Candle's Meeting (10/19)

The Regent slips into the room. Her eyes narrow.
(Dura Levante)
[02:58:14] Dura Levante says, "(i need a new picture. alas and alack"
[03:00:24] OOC - bellerose: (Apologies, I've been working on a report via forum post as requested by an admin
[03:00:36] OOC - Borya2ElectricBoogaloo: same
[03:00:43] OOC - UwU: Ooooh. That's gossip. Whatcha got Belle?
[03:00:49] OOC - starlit romance: :eyes:
[03:01:13] OOC - Tzula: :eyes: is powerful.
[03:01:34]
To fit the name to the decoration.

A candle rests on the table in front of Candle. Her eyes glimmer in the dim light, and as she looks upon Dura her expression can only upturn into a reserved smile. It's not overstated - in fact, if anything it might seem particularly tired.

She turns her gaze to Dura, then dips her head in a show of informal deference. Just for a second.

"It's been too long. I've missed you. I've missed everyone, really. Iri... but I think that I'm doing good work, Dura.

Are you managing to cope? Things okay with Urosil? Boundary? I heard about the talks with Deliverance, though news has been scarce overall." She raises her chin, then reaches out to the empty chair at the table and gently pats it.
(Candle)
[03:06:49]
Dura remains the implacable facade of scarred, weary verdigris. She is layered in a patina of abuses yet still, even after the five years she had shaved off thanks to an Aipheron, that makes her look decidedly unfriendly. To say nothing of the rest of her.

"Hard to tell if your work is good if I don't hear anything." A decidedly frigid reply.

"I am managing. As I always have. And by extension so is Providence. Talks with Deliverance have been scheduled and taken place. Our terms publicly stated. The Pillars agreed upon."

"Matters remain stable. Busy."
(Dura Levante)
[03:07:28] OOC - lolman360: im actually a member of 101st Equicide Squadron
[03:07:55] OOC - lolman360: [101EQ] responsible for the eradication of equines across all media
[03:17:51]
That strikes confusion. Her brows furrow, and her demeanor abruptly shifts.

"Hold on.
DeLisle didn't talk to you?
God. I gave her a report last year. It was supposed to -"

The placidity shatters like a hammer. Rather than wait for Dura to warm and sit, Candle slides out of her chair. Familiar passion contorts unfamiliar features into what's nearly a scowl. Apology digs its way into those furrowed brows. She makes eye contact as she explains -

"It's been nearly impossible for me to enter the city without risking cover. I don't want to get any of the Seraphim hurt, and none of them realize just how dangerous I am. Tensions had been mounting, and that was - part. Of my report."

Her teeth clench. "All right. Okay. Back to square last year then. I had handed Iri and DeLisle each copies, and I wasn't able to get back after that.

Deliverance's relations with the Nephilim are friendly, but distant. There isn't a formal friendship, nor are talks frequent. I think that that's going to change if conflict comes to pass, but I don't know how exactly.

While many Nephilim are willing to engage in conflict with the Seraphim, very few of them are interested in conflict against the other Sarean forces.

I had thought - a year ago - that more open conflict between the Seraphim and Nephilim was an inevitability. For better or worse, my plans forced that ticket. They're... losing, so far. The Seraphim." A thought that provokes a distinct downturn. She blinks.

"Almost none of the Nephilim on Alicante venerate Nevanerro, but all of them hate or dislike the Dragons. And - in addition to that..."

. . .

A dire tone.

"Ezrean Vaelstrum. You know the name?"

(Candle)
[03:24:58]
"You sure got a blood-stained letter into my home easily enough. " It is unmistakably bitter, and her face doesn't change even as she stands there. The fire nearby at least casts some warmth.

But she goes from one meeting, to another, to another.

"Camilla..."

"A lot of this I already know. I know about their relations with Deliverance - which are much the same as they try to cozy up to Urosil, by the way - and I'm aware of their willingness to fight the Seraphim.

I'm even aware most of them don't care about Nevanerro. Save for maybe the Muse, whom has been blatant."

Her face does finally shift. Into a distinct, deep frown.

"And I am very aware of Ezrean's capture."
(Dura Levante)
[03:49:59]
"... yeah. I imagine if it's reached you this late, of course you would know. Dura. That was my... assessment of things. After awhile."

