saraswati.

enchanter. helaine murali. thirty. --- [ bio ] | [ spells ]

[muralixheiress]

kane-e:

It took a while for the date to dawn on him. He’d kept distracted since B’s arrival. Then, driving for hours on end helped at first. Then it only made things worse, too much time to think. It was June and nearing the end of it, he figured. While he couldn’t know the date for certain it somehow made things worse. It could be the 24th. He could have missed it completely.

It’s their fourth wedding anniversary. Sersh said it was the silk anniversary or was it cotton? Some fabric. He can’t remember. Kane had already spent far too long poking through fabrics in the store, reading labels like he’ll suddenly remember which one it was. It didn’t matter in the end, did it? They never made it.

Instead, he’s alone in a furniture store, drinking funky smelling cider, trying to get past tipsy into drunk territory. (A near impossible feat already with only 2% but he’s getting there best he can.) Leaning against a shelf, he downs another can from the pile of ciders he’d dumped on top of some box of pillows. A single, small torch is his only light source.

Kane throws the drained can aside. It lands with a quiet metallic ting against the floor. He goes digging in his back pocket, pulls out the tattered black leather wallet he’s kept tucked away this entire time. The image is already ingrained in his mind but he needs to look at it again. Kane slides out the tightly folded square of paper.

More than a handful of ciders in and his clumsier hands open it too carelessly. The creases – folded and unfolded and bent back and smoothed out – finally give way. The top left corner gives way: Sersh’s smiling face flutters out of view into the dark.

“Fuck!” Kane yells, suddenly, breaking the silence around him.

Kane drops to his knees, hands smacking at the ground, feeling for anything like paper. He slides the torch off the top of the shelf he’d been leaning against, pointing it this way and that. Still, he can’t see it. It… flew away. In a few seconds, how could it have gotten so far?

“C’mon. C’mon… Hey!” he shouts again, now at whoever his noise had accidentally summoned. Kane waves a hand at them, not looking away from the floor. “Hey! You. Get over here. Help me… look…” His words trail off, torch pointed beneath the shelf, face pressed against the cold floor as he squints into the thick dust and grime.

The sound of yelling, somehow more startling in the openness their current vicinity allowed, alarms her enough to go searching in the darkness. A familiar orb of light in her hands shines through to any crevices or odd displays that circle them through the aisles, eventually giving form to the bizarre sight of the elder Edwards brother scrambling along the floor in an evidently poorer frame of mind. “Kane.” She doesn’t think he hears her quite yet as there isn’t an immediate response, or anything that initially looks like he might have picked up on her presence right away. Her gaze slips towards the cans that decorate the area in a messier pile of pillows before his attention appears to be drifting towards her albeit not quite so directly, his erratic behavior only allowing so much division apparently. 

She moves carefully forward at the call for assistance, at a loss as to what exactly he’s searching for so frantically, but able to pick up on the importance of whatever it might be. She could probably lift the shelves, make the light in her hands brighter, but it didn't much matter if she didn't know all the details. So she kneels down when she's close enough, her voice calm, even as she speaks again, hoping to shed more light on the matter so as to offer a better hand. “.. Kane. I can't help you if I don't know what you're looking for.”

[muralixheiress]

wraithofthewasteland:

“She was.” It’s such an easy answer that she doesn’t have to think, hardly even hesitates before responding. Her mother was… kind, and smart, patient, talented. Everything good. Practically infallible. A childish notion, maybe, a childish perception, but there was never a chance for it to be discredited. And that familiar ache seems more and more like an itch these days, desperate to be scratched. She was somebody worth leaving behind once, she knows, according to the person who would have known better than anybody. And that’s not something she’d like to be public knowledge, really.

But Helaine left, and came back, and that conclusion doesn’t sit with her quite the same lately. She has to assume that’s selfish of her, but still, an odd sort of curiosity has been eating at her. Her voice is light when she speaks again, nearly distracted. A purposeful attempt at something casual.

“She left when I was eight, actually. So I don’t-” -remember, she nearly says, but that’s not quite right. She remembers plenty, of course. She’s sure she remembers the important things. “She was really nice.” She crouches briefly to let the caterpillar crawl off her palm and onto the asphalt, straightening as she watches it inch away. “Really… tall. She let me help out with this kinda stuff a lot,” she says, tilting her head toward the garden. A hesitation, a moment of thought, before she’s offering a soft nod and a tight smile.

She can’t help the softening of her expression at the familiarity in the passing comment. It’s not the first time the thought has struck – how nice it is to be known even in these small degrees, after being so resigned to her loneliness for so long. And she almost wants to tell Helaine that she doesn’t mind the question, of course not, not from her. But she only hums in thought, pausing to do the math. “I was… seventeen, I’d just turned seventeen, so it was-” Not that it’s difficult math, of course, only that she lost track of things somewhere along the way. Birthdays, milestones, were never a priority for her, and the passage of time turned into a rather abstract thing. And she didn’t lose quite a few years at one point, uncertain still of how long that lasted. “-ten years ago by now, probably.”

It’s odd, to hear anything about her described as ‘loving’, but it brings a careful smile to her face as she glances toward the plants once again. There might be something amusing to it. Whatever the case, she certainly intends on keeping up the work, good or not, and so she nods. It’s nice. The sense of purpose it gives. Much like with the vehicles, with learning how to fight - a sense of security, really, and on some selfish level beyond her simple satisfaction with hard work, she can’t help thinking that… she’s less likely to be cast aside, to be forgotten, if she does these things. It could be enough.

