Closed Blind leading the blind. (Dove)

[Alexander Faircroft]

77th Fall 516AV

17:23

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex trotted the horse into the outpost. He’d been stationed there for a couple of days again and this time it was a chance to ask for repentance. To ask for a modicum of forgiveness. The slow canter of his horse took him along the dirt road into the mouth of the outpost. He’d left early in the day and arrived near sundown. His first order of business was simple. He had to see someone. Screw checking in with the outpost knights. Screw taking that time. This was overdue.

Slipping off of the horse outside of a familiar cottage. A sullen look plastered to his face and a slow step. Even with the fog out there causing the darkness to settle sooner Alex didn’t give a damn. And screw the curfew. He was as of yet still of the law. Still part of the “peacekeeping” force that was the knights. Little as they did to keep people safe and just enforce the law.

Alex stepped forwards and up to the door. Clad in steel, and regret. He’d been blind to what was being told to him. To what was being pleaded too him. He couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore. He couldn’t bow down and kowtow to people. His hand gripped the hilt of his blade tightly as his fingers reached up. The chain and leather coated tips scraping the wooden lacquer of the door. And then came the soft knock. The sound of steel on wood that loud echoing ripple of dense chain.

He stood there outside the door in sullen silence. More a steel obelisk than a man or a knight. Just a moving suit of armour which needed to apologize. Weighing the words in his mind how did he go about this? How did he lead into the fact her was sorry for not listening sooner?

[Dove Brown]

Dove pottered quietly around her cottage, almost at peace, with door and window shutters closed to keep the fog out. She added a pinch of cumin and ginger to the thick pea soup simmering on the hearth, tasted the result and nodded in approval. She couldn't really taste the ginger, but it seemed to have brought all the other flavours out and given the soup that subtle extra something that turned a dish from palatable to good. She heard feet and hooves on the road outside, but ignored them, expecting them to be only the other farmers hurrying home before the curfew hit.

When the knock came on her own door, however, that was something she couldn't ignore. There was a rattle of metal, a slither of links like a snake waiting to strike, and she hesitated as her body lurched suddenly from peace to fear, and her mind flailed in a panicked search for something, anything, that she'd done wrong enough that someone in armour would come rooting her out of her home this close to curfew. She bit down hard on her lip, using the pain to pierce through the panic and hid behind anger. She wouldn't hide and hope. Not again, never again...

Anger allowed to her to kick her body out of frozen stillness, to open the door and not, not flee at the far too familiar armoured man standing there with his horse. She held herself upright, set her mouth in a line and snapped in a low voice, "You? What do you want now?" Last time he'd come to her house he'd stormed in without so much as a by-your-leave, ripped open all her scars, and then just - walked out - leaving her hurt, and the safety that had been her house destroyed. She braced herself for the same again.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Sometimes a moment felt like an eternity. Alex stood there waiting letting time crawl by. Hoping she’d answer the door. She’d at least hear him out when she did. But before all that he’d need a moment to say something else to break the silence and the pall of anger between them.

The unending silence was broken by the slow creak of the wood parting, and the hinges whining. The words that followed were similar to the ones that he’d left on the last time he was here. A bitten back series of bile. He said nothing for a long moment just realizing how much of a rift he’d caused and how much old pain he’d probably dredged up in his naivety, and unwillingness to change his perspective.

He made a motion for the door slowly fully readying himself to have her batter him down. As he did though he spoke. One line that would help edge everything into perspective for her, at least he hoped it would.
“You were right.” The words spoken half as an apology and half as a reluctant acceptance of the facts. He was wrong he was blind and almost entirely indoctrinated by the madness. By the blind rhetoric and self-serving ideals of having power over others to justify keeping the peace.

His hand reached up to the door frame and his other to brace the door. He just hoped she didn’t turn him away and would at least listen to what he had to say at little as she wanted too he hoped at the very least he could make her see that he now under stood fully where she was coming from. And what she’d meant and what she’d been scarred by both physically and mentally.

[Dove Brown]

Dove tilted her head back enough to stare at his hands holding her door open. So he thought - and admitted - that she was right about something. It wasn't like it was the first time. She'd been right about pacing yourself, about his threatening ways, about keeping his distance from the kidnapped girl. Hadn't stopped him from trying to keep going when he was too tired to walk straight. Or from ripping open more scars. Or turning her truth back into an attack on her. Why would now be any different? "You mean I'm right about something again," she pointed out, an edge in her voice. "And you're letting the fog in. Look, there's a patch of grass behind the cottage and a post you can hitch your horse to. It isn't like I can stop you forcing your way in like you did last time - we both know that - but if you mean your apology, you can show some petching manners."

