Solo Object Permanence

[Satevis]

21st of Spring, 518 AV

Satevis woke up that morning with a pounding headache, a weakness in his limbs, and a nearly overwhelming desire to cast magic again. The sun had risen, and the weakness of his mortal seeming had brought with it both an intense thirst and an aching pain that moved through his entire body when he tried to sit up to find water.

He'd also woken up alone. The bedroll on the other side of his four-person tent, where Seraya usually slept, had been empty and untouched.

Guilt had almost been worse than the pain. The entire time Satevis spent walking to the stream, squinting in the sunlight, his mind kept going back to his conversation with Seraya, to the way he had shouted at her the night before. To the way he had lost control of himself. He knew what his assorted aches and pains meant, what the nagging sense in the back of his mind that told him that if he just casted more, he would feel better, meant.

Overgiving. Mild symptoms were impossible to avoid in the study of magic, but there was no reason for him to be feeling the way he was. Nothing but his own lack of self-discipline and self-control.

He lingered as long as he could. When Seraya failed to appear, he realized that he couldn't wait any longer. He went to work. He did his best to avoid displaying his symptoms in front of Jansen, not wanting to admit what had happened or lose whatever trust the Akalak had in him, but he might as well have tried to hide the sun in the sky. Despite his best efforts to stay in the backroom and not bother anyone, Jansen had picked up on the fact that he wasn't acting like himself. After dragging some part of the story out of Satevis (Satevis confessed only that he had pushed himself too hard practicing magic, and not the rest), Jansen had scolded him for not having enough self-control, had healed the physical manifestations of his overgiving, and had sent him home early to deal with the rest. That, in Satevis's opinion, was worse than if he had been forced to stay at the Panacea. Without work to do to take his mind off of everything, he was forced to confront the reality of what he had said, and done.

The worst of it was that he had an appointment with Randal later that afternoon, one that he had no good reason to postpone. The Founder had found a moment in what was, for Syka, an exceedingly busy schedule, to look over Satevis's lot and discuss plans for his house. The house that Satevis was no longer sure he even wanted to think of, let alone build.

He wanted to go back to work, or failing that, he wanted to find a quiet spot somewhere where no one would find him and hide there until the guilt and the anger and the shame faded away. But the real world hardly waited for such things, and as Satevis turned off the path and made his way towards his property, he realized with a pang that things would not wait for him to be prepared to deal with them.

Because Seraya was there, sitting on the sand with her back against a palm tree. She had her arms folded, and did not look happy when she turned to look at him.

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Satevis

[Satevis]

Satevis drew up short, unsure what to say. He had been thinking about what he would say to her when he saw her again, but all of the words that came to mind were hollow, insulting. Trite apologies and excuses that she had already made very clear she did not need.

Leth and Yahal above, when had he become so accustomed to giving excuses?

Seraya saved him the indignity of having to choose his words. She rose to her feet, keeping her arms folded, and looked him over closely. "Well," she said, her voice curt. "You seem better than yesterday."

"I..." He remembered yesterday with another pang of guilt, wished he could erase that night and his reaction from history. "I am. Yes. My...sincerest apologies for how I acted. I'm glad to see you're alright."

Seraya snorted, rolling her eyes. "As if I would be otherwise," she said. "I know how to take care of myself, Satevis. Better than you."

He wouldn't argue the point. It was demonstrably true. "Of course," he said. "But still...for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. It was...ill-done."

Seraya stared at him, her gaze seeming to pierce straight through his soul. Satevis stood still and bore her scrutiny, although a part of him wanted to hide away from her gaze. She was still angry, he could tell. And that was fair. She deserved to be angry. At length, however, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. Her arms unfolded, her hands falling back to her sides.

"I want to help you," she said.

The words were so far from what he had expected to hear that Satevis at first thought he had misheard. When it became clear that he had not, he thought he had mistranslated the words, but Seraya was still watching him, head cocked to the side like she thought he had gone insane, and he realized that he had heard right after all.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"I know what it's like to feel trapped," Seraya said, grimacing as if even saying the words brought up uncomfortable memories. "You rationalize, you tell yourself that this is the way it has to be. That you deserve it somehow, that your betters are just trying to protect you. That you wouldn't survive without them." She swallowed, turning away. One of her hands went up, fingers brushing her neck lightly.

Satevis watched her, uncertain. "...Seraya?"

"I was a slave, Satevis!" Seraya said, looking back at him. Her eyes were wide, angry, her hands clenched into fists at her side. "We all were. And for a while, I didn't think I deserved my freedom. When I broke out of that, I fought for it, and I earned it. It wasn't easy, so I know how it is. Believe me, I know. But you have a chance at freedom, and you're choosing to be a slave."

Satevis swallowed. The words of protest that came to him so clearly in the night now seemed so far away. "I'm not a slave."

"Aren't you?" Seraya asked. "When was the last time you thought for yourself? When was the last time you set a direction for your life that didn't revolve around Leth?"