It was quicker than she expects, no time taken to mull over the classification of what her mother might also be. Though, perhaps that’s just as well, considering the time she’s been allowed already and the subject at hand. A child was meant to believe better of their parents in some manner, weren’t they? No matter their mistakes. At least, generally. Even she could understand that to some degree, though she would hardly consider her own mother so kind. Any distaste Helaine felt towards her actions in the past -- the secrets, the lack of protection from a man who swore towards absolute obedience rather than unrelenting love when she was too young to defend herself properly -- the woman’s attempts at better and teachings of strength would always seem to win out in the end. In her position, she could only do so much. It was the excuse Helaine allowed for years and would likely continue to permit for her sake. She was still human, in spite of everything.

“It seems you have fond memories of her.” It’s another way of stating she doesn’t think poorly of the woman for leaving without being so direct. There’s a thought towards the fact that Violet doesn’t appear to want to dwell much on the negative, on the absence, in this instance and in that respect, Helaine decides not to pry too deeply. It was enough that she felt comfortable enough to share such details. Having her relive the memory wouldn’t do much for her benefit. And if the blonde chose not to delve any further for fear of such memories or otherwise, it was a decision she’d respect. It is quite a shame, however, and she can’t help but be a little curious towards why. Why a mother would abandon a child, particularly someone who still thought so fondly of them. 

And for a moment more she considers her mother again, how her first instinct was to pack their things and run rather than face her husband when discovering the truth of her daughter -- that her magic ran in her veins -- only to talk herself out of it later and believe better of the man she married. It was a mistake, one Helaine isn’t so easily swayed into believing as something she doesn’t regret.  Perhaps Violet’s mother also made a similar misstep -- favoring her own protection or indulging in the perceived protection of her daughter and considering her absence a better choice. 

Then again, the witch could merely be pushing her own perceptions onto a situation that simply made little sense to her personally, and she didn’t have nearly enough facts to speculate properly. 

She gives an eye towards the escaping caterpillar before later following with, “You must miss her.”

[muralixheiress]

bryce-edwards:

Helaine’s voice was like ice on his back, but that chill didn’t last. His body burned with warmth and melted away his apprehension; though he still didn’t trust her as much as he might have, the longer she crossed in and out of his sight the less felt any real…threat from her. Even her wards and watching them go up had once made him unable to relax, hairs standing on end. Now he just felt…nothing. It was vastly superior to constant hostility. Much less exhausting. 

Though maybe Bryce’s leniency was only coming from the place he was in now, or trying to be. Deep, even breaths and movements banished his paranoid visualization and forced him to accept everything. Himself, the moment, and her. 

“I am whatever everyone else isn’t.” It’s a criticism but it lacks any bite to it, said more like harmless fact as Bryce fought to preserve the state of relaxation he’d slipped into. Gently, he dragged the pad of his foot across the asphalt before returning pressure to it, knees bending at very precise points so he could feel the stretch in the right place. “…most are asleep. There’s no chattering, everything’s quiet. It’s the only real time to do this. ‘Makes the whole day more productive.”

A softer smirk, nearly a chuckle that hardly dares to push itself into existence, escapes at the answer he provides at first. It was very much like him in nature or in the least, very easy to equate to the person she’s come to understand him as recently enough. It didn’t ruffle her in the same way it could have before or delve into some form of deeply ingrained annoyance for what he reminded her of. There was little, if any, buried ill will for what could be seen as an act well past mattering much in a world that could forget what it once was. 

Instead, it just seemed to outright amuse her.

In the same way he seems to adapt to her presence rather than outwardly lashing out, it could be said she’s making her own set of accommodations. Learning to live in the air surrounding him bit by bit, carefully watching the motions he makes now with this calm he’s found himself in.

And he explains a little better towards the end, her own movements keeping to a practiced silence as he mentions how the meditation benefits him. “I could see that, perhaps.” Everyone had their own rituals, habits they kept with to hopefully make their lives a little easier to grapple with. Their stress a little less prominent. “You seem to have it down well enough. It must have taken time to adjust to.”

[muralixheiress]

bryce-edwards:

A familiar wave of calm washed over Bryce when he took that first deep inhale, letting the wet, pre-dawn air fill every last corner of his lungs. He tried not to think about the smell that came with it, let go of his impulse to wrinkle his nose at it and told himself to just let it be. Let every fucking thing just be. And when it settled in, when the significance of everything just faded away, Bryce felt muscles relax that he didn’t know he was even tensing, in his shoulders, stomach, and face. 

Meditation wasn’t for everybody. God knew at one point in his life, Bryce never would have thought it would be for him. But he’d found solace in it for years, these extended minutes of escape from the tempest of his thoughts, from whatever was bothering him outwardly. It was no exaggeration to say it had gotten him through worse times than this. For a long time since the world ended, he’d kept it private. Never needed it to be something the others knew about him. But today, as the mist settled in around them from the river, Bryce felt the urge to rise and exist in the open, to feel the space around him and the sun on his bare back when it finally came up.

Bryce stood on the edge of the parking lot in just the boxers he slept in, keeping his breathing deep and even and his movements slow, purposeful, and light. Bare feet picking up off and stepping back down on the asphalt, not minding the pricks from tiny rocks beneath as he entered another stance, hands separate, sometimes closed, sometimes open, sometimes sweeping but always without tension. He felt the fog bury into every last scar he had, swaddling him with cool air as he worked on clearing his thoughts and senses.

