Entry tags:
[closed] it's not the long walk home that will change this heart
WHO: Cade, Nari, a healer at the end (Sam?)
WHAT: a camping trip turned awkward family reunion
WHEN: sometime in Guardian w/e
WHERE: the easternmost edge of the Planasene forest
NOTES: warning for violence, discussion of self-harm and sexual abuse of a child
WHAT: a camping trip turned awkward family reunion
WHEN: sometime in Guardian w/e
WHERE: the easternmost edge of the Planasene forest
NOTES: warning for violence, discussion of self-harm and sexual abuse of a child
Between the flu, the fire, and Kit's passing, things have been rough lately. One of the few boons of Cade's excommunication from the Templars has been an abundance of freedom, with which, until recently, he had no idea what to do.
But sometimes one just needs to get out of the city. Not on a special mission or anything serious, just a little hunting trip, a pocket of time spent in the quiet isolation of nature. It's the one thing he missed from his time in the Hinterlands, and perhaps it's time to do it again.
Nari is invited, for her particular losses, and for her help throughout the flu. She looked out for him, and he's worried what she might do if left alone in the wake of her grief. Perhaps it's best if they both remove themselves for a while.
In separate tents, of course.
It's on the edge of the Planasene where they finally make a less temporary camp, setting up to stay for a few days by a small creek in a grove well-insulated from the still sharp winter winds. It's early morning, and the horses are lazing tethered to a tree, content to spend the day eating grass and rolling in whatever dust is nearby.
Cade is preparing for the day, sitting by the fire and sharpening his arrows, waiting for Nari to join him so they can cast out.

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A flash of memory: there had been a froth then. Thick, white, flecked with pink. Check for it.
Nothing. But he wasn't there, either. What else. What else.
Nari combs through her memory feverishly, finding blank after blank, and ending with... nothing. A numb, blank, clear nothing. It will pass or it won't. It's the end-stage of one of Sedi's concoctions or it isn't. At a loss, she finally reaches out a slow and surprisingly steady hand to cover one of his. If he was dying, he wouldn't do it alone.
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"Sorry," he says quickly, because he has no explanation, and can tell Nari is frightened.
cw: sexual assault
Nahariel, he'd said with gravity, your sister got hurt during the attack. Not by fire, or blade, but by a man who made his body a weapon. He took something from her with force and hatred that is meant to be given with joy and love, and he took away her choice to give it. It was a terrible thing that left a wound on her spirit where it cannot be seen, and sometimes, when she is touched, her body will remember that wound. It may be that it will scar, and that someday it will not hurt this way, but it may be that her body will always remember.
She'd hugged him then, fierce and angry and tearful, only half understanding what had been done, but understanding now that like so many of the others, like Shora and her leg, like Leanos and his voice, Ilriane would be forever changed.
When she was older, she understood it all.
And now... this. Him. The too-tense shudder of his body, his reaction to her hand on his, his return from wherever it was he'd been made a horrible sense.
He apologizes—for scaring her, presumably—but it isn't fear in her eyes anymore. “Oh,” Nari breathes, hand rising to cover her mouth, “Cade.”
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He hates that she's looking at him like that, and feels a surge of irrational anger that has nowhere to go. He stares at the ground instead, folding his arms tightly over his chest and willing Nari to go away.
Even if he... doesn't really want her to.
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The only thing that doesn’t have chaotic echoes that make her muscles tense and hard is knowing that it’s her turn to say it now; and she does, trying to force the battle out of her eyes and leave only some kind of reassurance.
“You don’t have to.”
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He lowers his head, pushing his hair up out of his face and sitting there curled, ignoring the pain in his arrow wounds. He can't exactly get up and leave; paralyzed by the moment, he just prays for it to end.
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“Try to get some more sleep, if you can,” she says, and is gone.