Raasa Charron

[raasa-charron]

[raasa-charron]

Hooded and shrouded in dark wool, Raasa paid no attention to any of the other passengers aboard the airship as it finally docked in Ishgard. None had approached the lone figure, which was just as well. He couldn't have carried on a conversation with them, even if he'd felt up to the task. Brooding, lost in the depths of despair, Raasa brushed by the others and slowly made his way to the Pillars, each step heavy, as if his entire body ached. No more tears tracked down his face, he'd cried them all out in the bunkroom where K'iaan and he had spent their last night together, soaking the pillows with his heartache where no one else would think to look for him.

The icy winds whipped around him as he stood at the low wall that separated Ishgard's residents from the vast cliff walls that the city had been built upon.

I wish I had never met you.

K'iaan had meant that. That had been truth he'd heard ringing in those final words, words that had shattered him. The rage and the hatred, the storm of fury and scorn, he'd weathered it all despite how it stung, telling himself that K'iaan didn't really mean it, that it was leftover emotional damage from how his lover must have felt when Raasa got left behind with the Flock, that it was damage inflicted on his mind from the voidsent... but that one little utterance... that had been genuine. And it had arrowed through him, hitting the bullseye on his heart to shatter it. To shatter him.

He couldn't live with that truth. It would have been more merciful for K'iaan to have simply stabbed a dagger into Raasa's heart, than to say such a thing. Knowing that the man he loved more than anyone in this world wished with all his heart that they'd never met was so much more than Raasa could handle.

Tears blurred his vision, to his surprise. Maybe he had a few more in him, after all. Setting one booted foot on the wall, he went to pull himself up, steel scraping against stone. It would be quick. The nauseating agony he was in would be gone - but then a gauntleted hand clapped down on his shoulder and pulled him back, nearly off of his feet. The newcomer was clad in full armor from head to toe, with a massive broadsword carried across his back. A male voice carried forth from the faceplate, loud enough to carry over the howling winds.

"There's a better way to channel whatever you're feeling that's got you so low."

Glowering at the man, Raasa jerked away and once more set a boot on the wall - and yet again, a hand yanked him back.

"Don't. It's a waste of a death. A coward's death. Are you a coward?"

Raasa grit his teeth, staring longingly across the abyss. All he wanted was to not exist anymore, to not feel... but. But the words sank into his exhausted mind, nevertheless, and his hands gripped the icy stone. But this time, his boots stayed put.

"How would those who depend on you feel? What about the ones that love you?"

A tormented sound tore from Raasa at that last question, a sound he couldn't stop, couldn't silence. Both hands rose to cover his face, shoulders shaking silently. K'iaan loved him. This he knew to be true. No matter if he wished he hadn't met him, he loved him all the same. And if he went through with this, he would be breaking his promise. If he went through with it, he would be giving up on him. If he went through with it, he wouldn't be there when K'iaan finally came back to him, no matter how long it took.

Reddened eyes lifted to the man as his hands dropped to his sides, shoulders slumped. Silence hung in the air between them for long moments, snowflakes beginning to fall.

"The threshold that we refuse to cross is a line we draw for ourselves. We fear the consequences, and people suffer for our indecision. I can teach you to hone the pain I see in you to prevent that suffering. Fear, pain, rage -- that which lies in the deepest depths of our soul makes for a potent fuel. Come with me, then. The name's Fray."

[raasa-charron]

RP Excerpt: K'iaan and Raasa

[14:16]K'iaan Zasta couldn't and never would understand Raasa's stubbornness. "You're insufferable," K'iaan whispered as the Viera sat back down once more, and he flipped over so his back was to K'iaan. A quiet, soft voice, a whisper. A truth in a thousand lies, the sincerity and genuine tone present. No anger, no hatred. Just plain truth. "…I wish I had never met you." And he meant it. [14:22]Raasa Charron heard the truth in that whispered statement. He heard it and like an arrow hitting a bullseye, it lodged in the center of his heart, shattering it to pieces. All the vitriol K'iaan had spewed at him, that he could take. But this was not angry. These were not words born out of hatred. He /meant/ that. And that was the final blow that broke him. His face ashen, eyes glimmering with tears, Raasa swallowed hard and finally got up, his movements heavy, as if his entire body ached. He looked at K'iaan for a long, long moment, shook his head and turned away, slowly, stiffly moving to part the curtain. A moment later, K'iaan heard the door softly close. [14:34]K'iaan Zasta | It was only when he heard the door close that K'iaan finally let out the noise he had been keeping in. Pressing his face against his pillow, a heavy sob rang through his body like a broken bell. How he hated himself. How he hated spewing those lies to Raasa, just to try and push him away. He wanted Raasa to move on. He wanted him to view K'iaan as a bad guy, a mistake, not to keep him close. Raasa could heal, K'iaan couldn't. But gods, it hurt to tell him those things, to see his face, to forcefully silence his…lover. Oh, how K'iaan loved Raasa. He loved him so much that it hurt. It hurt, it burned, and K'iaan would have rather the skin be removed from his back completely than have to go through that again. Thousands of apologies were built up, wanting nothing to burst forward and envelop Raasa, to hold him close and whisper his apologies, tell him it was all a lie…well, most of it was a lie. In his moment of weakness, he truly did wish he'd never have met Raasa. If he hadn't, maybe none of this would would have happened. Maybe Raasa would be happy with someone else, with both ears in working condition and a functioning eye. With a mouth that could produce words and songs. Instead…K'iaan came. K'iaan existed, and Raasa's ears were crushed and eye was plucked from his skull. K'iaan existed, and Raasa lost his ear and tongue and the skin of his back. K'iaan existed, and…and…and K'iaan shouldn't have. He should have died in that forest, bled out onto his ancestral grounds, wetted the jungle with his blood for his betrayal of his people. He was a living, walking curse, and he didn't need a voidsent to tell him that. He knew it, and if he stuck by Raasa any longer, then he'd get the man killed. K'iaan realized now that there was no world if Raasa wasn't in it. Raasa could survive without K'iaan, but…K'iaan couldn't survive without Raasa. And so his mind was set. He'd return home, he'd sit in his hut and ask whatever was out there to forgive him and keep Raasa safe and wash him of K'iaan's influence, and then he'd return to the Mist as a whisper.

