am now.” Orin made this commented just loud enough for Isolde to pick up. While he was mainly joking, it was true there were many gluttonous people who came in day in and day out. Making his tone light, which wasn’t hard since he honestly felt this was good news, Orin let his mouth have the control it was demanding. He was getting better at monitoring his speech but he wasn’t quite there yet. ”So really, that is to say, you have absolutely no excuse not to eat! I mean, I assume you wouldn’t swallow but that’s even better. You just have to have one mouthful and it’ll be like, the equivalent of a full meal for everyone else so you’d save a ton of money. And you have to come see me at the tavern now, I absolutely insist. I mean, you don’t have to but I’d love it if you could come, assuming you’ve got the time and have the inclination, of course.” It felt good to simply ramble away. Guarding his tongue was a constant effort on Orin’s part but one he knew was necessary in most circumstances.

[Isolde Seibold]

Isolde felt a soft frown pucker her face as Orin described the rest of his childhood. This, almost more than the rest of the story, was difficult for her to come to terms with. The Outpost she remembered had been a tight-knit group. Her community had been lovely. When she had been growing up, it had been like having many different parents, or at least aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everybody had been in everybody else's business, and there had been such gossip... but never any undue unkindness. Even the Knights stationed to guard them had been close friends; on their off times they would help build up big campfires in good weather, and everyone would picnic around them, telling stories and chasing through the dark.

Of course, that had been a long, long time ago. Isolde had been of the first generation, born in Mithryn just a few short years after the walls had been built, while the city of Syliras was still expanding to its full glory. So perhaps that feeling of being together and needing to be there for one another had faded over the long years... and yet, if that was true, she wished it wasn't. She wanted to think that somehow Orin had got it wrong. That those families truly had cared for him, not out of obligation but from love. That he had misinterpreted their treatment, perhaps out of his own heartache at being orphaned so young and in such terrible circumstances. But she had to admit that hers was shaky reasoning. Orin would likely know his own past better than she.

As she ruminated over this troubling news, Orin continued to speak, cautiously approaching his point. 'I just maybe want you to think if it was possible that your husband felt he had to take Wynry into his life. I’m not saying he wasn’t a good man, maybe the best man you’d ever known. But my father was a good man. All those people in the Outpost who were my guardians were good people. That didn’t mean that they were perfect. Nobody’s perfect. Everybody’s got a flaw somewhere.”

"No, you're right," the Nuit said in response, brow crinkling slightly. "My husband didn't care for Wynry. He never even tried, really; he knew all about who she was, and where she'd really come from. I think, hmm, we've had a miscommunication somewhere, though I can't...." Suddenly it came to her. "Ah, I see it. I admit I'm not the best at storytelling. When I said that Wyn's father was always very good with her, I meant her actual father. My... best friend, Vaughn. Not my husband. Kale... maybe outwardly he pretended, much as you described. But for the most part he ignored Wynry completely. They didn't have much of a relationship, even living under the same roof. It was always... well. A sore subject. Though more like an open wound than a sore." An open festering wound, even, and Isolde winced at the thought. It had been something that everybody involved had chosen to ignore, as if it might just heal on its own. Of course, it had not.

"As for lost causes," she mused, "I don't know if I agree with you, but in this case Wynry was the answer to my prayers. That's why I named her as I did. I had prayed to the gods to give me a child, and they provided. But in the end... I only had her for a short while." It was only after Wynry's death that Isolde had understood the truth about Kelwyn: that they were fickle, and tricksy, and often made bad situations even worse.

In the past few chimes, Isolde had become contemplative. Orin, on the other hand, was talkative once more, though she didn't mind. She liked that he had things to say; she herself had been like that, and probably still was, to some extent. "I don't know..." she answered uncertainly, when he invited her to come to what he called 'the tavern', which she figured to mean the Rearing Stallion, the most popular place by far. It wasn't that she didn't want to go. It was just that she felt uncomfortable in most enclosed public places. Crowds definitely didn't agree with her, the Bazaar was a terror in of itself. She didn't want to ruin the atmosphere of the building by going and putting people off their food. And yet...

"Alright," she said. "I'll give it a try sometime." She'd need to figure out the best time to drop by, obviously while Orin was working, but hopefully when there weren't too many other people in the pub. Daytime, then, since she thought she remembered that it got rowdier at night-- which only made sense, people would be off work then and looking for a drink and a good time.

It seemed things were winding down between them, and Isolde's mind had already strayed to what she was going to do next. Go home, most likely, to think on whatever it was that had happened out here this morning, and try to figure out how to stop it from happening again. Not the part with Orin --she liked Orin, and it would be a pleasure to meet him again-- but the other part, before. She figured activity was the most obvious plan. If she kept herself busy, then she might not fall back into such a state.

