Until The Heart Betrays

All the things we keep inside

All the things that really matter

The face puts on its best disguise

And all is well until the heart betrays

(This vignette is IC backdated to the night of 12 Vhast.)

Even in the winter, desert stars are not a thing to be missed, and Seldan has not seen anywhere near enough of Her holy face, of late. So it is that when he snaps awake in the small hours of the morning, it isn't long before he pulls himself unseen from the bed he shares with Malik, leaving the wizard to sleep. Unseen and unheard, he pulls on a pair of trousers and pads towards the shuttered doors of the room they share, his mind seething with a million thoughts unspoken.

Not speaking to anyone unless absolutely necessary, for their own protection and his, had proven harder than he expected. Not existing, for all intents and purposes, had proven boon and bane both. A means by which he might escape unremarked, to protect the Veil from that which in its ancient and long-ingrained folly now hunted them both. The last words of the ancient sildanyari still trailed through his mind, along with his response, and the certainty that those words merely proved the Veil entirely correct in its assessment. But - watching his friends forget he existed, if he did not interact with them, and the hurt that brought - that hit him harder than he expected.

For so long had he thought himself entirely alone, to stand before the evils of the world with only the sith-makar that was closer than the brother he lost long ago, and the one whose Face he now sought, by his side. Many allies, and few friends, had Alexandria been. Guards that were either helpless or complicit in the face of the evil that freely walked the streets. So many that turned away in fear. Actions taken with good intentions that served naught, save to make the situation worse, and the faces of those that paid the price. Others that thought only of themselves, or worse still lost themselves in the grip of evil's magic, to turn blade and spell on him in turn. That had happened too many times to count easily, to be sure.

The morass of memories, of evil stalking the streets, holds him in its grip, his hand clenching against the cool stone wall as they flood through him. Of a vampire before the holy altar of the Draco Solis. Of the Soldier's Defense, frozen and lifeless. Hundreds killed in an instant, to get to him. His own husband, inches from death on the flood of the bedroom they shared. A demon, sitting across from him at his own table. Friends turned enemies. Being stalked for daring to stand his ground, face after face chiding him for his adherence to his vows, to Eluna's will, to the promises that he had made. Only the sending of Eluna's messenger had ended that nightmare, just one among many. The fault for the tower of bodies in the streets was his, and the faces of Malik, of the Vardamen that demanded he answer for the dead, joined the chorus. He should have known that Eclavdran would be far worse than mere horror, and should have checked it. For how long the flood of memories continues, he cannot say, his fist clenching as he steadies himself against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. My road is without end, and too long have I walked it alone. There will be no rest for me, save in the Halls.

It proves, at least, a stark reminder of habits not yet released. He pauses, shaking himself somehow free enough of the flood enough to be useful, and turns towards his arms and armor near the door. Best to arm, if you would see Her face. Too oft of late have you been caught unawares, he chides himself. You are once again hunted, do not forget that. The armor gets a long look, but the reality that it needs help to don draws a sigh from his lips. Instead, he reaches for a shirt, slipping it on over his head, and hesitates again at the weapon belt. So many times of late has he been caught unawares -

His eyes fall then on the complex peaceknot that binds Reunion into its scabbard, worked in rich, braided silken cord, and he lets out another long, slow breath. Tashraan requires the peacebond, so Reunion will be of little help, should he find trouble. Best to not find trouble, at all, he decides reluctantly, and instead turns to step silently out into the night past the balcony doors, pulling the door to behind him as silently as possible and padding out the two steps to the ornate railing beyond, ignoring the little voice deep within him warning him of danger, did he not stop to arm. Truly is my road without end.

Something about the silver orb, hanging in the heavens amid the nightly celestial dance, never failed to still him, to bring him peace and comfort, and this time is no different. For as his eyes find Her face, another memory floods him - an ice prison, a desperate prayer answered in blinding light, a spell resisted and its caster banished from the plane by holy power far beyond his.

He is not alone. For has She not always stood with him? When all others had turned their faces from him, She never did, and so long as he does not turn from Her path, She never will. This, he knows with a certainty that is bone-deep, beyond all whispers, beyond all fear. He rests his arms on the railing, eyes arrested by the heavenly dance under desert-clear skies above him. Does he not turn from Her, She will not turn from him. He will lay down all that he is and all that he has, his very soul if need be, to do Her will.

And those, those that have abandoned their own pursuits to stand with him in this latest and greatest task - are they not truly his friends? Serene, who placed absolute and unyielding faith in him at a moment where his actions must have seemed sheer madness? Zeke, who laid down his work without question for the asking? Acedia, Malik, who had done the same? Verna, who had turned aside from the plan at his word, who had trusted him enough to leave a demon hanging? What greater friendship is there than that? That level of trust? The sheer enormity of it threatens to overwhelm him, his eyes stinging with tears unshed, and he murmurs soundlessly, "Holy Dreamer grant that I be worthy of such trust, and help me to repay it in kind."

My road is one that few can walk, and that is well enough. I am not alone, for do not my true friends show themselves now, in my hour of need? Let that be enough. As memories will, the flood of images began to crowd his mind again, but this time, he merely draws a deep, settling breath, releases it, and draws another one, without letting his eyes drop from her face. It doesn't completely banish the pain, but it keeps it at bay. For a while. Wherever Her road leads me, it cannot be worse than what I leave behind.