K'iaan belongs to his writer, Raasa is mine.

[raasa-charron]

Shadows

The alarm next to the infirmary bed blared abruptly and the sleeping rabbit sat bolt upright with a heaving gasp of breath. Panting, Raasa reached over and slammed his trembling hand down on it, silencing it, leaving the only sounds in the room that of his harsh wheezing. Dreamless sleep potions only lasted so long, and he didn’t want to be caught sleeping when they wore off. He’d had enough nightmares to last for the rest of his life, in the brief two weeks since he’d been rescued. 

 Every light in the infirmary was lit to the brightest setting and yet, still there were dark corners. That was the problem with light - everything it touched cast a corresponding shadow. You just couldn’t get rid of it all - darkness, that is. Movement caught Raasa’s eye and he jerked, his heart pounding. It had been something out of the corner of his eye, something just in his periphery. His good hand squeezed the bedsheets hard, knotting them tightly in his fist. It had been his imagination. There was no one in here but him. He was alone. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to lay down again, looking from shadow to shadow, measuring them, comparing them, making sure they weren’t growing longer. He’d seen what could come from them, watched as Mother- as Melanthian had pulled the masked and shrouded bird from the Ink.

They weren’t coming for him. There was no reason for them to come to Priarch and take him away, torture him further. They’d gotten what they’d wanted from him - the inksoul they’d named Sparrow - and while they could have left him to die, they hadn’t. They’d brought him to Tailfeather. Why they had wanted him to live, he couldn’t puzzle out… unless they weren’t done with him yet. It was the only reason he could think of. They wanted more from him, more screams, more tears, more incomprehensible begging to just let him die. They still echoed in his own ears, his screams. The sickening scent of burning flesh, the feel of steel slowly digging into him, the ripping of skin as Crow flayed his back open- jerking to his side, Raasa retched into the bucket, dry heaving. He’d eaten nothing, so there was nothing to come up but vile-tasting bile. Exhausted when he finished, he eased carefully onto his side, curled nearly in a fetal position with his one good leg, the other still immobilized at the knee.  

An animal attack, they’d told the chirurgeon on duty. That’s what they’d told the physician had done… all of this, to him, the elderly man had said, with skepticism written all over his face. Raasa had looked away and nodded. That’s right. It had been an animal attack. He didn’t want to get the doctor involved, didn’t want him to call upon any form of official response. They’d only get themselves killed against the Flock. And besides, who would believe him anyway, aside from Priarch?

Reaching over to the bedside table, he thumbed open another dreamless sleep potion and downed it. Setting the alarm again for precisely two hours, he settled in, one arm under the pillow, his good hand gripping the naked blade underneath it. It would do no good against them, he knew, but it was still a small comfort. Why, he wasn’t sure. He’d thought at first to use it on himself if they showed up, that killing himself would be preferable to going through what he’d already been through once… but then he’d thought about K’iaan. He couldn’t just abandon him to the voidsent that had taken over his mind and body. He wouldn’t. So he curled around his useless little knife and let it grant the illusion of safety, while he cowered in bed, alone, loathing himself for the terror that ruled every waking moment. Sleep, when it came, was a mercy.

[raasa-charron]

RP Log: Raasa and Lyrin'a

[13:19]Lyrin'a Muinvel pushed the door to the infirmary open  with a bit more haste than he might have usually. But Celestin had grown used to the Keeper's intrusions, the swish of his robes didn't set the duskwight on edge. But he wasn't here now, it seemed, anyway. Instead Lyrin'a was greeted with a slumped Viera on the floor of the infirmary. Had K'iaan woken and fallen??  He took a step and froze. Raasa. There was a brief moment where the catte's brain tried to register how he'd gotten there. Then he rushed forward to check on him. "Raasa?" He was bnreathing at least. A glance at the bed told him K'iaan Had woken. And he was gone. "What happened?"

[13:33]Raasa Charron || Aye, the bunny was breathing.... and jerked away, eyes snapping open at the unexpected touch, breathing hard. Upon seeing it was Lyrin'a, however, he closed his eyes again and let out a trembling breath. He'd forgotten. He was safe now. It all came rushing back - the week at Tailfeather, and just now... or... or earlier, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, K'iaan's voidsent had walked his lover's body out of the room. He shook his head, unable to speak to relay what had happened. With his good hand, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, then dragged that hand down his face in frustration. He rocked forward and up onto his good knee, clearly struggling to rise.

[13:40]Lyrin'a Muinvel 's ears flattened. Right. He couldn't talk. The Keeper's expression was a well of concern and remorse, and though the first thing he wanted to do was try and dissuade Raasa from struggling around after his trek--- had he trekked here??-- he found all he could really do was slider a shoulder under his arm and gently offer himself as a crutch to help him stand. "You shouldn't have left so soon," he whispered. It was far from chiding. "Please sit, let me check you. Please Raasa."

[13:46]Raasa Charron aimed a muleish look at Lyrin'a, jaw set stubbornly. He wanted up off the floor. Clinging to the catte with an arm around his shoulders, he dragged himself up to his feet. With Lyrin'a's help, they made it through the curtain and to the bed, where Raasa slowly, carefully lowered himself to sit on the edge. He heaved a relieved sigh, bad leg sticking straight out, with his heel upon the floor. NOW, he nodded to Lyrin'a - yes, he could check him out now, if he wanted.

[13:53]Lyrin'a Muinvel offered Raasa the most tense of smiles at his nod and  immediately raised a hand. His healing aether probed gently. It followed the lines and points of life like constellations, washing cool healing in it's wake. There was far too much strain on Raasa to expect magic to heal him entirely. Or even slightly. His body had been tortured far beyond it's limits. That he was even still alive was a miracle itself. It would have to heal in it's own time. But sustaining- that he could do. After a moment the Keeper's eyes seemed to focus from where ever they had been back onto Raasa himself. "...I'm so sorry. I never intended to leave you to them. You weren't a sarcifice Raasa. I meant to take you both and I failed you."  The flow of aether slowed until it stopped. Then he inhaled a breath, and noticing the discarded paper on the bed beside them, he nodded at it. "Do you think you can tell me what happened to K'iaan? Did he leave on his own?"

