Closed A Change in Perception (Dexius)

[Madeira Dusk]

50th of Spring, 517



The Sanity Centre was strangely quiet today. Besides the mundane housing and job services for the locals, usually there were at least one confused visitor demanding answers of the proprietor, or else sitting in the corner trying to wrap their minds around the idea of Alvadas. Today the office was empty, save for the harried Serenity Berel.
 
The ginger-haired woman's slightly crazed eyes snapped up as Madeira stepped into her office.
 
"Ah, if it isn't Miss.Craven, come to grace us with her presence." Serenity smiled. Not warmly, perhaps, but there was welcome in it.
 
"It's been a while", Madeira agreed. She handed over an envelope sealed in wax embossed with the Craven crest. "Mr.Arashi has been exorcized from his house. The new family can move back in."
 
Serenity took the envelope without looking at it and threw it on one of the many piles of papers on her desk, where it was sure to be lost immediately. 
 
"Have you seen Dexius around?" the woman asked without prelude, her elbows on her desk and her hands steepled in front of her chin.
 
That one name rocketed through Madeira, propelled by guilt and embarrassment. Ah, Dex. The man she failed so spectacularly back in the Fall. The man who saw her break into pieces and be smeared across the floor of the Crooked Playhouse by a creature much too strong for either of them to tangle with. She immediately broke out in a cold sweat, which put something of a damper on her next words. 
 
"I'm sorry, who?"
 
"Oh, you know," Serenity waved an airy hand, "skinny guy, pale, the one you skewered with his own blade? That one."
 
"Oh", Madeira swallowed. "Of course."
 
"Of course. Well, he hasn't been by in... oh, almost half a year." She could almost see the ice dripping from Serenity's lips. "I worry about the kid. You know. Having a hole punched through someones shoulder really brings out the maternal instinct in me."
 
"Is that... Is that right?" A fluttering of worry took root in her chest. She hadn't seen the Symenestra since that one awful night. That was party her fault. She never found the gall to purposefully seek him out after she let him get possessed by a murderer, and then ran him through with a fencing sword. But to hear that his own contract employer hadn't seen him either made her think that it might have been more than luck that let her avoid him. What if something was actually wrong?
 
"Go find him and tell him to get his lazy ass in here. These jobs aren't going to do themselves."
 
"I've got to get back to the manor. Tell them that the job is-"
 
"Go find Dexius."
 
"But-"
 
"Now." 
 
 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

 
Madeira walked the winding streets, in her hand a scrap of paper with a description of Dex's house written on it in Serenity's neat, looping writing. Scraps of fog rose in curling fingers from the cracks in the cobblestone, or else creeped around corners and gathered under eves.

There was something different about the illusions today. She passed through a school of lazily wandering fish, and noticed that she could see right through them. All the apparitions she had seen today were misty and insubstantial. Not at all like the more-real-than-life hallucinations she saw on a daily basis. It was curious. She worried that the city might be sick, somehow.
 
After a bell and a half of wandering, Madeira found what she was looking for. She checked the paper to make sure, then stepped up to the door. She fixed the high collar of her white blouse, and smoothed down the thighs of her black trousers nervously. Dex would not be happy to see her, and she was ready for that. But she also knew something in her heart would break to hear her former protector say so.
 
With a steeling breath, Madeira rapt on the door. 

[Dexius]

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50th of Spring, 517 AV
Thought
"Common"
"Symenos"

It had been just around two seasons now since Dex had found the motivation within himself to do just about anything. He had wounds now, something more than physical, something more than he was used to. Every time a shadow flickered in the wrong way his eyes were on it. Watching. Waiting. Ever since that fateful night at The Playhouse he hadn't felt entirely himself.

The residual stress from the possession of the maniacal ghost was what haunted him now. He was worried that at any moment the thing would reach out from the shadows of nothingness and march him off again like a puppet. He shuddered as he was sprawled out in the rafters of his small home, Nini chirping away in her cage as she always did. Phobius had asked him to watch the thing for a few bells but the bird never stopped talked when her master was away.

