faderift | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Cyril and OPEN
WHAT: The first time that Cyril has opened his stall for a long time but he seems distracted rather than engaging others the way he usually does.
WHEN: A week or so after Sina's death
WHERE: The Gallows - Specifically Cyril's stall at the Gallows.
NOTES: This might eventually result in some discussions of grief and parental death. Close CR might get him to talk a bit about what happened in Pel's nightmare too so all of those warnings may apply.

It has been nearly a month since Cyril has been at his stall. First business with the Inquisition had pulled him away, then a shortage of supplies, then Sina's death and everything surrounding it. Finally, though, he has some wares out to be bought by any who are interested.

There are some basic traps, spring loaded traps, and then, as always, his puzzle boxes. The different items are organized carefully on the table and displayed for any who happen by. Usually, Cyril would be playing with one of the boxes to show how they work, or engaging with those who paused at the stall.

Now, though, he focuses on a sketch he's working on. When someone comes by he smiles at them, and offers pleasant conversation, but rather than being his usually vibrant self he seems a bit withdrawn. He sits by the stall and works on drawing the shape of a woman's face.

If anyone manages to catch what he's working on, they may notice that she resembles him. Or rather, that he resembles her. He had inherited most of his looks from her after all.

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"Ah."

He had not forgotten about that, but it had been so long ago it hadn't come to mind when Cyril mentioned weird water. As Cyril leaned closer, Sam allowed his arm to wrap around the other's shoulders.

"Hm. Well, even if you had believed it, I don't think you could have done anything. Those black figures were on the opposite side of the Veil, all they could do was follow and make noise, the water somehow thinned it enough for that. A lot of people were being followed around, not just Pel. Kirk noticed Fortitude hanging around me when that happened."

"But Fortitude is a good spirit. He protects you, enables you to heal. Isn't that right?" Cyril asked, looking up at Sam. He wasn't exactly sure how all of this worked, but he knew that Fortitude was something good that had come from the Fade.

It wasn't all terrifying visions.

"It is one of the benevolent spirits, yes. Fortitude doesn't enable me to heal though, it allows me to heal better and perform certain spells that would otherwise be more difficult for me." He smiled slightly as he explained.

"I made a contract with it. As long as I up hold it's ideals, it will help me with magic and provide protection. The benefits are worth it if you can make it through everything."

Cyril nods, taking that in. "Yes. That's good to remember, that not everything in the Fade is... terrible." He sighs and then moves to take Sam's hand.

"I'm going to tell you everything I saw... But you need to know that it's disturbing and terrible and you can tell me to stop at any time."

Sam takes a moment to readjust Cyril's grip so that their fingers are linked together.

"I'll listen to the end. What did you see?"

Cyril takes a moment to enjoy their fingers together. Then he takes a deep breath and starts.

"At first, I was alone. Then I saw myself. The demon had cut open my body, hollowed it out, and sewn it back together. It - he - I - it had this smile stitched into its face and the demon controlled it like a puppet. It... kept talking to me. Telling me how empty it felt, how desperately it needed others to fill it up. I... I was totally frozen. I couldn't see past the grotesque image. I probably would have been defeated then, if Sina hadn't appeared to urge me to fight."

As Cyril explains, Sam cannot help the slight shiver that runs down his body, the kind you get when you feel something crawling on you. He's not sure what he's picturing is tamer or worse then what Cyril was describing, but no matter what it wasn't a pretty picture.

"I'm glad she did. That..." Was terribly disturbing. It was one thing seeing a demon when it came through a rift, but meeting it in its own realm...? "You fought it then, I take it?"

Cyril nodded and then steadied his breath again. He looked away from Sam for a moment, glancing toward the wall of the room.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to get that creature out of my head. I keep hearing it's voice, my voice, but twisted and empty."

He found his vision blurring a bit, and blinked a couple of times. He didn't know how to process that. He hadn't even had the urge to cry since his mother had died, he didn't even realize that tears were building in his eyes. They didn't fall, but they were there, waiting.

"You don't think I'm empty, do you?"

Sam hums in response to Cyril's first comment about hearing the voice, neither agreeing or disagreeing on that, but certainly understanding that feeling. After all there were still things he couldn't let go, forget.

