Inside Your Head

Blessed quiet has reigned over Alexandria for the last several days. It's been a few days since Zeke had last seen Dolan, but as their appointed check-in draws to within a mark or two, the door to the agreed upon chamber opens, a good bit earlier than expected. The smell of the Temple baths lingers around Dolan as he walks into the chamber and fairly flings himself into a chair that faces the door, his back to the stone wall. Straight, dark brown hair is loose and still damp, he wears only an old but clean open-front shirt and well-worn trousers with his boots. Tje only other thing he wears is the leather cuff over his left shoulder, all buckles fastened firmly enough that someone else had to have done the work. He leaves that arm to dangle, the mobile half of his expression hooded and worried.

"Brightest of days, Zeke. Sorry, I'm early, but I'm to tell you to include willowbark in whatever tea you're making." He stares unhappily at the tabletop.

Zeke, who had been setting up the room in advance of Dolan's arrival blinks at the man's early entry. Thankfully he has everything but the tea itself fully ready, and was mostly fiddling with details rather than doing anything specifically useful. The blue-scale quietly gages Dolan's expression, the tightness of his strapped shoulder, his mood, and nods to the other man's words.

"Peasssce on your nessst Dolan." He offers politely before anything else and then begins to open a pouch on his hip with various herbs inside it. Nothing that would be dangerous to carry, but simple things for emergency tea-makings and on-the-fly medicinal requirements. He slips some willowbark into a bag and adds it to the pot which is still much too hot to be imbibed at the moment. "Would you like to sshare wordsss now, or would you rather wait for the tea?"

"It don't matter none," Dolan answers, reaching up to his right eye and, with a minute or two of careful twisting, left, right, then left again, pops the prosthetic from its socket. "It's fucked either way. They had me try it without the brace today and I damned near pulled it out. I'm not to pick it up again for another week at least." Deep disappointment, worry, and helplessness colors the words.

Zeke blinks at Dolan's words, listening to the tone almost more than the words themselves. "You can not expect to have no ssset-backsss. Thisss isss a part of healing." He looks at Dolan. "How are you feeling after today?"

Dolan weighs the gem in its bronze-and-steel ring in his hand. "Hurts like shit," he admits with brutal candor. That much is likely to be clear just in how he carries and holds his arm, as if he would rather nothing touch it. He does, at least, seem to have full control of it, and seems to be able to move it. "What if I can't ever manage it?" he asks suddenly. "Even with the brace, just holding defense is pretty bad. I can do it, but I can feel it. Without it -" He trails off.

Zeke nods once, in acknowledgement of Dolan's pain, and begins to pour the tea. It's been steeping long enough, and he doesn't want it to come out too strong to drink. "Thisss isss very hot." He warns before sliding the cup to Dolan. He doesn't take a cup for himself for obvious reasons. "You have been working very hard Dolan. But that isss a fair quesstion. What happensss if you can not take up the larger sssword in battle?"

Dolan, almost at once, reaches for the tea, but touches the cup, and pulls his fingers away. "I'll wait a minute on that," he decides quickly, instead toying with the prosthetic in his hand. His eyes are still on the table. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if I can't do that. I'll stay in His service somehow, but that'll just about be the end of my Guild work. I've been talking a little bit to one of the carpenters who does work for the Temples, and he's agreed to take me on as an apprentice, but I'm pretty old for an apprentice, yeah? What if I can't get good enough to support me and Andie, and a family?"

Zeke tilts his head slightly to the side. "Thisss one may be uninformed, can you not wield the sssmaller blade sstill? Isss the sssmaller ssword not a weapon that can be ussed?" He looks at Dolan seriously. "One isss never too old to learn a ssskill Dolan, and asss for your concerns about sssupporting othersss... It isss under-sstandable that you have thessse worriess. Tell thisss one, how much do you worry about the future?"