She speaks more slowly, then. The bitterly impassive tone that Dura takes, it inspires something like fear in her eyes, but not the kind of fear that implies Dura might do physical harm. It's not adrenaline, not fight, not flight.

It's worry, carving its way through her heart.

"But that's not quite right. No. No - I think you need to know each and all of them as people.

Istaroth, the other Arbiter - the woman who has taken Ezrean. She's a violent sort, and a direct worshipper of the Eidolon. She seeks to expand his worship, and demands it in a way that Muse does not. Muse is...

She's a weak leader." It seems almost like it pains her to say that. "She's spineless, and I have her ear. I've been maneuvering toward a position of higher influence. When the Apheiron activates..."

When she becomes one of the Nephilim.

"... that's when I start rising. I'm gaining influence with the less violent Nephilim. That instigator, Hadris - I call him Hattie, and we talk fairly often. He tells me that he loves me. Platonically. The Nephilim Elfriede and Abelone - they are my conspirators, who want to see Istaroth ousted and the worship of Nevanerro halted. A young Nephilim man named Miya - he is a distant acquaintance who has been slighted by Istaroth for his 'impiety', and he wants to be supported in benign ambitions. A woman named Astra - someone that Istaroth gave a false promise by signing away at my use of the Apheiron, and whose anger had focused upon me, but whose hand shook mine just as soon after.

... she has ensnared a Seraphim boyfriend as well, but I believe that he is a simp, and very unsalvageable." She frowns at that, before continuing in a lower, more careful voice. She crawls across the syllables.

"Even Muse means what she says. She's just naïve. An idealist, through and through, with horns and wings. Barely twenty, I think. Maybe twenty-one now. She believes... everything. Everything that she's ever said. She thinks she's acting in service of a greater good. That Nevanerro's plan is Eden's, that it is in accordance with the Cycle of Souls - that others should support the Cycle, and that that is how they Ascend. She's kind to a fault. Gentle. Trusting. Too honest, even. She hates violence - she hates to see people get hurt.

I've tasted the sincerity in her blood. Like honey, like lavender - like freshly baked cookies. The bitterness of perfectionism. Of impossibility. Of failures baked into the bricks of hope and dreams.

And I'm teaching her why she's wrong. Little by little. She thinks - she thinks she loves the Seraphim, Cassian. I think he maybe believes her. I know she believes herself. I don't know if it's true."

Her features still. She's lost eye contact by now, and her gaze drifts somewhere across the floor.

. . .

Her silence reigns, for a few moments.

"The rest - there's a few names. Aldus. Merric. Hermes. Alithea. And Istaroth, of course. They're very bitter. Very vitriolic. Of them, I've gotten close only to Alithea. She's... she's going to kill more people, someday."

More people.
When did she start?

"... her family sold her to strangers, I think. When the horns came in. Gave her up. Let people hurt her. And she killed them.

She's...
She wants to hurt a world that hurt her. So she thinks."

It's all personal, rather than political. A lot of details she's gathered over the course of conversation and discourse with all so many of those people.

"Castilian and Luka are still dicks. They're... vicious. Sadistic. Derogatory, even to the rest of the Nephilim. Istaroth supports their actions."

A swallow.

. . .

"I think I can fix it all. Dura. I don't know how, exactly. But I think that I can take control, and I can guide it somewhere better than - bare. Hatred. I'll take power out of the hands of those who don't deserve it.

... I'm sorry. That I haven't been here. But this is my element. You know? Is - is Asphodel still doing good work with you? He's been visiting me. He said he's thinking of - of really committing, and becoming an official. Keeping peace."

That breaks a grimace through the concern that grips her.
(Candle)
[04:03:10]
Dura remains alert. Attentive. But aloof, detached.

Cold.

"I already know Freedom's Muse isn't the wisest leader. She's not even their most cunning manipulator."

She listens as she expounds on the individual Nephilim, but as Camilla starts in on Freedom's Muse she curtly lifts a hand part way through and cuts her off. The cold chill is cut through by a brief flash of heat.

"I heard her spiel in the Veridigaol. I KNOW what the Muse is about. You don't have to tell me about her. It sounds to me like you're believing her lies."

"You have not seen her like I have seen her."

Then it's gone. Cool, cold, calm. The implacable surface returns and she listens to the rest.

"Apologize all you want. This is the path you've chosen, Camilla. I'd say you could guide them here. But I don't know what your plans are. This is the first I've seen you in years, and you're not very keen on sharing plans."

