faderift | [ OPEN ] I Still Feel Alive

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] I Still Feel Alive

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Catch-all
WHEN: Drakonis (but other times welcome)
WHERE: Around
NOTES: Should be pretty tame, mention of trauma will ofc be labeled with CW. Starters in the comments.

Well then.

The month of Guardian came and went like a beating: brutal and cruel and over faster than the lasting pain it inflicted. Now, it's Drakonis, and the goal is a return to something resembling normalcy.

Athessa can be found studying and taking lessons with Ser Marcus in the library or in Enchanter Julius' office, snooping around Kirkwall, and trying her best to stay out of trouble around the Gallows. Her late night hypothetical musing via crystal has all but ceased, and gone are the days of icing the floor to skate on socks.

Maybe she could do with some cheering up, or a good tussle.

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There's an argument right there at the tip of her tongue, but what about such and such? But she doesn't voice it. Instead she just shrugs and takes another drag.

"Mmkay. Plan-C will be the death then."

"If anyone will die, it will be our enemies." That's the only sensible way to approach death.

Athessa sits with that for a little bit, long enough for her smile to fade. When she speaks again, her tone is more serious, if casually delivered.

"Mine died. My enemy."

Laura's fingers dig into her knees. That can only mean one person that she knows of--only one that Athessa could expect her to know. Her gaze cutting across to Athessa, head moving not at all, she asks, "When?"

She doesn't look at Laura, her placid expression aimed somewhere towards the edge of the roof.

"About two weeks ago. Maybe three, it was just before we got sick."

Laura thinks she recognizes, somewhere in her gut, what it feels like to not look at somebody because something is bad. Athessa smells sad to her, or...something like sad. But that might as easily be the way she's curled up, or it might be the memory of killing a man and running away from the corpse leaking into the reality of this moment--she might as easily be wrong.

She is quiet for longer than perhaps she should be, studying Athessa. Eventually, she speaks, her voice soft. "Good."

"Yeah," she scoffs, resigned. "Yeah...just wish I'd been the one to do it."

Which is the conclusion she came to over her time sitting here, before Laura showed up.

"Who did?" I wish I had comes to her, but only because the idea of Athessa killing people sits wrong for her. Athessa is good; she is funny and kind to others and her hair always strikes Laura as gentle in the way it curls around her face. Even if she's a part of Riftwatch, there are things she shouldn't have to do.

Though Laura can hardly blame her for wanting it. I wish I had. I would kill all of them.

On the one hand, the gesture makes her feel like she matters. That she's important, if only to a select few. On the other hand, it makes her feel powerless, like she's useless without someone else to get their hands dirty. And on another hand entirely, she feels robbed.

"Deimos," oh, but she wouldn't know that name. "The Sten. Made it look like a burglary, I guess. He...did it for me." As if saying it out loud might make her feel better about it.

What is a sten? she wants to ask, but Athessa has already had to provide explanation regarding whoever Deimos is. Demanding further clarification would be unhelpful.

"That was generous of him." It seems like the only right thing to do for Athessa. But the way her mouth pulls, like she's trying to smile but forgot what it feels like, gives Laura pause. "Are you sad about it?"

"I dunno. Not really," She takes in another lungful of smoke, to think about how to put into words what she doesn't quite understand, herself. "I...didn't want this to become someone else's problem."

Laura's silent for a long time, thinking about that. It was already someone else's problem by the virtue of others knowing it; when friends are hurt, she's discovered, something in oneself hurts, too. Not in the same way, but in a way. But perhaps Athessa had wanted it all to stay inside her, which Laura can hardly fault. She'd want that, too--she did want that. Does, outside Athessa.

"What should have happened?" she finally asks.

What indeed. Perhaps at the heart of it, Devigny should have never existed. Or should have never come back. Should have never hurt another girl. There's a lot of things that should be that aren't and never will.

"I...should have gone in alone, waited for him to get back, and..." Her expression takes on one of disgust and hatred, as if she's looking down at him and not at the edge of the roof. "...drown him in his own wine while he slept." A taste of his own medicine.