"A lot," Dolan admits reluctantly, after some breaths' worth of thought. "Yeah, I can wield His blade. I'm fine with that. The road's pretty damn harsh, though. Sleeping out leaves me stiff these days." His entire expression is glum, his one-eyed gaze fixed on the table as he plays with the gem in his hand. "Andie wants kids, someday, and I do too. But, if I'm going to save up enough to get us started, I've got to be able to work for at least a while longer, yeah? I've taken a few of the softer jobs, but - I slept forever when we came back from Quelynos. Suppose I'll just have to tough it out. At least I've still got his blade - and I've still got scores to settle."

"You can not expect your-ssself to be asss you were before. Thisss one thinkss it good that you take up a new ssskill. It will give you sssome peasce thisss one hopesss. It isss good to make thingsss. An enviable ability. Thisss one hass no ssskill in the craftsss, no eye for art or musssic." He shifts his tail in amusement. "Too much focusss on one thing, makesss you dependent on that thing yesss? Then if you can not do it, the sssensse of ssself diesss. You are more than a sssword Dolan."

"I just want to not be helpless. Spent enough damned time being helpless." Dolan's voice cracks on the last word. "Took up the greatsword and study of fiends so I wouldn't be completely helpless like I was last time. Don't want to have someone else have to come rescue my ass."

"Doesss the larger sssword make you feel... more protected than the other? Doess it have sssome meaning to you beyond that?" Zeke asks carefully.

"I worked damned hard for that." The answer is immediate, almost angry. "With that, I can take on damned near anything that comes my way. But - in the end-" Dolan seems to deflate as he speaks. "The longsword's about His justice, Zeke. I don't want to take on just anything with that. It seems - disrespectful if it's not about justice, to use that? Some monsters - yeah, they're a threat, but they're not evil. They're just being themselves. It seems disrespectful to use His blade for something like that. I - I just can't let myself be helpless anymore, Zeke. I've done enough of that. I _can't_."

"You are not helplesss Dolan." Zeke reassures the other man. "There isss value in having learned a thing, even if you can not ussse it any longer." He hesitates and then begins again. "Would it be wrong to pick up sssome other weapon? Thisss one isss not warrior-cassste, ssso thiss one knowsss little of them, but if it isss the meaning of the longsssword that makesss you hessitate to ussse it wrongly, would not another weapon ssserve?"

"You're trying to convince me to give it up, Zeke." Dolan sits upright, his lone eye lifting from the table to fix the sith-makar accusingly. He sits forward in the chair, his back now clear of the chair back, the tea in front of him forgotten. "I don't give up that easily."

Zeke shakes his head. "No Dolan. To the contrary. Thisss one doesss not mean for you to give up. Thisss one only meansss to make you think. To asssk your-ssself truly - what doess it mean to you? How important isss it? Can it be replaced in your eyess? Or isss it firmly in your heart?"

That hard stare is no less unnerving for the empty socket that sits where Dolan's right eyeball should be, for the knowledge that at least half of that gaze sees nothing at all. "It's what I bring to bear against fiends. Against those things where it's not about just or unjust. Where it's only about removing it as a threat. It's about not being helpless in the face of shit like that. I'm not giving it up."

There's something keen in Zeke's gaze. Like a hunter spotting prey at last and he nods. "Then it isss a sssword that ssslaysss hope-less-nesss. It isss your protection." He looks at Dolan easily, unflinching in the face of such a harsh stare. "Thessse two weaponsss, they are very different in your heart yesss? They are not weaponsss at all, but two halvesss of the battle you fight."

"I s'pose. Something like that." Dolan sets the prosthetic gently down on the table, and picks up the now-cooling tea. He sips it, stares at it with the most priceless of disgusted expressions, then sighs, feels the outside of the cup, and slams the entire cup of tea in one long chug, the sort of slam one does when one is trying not to taste it. He sets it back down on the table with a *clunk*. "They do two different things, yeah."

He thinks a minute, blinks a moment, and switches languages. "Is this what your People speak?" he asks in the draconic language.

