Confessions and Decisions

[Vae]

Continued from here

It was amazing what could provoke her to blush, or at least amazing in her own mind. She shrugged then shook her head no, at his question. Sleeping was still out of the question. She lowered herself carefully, before she realized that she honestly didn’t care about getting mud on her, as it was already present.

It took some time to get the mud off her hand but she slowly began to prod at the bruises that had already started to fade on her wrists. But it was her side that was really bothering her. But she wasn’t about to just whip her shirt of to examine it...at least not here.

She nodded to the mind link suggestion. Maybe he could help with the weird numbing sensations.


He'd hoped she'd just doze off, but he knew she wouldn't. He just had to keep them both from dehydrating and her from slicing her mouth to ribbons.

West had closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the container; he could have slept. One eye cracked open as he heard her move around, and smelled the freshly stirred mud, then closed again. Threads of Mind spun together, braiding between them as he connected them.

Usually just do this for combat.

His mind's voice was his, but different. The accent was more pronounced, the words elongating in a lazy drawl that he'd trained out of his speech. They were also more distinct, clearer, firmer. The half-second pauses that stilted his speech were gone; they were a product of his social ineptness rather than his mind.

How are you doing?

  

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2012-10-11 22:07:05		West rolls 15 to Cast a Spell (10 Again)		5, 2, 3, 1, 4, 8, 9, 3, 10, 5, 7, 3, 3, 10, 5, 4, 8		5 successes

Vaeltia moved to mirror her Master’s posture, he had been the one in a situation like this before, and it made sense to follow experience on the matter. She examined him for a moment before deciding that: yes, eyes closed was a way of retaining moisture.

And then he touched her with the mind link.

She tensed, completely. Painfully.

She had to force herself to not attempt to reject the link, and even found herself reaching out to the supernal for protection. Even after all the horrible pain that such a link had brought on her.

If I hadn’t...if he hadn’t.... She felt a pulse in her side, a second later her hand pressed against the bruise she knew was forming, and the strands she had been working on fell limp again. But she could hear West in her head. It was an interesting thought that appeared in her mind around that mental touch, which she instantly worked to squash all evidence of.

I’ve been better. Her own mental voice seemed stronger, but slightly more feminine. What, exactly, does this spell allow? And how much protection do my thoughts have against you?

  

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2012-10-11 22:40:35		Vaeltia rolls 4 to Cast a Spell (10 Again)		4, 6, 3, 3		failure

[Vae]

Thoughts. Emotions. Images.

An image appeared in Vaeltia's mind, of West's favorite gun -- the one Niles Plotski had disintegrated. It was overlaid with cool confidence, affection, and the slightest undertone of years-old anger turned annoyance.

Filter out what you don't want to share.

A mesh screen appeared next to the gun, and passed over and through it. When it was done, there was only the image, without emotion. Another pass erased the image as it passed.

A gun.

There was a ripple of amusement.

As for protection? Not much. Don't worry, little flame. I think that's... a pretty shitty thing to do. I won't.


It was true; he'd rather beat someone to interrogate them than read their thoughts -- it was something he'd argued about with both Ankh and Kai.


but youcould. A flux of apprehension and then of relief as she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. I don’t think I could keep you out if you tried. I...I want to trust you.

She decided then, to show him something. A blade about six inches long with a dark handle, the blade itself was stained a dull red-pink. And with the image came the feeling of fear, pain, and the slow wish for death. Then the feeling of the blade changed, to anger, and pure revenge that dulled to memories, still hazy but the sweat soaked fear plainly evident.

Her eyes were open as she looked at him before removing the image as he did, slowly, down to nothing.

For that one lesson...


West's thoughts fell silent for a few moments. He considered answering her first thoughts: that she probably couldn't. Few could. Mind was an Arcana that he kept fairly quiet about, both because it was a slippery slope and there were obvious tactical advantages. He knew what people expected from him "on paper" -- an Acanthus with a gun.

He sifted through the next thoughts, the image, the emotions, the intent. He was not a hypocrite. He understood revenge, or justice; as an Acanthus, he also understood causality. Trying to distill revenge into justice, punishment, or fear was next to impossible.

Will that make the fear go away?


What killing the fucker? No, it didn’t it made the nightmares worse. She paused for a moment her hand touching her thigh where the knife was. It’s like it’s always there, you know. Ready to jump into my head the moment I let my guard down.

Why am I even telling you this?

[Vae]

There was a soft ripple of confusion, and West's eyes cracked open at the same time before closing again.

