westwhere | a ray of light shone in my darkness

[The shock of discovery fades into crushing relief. Eleven sways with it, footsteps faltering as his chest swells, as it tightens his throat and catches in his breath. He veers away from the clean, warmer rooms they've fixed up in favor of an undisturbed space.

He trembles through delayed exhaustion, leans back against a wall only to slowly slump down the height of it. Hands clasped tightly together between knees and chest while his heart pounds a rapid rhythm beneath his fingers, through the unstained fabric of his coat and undershirt.

The tears come on the cusp of such relief, in heavy, wet breaths alongside the stinging twinge of fear that emerges in the wake of holding something fragile]

He knows it's a mistake the second after he makes it, shifting to defend his core rather than spin out of the way of the oncoming blow, and it costs him.

Eleven lands hard on the ground, startled to breathlessness in shallow wheezes. Hunched over on the ground, his free hand forms a fist in the center of his chest.

"..Sorry," he manages, feeling monumentally foolish. Of all things, he'd panicked. He should know better. Even so, his fingers take conscious effort to unfurl. "Didn't.. mean to.. do that."

It was their turn to take watch for the night. Eleven dressed in his warmest clothes and settled his back against Hendrik's; relaxed, but ready to bring a sword swiftly to bear should it become necessary.

Not more than a few minutes into the quiet evening, he found a swift distaste for it. The voices whispering in the woods, calling to them, pleading for false aid, and managing to sound like every soul that had fallen with Yggdrasil.

They would be there for hours.

He swallowed and wracked his brain for something to occupy them with.

"..Cobblestone," he landed on finally, "I don't think that I ever- ever properly thanked you for saving them."

Archeval tries not to lean on the Force too much in their sparring matches, considering the whole point is to practice pure saber techniques rather than beat up his opponent, but sometimes reflexes and the way he's using his powers to hold up the metal blade get the better of him. He's looking startled, chagrined and perhaps a little worried right now as he lets the tip of Eleven's borrowed sword drop, not having meant to put so much power behind that strike -- it... it was him, right? He knocked over Eleven on accident from failing to hold back? That's the only thing that makes sense, anyway, normally El is more than match enough for Arche's own half-improvised technique when they're purely sparring...

He shifts his grip on the sword as he hurries over to the other's side.

"Did I-- get you in the chest...?" He's frowning down at the other young man for a moment, propping the tip of the sword against the ground as he bends to offer El a hand up. He's gotten a lot freer with this particular gesture lately.

"Don't know what you're apologizing for, things happen in a spar, just-- Are you injured?"

"No," Eleven assures, accepting the hand up and steadying himself. "It's my fault. I thought- it was.. stupid."

A waste of Archeval's worry, really. He knows what happened: that tiny, flickering light had sensed darkness, and perceiving threat, Eleven recoiled to protect it. He glances off, chagrined.

"..You should actually probably try to attack me here. I can't risk that becoming a habit."

"I should try to... what do you mean?" Arche's frown just deepens as he glances El up and down, hand on his hip, trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Are you saying I should go for the chest? Is that--"

For a second, he hesitates. If it were him, he wouldn't want somebody prying into something like this, but. Eleven's all but gone and brought it up himself--

"Are you talking about... the spot with the scar...? I haven't ever noticed you favor it before."

He colored, but neither did explaining the alternative to a person he considered a hard-won friend hold much appeal.

"Yes." He shifted. "And I haven't, or shouldn't. I'd never thought of it, before. But the power I thought I'd lost.. I found there's something there, now."

Wei Wuxian is not well versed in certain kinds of easy interactions at this age, but he's been learning his way back toward them, courtesy of his rediscovered son and his nephew, so greatly wronged by the world. Which doesn't make him less awkward in the catacombs of his own mind when he finds Eleven in the wake of the burning, as the susurrations of wind through frozen limbs of nearby trees carries over their mutual silences.

Or the silence that falls when whatever prayers it is Eleven puts out into the world find a trailing end.

Grief over situations one could do nothing about is something he's familiar with, and pragmatic about these days; the personal griefs are ones he's still slowly dealing with, instead of shoving off to never examine again. It didn't, however, make him any good at offering solace to others, but it has reminded him there's importance in trying.

So when he does find Eleven as the funeral has wound down, he slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in for a side hug, partly to leave the young man easy room for escape.

"How are you holding up, ah?"

The gesture is an unexpectedly welcome one, and he lingers in it through the dull grief and hollowed uselessness that aches through both mind and soul.