[14:01]Raasa Charron || There were so many points where the map of Raasa's body was torn or outright sundered. His missing ear. His ravaged remains of a tongue. His flayed back. Each laceration in his chest. His skinned hand. His ruined knee. Everywhere he'd been kicked or sliced or punched. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the fatigue that held heavy over him, pressing down like a weight on his lifeforce. There were shiny new scars, too, those injuries that had been created and then healed up potions to keep him alive for hours on end so the Flock could have their fun. At Lyrin'a's apologies though, Raasa waved a hand to get his attention, then shook his head. There was no anger in the Viera's dark eyes, no resentment. Taking up the quill and pulling a fresh page over to him, he scrawled, [Not your fault. Don't blame you. Glad you got K'iaan out.] As Lyrin'a asked what happened, Raasa's remaining ear wilted down further and he continued to write. [K'iaan's possessed by a voidsent. Made a deal with it to not hurt me, then let it take over the body. It left.]

[14:11]Lyrin'a Muinvel 's ears did an odd trembling at Raasa's denial of blame. He inhaled a deep breath and slowly released it, watching intently as he continued to write. At the word voidsent the Keeper frowned. That frown deepened when Raasa wrote the body instead of his. He didn't like the way that sounded. But he had very little understanding of voidsent and their deals. Conjury dictated you simply did not entertain them. After a moment the Keeper sat down next to Raasa. "We'll find him. Between Idristan and Edarien we have experts on voidsent and tracking them." He reached out to pat Raasa's good knee. "All isn't lost. Voidsent aren't as clever as they think."

[14:19]Raasa Charron chewed his bottom lip as Lyrin'a spoke of Idristan and Edarien, nodding. [I will help find him.] It wasn't an offer that he wrote and showed Lyrin'a, it was a declaration. When the catte reached out to pat his knee, however, Raasa flinched. Touch, any touch, screamed danger to him right now, and he couldn't help but avoid it if he could. He offered a furtive, apologetic look to the catte and settled again, writing once more. [I should have believed you all.] He paused, then wrote again hesitantly. [I am sorry for thinking of you all what I did. I was wrong. You were all right. They are not people. They are monsters.]

[14:22]Lyrin'a Muinvel froze with his hand where it was, raising it up, palm out, and slowly pulling back into his own space. He hadn't been thinking. Of course any movement into his space was dangerous. The Keeper settled where he was, a comfortable distance away, offering Raasa a gentle shake of his head. Think nothing of it my friend. I understand. When he continued, Lyrin waited for the paper to be shown to him, a flicker of emotion sliding across his face before it disappeared. "You don't need to apologize. Least of all to me. I'm sorry if my talk of making them whole..” Lyrin’a paused and trailed off before trying again. "They are monsters, you're right. They are incomplete creatures of emotion. They could never be people as they are." He hesitantly looked at Raasa again. Oh how hard it was to have this conversation with someone they had tortured like they had. Did he still really think it was worth any effort to try and make them whole?  What was he even trying to accomplish with that anyway.. He shook his head again. "But your compassion wasn't wrong Raasa." This he said firmly.

[14:32]Raasa Charron was writing before Lyrin'a even finished speaking. [I'd had no experience with them. I should have listened to those who had. It wasn't compassion, it was self-righteousness. And it - I - was wrong. And it nearly got all three of us killed.] He thumped a fist on the paper to reinforce the words messily scrawled thereupon. [But I understand now. They need to be destroyed, by any means possible. I will help however I can.]

[14:35]Lyrin'a Muinvel looked from the paper up to Raasa. After a moment of simply looking at him he nodded. "I wish this hadn't happened." Such a silly thing to say. He knew better than to make empty wishes. "And I know the others feel the same. But they will welcome your help."

[14:41]Raasa Charron sighed wearily, just looking at Lyrin'a for a long, quiet moment and nodding, a flicker of guilt flashing over his face, gone as soon as it appeared. Hisfaulthisfaultitwasallhisfault. He sighed, then picked up the pen again. [There is another one now. Because of me. Sparrow. Mother (this word was crossed out several times, violently, immediately) Melanthian infected me, then tore it from me. Sent Vulture to find a body for it.]

[14:46]Lyrin'a Muinvel nodded slowly. "I thought she intended to infect one of you when she said drown. I suppose she's moved beyond needing the actual host but I don't know why this way is preferable to her. Other than perhaps less opposition from a corpse." He made a face of disgust for a moment then shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. The Ink.. isn't like anything I've ever seen. There isn't a way to counter it. It doesn't know fear or pain. The most you can do without a plan is escape. This wasn't your fault."

[14:50]Raasa Charron pulled that stubborn face again and shook his head in disagreement, scribbling and holding it up. [I invited K'iaan to go with me. It was my fault he was there. It is my fault the voidsent took over, suppressed him. But I'm - we're - gonna get him back. We're gonna get K'iaan back.]

[14:54]Lyrin'a Muinvel looked at the paper and then down. He couldn't counsel Raasa away from self blame. He understood how that felt too well. It was all well and good to be told you needn't bear the guilt of something-- it didn't mean your heart would ever agree. After a moment the Keeper only offered him a smile. "We will. He was awake when we arrived at Priarch. And he was still himself, I believe. So he's there somewhere. And you'll draw him out again."

[15:02]Raasa Charron exhaled a long, weary sigh. He was still exhausted from his trip from Dravania, wracked with guilt and pain. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. The tiny amount of sleep he'd gotten there on the floor was because he had less fallen asleep and more passed out from sheer fatigue. [Thank you for coming for us. Thank you for saving K'iaan. I won't give up on him.]

[15:07]Lyrin'a Muinvel shook his head as if to dismiss the thanks. It had hardly been the rescue they had deserved. But he stopped himself from saying the things he thought. Putting voice to his own self doubts. Raasa didn't need that now. The Keeper pushed up from the bed. "Of course not. And we'll help you every step of the way. I can inform Idristan and Edarien if you wish, they may have some ideas on how to begin looking for him but it might take some time and you will need to use it to regain some strength." Lyrin’a paused. "Or I could ask them to come here.  I'm sure you have information about K'iaan and his voidsent they could use to find him." He nodded. That sounded like a better plan.