Switching to draconic momentarily to answer Dolan, Zeke blinks. "Yes. Why do you ask?" His hissing way of speaking is entirely at home in the language of dragons, his native tongue.

_Why didn't I think to switch languages?_ Dolan blinks, but seems to at least partially relax. "Your word is not as it should be. I speak of being as a new hatchling, not as being one who despairs." His draconic is not perfect, and certainly the accent is far from it. Some of the sounds were made for lizards. He comes about as close as a human is likely to get. Zeke's tail swishes behind him, pleased with Dolan's words. "Being a hatchling is no bad thing. This is a good comparison. You _are_ reborn. You must shed the old self like a scale grown scratchy and old. You must find and accept the new self. Learn his scars, learn his strength. You will find yourself."

Dolan slowly exhales a long, slow breath, both eyes closing in a gesture of frustration. "As you say." The phrase is not acceptance, at all, from its tone; in fact, the tone alone clearly signals _never mind_, more than anything else.

"Speaking of languages," he abruptly switches both tongue and topic at once, opening his eyes again. "I've just about got the rites down. I'll work on helping Andie."

Zeke gets the distinct impression from Dolan's expression and body language that he is missing something, or perhaps done something wrong. Soft-skins are hard to read at times. "Thisss isss good! Thisss one hass been re-learning alsssso. To be sscertain that wordsss are ass good ass they can be. It isss good that you help your mate, ssspeaking the wordsss to-gether will make them easssier."

Unaccountably, Dolan's eyes go back to the table, but not in worry - instead, it's very much the _aw shucks_ look he sometimes wears when being complimented. He lifts his hand to scratch at his hairline. "Don't know, Zeke. It's pretty weird. I - started being able to read the parts that aren't in Trade. Don't know when it happened." He does not sound displeased, only puzzled. "I'm glad we decided to do the full rite. It really is beautiful, and when you understand it, it's so much better."

He hesitates, as if wanting to say more, but eventually just drops off lamely. Not this entire conversation has he moved that left arm, but the right one drops back to his side. "Sounds damned silly, I know."

"Not sssilly." Zeke tilts his head and seems to consider something for a moment. "Can you ssspeak the language now? Where you could not before?"

"Yeah. This," Dolan taps the prosthetic eye on the table in front of him, "lets me read a language and understand what it means, but it doesn't tell me how to pronounce the word. It's more that I read it, and I understand it, without knowing the words." Again, his hand reaches out and gently toys with it. "But I read the words, even without it, and I know how to pronounce it and I know what it says. Don't know how that happened. I - told Lana about it, and she thinks I'm something called Light-touched?"

Zeke considers this a moment. "Light-touched." He tries the phrase out then nods. "Thisss sssoundsss very posssible. The Dragonfather hasss likely sseen your effortsss and perhapsss Hisss gift to you wasss thisss ability to know Hisss wordsss."

"That's what Lana thought, too. I dunno." Again, Dolan reaches to scratch at his hairline. "I'm just a farm kid. I try to do what's right. Help people where I can. You really think-" He trails off, then, and closes the remaining eye. "Fuck." It's an awed and reverent word.

Zeke tilts his head at the word, hesitating. He knows its meaning, even knows that it is often used to express dismay or surprise. It still doesn't tell him what Dolan means by it. "What?"

The words are soft, and Dolan's hand drops into his lap. "No. He did answer me once. Why did I not connect that?" The remaining eye opens, and blinks, slowly. He snorts softly. "Guess I'm not just a farm kid anymore. Never forget where you come from, though." He is talking, now, much more to himself, than to Zeke. "Andie was right."

Zeke allows Dolan to talk. "The Dragonfather anssswered you?" He seems impressed and interested. "Do you wisssh to ssspeak of thisss? Or of what Andelena sssaid?"