"You just...go and do."

"The names. The temperaments. These at least are useful. I'm intending to visit myself soon. There's questions I want answered."
(Dura Levante)
[04:04:53] Dura Levante says, "(hey. this is just a note that this is late"
[04:05:02] Candle says, "(Yeah, I know and understand)"
[04:05:08] Dura Levante says, "(and if you want to do more in depth tomorrow i understand and would welcome it"
[04:05:13] Dura Levante says, "(we can keep going a lil longer"
[04:05:15] Dura Levante says, "(but this is a note"
[04:05:21] Candle says, "(What's the earliest you can be around)"
[04:05:35] Dura Levante says, "(uh. i really dont know. 11ish?"
[04:05:37] Dura Levante says, "(maybe earlier?"
[04:05:40] Dura Levante says, "(it really depends and i have work so"
[04:05:43] Candle says, "(Ok!)"
[04:05:50] Candle says, "(Work = slow and that's all right)"
[04:05:58] Candle says, "(Just let me know when you need to sleep for rn)"
[04:20:48] Dura Levante says, "(i will likely wrap up the scene with my response, as it's gettin late"
[04:20:58] Candle says, "(I am also capable of continuing tomorrow)"
[04:21:05] Dura Levante says, "(coo"
[04:23:57]
"I talked to you. About all of my intentions. It wasn't long, but we talked. I didn't know for sure, back then - how everything was going to go." She doesn't seem convinced about that, though. Dura's tone batters against her confidence. When she continues speaking, it's slow. Crawling.

"I know that it's been years. It's been two years - and a year ago, I sent word on what I had learned. I think... back then, a lot of it was recent. All of it was still developing. I meant for DeLisle to speak with you, and that this would be the yearly check-in to update you on everything."

A spark of assertion rises at the bottom of her throat. Though her voice remains low, her tone sharpens. "You can't look at me like I didn't try. You can't look at me and tell me 'well, you failed, so suck it. I'm God, and you're s***." That's not fair, Dura."

Her cheeks tense. They pull up, then they sag, in a way that doesn't quite work.

It doesn't quite work.

"... I know what I sensed. People can lie, Dura, but mana can't."

... can it?, her expression almost questions. It's as though a fog swirls across her features, and her voice lowers to little more than a mumble. "I haven't even... done, anything, I didn't tell you I planned on doing. I advised them - to avoid alignment with Deliverance. To be peaceful with Urosil and Providence. I told you I started a faction within them. That I was working to dismantle their organization." Her tone of voice rises, and its volume with it, as she seems to remember. The fog clears, and lucidity washes across her features. When it settles, her words halt and her gaze locks upon Dura, staring down at her from greater height.

It glows.

"Dura. Don't - lie to me, about what I said to you. Don't lie to me. Don't misrepresent me. Don't treat me like a rat that just crawled into your castle." Her lips contort into a frown. The flesh under her eyes presses up, and her brows compress in a squint. Her hands tremble, and that confidence shakes as her eyes break from a glow to a flicker.

"None of it is easy. It's hard. It's - it's really. Really hard. To remember who I'm supposed to be. For so long." An issue she's never mentioned before. "My life is constantly at risk if people find out. I'm performing a service. The best service I can offer.

Just. Tell me you don't want me, if that's what that is. Okay? If the reward for sneaking in, for - for. For doing, the exact thing you just complained I haven't done. Is the way that you're looking at me.

Because you hate the way I work. Who I am. What I do. Because your trust, once given, is conditional.

Because mine never was. It was yours, forever. As soon as I gave it. Dura."
(Candle)
[04:33:32]
"What's not fair either is that you left a bloody note and expected me to put the pieces together," she snaps back. "It's not a 'I'm better than you'. It's a 'you left and I didn't hear anything for years, so I kept working'."

"You told me your plans, broadly, for your life ambition in general. Yes. You didn't tell me about your desire to do this until you were already entrenched as Candle. You told me plans after the fact."

Dura once more flares that temper.

"That bitch watched us suffer and die in that Gaol, Camilla. For her 'Lord'. They all did. We suffered and struggled in that stupid little game -"

"I literally died."


"And she smiled. She pretended it was all okay. You want to believe them, you can."

Her jaw clenches.

"It is not a matter of 'I don't want you'. It is a matter of we need communication, Camilla."