"I'm okay," is the one lie Eleven finds himself making repeatedly, habitually, and he grimaces the moment it leaves his mouth. He's found it's what people need to hear when their own hope hangs by that very fragile thread, but Wei Wuxian is not a frightened Erdrean in need of an unflinching hero to believe in.

"..Not really," he admits after a moment, letting loose a sigh and relaxing into the partial hold. He's too worn to care if it seems childish to accept comfort; he needs it more than he'd known.

"I'd just.. really hoped we could help them. I hope they weren't frightened or in pain for long. I hope their souls have somewhere to rest."

He swallows, somber eyes lowering from the makeshift pyre to the frozen earth. "Then I wonder if my wishes or prayers mean anything, here."

Edited (tense consistency) 2021-05-23 07:57 (UTC)

Sizhui is upset by what has been revealed, but he is way too used to having other juniors around him to lose himself to it. Rather, he keeps an eye on the rather shocked younger boy and, once they are outside, stops.

Tears are streaming down his own face, but he ignores them to step in front of Eleven.

"Come. I'll make us some warm tea."

This ... all of this leaves one cold from the inside. Tea doesn't solve anything, and, yet.

".....what, your... goddess?"

What is it that Eleven called it again? The 'spirit of the Luminary'? Hm. Apparently Archeval heard the word without properly registering it, at the time. He hadn't expected to find out that Eleven's life is, apparently, very much defined by it. He'd like to say something about the Force inside El having recovered from the previous attack against him, but Arche has become painfully aware lately that his own theories about where they are, and where all these people and their powers come from, may not be an adequate explanation for things--...

"...I thought you said you had that literally ripped out of you."

He scratches his chin for a moment with a thoughtful hum, trying to figure out what to make of this information.

"How did it -- get there? Did you do something? Or if something happened around here--..." He definitely doesn't trust any of the prevailing supernatural powers of this area, okay.

"..It was," he confirmed, fingers alighting to that spot once more. "I'm not sure what happened, but when Xie Lian tried to- er.."

Eleven flushed. "..Well, I'd offered to try and lend him my magic, but when he tried, I felt.." He glanced down, shifting, feeling it out again.

"It's very weak, but maybe with time and nurture, it might strengthen."

"When who tried to what?" A squint from the Sith Lord. He did offer to the Merchant to catalogue the capabilities of all the newcomers, after all, and it's very relevant to his own interests as well; might as well try to get the specifics. The redness of El's face does not go unnoticed, but rosy cheeks are a pretty common sight on humans after exertion out in the cold, and -- sorry, Eleven, you made friends with somebody who only barely knows how to do feelings.

"You lent your power to this person for some reason, though, and then what, you just... hadn't reached that far inside yourself of late? To not have noticed?..."

He cocks his head to one side with a curious glance.

"--only stands to reason, though, I should think. Something you were literally born with, a part of who you are, surely shouldn't be so simple to just rip away."

He doesn't know anything about how this whole Yggdrasil business actually works, of course, but -- it comes as no real surprise to Arche even so. From the moment he could first feel Eleven in the Force, the light bursting out of him was impossible to miss. Then again...Arche had rather felt the same way even before getting his powers back, so perhaps that's just his own bias talking.

Edited 2021-05-23 19:06 (UTC)

Eleven is shaken, but he's had time enough to regain himself that the clammy trembling and dizziness had mostly abated. His hands are still unsteady and his strength questionable, but he's no longer fighting the urge to be ill.

If Sizhui were a friend he'd known, he may well have hugged him. The man's voice remains admirably steady despite the tears running down his face. But they aren't friends- yet- and so he can't know how the gesture would be received. What he does know is that he doesn't want to be alone, not with half-panicked thoughts and doubts still plaguing him.

"Yes," he agrees without hesitation, swallowing heavily. "That sounds nice, thank you."

Eleven sweeps a hand through a gesture indicating that he'll follow wherever Sizhui wants to lead. "..I'm sorry I wasn't much help, after."

All he'd been able to do was offer apologies and quietly try to reassure through his own uncertainty.

"I'm grateful you were there."

"Xie Lian," he attempts to clarify, gesturing.. very vaguely. "He's a... a God in his world."

Eleven clears his throat. "And I think, there's magic I had tied to this power that I haven't been able to use- that I still can't- and so I think, if Xie Lian hadn't tried to borrow my power, that I wouldn't have noticed there was anything there for some time, until I could use it again."