An instilled habit of paranoia and restlessness rousing her into wakefulness as it had throughout the months prior, Helaine finds herself dealing with the usual that morning. Minding the wards is second nature, ensuring there are no cracks or openings to bother with as she keeps a steady eye out for anything worrisome, tending to a more or less routine sweep of the area. There’s a thought of nothing out of ordinary, a consideration towards delving into other concerns before she spots a figure she recognizes near the end of her patrol.

The sight of Bryce in the manner he chose to appear just then would likely cause reason for alarm if it was perhaps, anyone else. He appeared calm enough however, and they were once friends as children. And though among those that swore a more respectable environment was essential in any waking moment, children weren’t always known to abide by such rules and they were prone to their sillier moments. Even in houses that strove off fear rather than freedom. So instead of gawking in a manner of genuine surprise or causing a scene of things, there’s merely a smirk to follow, her steps trailing quietly enough in the fog and early mist as she nears. 

“I didn't realize you were one for early rising.”

[muralixheiress]

wraithofthewasteland:

There’s a certain brightness flickering in her eyes when the label is playfully bestowed, a thoughtful smile tugging at her lips even as she ducks her head down. She likes that one, she thinks, beyond her general aversion to such things. She may not have any right to it, but… it’s nice, all the same, in an achingly nostalgic way. “It’s stuff my mom taught me,” she answers simply, quietly. The word feels awkward when said out loud – still rusty from disuse, maybe – but she only hesitates for a moment, and the smile she sends Helaine’s way is almost an easy one. Easier than it might have been months ago, at least. “She was florist, actually. Used to say that kinda stuff all the time when I was a kid.”

The caterpillar reaches her fingertip, and she lets it crawl onto her other palm, where it inches along the slash of scar tissue there. Habit, more than anything, has her averting her eyes, and she takes the opportunity to scan the treetops. She did appreciate the relative safety of the base, the monotony of routine she almost found… but there was a sense of claustrophobia to it that often reminded her of her first few years in New York. “I think it’s kinda nice out in the open,” she admits. “If it were safer, at least. I never really liked being in the middle of a city.”

She nearly beams at the praise, though quite unintentionally, before she remembers to temper herself and lets her smile flicker to a more acceptable level as she casts a glance toward the garden. “They’re doing all the hard work,” she says, with a shrug and a nod toward the plants. It’s half joke, half deflection, though her admiration is rather genuine still. Growth is a difficult accomplishment, and the conditions aren’t exactly ideal – it seems it’s proven itself to be quite a resilient garden. One of many reasons why she’s found such comfort in spending her time watching over it, maybe. “I just… y'know, babysit.”

“I see. That explains enough.” As the admission slips through regarding her mother, there’s a moment’s quiet that follows. Her own way of digesting the revelation given much more easily than anticipated perhaps. It’s only a few seconds later that Helaine settles into a smile of her own, something softer and brimming with its own, subdued warmth. It was nice of her mother, to give her such pleasant things to cling to. Imaginative and fascinating, they were what a child deserved. It did raise a question of something more, however, that smile of hers failing ever so slightly with time. “Was she a kind woman, your mother?”

The confession of favoring city life to a lesser extent draws a small laugh, something familiar in the words that seemed so very much like her protege. “If it were safer, I don’t imagine many having an issue at all, really. A more rural setting seems to suit you a little better, if I’m honest.” The city was a place with its own benefits, but it was difficult to admire much greenery in bustling crowds and looming skyscrapers, wasn’t it? The opportunities afforded Helaine in her ability to travel, to see the world beyond, wasn’t something many were often allowed. “How long were you in New York, if you don’t mind the question?”

“Well, babysitter.” Another chuckle, light and brief, greets the joke that follows, aware enough by now to know that praise was rarely taken as generally intended. At least she managed to get a bigger smile this time. “Do keep up the good work. They seem to appreciate your loving gaze.”

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

It’s good advice and Sam knows it. He sits quietly, hand on the wheel as he thinks over it. The problem was, he wasn’t raised for trial and error. He wasn’t raised to learn from mistakes, he was raised to not make mistakes. Raised to get it right the first time and anything else was failure. There was usually a heavy hand behind that sentiment and Sam couldn’t help but think of it now. Think of his father’s voice telling him to man up, to not even be having this conversation because it was a show of weakness. His father had expected a lot. Had expected greatness from his sons and Sam had always been eager to prove to him that he could achieve it. 

“But this is Eli,” he says before he can stop himself. 

It’s an excuse that should speak for itself. That when it came to Eli, there could be no mistakes. Not only because his brother held grudges, but because he’d already made so many with him. He’d left. He’d gone off to war. And to Eli, that had been the greatest mistake Sam had ever made in his life. A grave mistake, because he’d left his brother alone with their father. He still doesn’t think he’ll ever be forgiven for that, even if things are better between he and Eli than they’d been in years. 

“I can’t afford to make mistakes with my brother,” he says. “Trial and error, it’s not going to-…” he trails off, shaking his head because he doesn’t think he can explain it without going into those dirty details that he’d rather now. 

Sam shifts in his seat, gripping the wheel a little tighter. There’s a clearing of his throat and he licks his lips because this is not an easy thing to do. Not an easy thing to admit and he doesn’t know if it’s just because it’s Helaine or if he’d admit it to anybody who was trying to help him think through this thing going on with Eli. He doesn’t have an answer if his course of action has been the right or wrong one. Or maybe it’s not even Sam’s business one way or another what happens with Eli? Eli was his own person and he could almost hear his brother’s voice telling him so. 

“I’ve failed my brother more times than I care to admit,” he says quietly. “One more and I…” he shakes his head. “I don’t have one more in me.” 