"So if you want to establish that communication. Something better and more concrete. We can talk tomorrow."
(Dura Levante)
[04:38:48]
"... I believe you, Dura. I believe in you." Candle speaks. "I always have."

Her voice crumbles. Her fingers drip.

"This is... communication. This is me talking. But this is me."

She swallows.

"I'll hide in the basement.
Come tomorrow.
We'll talk about what we need."
(Candle)
[04:39:28] Dura Levante says, "...Tomorrow."
--------------
[16:26:29]
The dour-faced Regent slips through the halls of the fort, a thermos in each hand. Who knows why there are two.
(Dura Levante)
[16:32:53]
Rather than having slept in the basement, it seems that she hasn't moved from this room. She doubtlessly rested at some point through the night, given that remaining absolutely still for several hours without moving whatsoever as anything but sleep would have been incredibly odd.

Not that she's ever been anything but odd.

The woman looks to the door. Her gaze is dull in the candlelight, fading into the foreground even as the shine reflects upon the surface of her hair.

"Hey." Just the syllable. A little quiet.
(Candle)
[16:36:36]
Dura doesn't even blink twice to see here there, as if she hadn't even moved in all the evening. She moves in, smoothly, and takes a seat at the table.

One of the thermos' is pushed the Umbra's way.

"Herbal. Good for nerves. Honey for sweetness."
(Dura Levante)
[16:38:23]
She eyes the thermos for a moment's hesitation. She takes it, opens it, and eyes it once more. She sips once, then twice. She places the thermos down thereafter, still open.

"So, what do you have to say? I'd like to hear you first."
(Candle)
[16:45:23]
Already she screws open her own and takes a long pull, a knit of her brow unraveling. Dura eases back into the chair. A pause, a beat of silence. Another lengthy draught.

She is still quiet, still stern on the surface, but visibly appears better rested. Not perfectly well rested, but better.

"...You have been missed. And the work you are doing - have been doing - has value," she starts, slowly at first.

"However. I do have some misgivings about your abrupt departure in the middle of a war to embed yourself without consulting the Court at large first."

"Maybe you talked to DeLisle. Maybe you talked to Iri. But I hadn't heard of it until I had to piece together the bloody note in my home - which is not something I ever want to get nor a place I ever want to have it in."

"By the time of your first report, it was already in the middle of the war and after so much had been going on. So many irons in so many fires. I'm not against you doing your work. I see how it can be important."

Dura stops there to allow reply and to drink more deeply from the thermos again.
(Dura Levante)
[17:01:03]
"I needed to hear some of that. Thank you."

It's rare that she's ever failed to be verbose. Her hair flattens against her chest, moving of its own volition like all too many Medusean snakes.

"But we talked. In the middle of that war, before the violence. I didn't talk about my ambitions alone - I talked about the work that I was doing. And. You know, I didn't ask for permission, no. No, I just decided to do it.

... the timing mattered. I needed to leap on the opportunity."

She's looking past the thermos, somewhere at the wall opposite her seating position, rather than Dura. Her voice remains low. Slow.

"I thought things were all right with you. When we talked. And when it mattered, even despite the concerns I shared with you, I put my life on the line with everyone else. I felled Castilian, barely. It's continued to make maintaining the cover difficult. I can't fight him, can't fight around him - it's really dangerous for me, even now. Luka and Castilian hold sway over Istaroth, and for better or worse that's something I have to be concerned about."

She lightly grips the thermos, slowly closes it, and then gently pushes it away.

"But I think... that's it, for me. I can't really do the job here anymore. The identity, Camilla Cassia, can't reasonably exist. Won't be able to, soon. Not unless I break cover. It's one of the things I wanted to come talk about. It's why I brought up Asphodel.

He wants to do good things. And even though you and I both know he's very odd, not quite human - in some of the ways that matter, you know?" It's only then that she looks over to Dura. A small grin manages to make its way across her expression.

"... he's trying really hard. To figure out who he's going to be. There's a woman he likes - Seraphiel. I imagine you might know her. I don't. I'm really proud of him.

It feels good to be able to offer him advice. You know? To be here for him when I can be. The only parent I had was Rulat. Pascha was something like a distant uncle. Mari... watched over me. The guidance counselor..."

...

"... I've forgotten his name."