The spider slipped down from his perch and approached the bird's cage. He wasn't all too sure that the thing was all to happy being around him yet, though he was sure it was at least used to him. After opening the cage the Symenestra slipped two of his long fingers in to pet Nini, she didn't nip at a him at least. The huntress cooed slightly before rustling her feathers and calming down into a rest. "Apparently she just wanted some attention." Dex shrugged and closed the cage, a moment of silence finally upon him.

But of course that wouldn't last. A knock at the door caused him some panic as he spun his head to inspect the origin of the noise. He let out a sigh of disappointment and headed towards the door. Not many people came to the house and if they did it was usually a friend of Phobius. At least if they were he could send them away and get back to his silence and solitude.

With his lanky fingers around the handle of the door Dex out a small breath before swinging the thing open. As the door opened it revealed to him something, no, somebody that would easily bring a rise to the part of himself that he currently hated. A part he could not rid himself of. There she was, the Craven of them all. Madeira Craven.

But he also revealed himself to her. His hair unkempt and greasy. Eyes bagged and slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. His clothing while not ragged had obviously not been kept in the best shape over the last two seasons, he had no reason to. His free hand shook as he looked upon the woman that caused him to walk into a situation that overwhelmed him so much. He squeezed the hand into a fist so tightly that his unfiled nails threatened to break his pale skin.

Fast, loud breaths escaped his body as the look in his eyes changed from anger to fear and everything in between. His body shook as he quickly slammed the door shut and howled out in anger and sadness. Dex turned his back to the door, resting against it as he slid to the floor. She was supposed to protect him that day...but nothing had gone according to plan. He slammed a fist against the closed door before yelling out meekly. "What..what do you want?"





Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach

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[Madeira Dusk]

The door swung open, and Madeira's breath hitched in her chest. She was prepared for angry. She was steeled against his loathing. But she was not prepared for his fear.
 
Her heart gave a painful jolt as it shattered against the lump in her throat. He was the six-foot-something, wiry strong creature with poison in his teeth, and he was scared of her. Because of what she did.  
 
He slammed the door in her face, causing the mist curling sneakily around her ankles to guttered in the unnaturally still air. But not before she saw him. He was rumpled and unkept and so... hollow. From behind the door came a howl, like the steam escaping the kettle to relieve the pressure. Muffled behind wood and anger, he asked her what she wanted.
 
She leaned forward until her forehead rested against the worn wooden door.   
 
"I don't... Dex, I don't want anything. What happened to you? The ghost is gone. He's been gone for almost two seasons. People are worried about you."

I'm worried about you.
 
She turned her back to the door and slid down to sit on his steps. The scar going through her left hand gave a painful twinge as memories she would rather not think about started bubbling to the surface. She massaged the silvery puncture with the pad of her thumb and continued. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry. Please come out. Lets talk." 

[Dexius]

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50th of Spring, 517 AV
Thought
"Common"
"Symenos"

The fearful swordsman curled up into a ball for the first time in his adult life. He didn't know what to do with himself and that was what really caused him the most horror. Ever since that day at the theatre he couldn't stop thinking about what he saw, what he felt.

The fear, the pain that Madeira had screamed when he heedlessly remove the bolt from her hand. He often woke from what little sleep he got to the sound of that banshee scream. It ruined him knowing that he couldn't stop the ghost from inflicting that sort of pain on Madeira. It hurt even more knowing he might, no, that he did cause her to cry out in such a manner.

Outside, Madeira was trying to coax him out, she wanted to talk. "Nobody is worried about me. Nobody knows me. I might as well be a ghost." He didn't really mean it. Obviously there were people in Alvadas that Dex had come to know during his stay in the city that could worry about him. That much was made obvious by Phobius' non stop nagging and bothering. He knew the red head was only trying to help him though.

Dex crawled across the floor of his house, the boards creaking as they always did. His head twitched slightly at every sound they made, their sound was reminiscent of that of the wooden stage boards groaning. After a few moments he had finally made it to his destination in the small place. His lanky arm reached under the bed he barely used and rummaged under it for a few ticks. When he finally laid his hand on the object of his focus a shiver ran up the Symenestra's spine.