OOCOh, I forgot to mention last time, but cool new code, dude.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin felt his face flamed. This was why he didn't usually interfere with people's personal business. More often than not he would bungle everything so badly that the person who he was trying to help would end up mad at him. Luckily that hadn't been the case here. And Orin did feel it was an understandable mistake, that Isolde's husband would have taken in the child of her affair and raised it as his own. In fact owning up to the affair and having another man raise Wynry was kind of remarkable. Actually, Orin was surprised that Isolde had let everything slide as long as it had. He couldn't imagine the man she'd married ever forgiving her when there was a living reminder of his wife's infidelity being flaunted in his face. Of course, Orin still couldn't condone the fact that the man had murdered a child a ruined the lives of so many other people as well. But still, he felt that overall the situation could have been resolved peaceably by all parties. Still Orin knew that an apology was in order. "I'm sorry I misunderstood. It sounds like you've had to go through more than your fair share of hardship and heartache and I wouldn't wish that on anyone." Orin fidgeting, debating whether discussing this further would be totally out of line. But he still had one last opinion to offer and he didn't think he should stop now. "I think you should stop beating yourself up about what happened in the past. I think wanting a child is a beautiful thing. And you shouldn't be mad for giving in to that desire. Especially since I think you've already suffered more than enough."

Orin couldn't meet Isolde's eyes. He felt he'd pushed his luck more than enough. And if even a little bit of his advice was heeded maybe it would do her a world of good. Still if his past experiences were anything to go off of, Orin's words wouldn't be enough to make a difference in how Isolde felt. He was too young and hasn't gone through enough of his life to be dispensing wisdom. At least, that was the prevailing attitude. Even though Orin hadn't ever really been young. He'd had a childhood ripped from his fingers by a broken father and then by a series of well-meaning but understandably selfish people. Orin knew that it was hard for all of them and he didn't blame them for just being people. But it did give him what he thought was a unique perspective into the minds of others. Even if he didn't know what motivated them or understood what they said half the time or was terrified of approaching them, Orin was well aware that sometimes people had bad days, Orin included and he couldn't blame them for not being strong. Especially since Orin was so weak himself. So, it took a lot to get Orin to believe someone was inherently bad and Orin did try to see the best in everyone.

However, when Isolde agreed to come see him at The Rearing Stallion, Orin was transported out of his musings. He perked up immediately. And he started thinking about all sorts of flavors that he could introduce Isolde to. It helped that she wouldn't actually be filling up just tasting the food, so Orin just needed to make a spoonful or a fork's worth each time. Mind going in a million directions at once Orin beamed at her. "Excellent! I can't wait to see you there and I hope that you come in soon and return often. I'm there most afternoons and evenings. If for whatever reason you don't want to come in through the common room, which can get rowdy, there's a kitchen entrance in the alley in the back. Can't miss it, and since it's springtime the door is probably going to be open. So just give me a holler." Looking at the sun, Orin realized he would have to dash if he wanted to get to work on time. He hesitated before went pelting off."I really enjoyed this morning Isolde. I think it was good for me and I hope it was good for you. I hate to leave you but I've got to go now." Orin's voice was shy and he ruffled his hair in an unconscious gesture that belied his slight nervousness. Still, he gave her a fond smile before he broke into a run, making his way to The Rearing Stallion, dodging around the dock workers and sailors just starting their days themselves.

[Nivel]

Isolde Seibold : XP Award: Meditation 2 Observation 3 Socialization 5 Animal Husbandry 1 Endurance 2 Philosophy 4 Storytelling 2 Lore: Talking comfort in the Fog Shyke the Seagull friend Location: The Great Harbour Orin Fenix: The epitome of Hope The future doesn’t look as dreadful Redemption form within Orin also born in Mithrin Orin’s childhood story of Abuse Kelwyn: Twin Deities of lost causes Notes: Loved this thread, your post were long but fun to read. Orin Fenix : XP Award: Observation 3 Socialization 5 Endurance 1 Philosophy 4 Storytelling 2 Lore: Location: The Great Harbour Isolde: The sad Nuit women with the black tongue Paying it forward Shyke the Seagull Praying to Syna and Leth Isolde did not choose the life of a Nuit Isolde hasn’t eaten Isolde also born in Mithrin Isolde had a Daughter named after the goddess of lost causes Isolde’s husband murdered her and her daughter Kelwyn: Twin Deities of lost causes Notes: Loved this thread, your post were long but fun to read. Additional Comments: If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to message me.