He speaks of failures of the past, some form of restraint in the words that keeps him from delving further than he feels he should. If she understands that failure in some sense, knows how it feels to constantly let those around you down, it isn’t something she brings attention to directly. This wasn’t for her. It was for them. Brothers who could use a bit of guidance, if they’d allow it. So her words say little of herself, speaking from experience that isn’t given, and instead focus on who mattered most in the moment. “Then learn from the ones already made.” 

She didn’t know the story behind what made their relationship as it once was. If some selfish part of her had been curious on the matter before now, it didn’t take much imagination to understand how difficult family could be. How it could affect you in the worst of ways. And perhaps it mattered less since they’d taken steps to repair, made an effort to see through the worst of what their past had wrought. 

They were better than they once were. They were better off for it.

“Make a decision based on what you know, what you think is best, and follow through however you can.” It’s simple instruction, a firmness to the voice that carries it, but hardly the easiest thing when one considered the factors at hand. It isn’t something she expects him to figure out overnight. It isn’t something she expects him to handle on his own entirely, even if he might prefer it.  

“We have a moment now to catch our breath.” She gives with little distraction, a mind towards their next destination, their next moves while on the road. “Not much of one, but just enough. We should make the best of that.”

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

She answers him with hope. That there are other ways to live in the world without Eli having to use his powers, other ways to survive without Eli being consumed by the darkness that was flowing under his skin, deep in his veins. He sits quietly for a long while, sits quietly while he lets that settle between them. Those other ways, those other lives and it’s a moment before he lets the rest of what she says sink in. That there are some people who only have the guns in their hands and the boots on their feet to help defend themselves. 

If anything, Sam should have been teaching his brother that. He should have been showing him how to survive by teaching him how to fight. How to shoot. How to be a soldier. He should be doing better for all of them by offering that to them. 

So if you’re worried, do better for him. The words ring with him, because that’s all he’s ever wanted, right? To do better? It’s his father’s words, said in a softer voice with a softer hand. There’s no punch that follows, there’s no backhanded blow to his mouth that has him tasting copper and tang on his tongue. There’s simply her words that if he’s worried about his brother, he should do better. Rely on those around him if he needed to. 

That was the hard part. Relying on others. That was the part he was having trouble with and it was nothing to do with the people around him, but everything to do with him. He didn’t like asking other people for help. He didn’t like asking them to give him time because his eyesight was blinded now in one eye. He didn’t like being a burden – that’s where he had difficulty asking for help. Because he’d always done things on his own and he’d had his father to thank for that. A father who turned him away whenever he asked. 

“Doing better is all I’ve ever tried to do,” he says quietly as he keeps his eye on the road, one hand on the steering wheel as he keeps the vehicle going, following the rest of the caravan. “I should have done better with the scarlet beast.” His sight goes to the tooth hanging from the rear view mirror. His brother had gone and gotten it for him. His brother had handled the monster, but what if it had been Sam again? What if he’d gone up against the monster? How would he have taken it? 

Maybe that’s what she meant by rely on those around him. He wasn’t meant to take that beast on his own. 

Without intending to do so, there’s the faintest of smiles that returns as he finally gives some kind of response. “And it’s what you’ll continue to do.” She answers as he speaks of his ever-present intentions. It isn’t a matter she’d place much doubt in, simply based on what she’d seen in the past, what she’s seen of him now. Even if he held his own insecurities, his own hesitations on what he might accomplish -- of which he had every right -- it isn’t something she’d express so easily. She had enough faith for the both of them, even if that sort of thing had a habit of betraying her in the past. With Valenti and hope of his return for example, or when it came to her own ability. If she was ever wrong here, she’d wait for him to prove it to her, though.

It’s when his gaze drifts to the trophy his brother had claimed for him that she gives a more curious glance his way. It wasn’t an entirely conscious decision, what next escapes her, though the hope is to reassure. Perhaps in a fashion similar to what he’d given her before. “It isn’t your fault. You can only do so much.” It’s words he’s said to her before, slightly different of course, but essentially the same. It doesn’t take much to recognize them. No one person could hope to meet every challenge head on or be where they feel they’re most necessary all the time. Even if they were desperate enough for it. It wasn’t always what was meant to be.

“Things could take a turn you least expect. Where you least hope. And you learn to do better next time. I've learned that’s part of being in this world too.” 

She also knows it wasn’t easy for him, to reach out and depend on anyone save for himself, made to believe in his own skill. Any patrol she’d seen him on before could easily lend itself to such an understanding. It wasn’t him being particular in a manner meant to offend exactly, and it isn’t something she’d fault him for. It was simply the only thing he’d known probably. He was a solider, after all. She doesn't give much else in the end however, leaving matters there for him to interpret as he wishes and hoping it’d make a positive enough difference.

[muralixheiress]

wraithofthewasteland:

“Something like that, yeah.” It’s an airy, easy response, distracted as she is by the caterpillar as it crawls over her knuckle to start an aimless trek along her pointer finger. “I always thought it seemed mean. They’re bad for plants, is all, I dunno how throwing ‘em over your shoulder’s supposed to help.” It’s not a practice she ever adopted, of course. Ever the pacifist as a child, and far more likely to play with the occasional garden pest and deposit them safely elsewhere when the time came.

“There’s all sorts of things like that, though, actually. Good souls smell like basil. Fairies live in foxgloves, so you’re not supposed to pick 'em.” Her mother had a talent for dropping such fantastical facts at random, and moving on before Violet had a chance to question any of it. Learning from her so often felt like playing catch-up, catch-and-release, sifting through it all to figure out on her own what was actually true, to her childish frustration. She was too literal, then, to develop a liking for far-fetched things like that, preferring to take things at face value.