"People struggle when you drown them," Laura observes quietly, because she doesn't know what else to say. Athessa wishes she could have done this thing; it wouldn't help to be glad she didn't have to, would it? Even if she is glad of that--and she is, especially if it would mean Athessa was alone in his home with him--Laura doesn't think she would want to hear that. "But waiting until he was asleep would be right. You could use the wine bottle."

Athessa shakes her head and takes another drag on the joint, hating the tremor in her fingers almost as much as she hates imagining what might've happened if she actually did get the chance to confront Devigny. It's all well and fine to think she could have killed him, but what if she couldn't? What if she froze, or if he got to her first? Just hearing his name was enough to make her panic, as Byerly witnessed.

"I wish I could've ruined something for him the way he ruined...so much for me."

She's not sure how to take Athessa's response--usually, Athessa says things when she's answering someone else who's spoken. She doesn't shake her head. Or her hands, for that matter. This isn't the Athessa Laura's accustomed to--she even smells slightly different--and there's something unnerving about it.

But Athessa's her friend, and Matthias' friend, and Derrica's more-than-a-friend. Laura want to help, if she can, now that she's too late to help with Devigny.

"You are the reason he isn't breathing." Even if she didn't wrap her hands around his neck. "You are still the person who ruined him."

She grimaces, an attempt at a smile that just doesn't quite stick.

"Then why does it feel like I failed?"

"I do not know," Laura admits, her head drooping. None of this is familiar territory; it feels like its own kind of failure. This is a problem I wouldn't be able to understand in myself, let alone inside you. I don't know how to do that. Her arms itch with it.

"Oh, Lo, I'm sorry," She doesn't expect Laura to know why, or have answers for her, or to give her advice--but without saying so, how's Laura supposed to know that? Athessa swipes at one eye with the heel of her hand, trying to get rid of any tears welling there before they have the chance to fall. "I don't...you don't need to have any answers for me, I just...have to say the things out-loud sometimes."

Oh. But it doesn't feel like enough, not knowing. Not when Athessa is crying, or nearly crying--not when she smells like saltwater closer and less fetid than the waves rolling along below them. Laura wants to have an answer for her, the way others have had when she's struggled.

"You had a mission and an objective." It's quiet, uncertain. Laura's unused to thinking aloud, and for all she organizes the world along these lines, she doesn't tend to use them with others. "The mission was to stop him. The objective was to kill him. You thought you had to fulfill the objective, and someone else did. But the objective--the objective...it was more than one objective. Find him. Kill him. The mission fails if you do not complete the first objective. You are the reason the mission succeeded. You will feel better when you look at both objectives."

It comes out faster and faster as she figures it out, though there's no guarantee it'll mean anything to Athessa. After all, it still doesn't actually solve the problem of why couldn't I kill him?--but it would make Laura feel better, which, frankly, means it's the best she's got in the way of comfort.

But I wasn't even the one who found him, she thinks, and bites her lip to stop herself from saying so.

"I'll try," It's all she can say without disagreeing, or outright lying. "I...I'm glad he's dead."

Laura isn't sure if she's helped or hurt Athessa; her response only makes her doubt. But she thinks she's probably supposed to be able to tell without asking. (Has she ever seen someone ask something similar, have I said the right thing? She can't think of an occasion it's happened.) So she sticks with what seems safesst. "So am I."

Athessa rubs her nose on her sleeve, mostly to warm it up than to wipe away any snot--because she's not crying and takes a deep breath.

Recentered, she glances sidelong at Laura.

"Have you um. Been practicing those braids? On Matty?"

"Yes." This is Athessa's way of saying I do not want to talk about murdering a rapist anymore, and Laura wants to respect that. She rests her chin on her forearms, so she's curled up like a stone. "He is patient. I think he likes that I am touching his hair, even if he does not like the braids."

She hums thoughtfully, and nods, but doesn't have much to say. The usual fare, that's good or he'll get used to it, just sounds...lame.

"What's not to like about them," she finally asks with a shrug. They're just braids.

[ OPEN ] I Still Feel Alive

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