But even with how delicate and fragile that spirit feels, he can't help but be grateful it's there. To take heart in the thought that there might be real hope for Erdrea still, after all.

"I guess it makes sense, when you put it that way." He'd just remembered seeing it, watching it shatter in Mordegon's hand, convinced it was gone for a certainty. "I do need to protect it, but not like this."

Archeval gives a long, thoughtful hum, and finally...

"Well. What have some of us been saying, hm?" He casts Eleven a dry look.

"You haven't failed yet, now have you?" His gaze and voice soften a little, however, as he glances away down toward the sword he's propped up against the floor, his thumb rubbing idly up and down the hilt. "You're just in the middle of finding the solution. Of course, in the middle, it always looks like everyone's going to die and everything's irreversibly gone to shit... until it doesn't. At least, in my own experience."

The words are murmured out with a low, irreverent, almost fond sort of humor, and he lifts the sword then to toss it idly in his hand a little. He's certainly seen El summon some impressive displays of power before, and the idea of all that being only the tip of the iceberg... well. Fortunate for the refugees, if anything. They can all certainly use all the help they can get.

"What did this so-called 'god' need your power for, hm?" He's not going to even bother to pretend he puts any stock in that hilarious idea, but if this Xie Lian has any harmful designs on their local hero, the local Dark Lord might have a thing or two to say about it.

Eleven huffs a brief laugh, recalling that assurance. He'd promised himself to try no matter that he'd lost his power, but with it, now, the possibility that all isn't lost feels brighter.

"Ah, well- he was going to conjure up a distraction as a way to possibly save the miners, but didn't have enough energy to do it on his own, so.."

He grimaced. "Though I had to withdraw my offer. If I'm trying to regain energy, I don't think I can afford to lend it."

"Ah." He gives a thoughtful hum. "Involved with Wei Wuxian's plan, then. I see."

Interesting that a 'god' would need to borrow power from anyone at all, of course, but he's not surprised his quite credulous friend decided to take the words at face value.

"Withdrew, though? I thought you said you'd already let him do something to you. Did he get a part of it? What exactly went down here?"

Arche squints over at Eleven, feeling as though he must be missing something. Or perhaps that's a premonition of the Force niggling at him to dig deeper? He doesn't know a thing about this Xie Lian, after all; it somehow seems like there must be some crucial fact being left out here.

Edited 2021-05-23 20:36 (UTC)

Eleven glanced off with an embarassed sort of smile.

"We- it just.. we had to try, first, since we couldn't be sure if my magic would be compatible or even enough if it was. I don't have as much power as you do, after all. So he did pull some of it, in that. But for the actual distraction, I hope he'll have found someone else."

He'd thought of Archeval first when Wei Wuxian asked, but in retrospect, he's glad he'd never actually asked him, considering the method of extraction.

Another frown from Archeval, then, as his own thoughts go in a similar direction.

"...and you didn't mention it to me? I don't hand out power to just any charlatan, but I certainly have more to spare than many, and technique enough to safely give and take."

Apparently he's just not going to leave well enough alone, too bad for Eleven. The embarrassment and discomfort in the look on El's face, though, and the feelings drifting around him, are becoming an increasing source of confusion.

Edited 2021-05-23 20:56 (UTC)

The embarassed tint of color turns full force and Eleven's face turns several shades darker as he flusters.

"Ah, no, you probably don't- don't want to do that, I think. It's uh, he has to.."

Goddess, his ears are burning at just the thought over again. Deep breath. "He ah, pulls power through a- a kiss, so.."

What. He pauses and squints at El for a long several moments before finally uttering, deadpan:

"Are you entirely sure you didn't just get taken in by a garden-variety pervert?"

Eleven sputters.

"No! I mean, yes. We'd met and spoken at length before and it's not- I didn't know until-"

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Anyway, he's very beautiful so I didn't really mind that much.."

"I see, I see."

There's a couple seconds' pause before, somehow even more deadpan than before:

"Just wanted to keep him to yourself then, hm?"

(Of course he's not enjoying this, shh.)

Eleven slaps a hand to his face, making a sound somewhere between a cough and a pitiful groan. His skin feels hot and he's sure he must resemble the beets they're growing.

"No. I just thought you wouldn't want to.."

Slowly, his fingers slide down off his face, recognizing at last that Archeval is just messing with him. He gets a half-hearted glare for his effort.

"Goddess, you're awful."

a ray of light shone in my darkness

Alina

Archeval

Hendrik

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after the conversation with the miners

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