And she blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts to finally offer a brighter, more proper smile in greeting. “But I’m not all that superstitious, just- stuff I used to know. Doing alright?”

She listens as Violet offers similar doses of wisdom, things Helaine might first assume belong in old books and things she might have formerly collected in her youth if not much time after. They elicit a chuckle, something light and endearing as she keeps an eye on the caterpillar. “And from whom might we have heard such tales? They seem quite lovely.” She eyes the blonde with a look of curiosity buried in her amusement. “Our resident florist, perhaps?”

“Mm, more or less.” She offers at the question of her well-being, a slight glance given to their surroundings as she resumes. “If I’m meant to be used to more open spaces by now, I can’t say it’s rubbed off on me very well.” She hadn’t been at the base long enough frankly to ever feel as comfortable as others, to get used to that kind of presumed safety. Though, if one considered her absence, where the open scenery was less pleasant and brought on a chance for death at every turn, it was still a nicer change than most she could have hoped for. She almost felt like she was back there again, clinging to protections that never quite offered enough. In caverns that weren’t quite deep or secluded enough. Places that could easily allow darkness of a different kind to snake in and devour her whole, had she not been vigilant. 

Except now there were others here that could watch her back, to depend had she so chosen. It made it .. bearable. “The garden seems to be coming along nicely. You’ve done well here.” It was in its beginning stages she could tell, but Violet seemed keen on cultivating and making the best of it all. And while Helaine and her training might have inspired a sense of purpose at one point, this garden brought her student the kind of thing the witch could never hope to replicate for her well enough -- the best sort of familiarity.

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

For a moment, Sam doesn’t say anything. It’s terrifying, to hear it put into those terms. All-consuming power. To think that’s what was happening to his brother, being consumed by those black marks beneath his skin. Maybe one day he won’t remember who he was, won’t remember those that cared about him. Maybe one day he’d get lost to those marks and it has Sam reconsidering every moment he’d had with his brother regarding them. 

You’re still looking out for him. She tells him. He’s better off for it. But Sam can’t say one way or another if he is. He doesn’t feel like he’s truly looking out for his brother. The last time they’d gone out there into the world together, the world had gotten the better of Sam. He’d put his brother in the position of needing to be the one to take care of things. 

And he had. 

That’s the scary part. Eli had taken care of it and had gone to kill the Scarlet Beast, even brought back a souvenir. Sam had called it cool, had been grateful to Eli for doing what he couldn’t. But he knew the price his brother had to pay to do it. Using his powers, risking another chance to lose himself to them. 

“I’ve been encouraging him to use it,” he says quietly, like some confession said to someone he trusts. “It keeps him safe, when he can fight this world. But what if I’m just making things worse? I’m allowing it to swallow him from the inside.” 

The admission falls between them quietly, and rather than any genuine anger or surprise, there’s further consideration to follow as to why that might be. Regardless of the obvious danger it posed, she could see the appeal, certainly -- in the formerly defenseless suddenly gaining a bit of traction in this world, a means to keep their safety where they otherwise might flounder and fall. She could understand a willingness and need to succeed in dire straits, to stand on one’s own two feet with a power they wished to claim as their own.

She could understand wanting that for another person, to give them the chance to protect themselves.

So what surfaces next isn’t disappointment exactly.

“Of course you are. He’s your brother.” It’s stated plainly, simply, as if such a fact hardly needed further explanation or contesting.

Yet even with that in mind, when it came to such a particular matter ... it isn’t a price she believes most could afford. Even if it seemed .. sensible enough, initially. They weren’t quite so dire in circumstance where she believed it a necessity. She doesn’t believe there’s ever a point where she might truly, despite the favor shown to the action done on Sam’s behalf moments prior. There were limitations to anything, after all.  

“However.” Her voice remains steady as her gaze remains pointed away from him, merely wishing to get her point across as they continue along. “There are other ways to live in this world that shouldn’t cost so much -- we’re not so hopeless yet where that should be allowed and you’ve proven that better than some. In spite of what’s happened, what that horrid thing took from you, you’re still you. You’re still fighting on terms you can live with.”

She’s never had to struggle for ability exactly, to gain the kind of upper hand Eli might have sought even in the face of terrible odds. Her power was always there to guide her at her lowest moments, to keep her afloat. So perhaps her own views on the matter weren’t necessarily on similar ground and perhaps she couldn’t truly grasp the sort of desperation felt by others who had to go without. Not entirely. But Sam hadn’t seen what could become of such poison himself. Even if he had ideas. Even if he could guess. He hadn’t seen it.

And she’s easily reminded of others among them, those like Sam, like Violet, who only had the weapons on their back and little else to ground them save for the bits of knowledge they’d grasped along the way. The people they’d chosen to surround themselves with. They were perfectly human, still capable of defending themselves even under the worst of it all. Why couldn’t that be his brother too?

“Eli can live in this world and not be consumed by it. He doesn’t need to be another monster." Her gaze finally shifts back his way, something softer in the make of them. "So if you’re worried, do better for him. Rely on those around you if you need to.”

[muralixheiress]

wraithofthewasteland:

@muralixheiress

Somewhere along the line, Violet’s started to consider her truck a home base of sorts. In fact, it seems she’s started to consider it her truck at all, though she couldn’t say when that happened. Displacing all those territorial instincts away from the makeshift garden, perhaps, and directing them toward a truck that seems much safer to claim as her own.