"What?" The question takes him a little off guard, though he supposes he should have expected it. "No. I don't. If anything I know you keep a lot of stuff bottled up and don't talk openly about certain things, but... everyone does that. You're anything but empty though."

"Are you sure?" Cyril asks. He bites his lip, nibbling a bit against it. "You don't think I'm shallow and..." He sighs a bit and then rubs his head. "Maybe it was right about some things, yeah? Maybe I do seek to have things... fill me up."

Seeing where Cyril's thoughts were going, bothered by how much a demon's words were getting to him, Sam puts down his cup and reaches over with his now free hand. His fingers cup around Cyril's chin gently, but firmly, so that he can lift his gaze so that he was looking at him when he talked.

"I. Am. Sure. You care deeply and are loyal to the ones close to you. You don't help others just for personal gain. You went into a realm you had no prior experience in to save Pel. Perhaps a little insatiable at times... but you are not empty. And you are not shallow."

Cyril doesn't fight Sam as he touches him and moves his face. He looks up at Sam and meets his gaze. He listens to the words that Sam says and finds himself distantly distracted by how comforting it is to have Sam with him, to be able to look at Sam's face and listen to him speak.

After a moment he takes a breath and nods. "Thank you, love," he says softly.

The stern look on his face only breaks briefly at seeing Cyril seeming to actually accept his words and call him 'love'. He doesn't release Cyril's face just yet, though his grip changes so that it is cupping the side of his face, cheek in palm, in a more comforting position.

"Demons will always try to find something, a chink in the armor so to say, to get to you. Anything that will make you doubt. Sometimes promise you things. You cannot let them do that. It's... hard, I know."

Cyril tilts his head into the touch, seeking out the comfort offered there.

"Does that mean that I'm possessed? I mean, if I let it get to me. Could it be tainting my mind?" He realizes just how little he knows of demons. Given how many of the people he loves are mages he should probably learn more.

Cyril certainly knew how to ask the loaded questions.

"No, that doesn't mean you are possessed, love. And you aren't tainted. In this particular case I believe it was only trying to deter you from helping Pel, didn't want you giving her strength to break it's hold. But you fought it off. Having lingering doubts isn't unusual after dealing with a demon though, they do play with the mind. Even if you cannot get rid of the doubt, you should never give into it, that's what they want."

Cyril takes a deep breath then, and forces his body to feel more steady. "'Be strong, don't give in' seems like pretty good advise all around," he comments after a moment.

Sam gives a small hum and smile. "It is, but I'll admit, it's not always easy. But it does help if you have someone to lean on." His smiles a bit more, bowing down some so that their gazes were more even. "I might not always be able to understand, but I'll always listen."

"I will always feel the same for you, Sam," he points out. "I want to be there for you too. We can be there for each other."

"Appreciated. I suppose I don't talk about... 'mage stuff' often with you, which I should try to be better at. But we can cross that when the time comes... At this particular time it's all about you." Loosening his hold just a bit, he lightly rubs the sides of Cyril's cheeks, barely brushing the bottom of his ears. "Feeling any better?"

Cyril hums at the touch to his ears. They were sensitive and that slight brush made his entire body tingle.

"Much," he says gently. "You do that to me."

Sam grins slightly at Cyril's reaction, using what he knew about his ear sensitivity to help calm him some; keeping the contact brief, not pushing it further. Least not at this time.

"Glad to hear. If you're ever feeling like this, you can always come to me."

"I know," Cyril admitted. He took a deep breath. "It's getting easier to come to you because I know that you'll be there for me no matter what."

"Good to hear that it's becoming easier. I'd be worried if it wasn't. In any case, I'm sorry you had to go through something like that. It's never... pleasant."

"I'm sorry you've had to go through something like that too," Cyril responded, frowning a bit. Then, after a moment, "Why are demons even a thing?" He knows it's a flippant question, but he is trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation.

Sam can appreciate a bit of levity, considering he does it so much himself.

"From what I was taught spirits were the Maker's first children. When he created his second children, us, some spirits grew angry and jealous, transforming themselves into what we call demons. That's why they want to enter this realm, find a host."