We, Not I

Log Info

• Title: We, Not I
• Emitter: Aya
• Characters: Aya, Aryia
• Place: Temple of Eluna
• Time: April 7th, 2023
• Summary: Aya delivers an update to Aryia of retrieving Daed. With... mixed news.

Word was sent to Aryia via overpaid courier that Aya could be found here at Eluna's temple. No further details accompanied, though the temples are hardly a common point of interest for Aya. One might presume this particular temple least of all, though it -is- the one from which she once received care.

A pool of serenity. Benches and rugs for quiet meditation or contemplation. Aya neither makes use of nor embodies any of these things or concepts at present. At the outskirts, near a comparatively small building, she walks the same dozen steps across the marble, turns, and repeats.

Perhaps worried steps would cast worried glances to the entry way where the reflective pool would harbor the called for sister. Of course there is travel to account for, but the pugilist shouldn't be too far out by now?

A long warrior of Daeus patrolling the grounds scratches their head, sniffs, and kneels down to fix their boot. The squint at their shadow. Growing. Growing. Growing...

They look up. Blink. Then scrabble out of the way.

The pool of reflection ripples as a body lands with force at terminal velocity, denting the grounds up to their shins. Aryia rises, face steeled from pain, but the lines of silver light that race across her skin blunt most of fall. As well as her blue boots that are aglow. She whistles for Aya, a loud, piercing thing (much to the annoyance of the Dreamers), and jogs over towards her. "I came as fast as I could," she motions briskly. <Handspeech>

Aya's eyes do flick to her surroundings as she paces, though it is more a reflexively casual thing than true alertness. She definitely does not think to look up. Not until after the impact and the whistle.

Now that she has a real path and destination, Aya darts to her sister. The handsigns are barely acknowledged and then interrupted as she meets Aryia halfway with a sudden embrace.

"What is that you-" Gestures are cut off as her hands are pinned to her sweaty, rock-dust covered self. Aryia blinks. Shifts a bit to free her arms and firmly returns the embrace. <Handspeech>

"We found him, brought him back," Aya whispers while holding her. She leaves it at that for a long moment before releasing her and stepping back so that Aryia can share her mind. Only after that does she add, with not much more volume and a crackle in her voice, "But he is not fully with us." A pause before she adds, again, "Not yet."

Aryia stiffens in the hold at the news. A faint exhale is felt with a barely heard, "Well, shit." Released now, her glowing gaze is awash with dozens of questions. Concern primary amongst them. "I... figured as much, considering how we saw him," she starts off slow with her hands, "It... how did it go? Where was he? I'm sorry I wasn't there, I got strung up by bureaucracy." <Handspech>

Aya gives a small nod and then echoes and amplifies the exhale in a lengthy one of her own. "It was some form of prison. Halls, cells, chains. It was all very..." a frown "magic. I was only useful to carry him. If it were not for Cor'lana and Telamon..."

She leaves that to die off, because they were there, they did get him. Instead, she forces a smirk... at least a small hint of one. "You would not have enjoyed it, sister; there was nothing to punch."

Aryia frowns at the description before shaking her head. "There is always something to punch. Walls and cells are just canyons yet to be carved, and hands are the river to chisel," she gestures, a ghost of a smile showing before frowning once more, a signature squint of appraisal appearing on the pugilist. "I have the distinct impression you are downplaying the severity of the situation. You usually aren't this..." she gestures up and down at Aya. "... jittery." <Handspeech>

Aya now mirrors the frown, too, as she parses Aryia's comment. Perhaps due to be called out, her anxious movements still. Somewhat. They may just be redirected as she gestures in return; that and it may be easier to not speak these words aloud.

"He is awake, but he does not recognize me. He doesn't acknowledge me. I don't know if it is his memory, or his present mind, or... What if he never recovers? What if he returns, but does not know me? Am I selfish and greedy to worry of that?" <handspeech>

Aryia's frown morphs into concern, and empathy. A sigh escapes her, the pugilist reaching forward to still the worries by clasping onto shoulders. "Stop. Breathe."

She herself takes said advice. In. Out. "It's not selfish, you want what was. I can... relate to his condition. I do not know if you remember, but when we first met, I too was coming out of some trauma. I certainly didn't come out the same, but there is a little part of him in there somewhere. Closed off to protect himself from what he went through. And whatever comes out, when he's ready, won't be the same. He may recognize you, or you may have to win him over all over again."

She holds up a finger. "But what matters is he is alive. And his continued existence is a testament. I... would, however, keep an eye on him. Where I desired to live to spite everything, he may not feel that way." <Handspeech>

Yes. Breathing is rather important. Aya nods slightly and relaxes marginally at the contact. The conscious effort to regulate her inhale and exhale cycle helps further. Then there are the possibilties raised. Different? Win him over again? May not feel a desire to live?

She does not cease breathing and rather shift in the other direction as her pulse and pace quicken abruptly. "He is with the healers. I am not one. I would help, but I don't know what to do." A pause and she looks to Aryia more firmly. Questioningly. "What should I do?" <handspeech>

While the sisters' relationship was a fairly balanced one, there was always the underpinning that Aryia was catching up to Aya. The mute's sister had a breadth of experience ahead of Aryia, and getting the shadowstalker back had put a hamper in her training from trading those memories away.