Whatever the case, it’s become her usual perch – right atop the cab, one leg curled beneath her, the other dangling against the back window, hands braced against the edge as she peers down at the plants below. Maybe this is what it’s like to meditate. The notion nearly has her smiling as she tilts her face up toward the sun. She’ll ask Bryce later, maybe, what it’s like for him. It is nice. Just… nice, and simple, and she almost doesn’t feel bad for it.

It’s not long before she’s hopping back to work anyway. Quite literally at that, hopping down into the bed of the truck for a quick, supervisory sweep. And there’s a small selection of debris cradled in her palm by the time she’s done – buds pinched off the basil, a few dead leaves that the wind must have carried into the radishes, and she lets it all fall to the asphalt when she reaches the end of the bed. The caterpillar that was creeping its way along one of the trellises now crawls through her fingers. She tears her attention away from it only briefly at the sound of footsteps, glancing over shoulder to smile at Helaine’s approach.

“Y'know, there’s a superstition thing about these things,” she says, wrist twisting as the caterpillar creeps toward the back of her hand. The scars across her knuckles shimmer in the light. “Says you should toss it over your shoulder, I think, if you find one in your garden.”

Helaine had only just finished warding off their surroundings, rededicating the magic that’d fallen weaker in spots she hadn’t anticipated along the route she’d chosen to patrol so that it remained up to par, when she crosses paths with her student unexpectedly. The sense of peace embodying her person might suit Violet as well as the garden she now surrounds herself with the witch thinks, keeping her own movements silent enough so as not to disturb the blonde too terribly as she examines the plants with closer detail. It might be the first time she’s allowed herself the time to, if she’s honest. 

She manages to only pick up on a few of the items laid out in the bed of the vehicle with enough ease, the ones most familiar more so those she’d grown up around with the gardeners in her childhood home. The family enjoyed the fresher appearance, she’d once heard it claimed, though her knowledge on anything that didn’t happen to serve as an additional aid in her studies was still fairly limited in general.

“Now, why would that be? That seems like a fairly steep drop for one so small.” It's difficult to guess if she meant to be so literal in her interpretation. Still, the commentary arises just as swiftly as the words escape the other, a genuine curiosity befalling the woman as she comes up beside her student with an unmistakable smirk on her lips. Soon leaning forward a bit with a better eye given towards the tiny caterpillar’s motions as it inches along, she finally asks, “Good luck, perhaps?”

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

He did well. Sam nods his head, because his brother had done well. Well enough to kill a beast the size of a house. Well enough to kill the beast that had gotten the better of Sam. If there’s supposed to be some sort of residual fear left over for knowing that Eli had faced it at all, Sam isn’t sure if he actually feels it. Isn’t sure if he should. He’s not sure of much anymore when it comes to his brother, other than the fact that things feel a little more closer to good between them. 

“Yeah, he did,” he says, letting that stay in the air between them for a moment. He remembered Helaine telling him about the black marks on Eli’s arms, telling him that it meant he was using demonic powers and he doesn’t know how to feel about that still. A part of him thinks that it’s good Eli has something to defend himself with. But a part of him is terrified he might lose his brother to it. 

“He’s getting stronger,” he tells her carefully, not wanting to talk about Eli behind his back, but there’s a certain trust in Helaine that if anyone could tell him what was going on with Eli and whether or not he should be worried, she was the person to do so. “I don’t know whether I should be more worried than I am,” he admits. 

The statement that trails in the silence has her gaze falling a short few seconds, aware the topic in question wasn’t the easiest to bring up. And the first of what she gives, are things she’s aware Sam’s more or less locked away in his mind already. It was his family, after all, and she’s mentioned something of the kind before now. “I think it’s a fine line to walk. An all-consuming power such as what he holds should never be taken lightly. ... He has to want to be in control.” 

There’s a pause that follows, because there’s more to consider both in the situation as it stands and a memory of what she’s already seen in the world. With how easy it is to give into that impulse, that need for strength just a step away, it isn’t difficult to assume that Eli would choose that over his humanity in a moment’s breath. If he wasn’t careful, if he decided that power meant more than the life he’d known, there was a very genuine possibility that at some point it wouldn’t be so much of a conversation anymore. It would be a reality. The demon within him would take root, devour what was left, and Eli as he was now would no longer exist. 

It isn’t what she wants for him. It isn’t what anyone deserves.

And that feeling of trust she still keeps for the one beside her, in the fight he might inspire in his younger brother to keep going, seems to temper the worst of what she fears for the future. At least for now, when it’s still a viable option to lean on.

“You’re still looking out for him.” It isn’t a question, because she knows already. Even if they were ever on worse terms than they apparently seemed to be, he wasn’t the type to simply stand aside and let someone he cares for so deeply slip away from him. “He’s better off for it.”

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

A snort escapes him at the compliment. That the driver isn’t terrible to be around. He takes it as such and almost gives her a you’re not so bad yourself, but something holds him back. He’s not sure what at first. It’s like she’d left and their relationship, whatever had been budding, had gone with it and hadn’t come back without terrible scarring. He still appreciated her. Still wanted her around, still thought of her expertise as invaluable. But…there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Maybe this was what it felt like when he’d left Eli. 

Which made him a hypocrite beyond belief and he tried pushing those thoughts to the side immediately. To humor the thoughts inside him that were trying to get him to act normal, to act like he would have those months before she’d gone, he instead gave her a, “Helps that the passenger is alright themselves.” 