The post was sturdy, if rather battered from its main use as target for Dove's sling practice. Dove turned away from the door, and left him to either follow her instructions or follow her in anyway. She set the kettle of water to heat in preperation for making tea, and fetched dried mint and two cups. Once he was inside, she'd make sure that the door was shut, and fold her arms to stop her hands visibly trembling. "Something finally sank in did it?" Stress and fear and bitterness continued to run through her, flickering across her face despite her efforts to keep them hidden behind a mask of anger. He knew how much he'd hurt her and wanted to apologise, did he? And did he once stop to think about how much it would hurt - again - for him to invade her home - again - without warning? Probably, she decided, about as much thought as a barn cat gave to the wishes of the mice it hunted.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex just took the verbal bashing he’d earned it, he’d more than done that. Alex turned back and tied the horse to the post she’d mentioned before walking back into the small cottage. Alex’s footfalls rippled against the wooden flooring as he watched the kettle slip into the furnace. He could see the shake in her. The fear and the worry behind the quite obvious enragement.
“May I?” He spoke gesturing towards a chair and awaiting her approval before sitting. “As for something sinking in. No.” He spoke with the light tone that accompanied his usual voice.

“I left Syliras for a short while. And I’ve seem somethings in a much different light. How the world acts outside of the “bastion of civilization.” How people function and are punished appropriately. Above all though, what it means to abuse power, and foster anger.” Alex curled his hand into a fist. And didn’t do any more. “I refuse to follow a regime that promotes brutality and rage as viable means of solution.”

Alex placed both of his hands on the table looking over towards Dove, his eyes apologetic but still strangely strong. “I saw just how much the knights abuse the power and good will of the people they protect. And I’m leaving the knights because of it. I want no part of that, and I have to say sorry to you first of all for trying to open my eyes to the indoctrination they were pushing upon me.”

His hands rose to grasp his head lightly as he just sank down to think. TO put together the best possible way to get the point across. To project the sincerity in his words. But that was easier said than done with how he’d treated her already. He’d drawn her ire and rightly so. He’d earned her fear. And her bitterness. He’d done all of that through the simple fact that he’d been under the indoctrination path of the knights.

[Dove Brown]

She nodded curtly when he asked if he could sit down. At least this time he had the courtesy to ask and wait for her answer, she supposed. More words spilled out of him, all about how he'd travelled and seen what the problems were. When his fist bunched, the memory of her father doing the same flared in Dove's mind. She'd always been the target, and for a moment she could almost feel a phantom blow striking her cheek. She turned abruptly away from Alex, circling around him, out of reach, and busied herself with tending the soup and making tea from her own dried mint. She didn't see the apology in his eyes, but the words about needing to apologise rolled over her anyway.

She took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of mint, then another, pushing the memories away again. Finally she turned to see him with his head in his hands. Crossing to the table, she set the cups down. The cheap pottery clunked on the table as she shoved his towards him. "Here." There was a rough edge of sympathy in her voice for another human with a hard situation to deal with, but the pain of her own life remained in her eyes. She took her own seat, still keeping out of his reach. "Keeping the peace means keeping things quiet. Protesting the way things are is noisy, so it gets hammered out of sight. That the protesters are the ones hurt by it is irrelevant, as long as you can call it peace."

She gave him a long look. "You still haven't learned to think outside of beating yourself up though. Outside of what you're determined to take and do. Otherwise you might have thought about what it means, what it's like, when someone like you," and her gesture took in his size, his armour, his weapons, and his rank, "forces his company on someone like me. Again."

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The state of her voice betrayed what she meant to hide. The fury, the fear. Even with the scape of worn and well used crockery against the rough cut timber that assembled the table. Even with the minor blade of sympathetic tone attached he could steel feel the overwhelming fear.
“Keeping quiet…I kept quiet for too long Dove. Because of it I’ve had everyone I’ve cared for or about taken away from me systematically.” A thin reed of anger crept into his voice before he snapped it like the string it was. “That isn’t peace. At least not a peace which I believe in. Not a peace worth fighting for either.” He as a show of good faith removed his gauntlets. The steel plates, the chain and the leather undercoat. Warm hands now softly gripped the hot cup.

“When a voice which speaks reason stands up it gets crushed. But when no-one stands up that’s when there’s nothing to fight for.” Alex leant back into the seat. Even as her eyes scanned over his armour clad form he understood what she meant. “If you want me to leave I shall go, I just thought that in my haste before I owed you an apology for being blinded by sweet lies and half-truths.” A Sharp shrill sound of earthenware permeated the stillness. “The reason I never see beyond beating myself up is because I know I’ve done wrong, that I’ve done things that I need to atone for.”