Dex took the thing back to the front door of his house and swung it back open again. Not before he took a breath so deep that his lungs screamed out in protest. He exhaled as soon as he saw the woman, her back now turned to him. The object of his desire and that of his defeat was thrown down on the steps next to Maderia.

It was his broken rapier, sheath and all. The thing clattered on the steps and landed just below the very bottom one. It was just like him so he wasn't worried about breaking it for obvious reasons.

Dex ran a hand through his greasy hair and looked upon Madeira with a visage of complete neutrality and uncaring. "Just take the thing...tell everyone i'm dead. Dira willing I might be soon.."

He didn't know what to do, how to act, to feel, or to think. "All I can feel is the anger..and it fills me with fear. I see my hands about to grip and choke the life from your body...I hear your screams at night."

Nothing felt right to the man anymore. He couldn't eat, not that Symenestra ate in a traditional fashion. Couldn't sleep, dream, or even find fun in the simplest of things. The ghost had filled his body and used it as its vessel. But when it left it felt like it took a part of him with it.

Madeira was the only one who might be able to understand how he was feeling. But he could never find the courage to seek her out lest he have to sift through the night's events once more.

Dex's gaze dropped to the ground as what little emotional barriers he had left began to strip away.

He needed her help. Her of all people.





Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach

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[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira listened with her back to the door as the Symenestra lamented, and heard the creaking of floorboards as he crawled away. She dropped her forehead into her palms and fisted her hands in her hair. She's helped her cousins hold screaming men and women down to be exorcised, she's watched ghosts hurt their vessels in horrific ways, but she could never bring herself to handle the after effects. She's never sat down to talk her way through what was left of a shell-shocked vessel.
 
To be possessed was to have every part of your body and soul forcibly taken from you. It was a trauma that went beyond the physical. The relationship between the body and the soul was a sanctity that most would never never learn to treasure until it was violated. She had to be trained and tested and suffer through a hundred possessions to get herself to the point where it didn't break her to pieces every time. To a layman, to someone who had never before even spared a thought for their soul, it could be a devastating experience. She had never ventured to bear that emotional and deeply personal pain with anyone beyond a clinical explanation of what had happened. She never thought she was strong enough to carry it with them.
 
But now, for perhaps the first time, she was invested in this broken vessel. She still didn't think she was strong enough, but for him she would try.
 
Suddenly the door behind her flew open, and Madeira flinched as the broken sword was thrown at her feet. She turned on her stone seat and looked up at the creature behind her. His anger and fear were gone, replaced with a blank, expressionless look that was somehow worse than either. What could she say at that moment? Should she hold him, should she tell him everything was going to be ok? That gesture sounded hollow and forced, even in her head. No, she couldn't climb down into whatever pit he's sunken himself into and wallow with him. She had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him out.
 
Madeira got woodenly to her feet, leaving the broken sword where it lay to be swallowed by the encroaching mist. 
 
She climbed the the step separating them until they were toe-to-toe, though not quite face to face. A muscle was jumping in her jaw, and her eyes burned underneath pale, knitted brows.
 
"First of all, you take that mask off when you speak to me. And second-"
 
Madeira pulled back her hand, turning her whole body into the swing, and brought her palm crashing down against his cheek. Her fingers tingled as the blood left her fingers with the force of the contact.  
 
"How'd that feel? That hurt, didn't it? Hold still, let me do it again." She pulled her hand back a second time, sparks flying from her eyes. But she didn't follow through. She stood there with her hand above her head and waited for him to stop her.
 
"How about it? Are you going to 'choke the life out of me'? Are you going to kill me? This anger you're feeling right now is cleaner isn't it? It tastes different than what you felt at the theatre, doesn't it? That anger wasn't yours Dex! It was his! That wasn't you choking me, it was him."
 
Her hand dropped to her side, but she showed no signs of slowing down as she tore into the dejected, possibly suicidal Symenestra.
 