He’s content to leave it at that, but another question comes and Sam looks to the scarlet beast’s tooth hanging from the rear view mirror. He’d joked with Eli that he was going to put it there, but when push came to shove, it seemed like a proper place for it. He didn’t want it to just sit somewhere collecting dust. This was a reminder, right in his face, hanging there in his blind spot, that someone out there had his back. That his little brother had gone and brought him back the tooth of the thing that had blinded him. 

“Eli got it for me,” he tells her with a smile, reaching up to touch the thing. “It’s from the beast that…” he trails off and points to his eye. “He went back and killed the damned thing.” 

She considered herself a sensible person, if she believed herself much of anything at all. Adept at reading the signs before her, to give attention where warranted. And it isn’t so much in what he says as how it’s said. There’s something in the tone she can’t place well enough to be comfortable with, something uneasy. Something different. It seems to give more life to the ideas already floating in her head well before now. That things had changed, that her absence had affected more than intended even if neither of them had spoken towards it freely. She still doesn’t know what to do with that just yet. Doesn’t know if such a thing is capable of proper repair. She wouldn’t even know where to start. 

Then again, it may not necessarily be her move to make, and it’s hardly a matter one could hope to push all that successfully.

So she let’s it lie in the silence, her focus grasping at the passing sights in the roads roaming beneath them before her attention is taken back to the hanging trophy. She could sense the appreciation in the statement alone. 

If she recalls anything with much clarity back then, it’s that Eli had splintered off, some vision of such that she hadn’t pursued because she couldn’t in the moments she’d been given. There was too much else directly in front of her to concern herself with. It’s a reassuring thought as it is a daunting one perhaps, because he’d grown enough in his abilities to put an end to such a ferocious creature, yet he’d done so for the sake of his brother. For family. It’s what allows an easier smile to appear when she finally answers again, “He did well.”

[muralixheiress]

wraithofthewasteland:

You aren’t that sort of person, she says, and Violet tilts her head in thought. If it were anybody else, she might have turned down such a sentiment. Dug her heels in, even if only privately, at somebody else’s attempts to discern what kind of person she is. That’s something she’s never figured out for herself, after all, something she spent a very long time suppressing, finding it safer, more fitting, to be no sort of person in particular. And surely it’s easy to be mistaken in such things, to get the wrong impression entirely.

But… it’s Helaine. And she said it with such an easy confidence that Violet finds herself straightening her shoulders a bit, unable to truly deny that she rather likes this part, sometimes. Being known. Being a sort of person to someone. To this ‘someone’ in particular, she thinks. She wonders, as she has more than once before, what else the woman thinks of her. A curiosity she’s not sure she’d ever be bold enough to indulge.

And one that’s easily forgotten anyway when Helaine remarks that she believes the same thing. “Yeah?” And the relief that follows isn’t consciously noted, exactly, the validation from somebody whose judgment she trusts far more than her own little more than background noise, but it has her smiling all the same. A soft smile, a brief shine of affection in her eyes, directed down toward her fingers where they settle against the frets. “Good. Yeah, cool.” If she weren’t already inclined to carry the opinion to the grave, this would certainly do it for her.

She’s never put much stock in the idea of luck. Pointedly so, uncomfortable with the thought of something with no rules, no logic, interfering with a life she’s only ever wanted to understand. There’s a part of her, too, that’s quite certain she’d waste plenty of time feeling sorry for herself if she ever thought herself unlucky. But the concept of making your own luck… could be appealing. Maybe she’ll try it soon. She’s not sure if she has – perhaps knowing that would require more self-awareness than she typically possesses. A different type, at least, a kinder type.

“I like that,” she says promptly, simply. She pauses, as if testing the validity of her own claim, and ultimately nods as she absentmindedly switches songs. Something she learned from an old movie, she thinks, a vague memory of a mildewy couch and a television that was always playing something. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that.”

( -- end )

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

There’s only a nod at the comment. In his head, he says it was but out loud, there’s no sign that he gives. He thinks she deserves better. Thinks she deserves for him to tell her about that day, to tell her just what had happened and that he’d woken up the only survivor in that truck. Probably would have died there if it hadn’t been for Nacio. But he can’t get himself to say it now. It has nothing to do with the company he keeps, everything to do with the slight shaking of his hand he can feel coming on. 

It reminds him of Afghanistan more than he cares to admit. He has to stop and think about the words Violet had given him, stop and remind himself that he’s allowed to feel those things and that it doesn’t mean he’s a weak person for feeling some sort of connection between Afghanistan, the end of the world, and now, sitting once again behind the wheel of a vehicle he’d been so used to. 

She answers him as well and he gives a soft smile. “Might help that you’re in the front seat,” he tells her. The back of the SWAT van was filled with weapons, ammunition, supplies. There had been no room for other passengers and he thinks Helaine must know that their truck is a dangerous one. It’s a stupid thought, but he thought it nonetheless – one IED and this truck would be up in flames. “And that you’re not under arrest.” 

He doesn’t give much in return, a simple nod, and if there’s anything she’s learned in the past, it’s that matters such as these weren’t the easiest for him. When it came to his brother, for instance, and those marks buried in his skin -- that might have been a rarity. Nothing so easy, nothing she could expect, and it still surprised her that he’d given that much. She wasn’t entitled to it by any means. So she would allow that space, still allow him to process anything on his own terms. 

He mentions the obvious, that she hadn’t been subject to the abuse her men may have in the past, and she could scarcely recall a time where it should have come to that. She’d been too careful, very much behind the scenes where she should be, and had only given visits to cells when it mattered. When it was necessary. Still, had she ever slipped up, she’s generally been curious if Sam would have been the one behind such an arrest, as he’d been with Valenti come occasion or two. 

