open | with the sound of my heart

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!!
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later
WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows
NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here

Comments

[murderbaby]

"Do you know what makes me feel better?" Carefully, he pats her back, trying to warm them both. And then, of course, he recites a poem:

"Securely, after days
Unnumbered, I behold
Kings mourn that promised praise
Their cheating bards foretold.

Of earth-constructing Wars,
Of Princes passed in chains,
Of deeds out-shining stars,
No word or voice remains.

A smoke of sacrifice;
A chosen myrtle-wreath;
An harlot’s altered eyes;
A rage ‘gainst love or death;

Endure while Empires fall
And Gods for Gods make room...
Which greater God than all
Imposed the amazing doom?"

[sulahnan]

Athessa listens, trying to parse some meaning but only ultimately able to appreciate the cadence of the words, the sounds of them.

"It sounds nice," she says, to that effect. "But...I'm not sure I understand it."

[murderbaby]

"It's about... time passing, and what is remembered. When empires fall, and histories burn... people continue to live. Living is in itself worthwhile; it's self justifying." Something he tries to remind himself of, more and more often. "Or that's the meaning I choose to take, anyway."

[sulahnan]

She hums, thoughtful. "It's a good meaning."

She wishes she felt it. It's easy to tell someone else that living is worthwhile, that just being is enough. But turn it around and it's not so easy to tell herself the same thing.

After a few beats of silence, Athessa asks what she had assumed Mhavos would tell her, if he ever cared to.

"What happened to your mother?"

[murderbaby]

"Oh," Mhavos says, quietly surprised by the question, but not enough to really feel anything about it. He hasn't in decades. "She died in a purge with my father. I wasn't raised in an Alienage. A merchant found me and wrote up a service contract."

[sulahnan]

"How old were you?"

She doesn't even know who his parents were and she feels the loss. It takes effort for her not to feel things, even for people she doesn't know.

[murderbaby]

"Four," he says without weight or feeling. "And I was twenty-four when my contract was ripped up, making... two decades."

[sulahnan]

If you pause the video you can pinpoint the exact moment that Athessa's heart rips in half.

"It feels silly to say I'm sorry," she murmurs. It's true, too. What do you say to someone who has just revealed that they've only known a life of servitude? "Or to wish things had been different. It's not like we can change it now. But...you deserved better than that. Still do."

Another sniffle. "So...you were raised, what...by a master?"

That leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, just saying it. Gross.

[murderbaby]

"I didn't," he says, but doesn't dwell on it. Things are the way they are. He can't mourn it; the existence of the very world, its structure and rubric, cannot be mourned.

"A merchant family found me and needed someone to entertain and care for their young children. I learned to read by attending their lessons, which gave me more value, when my contract was sold to a noble house. And from thereon I worked to make myself more and more valuable."

[sulahnan]

She won't pity him. She won't do that to him. But she will clench her fist into the edge of the jacket draped over them and seethe for the injustice of expecting a child to care for other children, and likely suffer for any mistakes. For the injustice of making someone feel like they're only worth what someone will pay for them, their only value that of a contract in some human's hand.

"Is a clerk that valuable to them?"

[murderbaby]

"An elven clerk whose contract can be bought? Yes. Those need only be paid in food and lodging." A vague gesture of the hand, and so on. "I kept studying in my spare time, learned more ways to be useful, and things went on from there."

It's so easy to skip over the part where, once, his master called him to his room, and Mhavos, full of fear, was actually relieved when the matter only pertained to learning how to kill. The memory sits deep in his mind, not forgotten, but largely dormant.

[sulahnan]

Athessa is quiet, mulling over what Mhavos is saying, feeling indignant on his behalf for something bygone. She doesn't know what to say, if she should say anything at all, so she simply takes in more rootsmoke and offers him the joint in turn.

Maybe he'll keep talking. That would be better than anything she might say, surely. She puffs out a couple of smoke rings, then breathes out the rest into the shapes, ruining them.