[15:13]Raasa Charron toed off his boots and slowly, carefully, laid down on his side on the bed. He couldn't lay on his back or chest and only one side was even remotely comfortable because of his hand and knee, but it would do. Inhaling deeply, his heart panged longingly, painfully. He could still smell K'iaan on the pillow. He closed his eyes for a moment again that prickling of tears that threatened and only when it retreated again did he open them to look at Lyrin'a. [I don't want to sleep.] Came the small, scrawled admittance. The Flock was waiting for him in his sleep. Mother. Sparrow. K'iaan's screams. The torture he'd endured. It all awaited him the moment his eyes closed.

[15:22]Raasa Charron knew he needed to rest, to heal, to sleep. He was so tired, his eyes felt dry and grainy, but sleep held only terror for him. His remaining ear perked up just slightly at Lyrin'a's explanation and offer of the potions. After a moment, he nodded hesitantly. If he could sleep without nightmares, he could regain his strength - which he would need to face K'iaan's monster and be clever enough to defeat it.

[15:26]Lyrin'a Muinvel nodded, slipping to a shelf nearby. Clearly he had brought them to the infirmary earlier in case K'iaan awoke, and for the same reason. He could only imagine the nightmares the two of them would face in the future. Pulling one free he stood and popped the cork, offering it to Raasa where he lay. "I'm staying in Priarch house for the time being." As he spoke, he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out Raasa's linkpearl, which had been dropped by the bird who'd held it. Lyrin’a reached to lay the pearl on the bed in front of Raasa. "If you need anything. Anything at all, I'm here. Just tap it, maybe three times. I'll know and I'll come."

[15:33]Raasa Charron || With his good hand, Raasa accepted the potion, sniffed it. He made a face, but tossed it back, setting the empty glass vial on the desk. Picking up the linkpearl, he fitted it to the tatters of his remaining ear and nodded with a small, grateful smile. He gave Lyrin'a a thumbs up sign, then flopped his head on the pillow, his blinks growing slower. Whether he willed it or not, his body needed sleep.

[15:34]Lyrin'a Muinvel watched Raasa for a moment more, brows furrowing in thought, before he moved to turn down the light by the bedside. He'd leave him to his sleep then. And perhaps try and find Edarien or Idristan. Only one of them might technically be fae but they were both as elusive as one.

@hiraethwyl

[raasa-charron]

RP Log: Raasa and K'iaan

[11:42]Raasa Charron entered the infirmary, letting the door close quietly behind him. His movements were slow and careful, every step agony, but he'd have walked a thousand malms just to be at K'iaan's side again. Really, he shouldn't have left Tailfeather for another week, at least, under the care of the chirurgeon there, but there'd been no stopping the Viera. He closed his eyes mentally bracing himself to see what the Flock had done to him. Swallowing hard, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside, his gaze roaming over the Viera in the bed, lips pressed tightly together. Shuffling forwards, he sat down on the edge, the leg with the brace knee extended out straight, laying the cane down on the floor quietly, so as not to wake him if he was asleep.

[11:47]K'iaan Zasta: /It/ was awake. Though his eyes weren't open, K'iaan was most definitely awake, hearing the steps along the wood. He was covered in a sheet that went up to his neck, but to the sound of Raasa and the feeling of the man sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes opened. No eyepatch remained, and both eyes stared at Raasa, looking, but uncomfortably...empty. Slowly, very slowly, he sat up a little bit, body slow. Bandages covered his face where the nails and burns had taken skin and flesh. A forearm was covered in bandaging from extensive burning, and his hand was wrapped, the mangled limb healing as best as it could. In its state, it would be useless. His ear was missing, just like Raasa's, and along his back were bandages, covering holes from a beast's claws that dragged him down and a long, jagged cut, horrible and disfigured, that edged along his spine. Cuts, bruises, everything of the like, but K'iaan didn't seem to be in pain when he sat up. He instead looked past Raasa and towards the drawer, searching for something to cover him in...ignoring the Viera completely.

[11:55]Raasa Charron || The worst of Raasa's bandaging was covered: the wrapping on his back and chest, the brace that held his knee completely immobilized. What It was able to see was the stump of the missing ear, the bandaging around his hand, the cane on the floor when It sat up. Raasa said not a word, but at that awful, terribly empty look, he felt, just for a minute, that he might retch from the horrible hurt that constricted his heart and turned his stomach. Stinging tears fell and he reached out to touch the other man's shoulder, in one of the few places the skin was unmarred. There was so much he would say, if he could, but silence reigned, heavy and anguished.

[11:58]K'iaan Zasta: And to the touch on his shoulder, K'iaan turned, looking at Raasa, his expression that one of a statue, almost like his voidsent's form-- a porcelain mask of nothing but glass and stone. He looked to the hand on his shoulder before shrugging Raasa's touch off of him, standing up before immediately dropping to his knees. How difficult it was to pilot these janky bodies, made up of flesh and bone. How weak they were, too. Grabbing the side table, he dug his nails into it and hoisted himself up once more, looking to the clothes on the table. It'd figure this body out eventually, work it until it either rotted away, died of natural causes, or until it found a better host. His mouth opened, testing it out, making sounds with it. How weird these mouths were. To anyone else, it might look rather demented, disturbing. Especially if they knew who K'iaan truly was.

[12:07]Raasa Charron || When K'iaan looked at him, met his gaze with that flat, stony look, and shrugged off his touch, more tears fell and he recoiled, curling his hand against his chest as if he'd been burned. K'iaan hated him. And rightly so - this, everything, it was all Raasa's fault. And when K'iaan rose and immediately collapsed to his knees? A small, wordless sound of absolutely wretched distress left him in protest. There was no way K'iaan should be out of bed yet - neither of them should, really. Reaching over to the table, he snatched up a piece of paper and the quill from the inkpot, hastily scrawling three messy words on it, then holding it up for K'iaan to see. [I'M SO SORRY.]