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Satevis

[Satevis]

Satevis fell silent, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He tried to think--he really did. She asked a question, and he felt as though it was one he had to answer somehow, one that he couldn't ignore. But he found that he couldn't think of an answer. Certainly...certainly he hadn't spent his entire decade on Mizahar clinging to Leth. He had taken comfort in the thought that his patron was watching over him, had taken hope in the fact that he was here for a purpose, that there was something he was meant to do. But he hadn't let that guide all of his decisions, had he? There had to have been something he had done for himself.

Words and memories escaped him, slipping through his fingers like water through a sieve. He didn't have an answer for her. And from the look on her face, Seraya knew it.

"See?" she said, her expression softening. "You can't answer that, can you?"

"I..." He drew in a breath and let it out, slowly. "I can't. Not yet. But I will...think about it, Seraya. I promise. I truly will."

Seraya frowned at him, resting a hand on her hip. Then, she let out a breath, turning to walk back to the tent. "It's a start," she said.

"I'm sorry, again, about the way I acted," Satevis said. "You didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. No one does. And I shouldn't have lost control."

Seraya looked back at him and looked away, her expression unreadable. She didn't say anything for a long while. When she did speak, it was paired with action. She had started walking again. "I have a long memory, Satevis. I'm not going to forget that. I don't forget anything. But...it's not the first time someone's lashed out at me like that," she said. "It's not like I don't know I can be a little...abrasive. And the fire wouldn't have hurt me anyway."

Satevis blinked. He wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she was cut off by the sight of a figure standing on the beach. Randal. He wondered how much the Founder had seen of the discussion and felt a flush of embarrassment, but Randal only smiled as he approached, raising a hand in greeting.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, looking between Satevis and Seraya knowingly.

Satevis winced. "It's...partially resolved," he said. "I'm sorry if you saw any of that."

"Don't worry about it," Randal said. "What happens between the two of you is your business. Did you still want to talk about a house?"

Right. A house. It felt odd looking at his little plot of land, thinking that he was about to have a house built on it. It felt too...permanent. He had never owned a house of his own, in his ten years of living. It felt almost as if having the house built would tie him to Syka in a way that having the land did not. Looking at his lot now, thinking about the conversation he had with Seraya, he wasn't sure he still wanted that.

But maybe it was a good thing, to settle down. Maybe Seraya was right. Maybe...maybe he had to let go. Not completely, but just a little. Just enough for him to understand himself a little more.

"Yes," he said, putting a sheepish smile on his face as he looked back at Randal. "About that house..."

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Satevis

[Satevis]

Satevis led Randal around the property, letting him examine how things were currently spaced. He had to admit that he hadn't done much with it. When he'd first arrived in Syka, it felt as though he had all the time in the world, but time kept slipping away from him by moments and seconds. He'd had a vision of taking up carpentry, of attempting to build the house on his own, but a few moons of living here had quickly quashed that idea. There wasn't enough time in the day for him to learn both medicine and carpentry, and if he wanted to be living in a house that wouldn't fall apart at the slightest provocation, he had to ask for help.

Seraya's arrival had spurred on the process, as well. It wasn't as though he particularly minded living in a tent, but it was one thing to live in a tent by himself and another to subject a guest to it. Of course, there was still the question of money. Satevis waited as Randal examined the location he had led him to, a place in the middle of the property, between the jungle and beachfront, where he had been thinking of placing the house.

"Hmm..." Randal said, frowning in thought. "It's not a bad spot, but...it'll get hot fairly quickly in the daytime. If I were you, I'd build it a little further to the right, somewhere over there." He gestured at a shaded spot off to the side with one hand. "The natural shade will keep things cool, and you'll still have a nice breeze there, from the sea."

"Whatever you think best," Satevis said. He didn't have any particular attachment to one location over the other. Looking at the spot that Randal suggested, he could see what the man meant. "Over there is fine."

Randal nodded, walking over to the location. He started pacing out the dimensions of the house, walking through the rough layout of four walls. "You just want a single room cottage for now, is that right?" he asked.

Satevis nodded. "For now," he said. "I don't really think I need more than that."

"That's normally about five hundred gold mizas," Randal said. "I can take part of the payment now, to get started, and you can pay me the rest when the house is done."

Satevis nodded, relieved. Five hundred gold mizas was a steep price, and a little more than he had at the moment. But he had done the math, factoring in his salary from the Panacea. If he was careful, he could pay half now and pay the other half back at the end of the season.

"I can pay half the cost upfront," Satevis said. "Would that work?"

"That would work just fine," Randal said. "Now, about the placement..."

Oddly enough, by the time they were finished, Satevis had almost forgotten about the altercation with Seraya.

OOCThe price negotiation is going off a Discord conversation I had with Goss once upon a time about splitting up the price between multiple seasons. Don't worry, I won't actually be living in the house until I pay it off!

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Satevis