[MINGLE] One-Man Show

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Inari Shrine and elsewhere
WHEN: 25 January 2019 through ?
OPEN TO: All opted in characters
WARNINGS: Please warn in the subject line of your comment as needed, and remember to move anything turning adult to a new post.
IMPORTANT NOTES: Final reminders and informational links are here. Please label all top-levels clearly so that there is no confusion who they are open to and what they are for, and DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR TAG!
Have fun and ask questions here!

Comments

[eaglesonofnone]

He had killed people similarly. Not as they were being held as such, except by his own blade, but he had heard all manner of begging, of bargaining. Never because they had cared for him, though. No, for him, it had always been pure self-interest.

Though wasn't it his fault that Maria died as she did, his rage getting the better of him, driving him to use the Apple against Swami?

He shook his head at himself and said quietly, "You have shown great resilience. You have healed. And while this blow still aches, that you have healed once proves you can do so again. In that, I have faith."

What he did not do was approach. He couldn't call Zevran friend. Friendly acquaintance, perhaps, but there was enough clash between their beliefs and lifestyles to prevent true friendship. But that did not preclude his support.

[youcantkillme]

Another vision. Another tragedy. One that, by everyone's reactions, actually has occurred, like the first vision they saw.

Connor watches the others draw near Zevran, close enough to lend support but not enough to crowd. For his part, Connor hangs back, simply watching. He has protocols for how to calm distressed humans, but there are notes there that include the fact that delivering humans to capable loved ones can help more than a stranger's reassurances.

Connor says nothing, and doesn't interfere.

[ombranera]

He can still smell the blood. Still see the pattern- dark spots on worn leather, a gift from Rinna, a reminder he could never get rid of until Jonas found a pair in the strangest of places. Jonas who knew something had gutted him, but never pressed. Alistair that wondered after his intentions in taking the contract against them- but never pushed beyond the walls and masks he wore.

Now his gravest sin is laid bare, his chest cracked open in a single, unerring blow to reveal the blackened, rotten heart of him in the cool morning light. So peaceful a place has no cause for blood and shadows and finely honed tools of the Assassin trade. It is a marvel the very stone under his fingers isn't reeking from the blood on his hands. He allows himself a moment longer than he should, his grief naked in front of men that have no use for him, no care for him- reminders to breathe as though it is not an obscinety that his lungs still fill, that his heart yet beats ere she lay dead.

Abandoned.

Forgotten.

Men with platitudes that ring hollow in the carved out spaces where she once lived, tucked as shards of honeyed light among the acid venom of Taliesen's regard. Humans- and he is always so careful not to resent them for the wrongs of a people they have never known but bile is thick on the back of his tongue as he represses the urge to retch.

Be still, be hollow. Take the silvered dagger of your mind and cut the sentiment from you like a broken limb.

In an instant his face settles into a blank mask, his eyes darken, his eartips dip. Zevran pulls himself back to his feet with a grace that was burned into his very bones, eyes slipping askance. Away from pity, away from too warm, too bright sentiment- locking on the one person the one thing that truly would feel nothing of what they saw. His eyes settle on Connor, and they are empty.

He is empty.

[rebornpaladin]

From his angle, he can see it, when the wall comes down, and Shiro watches Zevran rise without doing so himself. He itches with the want to reach out, but thinks that might be selfish. For as broken as Zevran must be, having endured that already, having relived it now, Shiro still has to honor the fact that he is radiating coldness and composure, and acknowledged Shiro's presence only in the effort it took to pointedly turn away from it.

He glances over at Altair, more visibly distraught than he entirely realizes, before bowing his head and scrubbing his hand over his face, leaving it cupped over his mouth. He feels ill, for a number of reasons, not least of which being the utter uselessness of not having a single word of comfort or real understanding to offer someone he cares about.

Maybe something close. Maybe. Something his mind shies away from, too much, that he's struggled not to let surface, but something. And even then, it's not the same. After a moment he braces a hand on his knee and levies himself back up to standing, watching Zevran's back.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. That it happened at all, sure, but more, more honestly and more immediately, that he saw it, that he knows this, now, against Zevran's will.