"Yeah. That's what Andie says. I couldn't see much at the time. We were facing a devil, and my eye went dark." He gestures at the empty socket on the right side of his face. "Then he hit me pretty hard, and I couldn't see very well at all. I was in it, for certain sure. I called on Him to guide my blade - and He did. I hit him dead on. Pinned him to the wall. Then Tel did something - I think Andie said he cut the rug - my eye came back, and there was this glowing light. Andie said it came from the blade."

Again Zeke blinks, his eyes nictating as he listens to the other man's story. "Blesssed by the Dragonfather indeed. To have Him not only guide your blade, but alssso to give it His holy light? Thisss one thinkssss that He may be trying to tell you sssome-thing."

“I think He wants me to keep going. That He’s still got a plan for me. That He still wants me in the fight. Best I’ve got.” Dolan sits up, then stands up, and with one hand and one foot, turns the chair around so that he’s straddling the seat of the chair. Gingerly at first, and then with more confidence, he folds his arms atop the back of the chair and gazes frankly at Zeke. “That’s what I’m going to do, for certain sure. I guess - I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, whether the greatsword’ll work out or not.”

Zeke nods seriously, his tail flick-flicking behind him in satisfaction. “Thisss isss good! Thisss one isss very pleasssed to hear you sssay sssuch Dolan.” Indeed he does seem very pleased. “Thisss one thinksss that the wedding issss a very good thing alssso. It isss good to have a thing to look forward to. A thing which makes you happy.”

“Been damned little of that lately,” Dolan mutters, with a long sigh. “We’re thinking early summer, when it’s warm enough to be comfortable.” _For him to be comfortable,_ is the unspoken implication. “I’m letting Andie do the planning.” Suddenly, he laughs, a ragged smile spreading across his features, the first one he’s shown since he walked in. It’s not a full and real thing, but it’s an improvement at least, a sign that the willowbark is beginning to take hold, at least a little. “I’ll just show up with the rings, yeah? Everything else is up to her.”

“You do not enjoy the planning of it?” Zeke asks curiously. “Thisss one isss not overly familiar with sssoft-ssskin cusstomsss, isss it usssual for one mate to do mossst of the planning?” In truth, he was not a priest who performed many joinings, it was not an occupation that many chose him for; thus his feeling of being honored to be chosen to assist in this one.

“Yeah. Can you see me, choosing flowers?” That draws a bark of laughter from Dolan. “Usually it’s the girl and her family who do the planning.” His lone eye blinks, very slowly. “I better go ask Auranar,” he mutters. “If she plans like she packs a bag, we’ll be lucky if we all show up in the same place at the same time.” While the words are dour, his lips are twitching, and the tone holds affection. “And we’d better deal with the wolves first, before we try this, or they’ll all get distracted again.”

Dolan’s laughter brings a low chuckle from Zeke, though not for the same reason. In truth the soft-skin custom of adorning the surroundings with dead, inedible plants is one that baffles the sith-makar, but he has no doubt that Dolan would find sith custom equally confusing. Instead it’s Dolan’s joy that brings Zeke’s pleasure to vocalization. “Ssso you have a goal, many of them it ssseemsss. Thisss iss good.” His tail stills slightly and he looks at Dolan keenly. “How have your emotionsss been of late Dolan?”

“My emotions?” Dolan stops, and goes very still. “I - try not to think about it too much,” he admits slowly. “There isn’t time. I just have to man up and deal with it. I get enough funny looks from strangers without getting them from my friends, and with all the shit going on - I can’t worry about me, yeah? When there’s demons and devils threatening my friends and my family.”

He seems like he wants to say more, like there’s something that wants to come out, but he shakes his head.

“Pleassse, ssshare wordsss with thisss one Dolan.” Zeke sees it, and though there are things he could say about what Dolan has already voiced, it is that which Dolan hesitates to add which might be more important.