He sighed and had to concede though. “I didn’t fully think through what I was going to do here. And yes I realize I’ve forced my presence upon you again. And I see clearly, how uncomfortable it makes you, which is why I’m keeping my movements small and at best non-threatening. However before I go I wanted to give you one more piece of information: Getting rid of a delusion makes us wiser than getting hold of the truth. I’ve gotten rid of my delusions of the Knights, amongst others. You’ve your own to work through.” Alex's eyes retained the softness that they had when he intially walked through the door, except now there was a deep sadness that seemed to permeate them above all.

Boo!

[Dove Brown]

Dove sipped her tea, letting the mint calm her nerves and buying time as Alex spoke. "It's a desert," she agreed dryly, "but they call it peace." The earthenware clamour echoed off the walls and she grimaced. "That's the curfew signal, for your information." She could see that he was indeed trying to look safe, but there wasn't any way she was actually going to feel entirely safe in his presence. He went on though, and on some more, about how she should get rid of her 'delusions' just like he'd got rid of his. The more he spoke, the more fury took over from fear. At last, she planted her own hands flat on the table and let her own words pour out, hammering back at him.

"And what delusions would those be? That the knighthood controls everything here? That they patrol all the roads and docks? That my father thinks I'd be better off dead? That I grew up with nary a glimpse of 'childhood' fun? That I have so many scars - visible and invisible - from just living my life that I don't expect to ever be 'normal'?" Her right hand drifted up to touch the scar on her jawline, then dropped again. "That beating yourself up is a waste of time that you could be spending on building something up instead? That it's better to look forward and not back? That's it's possible to be satisfied with something you've done, and still try to do better next time?"

She drew her hands back to her mug and lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Why is it that I have to teach you lessons that you've never learned, when you must be half again my age? And why," she added, with a sigh, leaning back in her chair, "do you have to always be convinced that you know better than I do what I should do when you don't actually know anything about my life? If I wanted to follow your example and beat myself up, I have plenty of ammunition for it. Believe me or not as you will. I am, after all, only a farmer."

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex sighed as the tirade began. Even the clamour of wood on copper couldn’t drown out that. She was right she did have a lot to bear however when he’d said her delusions he’d meant two in particular. Two that stood out amongst anything else. And now a third.
“The ones I speak of are simple.” He spoke softly placing his cup down. “Firstly that you’re the only one who’s had no “childhood”. You’re not unique in that sense. You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with an abusive…Father.” He near spat out the last word, the first real inclination of anger he’d had, since arriving.

“Secondly the belief that one person standing up won’t do anything. A single person has often changed the course of history and for either the better or the worse, so don’t sit here thinking that’s the case.” Alex then exhaled sharply before bringing up his third point. “The delusion that everyone is an idiot by comparison. That you’re somehow this beacon of knowledge and foresight. A bastion of wisdom in a world full of the foolish. Grow up. People make mistakes. It’s what makes us human. I don’t have all the answers. I never claim too, but when you think you’re better than everyone you do nothing but push them away. Alienate them and make yourself a giant target.” Alex rose from his seat in a much more reserved manner, and stepped towards the door.

“I came to apologise, clearly you don’t want that. You just want to hold a moral high ground with no footing. Which is fine. Just don’t expect any one to help you when you finally come crashing down to the ground.” Alex arrived hoping to build a bridge, but instead she’d already blown the damn and salted the earth either side of the bank. A fruitless endeavour that was going no-where fast.

Boo!

[Dove Brown]

She blinked at him, shock trying to turn to laughter at the conclusions he'd jumped to. He blew in, lectured her, and fled any response and claimed that she thought she was superior to everyone else? Wasn't he the pot claiming the kettle was black with soot? With his insistence that his ideas were right and hers were wrong, and only he had the right to be angry? She turned, still wary, but her voice was soft as she told his retreating offended back, "Nobody ever apologised to me before." She hesitated a moment, then added, "Thank you." She only hoped that was the right way to accept an apology, even an apology given in a way that had torn open some of the same scars he had opened last time.

The curfew clamour echoed a little longer, then stopped, and Dove sighed. "If you want to wait until morning," she offered, making a tentative, probably too late, overture in return, "There is enough soup for two...and spare blankets." A trapped creature lashed out in pain, and she had been hurt so many times... There was more pain than peace in her, and 'normal' interactions were something she learned late, or not at all. Mostly when someone expected her to react one way, and like now, like he had, took offense when she reacted another way. She learned by constantly burning her fingers and bruising her scars on what 'normality' was.

The defences remained up, rooted too deep to ever be abandoned, a shield around the bleeding wounds that Alex had torn open again, as she watched him heading for the door. "It won't," she said, her voice quieter, wearier, almost resigned, "be the first time." He was leaving the knighthood, he'd said. Her skin crawled with fear at the thought of him staying, but the offer was there, honestly made, and if he accepted, it would make him a guest rather than an invader. Guests were easier to tolerate, because, yes, all right, it was an acknowledgement that this was her place, that she controlled it, and control meant safety. Of a sort.