She swallows.
(Candle)
[17:10:23]
"We did. Some." She holds the thermos in both hands. When she is not drinking from it, she is looking at it passively. Each sip brings her some small measure of comfort, however brief.

"I'd rather you had. Or talked about it beforehand. Anything. More than during the war or after. I was busy making sure, best as I could, that Providence would see another day."

"We are supposed to be a court. A team. And I haven't been 'alright' for a long time, Camilla. 'Alright' has never mattered." That's evidently as much as she's willing to say on the matter before continuing.

"You did fight with us. And I'm not ungrateful for that. Nor am I for the work you continue to do. I'd be a liar if I said that there's some concerns about you losing yourself like this."

"Your purpose. Your core, what...what makes you you." Her lips purse. She closes her eyes, then exhales.

"Yeah. He mentioned the Seraphim girl. I know her in passing. Most of them aren't terribly cozy with me." 'Most'. There were always exceptions. Dura smooths over the scarf and lets her fingers trace the edge of it.

"...Alphonse. Alphonse Coleridge."


A gentle reminder.
(Dura Levante)
[17:10:58] Dura Levante says, "Don't know if you read any of the collections of Isegradian poetry he left behind."
[17:11:27] Candle says, "... yeah. I read the poetry. I always liked the poetry. I loved it, actually."
[17:11:32] Candle says, "It inspired me."
[17:11:35] Dura Levante says, "...Yeah. Yeah. Me too."
[17:11:57] Candle says, "Did you ever speak with him about the poet he loved?"
[17:12:00] Candle says, "The dead woman."
[17:12:10] Dura Levante says, "...No. I didn't."
[17:12:34] Candle says, "... she wrote - Revenge. The poem where - it almost reads like a curse. It was one of the first ones that he showed us."
[17:13:16] Candle says, "In it, she's angry with her husband, or with her lover, because he has eyes for another woman or is actually cheating on her, and he's daring to pretend like it's not happening."
[17:13:40] Dura Levante says, "..."
[17:13:41] Dura Levante says, "Ha."
[17:13:44] Dura Levante says, "No."
[17:14:04] Dura Levante says, "But if I haven't been there."
[17:14:07] Candle says, "It read to me like a curse. Like it - meant. Something. Magically."
[17:14:27]
Dura snorts softly as she quaffs from the thermos.
(Dura Levante)
[17:14:27] Chat command attempt: /emote Dura snorts softly as she quaffs from the thermos.
[17:14:30] Candle says, "... I imagined she was a witch. See, she was killed - she was killed under mysterious circumstances."
[17:14:57] Candle says, "Her lover was politically important."
[17:15:33] Dura Levante says, "I mean. If I could curse people with poetry."
[17:15:36] Dura Levante says, "Yeah. I'd do it."
[17:16:09] Chat command attempt: /who
[17:16:14] Candle says, "She was pretty specific about what she wanted to happen to him. The way that she wanted him to feel. It was named 'revenge' for a reason."
[17:16:57] Candle says, "She wanted to visit that desperation, that fear of being unloved, upon him. The knowledge that he would be abandoned and forgotten."
[17:17:30] Dura Levante says, "Mn."
[17:17:41] Dura Levante says, "Can't say I blame her."
[17:18:41] Dura Levante says, "..."
[17:18:46] Dura Levante says, "Are you worried of forgetting everything?"
[17:18:52] Dura Levante says, "Is that possible?"
[17:19:01] Candle says, "... I think that's actually the opposite of what's going to happen."
[17:19:26] Dura Levante says, "How do you mean?"
[17:19:43] Candle says, "So, I need to explain - being Candle, it actually has a really big toll on my psyche. Being an Umbra, maintaining a thoughtform, it's very strenuous. It mixes the memories around in a way that isn't always healthy."
[17:20:39] Candle says, "I've become this - this idea of my own ambitions, of Iriel'sa's optimism. I'm using magic that she gifted me, taken from her connection to her astral patron. And I'm seeing so many kids - so many young men and women, rather. That remind me so much of when we, you know."
[17:20:46] Candle says, "When we were in Nera. It's muddling everything."
[17:21:06] OOC - Gav: nitsah you whore
[17:21:08] OOC - Gav: where is my axe
[17:21:18] Candle says, "It's making it hard to keep my thoughts straight, sometimes. But that's part of my method - it's part of how I do it. You know? It's what sells the identity to me."
[17:21:22] OOC - NitsahCat: your?
[17:21:29] Candle says, "There's... a few people. Just a few, that I'm able to be me with."
[17:22:34] Candle says, "... so... the issue is that it's fake, right?"
[17:23:07] Candle says, "That because - because I had solidified 'Camilla' as someone real, because I became that anchor, that personality - being away from it for so long... it makes me feel more real, less real -"
[17:23:29] Candle says, "The Naim, the Naim in my dress - I dissolve in there, just a little. There's a lot. But it's because I'm in this in-between."
[17:23:48] Candle says, "I'm somewhere between a real person and a fake person. Someone I love, and someone I made."
[17:23:54] Candle says, "And someone I am."
[17:24:17] Candle says, "... I don't want to be an Umbra anymore, I think. Maybe more than I want to be a Nephilim."
[17:41:49]
It's not often that she manages to cry.