[12:10]K'iaan Zasta responded in no part to Raasa's tears, and even when the man wrote him a note, he only stared at it briefly before turning back around to dress himself. Hmm, he'd have to get rid of this hand. It wouldn't heal properly, and It was under the impression that flesh would regrow just as its shadowy tendrils did. However, there was nothing in here to cut the hand off with, and he'd not do it with this tiresome Viera bothering him. However, his head tilted to look at Raasa, staring for a long moment, but it returned to look at the clothes as it pulled on the last of the clothing. Ah, finally. A noise emitted from him, something akin to a chitter of a creature from the hells, and it sounded like it ripped at K'iaan's vocal chords just trying to make it. A noise of satisfaction. Turning to face Raasa once more, he began sounding words out. Slowly, surely, and once he had gotten the words down correctly, he gave a disturbing grin to Raasa, leaning over him. "W-a-ant to-o-o...mak-k-k-ke aa-a...d-dea-a-l?" The same thing that K'iaan always had to fight against, what he always traded, what he always ended up resorting to. Deals, and this voidsent wanted Raasa to know that K'iaan was his now, and he wasn't coming back.

[12:19]Raasa Charron didn't want to meet that gaze, but he forced himself to, made himself endure the... emptiness? That resided in those green eyes. That wasn't right. He knew K'iaan. The man's blood ran hot, not cold like this. If he hated Raasa, there would be disgust, contempt, revile there in that gaze. As It spoke, comprehension slowly dawned in horror. That wasn't K'iaan. That wasn't K'iaan at all. That was the creature staring out of K'iaan's eyes. He moaned a word that might have been a 'no', shaking his head, more tears falling. Oh, this was worse, this was so much worse than he had imagined. Hatred he could have accepted, could have drawn him out of, with time. Drawn K'iaan back to him, because he'd said it, K'iaan had told him he loved him at the last possible second, and hatred could not stand in the face of love shared. But this... this was not hatred. The voidsent didn't hate Raasa. It felt nothing for him. At those words, It all but confirmed what Raasa, clever Raasa, had already figured out. Scribbling quickly, and sniffing, he held up the page again. [What deal?]

[12:26]K'iaan Zasta stared, watching the tears fall down Raasa's face with a sickening grin, eyes wide as he reveled in it. Gods, how good it felt to watch this little shit cry. How Raasa had foiled his plans. K'iaan's willpower came directly from Raasa, but now there was no more K'iaan, and soon, there'd be no more Raasa. All in time, of course. It had many deals to make, many to seal, but it answered in the same janky tone, getting better slowly and slowly. "Y-You-u d-on-n't bo-th-her me, a-a-nd I w-w-onn’t k-k-kill yo-ou s-so soo-n-n. I-It wa-s-s hi-s la-ast w-w-ish, an-nywa-ys; 'Don-n't hur-rt Ra-a-as-s-a.'". It gave a shrill noise of laughter, standing up straight again. "H-ho-w-w h-he b-e-gg-ed an-d cr-i-ied. P-praye-d to d-ead god-s th-at yo-ou wer-e alive." K'iaan's jaw cracked, leaning in once more, finally getting K'iaan's mouth movements down. "I told him I'd take good, good care of you...and then he gave up. His cries tasted so /sweet/."

[12:36]Raasa Charron 's breath quickened and he gritted his teeth, squaring up as anger flickered to life, feeding off the embers of sorrow and pain and misery. He reached out with his good hand, fisting it in fabric and dragged the Thing closer to him for a long, silent moment, listening to those words with one ear. K'iaan was in there, somewhere. He had to be. This couldn't be the end of their story, they were going to grow old together, take care of each other. Releasing the Thing, he wrote once more, then held it up, watching It's face as it read the message, his own gaze stony and hard. Stubborn as he ever was, and thrice times that, for this, the most important aspect of his life. [NO DEAL. I WON'T GIVE UP ON K'IAAN.]

[12:40]K'iaan Zasta: Oh, it liked the fire in this one. Even after all that had happened, all that pain and suffering the two of them had been through, Raasa came out victorious while K'iaan had fallen. He /liked/ the fire. Fine, then. No deal, and the voidsent would lean up once more before K'iaan's good hand shot out, grabbing Raasa by the hair roughly, yanking his head back. 'Then I look forward to how sweet your failure will taste." It would consume Raasa someday, but it wasn't today. Now, it had to find other means of prey. Other aether sources, to strengthen it while it was working this unfamiliar form. Letting go of Raasa's hair, it staggered to the door, using the scythe as a sort of cane as it pushed the curtain aside to leave. This voidsent would most certainly be high off of gluttony soon.

[12:47]Raasa Charron didn't fight the painfully tight hold on his hair, breathing hard as rage flushed over his face. How dare It. He had promised K'iaan that he would find a way to get rid of the voidsent, and he had failed spectacularly at that - for now. But this -wasn't- the end. He would drag K'iaan back from the depths of his mind if it was the last thing he ever did. Raasa never made promises lightly and he -always- kept them. When he was released, and the voidsent wearing his lover's body moved to the door, Raasa shouted in protest and tried to follow, but collapsed to the floor, his good hand going to his ruined knee. He'd overdone it, traveling from Tailfeather and his body was exacting its price now. He shouted a wordless sound in frustration, staring at the voidsent's back, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up. He could barely walk and It seemed to be mastering maneuvering K'iaan's body faster by the second.

[12:52]K'iaan Zasta gripped the door handle, but not before turning back around to see Raasa fall to the floor, collapsing. People truly were weak. The voidsent felt no pain, experienced no exhaustion. He'd simply wear the body down until it was a literal corpse, a puppet of its own design. For now, he'd work to keep its heart beating. It was hard to maneuver places with the stench of a rotting body heavy in the air. That sickly grin twisted on his features as he began closing the door. "Good luck, /lover/." And he shut it behind him.

[raasa-charron]

Recovery. Step 1.

Rain on the tin roof was what woke him.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it felt late. All was quiet around him. 

And within him. 

He felt… hollowed out, as if there was a vast, aching emptiness inside of him where something beautiful had once filled him and was now gone. He’d been filled with Ink until it had overflowed, contaminated his body, his blood, his soul. For a brief, fleeting moment, he had been one of them. He’d known the terrible joy and reverence and the sense of belonging of the Flock. He’d loved Mother in a thousand different ways, worshiped him even. The agony had disappeared in an ecstatic comprehension of just what it felt like to really let go of the restrictions he imposed on himself like morals and principles. He was free to do as he pleased, remade, perfect and eternal. 