"Dexius." she spit vehemently, forcing him to make eye contact with her. “You. Soul. Was. Raped. Somebody ripped their way through your body and spirit and left both broken. You need to understand that before we can piece you back together." she didn't flinch at the wording, or even dial back the severe tone of her voice. She needed him to face this properly, and a softer watered down version wouldn't help. "And we will piece you back together. Because I petching understand. I know what this is doing to you because I've lived through it too. Now get your shoes. We are going to get you cleaned up, get you fed, and you're going to let a Spiritist teach you not to be afraid of the ghosts’ of ghosts. Now move." 

[Dexius]

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50th of Spring, 517 AV
Thought
"Common"
"Symenos"

So there they were then in a stand off of sorts. The woman in front of Dex had risen from her position on the stoop to stand toe to toe with him. Though, from the difference in their heights Dex was forced to look down if ever so slightly to match her blue eyed gaze. The determination emanating from her stare rocked through his being just then. He had seen the look before, sometime during misadventure of their first day together. But he couldn't place when.

His thoughts in the solitude of his mind were cut short though by Madeira's words. They were blunt and forceful, reminiscent of the short while before the happenings in the theatre. Then another familiar thing happened. Something he swore he was going to get back at the woman for, jokingly of course. He watched her body and arm shifted almost in slow motion as her hand came cracking down on his face. Dex felt thunderstruck when her hand met with his face for the second time. He still wasn't sure he deserved the first, perhaps he was being a bit brash back then. Today though, it was certain that the Symenestra deserved it. In fact, he almost needed it.

The feeling in his cheek tingled for a time and from the looks of it Madeira was not going to give up with one strike. The Symenestra resigned himself to taking the second blow, he figured he deserved it somehow, for some reason. The next assault never came though at least not physically. Her words cut him deeper than any knife could. She could shred him to pieces right there and then and had all the power to do just that.

He felt so vulnerable and worthless as Madeira spoke the venom he had needed hear for almost two seasons time but was too afraid to seek out. It would be easy to go back to the small safety he could find within his own home. To be away from the woman and to just be rid of the pain he was feeling once again. Everything was clawing its way back out of him again. The hate. The anger. All of it.

As soon as Madeira had finished spilling out her thoughts to him, Dex cracked a little on the inside, a little piece of his normally calm demeanor shattered briefly. Everything he was feeling right now was due to the woman in front of him. All the pain he felt and the delusions that his own mind forced upon him every day and every night came from one single source.

The Symenestra's breathing quickened, his nostrils flaring in anger or perhaps distress. He growled a single word as he quickly grabbed at the woman's shirt. "Madeira." The hands that flew out came like lightning, his slightly inhuman speed attributed to making them a small flash. Before he even knew what he was doing Dex had lifted the woman from the ground and held her up in front of him. His eyes screamed out in the largest spectrum of emotions possible. He held her there for a few ticks, she could kick if she really wanted to, he didn't care.

Then everything began to piece itself back together in Dex's mind like an unsolved puzzle. Slowly he realized right in front of his eyes was he was doing to the woman who had led him to such pain but had also come to lead him out of it. A tear ran down from the man's purple-blue eye before he released the woman from his grip. His hands shook violently as open palm and then as closed fist. "I-I'm so sorry.."

As suddenly as he had appeared at the open door he turned and retreated back inside. His body flew through the opening with not much care to close it behind him at the moment. Dex grabbed at the first thing that he could find to release his pent up anger on. The poor chair. It flew across the small house, crashed, and the skidded for a moment on the floor before hitting the wall. He howled as he had sent the thing flying. Dex wanted to get it out of him, whatever it was.

He leaned on the table that was now missing one of its very few chairs, it now looked rather empty. Grabbing his red scarf from the table the man pressed it into his face as he cried for but a moment, his tears being soaked by the soft red cloth.

What would she think of him if she could see him now? He almost wished he could fall into the scarf, into the memories it held for him. To live in those forever, however crushing one of them would be.



Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach

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[Madeira Dusk]

Something she said had hit home. She could see it in the way his mouth set in a thin, straight line, and the way his eyes lit with something she couldn't quite name. At least it wasn't that cold, self pitying non-expression. If she could make him feel anything besides that fear and loathing she would take it, even if it was worse. The fastest way out is always through, and she would burn him to the ground if it gave them the chance to build him up new and stronger.
 
The two were the eye in their own personal storm. She could almost feel the angry static crackling around them as they stared each other down. People on the street were slowing down to watch the unfolding drama enacting in the doorway, though nobody looked ready to step between them, even after the blonde human blatantly assaulted the Symenestra.
 
Almost as if to take advantage of the distraction, the mist was rising. It was licking coyly at the knees of those on the cobble street, lying thick and defiant to Syna's burning rays. But Madeira never noticed it, because her focus was only for the amethyst eyes of the man she was trying to save. She wasn't sure what would happen if she was the first to break the intense contact, but she worried he would slip further away if she did. Of course, that was until he snarled her name and his hands lifted her by the collar of her shirt.
 
Madeira stopped breathing.
 
She was struggling to keep the tips of her toes on the ground, and her shirt was cutting sharply into the pit of her arms, but she didn't break the eye contact. In that moment she was scared of him, in a way she hadn't been for several seasons. In fact, she had half a mind to bring her boney knee up into the fork of his legs just to but some distance between them. But if she did he would lose whatever eruption he was working himself through. So she just hung there, toes scrabbling at the ground, and counted the thin, spidery veins in his eyes as her lips slowly turned blue.
 
She watched as the the gears of reason slowly clicked back on, after the emotion burned its way through him. She watched his eyes go from burning hatred to something like regret. All at once he dropped her, and Madeira stumbled as she landed hard on her heels. Then he was gone. He turned into his gloomy house and disappeared.
 
She turned her back to the doorway to compose herself, hands on her hips and breathing deep and calm, when she was met with half a dozen curious passerby stopped mid-step with open mouths and wide-eyed stares.  
 
“Can I help you?" she snarled, doing her best to channel her aunt Madara’s overwhelming presence. Behind her there was an unmistakable sound of something heavy crashing into the wall, followed by an almost animal roar.
 
And suddenly the strangers could think of a million things they would rather be doing. They bundled up baskets, clothing and children and fled the scene, leaving the mist to gutter in the wake of their departure. Madeira waited until they were gone before she stepped into Dex's house uninvited and slammed the door behind her. If he was going to dissolve into pieces than she would rather he not have an audience to do so.
 
The only illumination now was the misty light filtering through the one window. She could just make out the outline of Dex's shoulders and the slope of his brow as he sobbed into something in his hands.
 
What now? She really thought she was reaching him. Damnit. What now?
 
In the dark she brushed her hands down her face, feeling helpless in the face of so much grief.
 
She remembered what he said before, that he might as well be a ghost, that he might be dead soon. Fine. If he wanted to be a ghost she could oblige him. How many times had she talk her way through to a suffering spirit? Could this really be so different?
 
And first step to confronting a ghost: you open a dialogue. You speak with kindness and sympathy and gentle persuasion. Once you find what is holding the spirit back, you fix it. Sometimes it's as easy as burying it's corpse, sometimes it could be as impossible as reconciling with someone who's been centuries dead. But what could fix Dex? She guessed she wouldn't know until she knew what emotional pain had him in it's grip.
 
She bumbled her way forwards with hands outstretched until she found the edge of the table. Then with a creak of wood she lifted herself up and sat on the edge. As she waited for him to re-gather control of himself, she noticed what he was holding. A single beam of light was laid across that same red scarf that he'd been wearing when they met. Even back then she was able to recognize how much it meant to him. If he were a ghost, is that what he would haunt?
 
"Were did you get that scarf, Dex?" she asked gently, her eyes rolling blindly over where she thought his eyes would be. 