But slowly, her voice works toward it, and without movement on the rest of her features, the Umbra's eyes produce little streaks of that violet ichor. It drips down her face in those rivulets, globbing and clotting when it catches upon small imperfections in the surface of her cheeks. Camilla's blood drips at regular intervals, slowly pooling on the table as she leans overtop it.

She looks at a spot near the candle.

"... I want to be one person. Just - just one person. I don't want to be able to be anyone else, anymore. I don't know exactly who that person will be. I don't know what's going to happen, when every little mercurial piece of me gets shoved into a flesh-shaped box and my blood drags beneath real flesh and muscle and bones and my eyes - my eyes, for them to be - little, squishy orbs in my skull, and for my bones - I know that I'll have bones, even if maybe, just maybe - maybe I'll still be like this, underneath."

She drags up a glob of Void-tainted ichor. It almost sizzles against the air, humming with sorcery and worse. Her eyes fall upon it.

"... I hate it. I hate how hard it is, how hard it is to avoid each and every point of no return. To keep every avenue open. To make every person I care about happy, or at least ambivalent. I hate how I've decided to live my life - how...

How being born like this - made me make that decision. How the Gods created all of us.

... and I want to do something about it. I want - I need to be something more than an ant, before them. Even if it damns me again. I'm tired - I'm exhausted.

Of the... of..."

Her words fail her.

. . .

"... of being their victim. I want to hurt them, I think. The Dragons. The Eidolons, maybe all of them. I guess - I guess I'm screwed by at least one of them, no matter what happens with the Apheiron. Maybe more than one. I don't know.

I feel like I need to make some mistakes if... I'm going to be me. For real. Forever. I'm a rebel at heart. I can't - I can't... do what Camilla does. What she used to do. Who she used to be. I love everyone she loved.

... but I need to become me, again. Just like I did before. And that means I'm going to change, you know?"

Her gaze raises to meet Dura's.
She tries to smile, but it doesn't quite hit the mark. She sniffles, then reaches up to drag one of her sleeves across the horrible, terrible toxic waste she proceeds to smear across her face.

"And I don't know how. But I need to do it again. At least one more time. And - I'll try to make sure you recognize me, when it's all done. Okay? I love you - but I think it's going to mean I abandon... a lot of things.

To embrace this. To stop being -

a shadow of what I could be."
(Candle)
[17:51:37]
"You don't have to do this, Camilla." The words are softer. They lose a lot of their edge. "No one told you you had to do it this way. That this is some burden you've got to take on your own."

"And you're not the only one that feels this way. About most of that. Hell, I feel that way about most of it. I - "

She stops short. Dura clenches her jaw and exhales. Camilla continues - or maybe it is more Candle now. Maybe it is both. Perhaps neither.

"You don't have to put all of this just on yourself, alright? That should never be the plan. Ever. We are a team."

But there is a very real and very visceral pained reaction from the Regent. It's not because of the sludge the Umbra oozes. It is a very specific set of words that makes her recoil.

"You have a very funny way of showing that."
(Dura Levante)
[17:52:03] OOC - NitsahCat: does rapid punches slow
[17:57:52] Chat command attempt: /who
[18:00:00] OOC - SaltedSamurai: yes
[18:00:20] OOC - SaltedSamurai: its drawback is it does substantially less damage at a slightly slower rate than thrust
[18:00:38] OOC - SaltedSamurai: which is why as is it's balanced with not being a stationary hitbox but an angling cone.
[18:08:33]
It's never easy to tell.