And then Mother took it all away. He’d ripped the inksoul named Sparrow from Raasa out of him as if he was peeling him from the inside out, draining his veins of Ink and blood, cruelly siphoning his very life’s essence, and he felt the loss keenly. He hated it, hated that he missed it just a little bit, just enough to loathe that very small piece of him that he knew was forever etched in his being.

His eyes closed.

The sedation made it hard to think, thoughts moving like molasses from one to the next. They’d tortured him. Brought him to the brink of unconsciousness over and over again, only to revive him with potions, administered via cuts in his skin, directly into his bloodstream, what little there remained of it. He remembered, though, remembered every last bit of it, no doubt surely as they wanted him to. 

There was a touch to his arm and he jerked away… as much as he could. Lifting his head, he looked down in horror to see himself bound, shackled to the bed. Lifting his gaze, he stared into Crow’s madly grinning face and screamed. No more. He couldn’t take any more. Just let him die, let him pass, give him the mercy that only death could… could…

His eyes closed. 

It happened over and over again, waking to the Flock standing over him, laughing, always laughing. The monsters under the bed were real and he had fallen so naively into their hands. Silvaineaux, Talan, Idristan… they’d been right. They’d all been right. The Flock weren’t people. They looked like people… sort of. They were people-shaped, but it was as if they were imitating what people did, how they moved, how they smiled, how they talked… and the act just wasn’t quite good enough. They all needed to die, they needed to be wiped from this star before they could do the same thing to anyone else, and despite Raasa’s previous demands that they try to be humane about it, he understood now that he would do whatever he must, become whatever he must, to see that done. He’d burn the building down now and wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it.  

Worse, he’d led K’iaan right into their midst. Crushing guilt felt like a very real weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. K’iaan had been hurt, badly, might even be dead. No, not dead. He was with Lyrin’a. Lyrin’a would save him, wouldn’t let him die. But… he knew K’iaan and he knew the man would blame himself. Knew that K’iaan would be furious with himself, would hate himself and in that hate, possibly lose himself to the voidsent that rode along in his soul. And it was his fault, not K’iaan’s. It was all his fault. Tears leaked from his eyes, hot and stinging, wetting the pillow under his head. Sorry, he moaned, he was so damned sorry, but the words came out garbled and unintelligible. 

His eyes closed.

He had no idea how many days had passed, how many nights he spent screaming until his throat was raw until they’d sedated him again, sobbing for his partner, but he woke again at dawn, and for the first time, his mind was clear. Well, as clear as it could be, under the circumstances. The guilt remained, the fear, but it was not all-consuming, in that moment. He needed to get home, needed to get to Priarch, needed to get to K’iaan. He sat up, belatedly realizing in afterthought that he was no longer bound to the bed. His clothing had been cleaned and was set, folded, in the chair next to the bed he rested in. Inhaling a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, then stood awkwardly, wincing as pain prickled in various places over and through his body. Bandages and the brace on his knee made moving difficult, but Raasa was stubborn and after a time, he managed to pull on his clothes. 

He carefully avoided looking at the faint bloodstains, the tear in the pants just over his knee. There was only so much one could do with blood and viscera in cloth.

Taking up the crutches that had been leant against the wall, he hobbled toward the door, keeping his weight off of his injured leg. Opening the door, the sunlight hit his face and he looked up into the blue Dravanian sky. Tailfeather. He was in Tailfeather. Nearby, he heard Talon’s trumpeting cry as the massive warbird caught sight of him. He turned his head and saw Bird, too, and his heart panged painfully. Hisfaultallhisfault- Shuffling out the door, he started to make his way over to the chocobo pen, ignoring the gruff and pitying stares of the hunters he passed. Some of them, he was familiar with, but shame, and the lack of a tongue to speak with, kept him silent, brooding gaze on the ground ahead of him. 

One step at a time, he was going home.

[raasa-charron]

Chirurgeon Report: R. Charron

Patient Name: Raasa Charron (Provided by admitting persons)

Age: Unknown

Race: Viera

Sex: Male

Prior medical history: Unknown

Cause of injury: Alleged animal attack, injuries inconsistent with account provided by admitting persons. Amended to unknown.

Current Medications: Unknown

Relations: Unknown, admitting persons allege no personal or professional relationship to patient

Summary of injuries: Extensive and catastrophic. Refer to diagram for specific anterior and posterior indications. Loss of consciousness upon arrival. Tachycardia present and being monitored. Massive blood loss requiring multiple immediate transfusions. Patient’s right ear cleanly severed at base. One eye appears to be magitek with limited scarring from prior injury, however, it and the natural eye seem healthy. There is severe damage to the tongue, which was amputated almost in whole. Multiple lacerations on chest and abdomen in varying depth and degrees. No internal damage to organs noted at time of exam. Compound fracture of the right kneecap, complete separation of medial collateral ligament, partial separation of anterior cruciate ligament. Complete degloving of left hand, structures are otherwise intact. Complete avulsion of dermis from upper back, musculature and bone are otherwise intact. 

Treatment: Patient has partially revived multiple times, but was administered sedation and restrained to suppress thrashing, guarding and screaming. Blood transfusions were administered until pressure registered as normal. Aetheric healing and pain suppression techniques were utilized to stop hemorrhaging from ear, tongue, lacerations to the chest and fractured knee. Knee was set and immobilized via brace. Liniment was applied to degloved hand and avulsed back, then was wrapped in aetherically enhanced bandages to promote tissue regrowth.

Outlook: Patient is in critical condition but likely to recover. Advise to continue aetheric treatments until damages are fully healed, then begin physical therapy to regain normal movement in hand and gait. Tentative recommendation for psychological therapy, dependent on actual event causing injuries. 

End Chirurgeon Report.

[pnwdruid]

Spring fern fronds

[ritasv]

Militia Archer by Mar Tejeiro Via Flickr: With Arenz Vettervolk

[reitsc-deactivated20221203]

[raasa-charron]

RP LOG: Raasa & Vardan

[14:26]Raasa Charron knocks on the door and enters, letting it swing closed behind him. "Vardan, y'there? Got yer message about my eye bein' ready..." he says, feeling again like he's stepped into another world, with all the tech in the room. "Oh, heya."

