hh_mirror | Unfortunate Truth

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Unfortunate Truth

((Closed thread for now, Vanyel and Tylendel.))

Freshly sorted, and with a relieved sens of freedom, Tylendel left the sorting room hand in hand with Vanyel, casting his first glances around the castle proper.

"Gods, Vanyel," he breathed, taking it all in. "It's like nothing I've ever seen! This place is... it's like the magic in stories we heard as children!" He gazed at Vanyel, a childlike amazement in his eyes. "Imagine, ashke, we live here now! Together!"

He ran to the balcony to watch the moving staircases and the other students, noticing the ghosts and the paintings, everything mystified him.

"Where are the dormitories, could you take me there?"

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He gaped at the common room a moment, pleasantly surprised. The red and gold decorations made the room sumptuous, and it was far more glamorous than anything the Collegium had offered. Even the full Heralds' rooms hadn't been this beautiful!

"It's lovely here, Van," he murmured, turning to follow Vanyel into his room. "I'm impressed!"

He smiled. "I suppose it is," he said, taking a seat in a cushioned chair he'd purloined. The pained look was leaving his face as he caught his breath.

"Now, I have to ask you a favour. Can you shield this room like the workrooms at home?" He watched Tylendel carefully.

He looked around. The room wasn't too big, so he could manage it. Though why was confusing.
"Of course, would you like me to now?"

"Yes," he said. "As heavily as you can." Vanyel was glad Tylendel wasn't asking him why. His reasoning was double purposed. If Tylendel shielded the place, he was likely to do less damage, if he snapped. As well, doing something like that might exhaust his magic for a time, again making things easier when he told Tylendel the truth.

"All right, then, as my beloved commands!" he bowed theatrically, winking at Vanyel before standing in the center of the room, concentrating on spreading the shield to encompass the entire room, the strongest he had ever made. He centered it and set it, and finally rested it in its place. Smiling at his handiwork, he sat on one of the chairs opposite Vanyel.

"Now, ashke, what is it that you need to tell me?"

He sighed. "I don't want to, Lendel," he said softly. "But I'm afraid I'd better. Best you hear from me."

He scrubbed at his face with his fists for a moment. "What's the last thing you remember, before you came here, 'Lendel?" he asked.

He sat back, looking uneasily at Vanyel. This is the unease he had been sitting on the whole night, and it was finally coming to light. It frightened him.

"The last thing I remember... I think it was... I was talking to Savil. She was very unhappy, and very concerned, but I don't think you were there. She was telling me something about Staven, and..."

his head was hurting again, that strange buzzing in the back of his skull building up again.

"and after that, I don't know..."

"C'mere," he said holding a hand out. "You can sit in my arms while we talk, if you want."

He sighed. "This won't be pleasant, 'Lendel. Not if you went the truth."

He stood blearily and climbed against Vanyel, resting his head on his shoulder.
"It already isn't pleasant," he groaned. "Van, what happened, what's wrong with my head?"

"Less pleasant, then," he said, wrapping his arms around Tylendel. "It started in the grove, 'Lendel. You were telling me about Staven, and your childhood," he said, taking nice, deep even breaths.

Vabyel was trying very hard not to be upset by these memories, because they were only a little less painful for him than they were for Tylendel.

"Staven," he murmured, "there's something wrong." He remembered the grove, the deep, green peace of the place. Gala warm behind him, Vanyel in his arms.

"He's gone, Lendel," Vanyel said softly. "Ambush." He waited, waiting for the storm to begin.

Oh.

Oh, Staven.

"N...no," he remembered now. The sick heat in the pit of his stomach, he felt it. He felt it when Staven died.
"Van," he moaned, "Van, they killed him, I have to get them back, they killed Staven..."
He'd done this before, a detached, cool part of him remembered. He'd felt this before. But Staven, oh, his Staven, the other part of him was gone.

His shields began to shiver, various knick-knacks around the room began to tremble.

"Tylendel!" Van said loudly. "Stop it," he said in a softer fashion, stroking his lover's cheek. "I'm here, and I will not leave you."

Van felt the beginning of a headache. The potions Professor Snape had given him had healed things up quite a bit, but he was still grossly sensitive to this kind of magic.

"Please don't," he whimpered now, he felt like a child. Without Staven, he was lonely. Without Van and Gala, he was...
Dead.

Gods, no.

"Shh," he said softly. "I'm here, with you. Just please, please try to keep from leaking magic, Lendel." He held him close, kissing the top of his head. "You're mine, and I'd be lost without you."

He concentrated, making his shields calm down, tears leaking from his eyes. He burrowed himself against Vanyel, frightened and horrified.
"They killed Staven, Van. You'll never get to meet him. You'll never get to know," he sobbed, breaking off and clutching Vanyel tight. "Gods, I'm here, I should be finding Leshara and making him pay..."

"Shh," he said softly. "That was weeks ago, Lendel. Your magic tore that grove to shreds." His arms were wrapped tightly around Lendel now. "You had a really bad case of backshock after."

"I'm sorry they did it, sorry it happened, but there's nothing we can do from here."

"Weeks," he repeated weakly. "Weeks, Van, no... No, how could it be so long? Van, what did I do, what happened?"

"Are you sure you're ready, 'Lendel?" he asked softly. "Because it doesn't get any easier from here on out."

He held his lover close. "And thank you, for locking everything back down. I'm afraid my channels are still sensitive to magics like that."

He embraced Vanyel back. If it could only get worse, oh, great Goddess, what had he done?

"Tell me, ashke. You have to tell me," he begged. He could handle it, as long as Vanyel was there. He would have to.

"You, well, you weren't right, after Staven," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "We planned revenge, you from your bed, and I, I helped you get what you needed."

He took a couple of deep breaths. "It was in the books, the ones of Savil's that you couldn't touch," he said.

Oh.
Oh.
He remembered. That coolness came back, with memories, and anger, and... calm. But the wrong kind of calm.

"You helped me make a Gate," he said, leaning back and looking into Vanyel's eyes. "And I planned my revenge, you helped me."

Oh Goddess, I pulled you into it.
he reached for Vanyel's bandaged arms. He was the cause of those hurts, whatever they were under the gauze.
"You let me pull you in, and even Gala..." he stopped, then, his hands falling limply to his sides, the world spinning and slowing to a quiet dullness. Gala.
"Gala is gone," he said, repeating what Vanyel had said earlier. "Gala is gone to help... other people. Without me."
He looked down at his white uniform, and wanted to burn it.

He kissed Tylendel on the cheek. "I did it willingly, 'Lendel," he said. His arms were still wrapped around his lover, as he feared him pulling away.

"What else do you remember?" he asked softly.

He tilted into Vanyel's kiss, needing it. He had Vanyel, still, but so many holes, he had been left behind by so many.

"She was angry at me, Van. I know she loves me, but she couldn't forgive me for it. I wouldn't forgive me for it either, I won't. And they put me in Whites because they felt guilty but I don't deserve it, Van! She left me behind, I don't deserve it!" He gripped Vanyel's arms tight, trying to keep control, but the grief was building up and piling up and blowing in a thousand different directions.

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