[Dexius]

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50th of Spring, 517 AV
Thought
"Common"
"Symenos"

The touch of the soft cloth of the scarf allowed Dex a reprieve from the landslide of his mind but for a few moments. It was always a reminder to him that there could be positives in the negatives of life. But the thing was a double edged sword as well, reminding him that the negatives could far outweigh the positives.

Dex's breathing returned to normal as his composure crawled its way back into his skin. The last drops of his tears were absorbed by the fabric before he looked back up to Madeira who was now just casually sitting on the edge of his table. Her words rang through his ears like an over sized bell chiming in the smallest of rooms. The Symenestra joined the spiritualist on the table though his feet still managed to brush against the floor below.

"Were you ever given something by somebody so important to you that if they were gone it was all you had left to remember them by?" His words drifted off his tongue with solace and guilt. "Have you ever watched the light fade from somebody's eyes? And not a ghost. A living, breathing person in the flesh just..right there in front of you and then not." Dex cradled the scarf in his hands for a brief moment longer, he always treated it gently as if it were a newborn or a fragile piece of artwork.

With practiced hands he wove the scarf around his neck and shoulder so that it rested rather loosely on his body. "Did you ever see the light fade from their eyes because you failed them so horribly? Somebody you vowed to live for and protect. Gone because of your failures.." Dex turned to look at Madeira, the few beams of light from the window glinting off of his strange colored eyes.

"I'm sorry for what I just did, Madeira. It wasn't fair." The Symenestra swallowed what felt like a rock in his throat. How could she stand to be here with him right now? He had almost removed Madeira Craven's name from the record books but here she was. Nothing about the woman made sense to him. The first time they encountered each other she met him with a fierce but obviously professional persona. After that she was shaken and needed his support. Then finally at the end of their journey together he needed Madeira and she came through, mostly. Nothing had gone perfect for either of them that day, that much was for certain.

But nothing about that night gave her a reason to be here now. So long after the fact, how long had it been? The Symenestra didn't rightfully know what day it was but he knew it was Spring. Silence grew between the two for a few moments until Dex dropped down from his perch at the table, the floor creaking in protest.

He moved across the dimly lit house and easily located his sandals before slipping them on. His steps were only betrayed by the sounds of the old house. The familiar clip clap of his sandals filled the house as Dex went to retrieve the victimized piece of furniture. On his way though the Symenestra stopped to give reassurance to the resident bird. He had almost hit the poor thing with the chair and Dex dared not see what Phobius was like when he was angry, if it was even possible for the man to be so.

After returning the chair to the table Dex stood to look Madeira in the eye again. He wanted to know. No. He needed to know. "I'll tell you who gave it to me..if you tell me what you're doing here. Now. After all this time. And why you seem to care." If the woman could possibly see his face she would find a small glimpse of determination in his expression. Something he hadn't felt in the two seasons time since their last meeting.





Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach

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[Madeira Dusk]

Dex joined her on the table and started to speak. His voice was low and soft, his breath barely disturbing the motes of dust gathering in the light of the one window. He asked her question after question about grief and guilt. He didn’t mean for her to answer, she supposed. They were too specific, and much too personal. He wasn’t asking her these questions, not really. He was explaining himself. And if the only way he could do so was through the ambiguity of questions, so be it.

So she sat in silence and tried to unravel what he was implying. He was a hired sword, he had killed people. By definition people like him had to be hardened to death. But he spoke about someone he had to protect, and then failed. Perhaps this was something deeper than just a client he couldn’t save. This was someone who knew him well enough to give him gifts. A family member, a friend?

As she tried to work her way through his enigma, he spoke directly to her. He apologized for what he did.

“No, that was fair.” she smiled wryly, “I did try to cave your face in for the second time”, she joked, trying to inject some levity to the situation. She made no apology for what she had done.

There was a dry scrape beside her, and a groaning of wood, as the Symenestra slid off the table and padded to the other side of the small cottage. He stopped to give some rustling animal she couldn’t see gentle attention, and returned with the chair he had thrown. Then he was eye-to-eye with her, standing in front of the table where she was sitting. He gave her an ultimatum, an explanation for an explanation. Why was she here?