[14:30]Vardan Telfour examined, with great intensity, the artificial eye he had been tasked with making. From all sides he viewed it, again and again flicking his eyes over to the screen on the wall. Everything looked to be in order, every wire and circuit where it needed to be, the glass finish on the eye shining and flawless. He perked once there was a voice in the space, having been much too focused to notice the door opening. “H-Hey!” A hand lifted for a small wave. “How are you? Ready for uh… Having this put in?” The eye was held up for viewing.

[14:39]Raasa Charron offered an apprehensive smile. "Ehh. Nervous, if I can be honest," he said with a rueful chuckle. He made his way around the center console and stood there awkwardly. "So, uh, where d'ya want me? Sittin' again, or...?"

[14:42]Vardan Telfour gave a gesture towards the bench. "You can sit down. Do you need a minute? A erm... A drink?" That was something people offered to settle nerves, right? It was doubtful he had any alcohol in here, but he could probably get some from the staff. "It shouldn't take too long to get everything in place. The eye should attach itself; worked just fine in the trial runs at least."

[14:46]Raasa Charron fiddled with his fingers for a moment, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, then eased down on the bench. Briefly, he considered another drink - he'd had one already just now - but the way the whiskey was roiling told him that'd probably be a bad idea. He'd hate to puke it up on the kind engineer who had gone to such lengths for him. "Ah... nah. I mean, no thank ya," he amended. Drumming his fingers on his knees, he shifted slightly. "Uh... trial runs? It's been in other..." Surely not people. "Uh... other beings?" he said, all he could come up with.

[15:00]Vardan Telfour set to work pulling items from drawers and putting away tools. “The first couple prototypes I made I tested out on some cadavers.” A fact he seemed unsettled with, but he was willing to stomach just about anything for his work. “This one I tested out on a fake model of a head I was able to put together; it hasn’t actually touched another person or anything.” He stepped over, setting down  the eye on the stable upon a piece of cloth. His gloves were removed, a solution quickly rubbed over his hands to disinfect them before some fresh gloves were pulled out of a box. With those on he plucked up the eye and set to work wiping it down with that same solution. Had to make sure everything was clean and sterile. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

[15:05]Raasa Charron took a deep breath and let it out. In fact, he did that a few times. The countrybun's nervousness was readily apparent as he watched Vardan disinfect his hands and the eye itself. Well, at least /his/ eye hadn't been in any cadavers. "Thanks for, uh. Havin' th' guts to test 'em on dead bodies. Dunno if I coulda stomached that," he admitted, lips pressing together after as Vardan approached. "Okay. Alright. I'm, uh. I'm ready."

[15:18]Vardan Telfour offered a smile, a touch nervous in its own way, but it was at least an attempt at reassurance. "I had to make sure this would work." The eye was again set aside before he reached out for a clean piece of cloth and a different solution. He applied this around and partially into the eye socket, working with extreme care to try to avoid as much discomfort as possible, his motions slow in an effort not to startle or unnerve Raasa. A few apologies were muttered; he could only assume it was not a pleasant experience, but it was necessary; the area needed to be cleaned, and the ointment applied should offer a little bit of a numbing sensation to help ward off any discomfort while the eye itself was fitted into place. A tool was gathered, sterilized like everything else, and with a deep breath he set to work using it to hold the eyelids open. With care, the eye was held up aligned with Raasa’s empty eye socket, and slowly, carefully it was pushed in. There was a subtle click from within the eye itself, as if the device were coming alive, becoming aware it was being fit into a new home. It shifted, little thread like fingers unfurling from the back of the orb, feeling about until they found the optic nerve they were meant to attach to. And attach they did, latched on, needled their way in and anchored on as if they were becoming one with the flesh itself.

[15:28]Raasa Charron remained absolutely still, as if he was afraid to move. His lips parted slightly as the ointment was applied to the socket, his breath smelling faintly of whiskey from downstairs. In other words, the good stuff. He made not a sound, but his hands clenched into fists as the eye was aligned and pushed into the empty socket. It was -not- a pleasant sensation, there was pressure against the bone, then a little pop of release as it slid into place. The feeling of those tiny threads attaching to the optic nerve nearly proved too much for the anxiety-ridden rabbit; it felt like little tiny insects crawling around in the empty hole and his breath came faster, wanting desperately to jerk away, to claw at the fake eye and yank it right back out again, but instead, he forced himself to just grab the legs of his pants and squeeze tightly, his complexion a trifle greener than it was before.

[15:41]Vardan Telfour waited a beat, giving the eye time to situate itself, to get settled and fused with its new home. Gingerly he removed the instrument holding the eye open, easing back to study his work. “Blink a few times. Squeeze that eye shut once or twice. Gotta make sure it’s all fitting in right.” While he waited for Raasa to comply he pulled his gloves off, teeth worrying his lower lip. Quickly he stepped away, finding a waterskin to bring back over to Raasa. “It should take a moment to attune itself to your aether, not more than a couple minutes, assuming the simulations I ran were correct.” He sighed, the suspense and waiting already eating at him. “Then you should be able to see.”

[15:47]Raasa Charron 's jaw was tense, teeth grinding audibly as the eye and those tiny fibers picked and melded with the meat of his eye. His whole posture was stiff as a board, even his twisted and ratty ears. As instructed, he blinked once, twice, three times, the ointment sticking to his lashes. Squeezing his eyes closed a few times, he shuddered as the eye made a few last adjustments. He waited, hardly breathing at all now until he finally opened his eyes. Could he see through it? At first, no. It was still all black on that side. Then... dim light that slowly grew brighter until he could make out blurry images. "I think.... I think it's workin'," he said, with a dizzying rush of adrenaline.

[15:55]Vardan Telfour gently pushed the waterskin into one of Raasa’s hands. He watched, waited, gave a small excited nod when the viera spoke. “That’s good! It might take a little time to adjust; it has to get um… acquainted? With your other eye. Sync up and all so they work properly in tandem as they should.” He reached for a tomestone, holding it for Raasa to view; ideally with his properly working fleshy eye; as he tapped through a couple menus. A screen came up showing a read out of the mechanical eye, different percentages on the screen, different colors signifying integration and blending with the host it now rested in. Half of it likely looked like madness to anyone unfamiliar, but there Vardan was, rambling away explanation after explanation, utterly and eagerly lost in his work.