How much of which - how much of who. What, and sometimes even when, she is.

She does reach out, at least, that Umbra who looks like Candle. She reaches over with the hand unsullied, and wherever Dura's hands might be, she takes one of them. Her touch carries with it the undeniable taint of the Void, eating away at what Dura is and what she could be. A siphoning bite, parasitic and insidious as it coils around her heart.

"... I know that I'm not alone. But... what I need isn't your help. You know? Doing things, acting - acting in ways that are convenient, Dura, that's not what I want. Or even...

...

I think I do need to keep doing this. The way that I've been doing it. But until I walked into this room and talked to you like that, Dura, I was - I thought... I felt like it was a given, that you had faith in me. You know?"

She swallows again. Her nose drips, too.

"... I just want to hear you say that you have faith in me. That you'll keep having faith in me, no matter what you see. No matter what I say. No matter what I do. Even if it's not true. Even if you have to lie. Because it'll make things more likely to go well, you know? It's...

I'm at my worst when people don't trust me. When they assume something of me, that's what I become."

The thought weighs on her tongue.

"... and I might fail that faith. But I'm going to do my best to make everything worth it. Like I always have. And - I know... I know that this is something I've decided to do. That you didn't ask for it, that DeLisle didn't, that nobody else did.

But I decided to do it, and... if there's anything I'm really bad at, it's stopping once I'm started. I love you, okay? We won't be able to talk much, I think. We rarely have. But I'll miss you. I want Asphodel to keep checking up on me. You can send him messages to me, reasonably - I think no matter what happens, I can protect him.

... they trust me." She swallows.

"Whether they should or not. I don't know."
(Candle)
[18:10:24] OOC - sottovoce: Anyone else having ridiculous amounts of lag?
[18:10:44] OOC - NitsahCat: works on my machine
[18:11:15] Candle says, "(Brb, dog)"
[18:19:40] Candle says, "(Back)"
[18:21:40]
The Void was less of an onerous thing than it once was. Touched now by Sheol as she is - even though Nevanerro's realm is no longer part of that cold and distant realm. Not since the Gaol's breaking.

The touch, the words, they're a wound of a different kind, and the former lingers only until she pulls away her hand.

"...You have my faith."

Was it honest? Was it a lie? Dura didn't deal in deception. Did she?

"I'll keep Asphodel in my faith. He can bring messages back and forth."

The Regent bristles silently. She closes herself off again. What softness there was that began to worm its way to the surface in moments prior begins to recede.

Shut away now. Far away. There are few words on offer by comparison.

"I don't know who you're saying you love, Camilla. But it's not Dura."
(Dura Levante)
[18:30:43]
She shakes her head. Her expression hardens in reply to that response. "I know what you mean, but that's not true."

Camilla blinks some of the tears away.

"I love you. I love how you think, and what you do. I love your work. I love what you've brought into the world, I love what you inspire in others. I love what you hope for. I hope that you get it. And that's...

It's unconditional. It's eternal. It's forever. There's nothing anybody could ever do, there's nothing anybody could say, that can ever take that away. Not even you." She lays the abandoned hand on the table between them.

Rather than continue speaking - she maintains both silence and that position.
(Candle)
[18:35:00]
The horned-crowned head of the Regent tilts, lists to one side. There's an intense, scrutinizing, perhaps judging stare as she looks on Camilla.

The shift had been subtle when she'd changed. From the color of polished brass now to audacious gold.

Her turn to speak. To pose questions.

"How is it I think? What is it I hope for? What are these?"
(Dura Levante)
[18:42:54]
"You think it matters if I know. And, you know, I was the same way. But I learned from my uncle, from Rulat - it doesn't matter. Dura.

It doesn't matter if I know, because I do love them, whatever they are. And you don't have the power to refuse that.

That's what love is. That's what it means to trust someone. You don't have to know s**t to keep doing it."

Her eyes glow with golden light - with light borrowed from her lover, thick with optimism that barely belongs to Camilla Cassia.

"I don't need to know how you've changed in my absence. I don't need to read your mind - I don't need to know your thoughts and your hopes, to know that I love them.

I remember that little girl you used to be, even if I didn't know her very well. I remember her passions, I remember the look in her eyes, and I remember the faith that it inspired in me. I remember wishing that I could be just a little more like you, even once we grew apart - once we grew older, more cynical.