If he was a ghost, what would she say? Not the truth. The truth was she was too much of a coward to check up on him, that she was goaded to find him by Serenity Berel. The truth was that she cared about his well being, but wasn’t sure where the feeling stemmed from, wether it was pity or guilt or something stronger. No. She would lie, at least in part, and tell him it was all her idea, that she had been looking for him for half a year. She would lather her words in honey and press them to his wounded heart. He was a ghost, and he needed to hear it.

She gave the face hoovering in front of her a sad smile. She could see a burning determination in the glint off his eyes otherwise cast in shadow.

“I should have been here sooner. I was worried… I was looking for you everywhere. Serenity was the one who told me where you lived, otherwise I never would have found you.” She brought a hand carefully to his cheek, and cupped it around the red welt that fit so perfectly under her hand. “I never expected you to be so torn down by this. I should have been here for you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see what this was doing to you. But I’m here now, and we are going to make this better, ok?”

[Dexius]

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50th of Spring, 517 AV
Thought
"Common"
"Symenos"

The Symenestra touched a hand to the one that was caressing his face. Considering the previous engagement he half expected her to strike him again but the tone between the two had changed from angry to sorrowful. Dex was surprised to find that Madeira's hand was soft to the touch. He was almost certain that the Spiritualist's hands would be more rough around the edges given her line of work was not a simple or safe one. Then again, she seemed to work with her mind more than her hands which was almost the opposite of himself.

Dex slowly absorbed the explanation that Madeira poured out in front of him about her lack of contact. He wasn't all too sure that he could believe what she was telling him but he also had no reason to think she would lie to him. If she was trying to avoid him then she would not be here right now in front if him.

The Symenestra watched her speak in the darkness. The color of her clothes and body were drained from the lack of light so Dex observed her in a black and white undertone. Madeira hadn't been able to find him after all this time? It all seemed rather unlikely considering the source she eventually used to locate him. Though, he wasn't very sure he wanted Madeira to come find him in the earlier stages of this..development.

Anger had clouded his thoughts while paranoia tugged at his every sense. It would likely have ended with him successfully bleeding the air from the spiritualist's lungs like he had almost done just a few moments prior. At least now he wasn't stark raving mad and huddled up in a corner waiting for respite from his own thoughts.

"Madeira..please don't be sorry." The Symenestra spoke after the woman had concluded her apology and pulled her hand away from his face before looking down upon it. It was the one that was pierced by her own bolt. Sometimes he had forgotten he was not the only one who was wounded from the whole affair on the stage. Pain made it easy to forget another's damage.

A single lanky finger inspected the woman's scarred hand. The softness of her skin was interrupted by the tougher skin of the healed wound. The thing was almost invasive looking and feeling to him. Madeira would carry the scar for the rest of her living life and that was something he wished he could go back and change. "I've been torn before Madeira, i'll be fine.." Dex peeped as he stared at the scar.

He didn't believe himself of course. The pain and guilt of this specific failure haunted him even to this day, over a year later.

Dex opened his mouth as if he was going to speak but was paused by his own memories. The memories of the person who had given him the scarf flooded his every thought in that moment. Emotions exploded inside of him like lightning. He was glad that Madeira could not likely see his face very easily as a tear rolled down his face.

"The person who gave me the scarf." The Symenestra released the woman's hand and swallowed hard at a large lump in his throat. "She was my best friend, Madeira. Her name was Alasyia and she was the best thing to ever happen to me." His voice drifted off and was much quieter when he continued speaking. "Before she was cut down before me..the light stripped from her eyes."

Dex took a step back and spun on his heels, he had to get some space between them. So he walked over to the one window of his house and stared out of it as he often had for the last two seasons. "So now you know. I wear my failures on my skin and atop my clothes. Scars both."

It took all he had to keep himself from sending the woman away at once. To return to his solitude and feel bad for himself as he always did. But he couldn't find the willpower to send Madeira away. The woman wanted to help but still he was not sure how she was going to do so.

Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach

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