[16:01]Raasa Charron took the waterskin gratefully, taking a few long pulls from it, then handing it back. "Thanks, bud," he said, closing his eyes and wiping the ointment off of his long, dark lashes, along with the watery tears that had started to form. Tear ducts working, grand! Opening his eyes again, he stared uncomprehendingly as Varden brought up the screens and rambled on, not... really understanding a lick of it. What he was concerned with was that the images were getting less and less blurry until finally, his vision was as sharp as it ever was. "Okay. Alright. I think it's done... doin' it's thing. I can see right and proper," he said, hands relaxing on his pants finally, the fabric wrinkled from where he'd gripped at them, fingers aching from the tension.

[16:08]Vardan Telfour went quiet from his jargon laden chattering, looking up from the tomestone to Raasa. He smiled, guilty yet hopeful. “You’ll need to see an ophthalmologist to make sure everything is exactly as it should be, but if you’re able to see clearly then I think this is a success!” How exciting! He beamed, stepping back to find a clean towel to offer Raasaa so he could wipe off his face a little more if desired. “I’ll get you instructions on how to use the connected tomestone; can send you home with a mammet as well that can relay information too, if that is easier. Or a node, once I get another spare one to refurbish. Do you have a preference?”

[16:13]Raasa Charron bobbed his head. "Yeah. Yeah! I can see again!" he said, taking the towel and cleaning his face and hands off. "With both eyes! You! You, my man, are a fuckin' -genius-," he said with deep, genuine appreciation. "I owe you, we'll go do tha' salvaging whenever y'got th' time an' inclination." He pauses at 'tomestone', canting his head. "What's the tomestone do?"

[16:23]Vardan Telfour kept his smile, humble if not a little shy in the end with all the compliments. “I’m just doing my job.” To him it was just work; work he was very passionate about, but still, to be called a genius was surprising. “The tomestone helps monitor things, and controls the eyes as well, in case you need to turn it off for some reason. You can use it to apply a glamour as well; it doesn’t have any color to it, but you can set it to whatever you want to be with this. Match your other eye, or do something different for fun.” Options, in his mind, were always good to have. Again he swiped through some of the screens. “This one here shows how much of your aether it is tapping into. Currently not even one percent, which is good! Means it won’t be taxing on you to use. If we add more, um, perks to the eye, that might change, so that’s something we’ll want to keep an eye on.” The pun was not intended.

[16:29]Raasa Charron shook his head, peering about here and there, just because he could. "Nah. Y'restored somethin' t'me I didn't think I'd ever have again," he said, roving gaze finally settling on Vardan's face. "Can't rightly express how much it means t'me to be able t'see clear again. Won't have to re-learn how t'throw my axes or shoot my bow, an' THAT means I can still protect th' people I care about. Y'see? It's more than just an eye t'me. More than just a job. Thank you." Finally, he fell quiet, allowing the engineer to answer his question about the tomestone. He listened and watched closely, nodding and finally accepting the small device when it was handed to him. "I think this'll do jes fine. I'll take real good care of it," he said with a vigorous nod.

[16:37]Vardan Telfour bowed his head a little, accepting the praise with gratitude of his own. It was nice to know he had done well; had made a significant impact. It was all he had ever wanted to do. Help people, make a difference, improve lives. “Just let me know if anything seems off at any point, or if you think something might not be working how you want it to. I-I’m no alchemist, so I don’t really know what to provide exactly, but eye drops might help if things don’t feel as smooth as you want them to. All of the components should work naturally with what your ducts produce on their own though.” He tried to plan ahead, tried to account for everything, but he knew there was always room for variables he wasn’t aware of; every person and body was different after all. He allowed Raasa to take the tomestone, tapping one more icon before a prompt came up with a circle in the middle of the screen. “Press your thumb to that. It’s going to memorize your thumbprint, then do the same with your index. The tomestone won’t work for anyone but you, or myself after that. If you want to give other people access we can, for emergencies and all, but they would need to be here for that.”

[16:44]Raasa Charron continued to nod. "I'll let ya know if anythin' seems off, but it seems t'be perfect right now. Like I never lost it in th' first place. I'll talk to the eye doc if things start to get dry up there." Watching as he pressed an icon on the tomestone, he did as instructed, pressing first his thumb against it firmly, then his index finger. "Tha's handy, in case it somehow gets into th' wrong hands. Which it won't," he said firmly, a note of stony determination in his voice.

[16:51]Vardan Telfour nodded at Raasa's words. "Thought this might be a good way to make sure nothing bad can happen with the eye, at least not from the tomestone and all." He worked through a deep breath, relief clear in his posture before he set to work cleaning up the space. "I need to look through my projects list and send out some drones, but once I've done that, I can let you know when and where we can go scrap hunting, i-if you're still fine with helping with that."

[16:58]Raasa Charron tucked the tomestone carefully away in his pocket. " 'Course I am! It's /actually/ the least I can do, Vardan. You /ever/ need anythin' from me, all ya gotta do is ask." Standing up from the benchseat, he squinted, then cleared his expression again. "This is gonna take a lil gettin' used to again," he admitted. "Not verra long, prob'ly, but a day or two, mebbe." He held out his hand to shake the other man's. "Thank you, again. An' I'm serious about that. Anythin' ya need."

[17:02]Vardan Telfour allowed Raasa his space when he stood, eyeing him over as if trying to make sure all was well after how sick he'd looked before. He took the offered hand, giving it a lively shake! "You're very welcome! This was... I-I haven't been this enthused for a project for a long time, and to see it come this far." He gave a content sigh. "Thank you as well. I'm looking forward to seeing how this all works out. Once I have something new to try, I will let you know."

[17:05]Raasa Charron brightened at that. "Alright, I'll take ya up on that," he said with a laugh, clapping his other hand to the back of Vardan's and shaking firmly. "I'll, uh, leave ya be now, but yeah. Thank ya. Again," he said, with a huff of amusement, making his way toward the door, his step much livelier than it had been on the way in.

Raasa is mine, Vardan belongs to @vardantelfour!

[riverwindphotography]

Moonrise over the Mountains

© riverwindphotography, March 2022

[whiskey-sex-and-lies]

[quotemadness]

“Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable.”

— Victor Hugo

[parfum-de-la-muse]

[rowanstonephotography]

life

March 2022