But that gestured question was the weight on the other end of the fulcrum that made the whole dynamic pivot to an equilibrium. Aryia watches Aya. The question hanging there as she takes a concerted effort to answer it after a proper pondering.

She points to Aya, then rolls her hand in a circular motion. "You wait for him."

She shifts her gaze to the small building Aya has been pacing. "He must heal. You are terrible at resting when you need to be resting. The same applies here. You must wait. Be patient. You and I have the luxury of time. As does he. I hate waiting. You hate waiting. But he has to navigate the halls of his mind, to know all is safe. And that takes time."

She rubs the old, ragged scar on her neck. "It takes a long, long time." <Handspeech>

Aya may have once been ahead of her sister in some areas, but was never so in all. Nor did she ever claim to be... well, not in a genuine sense. There is a nod to ackknowledge Aryia's advice, without surprise or counter. She isn't wrong of any of it.

Her eyes lift to the open sky at the center of the grounds. "This was where I was last expected to be patient. To rest. I did none of that, then. Instead, I ... made all so much worse. Maybe that is my challenge, or my fate? She surely has no care for me." Her head nods up at the moon. "Ire, if anything."

Aryia's head tilts up to look upon Eluna above. Aya's comments make it clear to see old, painful memories flicker across Aryia's face. As quick as they came, they leave though an exhaled breath Out. "You did make it worse." Blunt honesty. "But now, you are standing here, with the end dredges behind you, and nearly all is fair. The same? No. We can't turn back time. If Eluna was testing you, she'd get off her moon and tell you. Your fate is yours alone."

She pokes Aya in the arm. "Your test is selfishness. You must confront it by asking for help. And now that you have, look at where upon you stand. Unstable ground, yes. But on your own two feet, with friends and family beside you." She smiles. "Ire? I don't think so. But she'd probably slap the shit of you a few times. It's okay, I did it for her." <Handspeech>

All is fair? One lingering part of Aya wants to scoff at that notion: nothing is fair about this situation. Not to her, not to Daed, not to anyone around them. Conversely, the other, more recent part of her considers this punishment. Pennance? That the unfairness is to balance, thus making all... fair. A paradox of sorts.

Then there is the portion of her that Aryia could wholly relate to: the one that shoves all that crap off into a corner because it is bullshit.

She turns at the poke and regards her sister a long moment. "I will need help, sister. With him, for him. With myself, for him. If you or even Eluna herself must pummel me to give me the will and wisdom to aid him... then, please, beat me bloody." She is no stranger to that form of lesson, and maybe it has come full circle as she has to unlearn more of what was learned?

Aryia gives a firm, determined nod. "I will be there to guide you," she motions before thudding a fist into an open palm. "Be it with me smacking the shit out of you, or merely being there in a less violent manner, I will guide you."

She grins. "Besides, there is much to do that I will need help with to keep you occupied. Our methods are secular and unorthodox. We don't need some over arching thing to spur our focus. We will simply wait for him to heal. To come back. And to accept him however he emerges. And until that time comes, we must be ready for him." <Handspeech>

Maybe it is the smacking of palm. Or the smile. Or the talk of violence. Or some assurance and acceptance. In any case, Aya's resolve creeps more to the fore. "We will wait." Repetition is learning. "We have much to do. There is still a fiend to destroy- two, at least, though my focus is on the one." Still.

Mostly. She turns to look to the building behind her. "I will not, -cannot-, leave him to be alone for all of this. Even if I cannot guide him, I can be present?" It is perhaps a question to Aryia? "He must be kept safe. It, they, no one will take him again."

Aryia tilts her head to the side. "Two? Great," she sighs before shaking her head. "I will still help to destroy the one." She looks off to the building as well, her giving a sharp nod. "Be present, that is also part of waiting. Though, to be... honest, if that /thing/ is so fucked up it only gets joy from taking things from you to torture them, they've already done their deed. They may have their sights set on something else. But that shouldn't harry being vigilant." <Handspech>

"That seems its goal," Aya admits through a growing scowl, "and it has succeeded.... but I can't trust that it will not return. Days from now, years from now. I won't let it take anything more from me, from us, from anyone; not even more time spent in worry that it could return. We will end it."

Aryia nods slowly. "So we end it. I merely just point we have a tinge of reprieve for the time being until the final stroke is laid." Were it so easy.

But she focuses on Aya. "Remember your conviction is not only 'I'. But 'we'. As this thing has grown in scale, there are others that wish to aid in its demise." <Handspeech>

Aya turns from the building to her sister. "We." A nod. "I know that -we- are not alone, Aryia, but I will always be responsible for this. For that fiend. For all that happened to Daed." At least her ire is enough to cover most of the pain in those thoughts. For the moment. "I won't leave either of them solely to others."

"You are." Again, blunt as ever. "But we've been down this before and don't need to self-flagellate again." Aryia loops an arm around Aya, and gestures towards the building. "Come. We should go in. Standing out here is doing nothing for you." <Handspeech>

-End Scene-