“It makes a difference, I’m sure.” The weapons in the back of vehicle, all materials scavenged from the base and similar areas, would make such an arrangement difficult to pursue as well. They’re things she’s kept mindful of as they traveled, any bump in the road keeping her vigilant eyes towards them. “It helps the driver isn’t terrible to be around either.” She responds with a bit of a chuckle, gaze shifting to the object dangling just a short breath away, motioning towards it. “I’ve been meaning to ask, good luck charm?” It was a tooth she recognized solely from encounters she’d had before, only once close enough to view it in greater detail.

[muralixheiress]

jvstinames:

Limitations keep imagination alive. In context, she was right. Justin believed as much. It kept him smiling. But those words could have just as easily been skewed towards another aspect of his life, where they couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“Depends on what’s being limited, I guess,” Justin responded, tone and expression soft despite the distant melancholy that crept into his heart. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s. Part of the challenge was trying hard not to punish the people around him for his entirely personal ailments. The less they noticed, the better.

Helaine asked Justin if he had regrets and that almost takes him back. He wonders what she means, if he regrets ever taking up the mantle of magic, or for not doing it sooner. Justin couldn’t deny that…there were times it would have helped. Where a simple expression of his magic could have literally walled off those he loved from their untimely deaths. It’s a dangerous avenue to go down. Mercifully, Justin’s brain thinks instead of all the good times before magic was necessary, and all the time and effort he put into keeping that afloat. There just weren’t enough hours in the day. He would’ve had to have chosen one of them anyway.

“No,” Justin says, and there’s a peace to his tone as he looks back. He wouldn’t have traded a day of the musician’s lifestyle, wouldn’t have traded a single memory of them, the friends he’d dedicated his life to. Look at him now, just using his magic in order to support his band. It was clear where his loyalties still laid. “Music’s everything to me. Everything I’ve got is…” Alright, that’s enough. Jeez. Way to lay your soul out for all to see.

Justin grinned and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Well. It’s just important. And I think I’m pretty good at it. You’ll see why, if you show up.”

“That’s true.” Though she may not know Justin on too personal a level to comprehend his exact meaning, there were still any number of general instances where such aforementioned limitations were more of a hindrance to a person than a matter to celebrate, as it were. But in this time, it wasn’t something they had to concern themselves with so heavily and they could only really account for now. 

He seems to trail off towards the end as he declines much regret to be had, but the passion with which he spoke said enough, really. There wasn’t much else that was necessary, even as he later admits it’s simply important. “I’ll be sure to stop in.” She gives with a softer smile, a semblance of a promise in her own words even if her visit would only keep for just a moment or so before returning to keeping watch. It’d be long enough to enjoy the music he was so clearly devoted to, at least. “I’ll see you soon, dove.”

Hardly wishing to take up any more of his time, she steps away to allow him the space he needs to sort through the rest of what he has to deal with. She trusts he’d find her later when the time came. 

[muralixheiress]

samsonxgray:

For the most part, the ride had been quiet. On occasion, Helaine would say something and Sam would answer but mostly it was just a quiet, calm drive and Sam was glad for that. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d had trouble just getting into one of these trucks. Not too long ago that he’d been plagued with anxiety at the thought of driving one of these. But now, he could sit behind the wheel and drive without his hand shaking. Even with a blind spot in his vision, he was doing a well enough job at it and learning how to compensate. 

It was good for him. Good for his confidence and assuring himself that things could and would get back to normal eventually. A new normal, maybe, yes, but a normal nonetheless. 

Her question has him glancing her way and he nods his head. “Little bit,” he tells her. “I was in one of these the day the Hell Gate opened,” he explained and the rest of it she didn’t need to know. She didn’t need to know that he’d been the only survivor of that truck. That their mutual friend Nacio had been the one to pull him out. She didn’t need to know that the first time he’d tried to climb into this truck he’d been shaken badly and had flashbacks to not only that day, but Afghanistan and an overturned truck there, too. 

He felt the tremor, then. As he was thinking about all the things she didn’t need to know, he felt the tremor in his hand and he kept a solid grip on the steering wheel to make sure that she couldn’t see and that it wouldn’t become a problem. 

“Weird for you being in one?” 

The idea of handling the streets on a day like that and in a vehicle such as this .. the response alone gives her pause. She’d been on foot for most of that occasion herself, had struggled enough with getting to where she’d eventually crossed paths with him the first time. She can’t recall well enough if there’d been significant damage, only that he’d been walking, talking. Making his way to a place of safety with that familiar vest strapped to his back. He’d been alone then, and she’s curious now if that’d always been the case. 

Noticing the way he grips the wheel just then, subtle enough and easy to miss if she hadn’t been paying him much mind, Helaine only settles for, “That must have been difficult for you.” He didn’t need a barrage of questions, and though she realizes she’s never asked about the day before now, she’s also aware she’s lost a sense of familiarity where that’s concerned. It was a similar situation where others like Violet was concerned. She didn’t believe she had the right.

“A little bit.” She mimics, and if there should be more concern for the fact that he was still adjusting to his vision, she’s also aware he wouldn’t have allowed himself behind the wheel if he believed it would be a serious enough issue. That he’d speak up, if there was a concern worth addressing. And so far, her faith in that hadn’t proven to be mistaken, choosing to keep mostly quiet for fear of breaking any concentration he might need. “I thought I’d be more concerned, but the circumstances aren’t that bad, I suppose. You seem to be adjusting well.”