Dolan puts his chin down on his arms, looking almost - morose, and drops his left arm off the back of the chair to rest on his lap after just a moment of that, with a grimace that says the move was most likely uncomfortable. “I feel like I’m lying to everybody,” he says finally. “They all think I’m just going to go on like nothing ever happened. They’ve got no idea, and they don’t want the truth. There’s still things I can’t talk about - can’t even say - without losing my mind half the time. Last week - maybe it was longer - Tel suggested we should catch a werewolf for questioning and bind him up in,” he hesitates, but continues. “Iron chains and prodding them for information. I can’t - I can’t even fucking imagine me willingly doing that. To him it was nothing. He apologized later when he realized, but - fuck, I had nightmares about it that night. He’ll never know, and I don’t want him to.”

“They can not know if you do not tell them.” Zeke notes softly, but doesn’t press the issue at all. It’s not his place to do so. Dolan will tell who he wants, and whom he is comfortable telling when and if he is willing to do so. “Isss it the chainssss them-ssselvesss which bother you ssso?”

“Telamon thinks I’m weak as it is.” Dolan shakes his head, without moving his chin. “He’s never faced this kind of shit, and he doesn’t get it. I didn’t get it until I faced it myself. I hope he never finds out.”

“The chains? I’ve been in chains too damn many times. The first -” He stops, trails off, and a shudder ripples through him from head to toe. It looks for a minute as though he’s fighting something off. “Chair. Teacup. Table with four legs. Stone walls. Temple walls.” What he’s talking about isn’t clear, but - it seems to work, and he lets out a long breath. “I can’t even say the word or picture them without nightmares.”

Zeke waits patiently, doesn’t interrupt Dolan’s litany, but rather observes and listens. He nods once when Dolan admits that they give him nightmares. “You do not have to ssshare any-thing you are not comfortable sssharing. Thisss… with the wordsss. It helpsss? Remindsss you where you are?”

“Yeah. It’s a trick I picked up from Lana.” Dolan relaxes more as it appears to work, and the room settles into place again. His chin remains on his wrist. “When you start losing track of where you are, start listing off objects in the room around you. It worked.” He’s still tense, but sighs. “That’s my biggest problem. I can’t be losing track of what’s going on around me,” he mutters worriedly.

“Thisss isss a good method.” Zeke nods. “Sssome ussse math. Counting numbersss together, sssaying colorsss. Thingsss that bring back to pressssent.” The sith looks at Dolan very seriously. “Hass it been many timessss? Long periods of time-losssss?”

“I don’t lose track of what’s going on around me all that often. I think the worst, since I left -” Dolan hesitates. “Auranar had one of Kol’s knives in her house. I-” Another shudder, and he brings hand to face, driving the heel of his hand into his forehead to stave off the memories. “I think I scared her,” he admits, sheepishly. “It was - pretty bad. I don’t know how much time I lost. I don’t seem to regularly lose a whole lot of time. I probably lost a full mark once, but that’s only once.”

“How doessss it feel? Are you in a memory the whole time? Re-living it, or isss it like you are watching what happened occur again?” Zeke’s voice is a gentle thing. No judgment, no concern, just… something close to understanding.

“It’s like living it all over again, whatever it is. It’s like I’m back there. The world changes.” Dolan’s chest rises and falls more quickly, and he drives his head into the heel of his hand even harder, gritting his teeth as if fighting something. This time, it’s a longer fight, a minute or more, and when he is done, his hand drops, his forehead resting on the back of the chair.

Zeke thrums low in his throat, offering the comforting the other man with the familiar sound. He gives Dolan the time he needs to think. To center himself. “You have worked very hard to command your dreamssss Dolan, to take back your mind. Thisss thing isss no different. You will find your way.”

There’s no answer, at least not right away. Dolan is left to rest his head on the chair. “Yeah. I’ve just got to find ways to keep myself present. I’ll work on that.”

Just the wrestling with one’s mind is a battle hard-fought. Perhaps it’s the hardest battle of all - and while the battle is well begun, it’s far from done.

-TBC