And it's never left me for more than a moment, Dura. That's the only answer that matters.

That's what I meant when I told you I believed in you. And you don't have to be capable of loving someone in that same way. I can't make you.

But that's what it means to me. That's what you mean to me. And that will never change."
(Candle)
[18:56:49]
The deep etched frown makes a return. Curling down around her tusks, wrinkling the corner of her eyes.

"It matters to me."


She either does not or cannot share this optimism. Certainly not on this particular topic.

"But I don't get to decide what 'love' means to other people. I can't control that any more than I can control what they do or what they think.

Controlling and twisting arms hasn't ever been my way." If it had been, maybe life would've been easier. There's no way to tell. Her eyes close. Her head leans back.

"...If there's any messages you want me to pass on to Iri or DeLisle. Let me know."
(Dura Levante)
[19:05:50]
"... it mattered to me, too. And that's why I told people I loved. That's why I offered things up. That's why I told them everything I was, everything I could.

And then they spit at me. Do you remember that?"

It's a bitter note, harshly contrasting the optimism. An abrupt shift and a rise of a buried hatchet, if only to flash it alongside a bright, sharp smile.

"... but you moved on from it. You accepted it. You tolerated me, no matter how much it hurt you. You let me push you, just that once, and you relented. And we worked together, and we made a lot of things right that had been wrong.

And I'm not going to forget that, either. I can't."

. . .

"I don't know why you were always so afraid of talking. I understand that you want to talk, now. Even if you don't know how. Even if there are things eating you up, things that maybe I could help with. Even if you've listened to me here, offered out your hand -

there's... a path forward, here. There's some best ending, but I've never been able to see them - I'm too bad at it.

The best I can do is be here.
The best I can do is affirm that faith and love.
And if you want to tell me what you think.
What you're hoping, other than what you already said.

Then you can."
(Candle)
[19:30:22] Dura Levante says, "(sorry had a support call"
[19:30:54] Candle says, "(dw"
[19:30:58]
The Regent's eyes open again and she brings her head back forward. A drink of the dregs of her tea. A clench of the jaw and a glance askance is a better answer to the question than words could ever give.

"There's still a lot wrong." A twitch of her ears, a snort. Then a furrow of her brow as the matter of 'fear' is even suggested.

"I am not afraid to talk. But often, there's no point. My feelings don't change what has to be done. It doesn't sign treaties, or keep swords sharp or put what's broken back together."

"There's a path forward. I'd say yours and mine? A lot of our hopes for the future. They're similar. There's a lot of overlap."

The crystalline hand drums fingertips at the edge of the table.
(Dura Levante)
[19:36:37]
"... yeah."

There's overlap. It's kind of an answer. It's close enough to one, at least.

...

"I need to go. I want to, too. Honestly. I'm really... uncomfortable. I need some time to rest. I need to prepare. There are lots of things I need to do, but more than that, I need to get out of Providence before things get too busy." She frowns.

"But... if it matters, Dura. If you need people to know you deeply, before they can love you. Then you have to make them know you, or at least make them have the opportunity."
(Candle)
[19:39:38]
If it were possible for the frown to deepen, then it would. There's a grunt, a light wave of her hand through the air.

"Then go."

"...I've given people plenty of opportunities. Whether or not they take them isn't my business. You don't make people take them. That's not love. And it's not my fault that the ones who do take them are the worst."

She stares down at the wood grain in contemplation.

"Go. Travel safe."
(Dura Levante)
[19:40:38] Candle says, "... yeah."
[19:41:04]
She rises, slowly.
(Candle)
[19:41:26] Dura Levante says, "..."
[19:41:29] Candle says, "... I -"
[19:41:31] Candle says, "Blood?"
[19:41:35] Dura Levante says, "Take care of yourself -"
[19:41:37] Dura Levante says, "What?"
[19:41:40] Candle says, "Your soul."
[19:42:30] Candle says, "... I'll do my best to get out safe."
[19:42:40] Dura Levante says, "Don't be a stranger."
[19:42:42] Dura Levante says, "Or do."
[19:42:53] Candle says, "Ehehe- uh..."
[19:42:58] Candle says, "I don't think I will be."
[19:43:02] Candle says, "See you later."
[19:43:07]
The Regent stares forward. With her tea gone she goes for other habits. She reaches for the flask as Candle departs.
(Dura Levante)