I didn't/don't understand. I thought that's why you were asking about Teleportation. Sorry.

The confusion faded, drying up like water in the desert. He didn't need to figure out why he misunderstood, or what she'd meant; instead, he focused on the next thoughts.

Because you need to tell someone? Have you told anyone?

This time, the thoughts were simply words, carefully stripped of any accompanying emotion. He wasn't sure, either, and wondered if she were also telling him she wasn't close to anyone. Then again, there weren't that many people you could tell.


No...it was a long while ago, you were able to guess something about my obsession with knives I thought you might want a little explanation. Information...I...I thought it was right.

She curled onto herself tighter, a flood of mixed emotions flooded through the link: Apprehension, confusion, sadness, self-anger, concern, fear.

No, I haven’t.


Oh.

It was more a concept than a word, an acknowledgement that he understood. He was still curious about the Teleportation, but he was already reviewing what had been said, piecing the conversation back together, and getting the impression that her thoughts were really scattered. Whether that was just her, or the pain from the Backlash, he wasn't sure.

A hint of that confusion laced the rest of what he let through the link: understanding, and acceptance. There was no anger or recrimination. He understood revenge. He also understood that sometimes Fate needed Lachesis to cut the threads.

Do you feel... better now? Why are you still afraid? You... can tell me anything, you know.


I...maybe? West....I... I want to trust you, but it’s so hard right now. Like there’s something there, just constantly telling me...That... Her train of thought seemed to hesitate. “I don’t like being alone with men.”

Her voice seemed loud, hallow, and cracked. But very present as it almost echoed. But she could taste where she was, the lingering flavour of where ever the hell they were. I’m afraid of you..right now...like, I know I wouldn’t be able to stop you. And I know I can’t get away.

There was pain in her mental voice, like the admission was difficult enough. So I’m trying, trying to trust you, because I don’t think you will...but also because I don’t know if I would even try to stop you...I...I’m so confused.

[Vae]

Oh.

Again, a monosyllable answer. This time, it was longer in coming, and there were wisps of emotion attached to it: surprise, anger. While West wasn't ignorant or naive, it was a foreign place for his thoughts to go. To him, the concept of being "attacked" was usually attached with intent to kill. His eyes had opened, and he closed them again. With a small bit of surprise, he realized his pulse had quickened, and adrenaline was flooding his system. His breathing deepened as he attempted to slow the reaction: there was no one to shoot.

Why didn't you tell me this... before? I would have found someone else... a woman... to take you as an Apprentice.

Already, he sifted through his thoughts of who he knew -- and then the question of why she'd returned.

And... do you want me to leave? Now? I can take you anywhere, first. Or... just make a portal, for you.


It was weird how much that hurt. She could feel the wave of pain rush through her. Here she was telling him...and...

What? no...West! the confusion the hurt, it was almost numbing. It’s...it’s not that. I...Pineapples, West I like you, I had someone who was teaching me in Chicago, but it...didn’t work out, and you’re the closest anyone else has gotten to trust with me. She sniffled.

I don’t want someone else teaching me like you’re teaching me. I like being around you, sure you’re not the easiest person to learn under, but that’s what makes it worth it...please don’t send me away. She could feel the threat of tears. I told you...because maybe you could help...and because...I...I don’t want you to go away.


There was a flicker; just a moment, of a wave of nausea and revulsion and image of whitish yellow vomit on green grass, framed by a child's tennis shoes. In less than a heartbeat, West clamped the surprise thought closed. The sound of his breathing deepened.

For a time, there was nothing.

I won't send you away.

There was reassurance, but laced through and through with confusion, and uncertainty, and a sliver of affection.

But... I don't know what to do. I... can train soldiers. Or Arrows. It's one of the few things I can do besides being good at killing.

A flicker of rueful humor slid through.

But I'm... not a... healer.

He'd almost thought 'psychologist'.

I don't know what to do... or how to act, or treat you? Are you... always... afraid when we're together? Would it help to bring a... friend? A Mage friend. Female.

His thoughts were the equivalent of mental stuttering as he tried to clarify, and then they tapered off.


The image was a surprise, it shocked her and in his silence she carefully stuffed all the questions she could have thought of down. Particularly because of the speed that he had shut the image away. She sat quietly, just absorbing the sound of his mental voice and all it’s unique differences to his speaking voice.

No.

The word was laced with a mixture of pure honesty and assurance.

I have a few times, like the first time you teleported me, right after I awoke...that time. But...it was...it didn’t stick...it was like I couldn’t help myself but trust you...I still can’t.

A flush of affection crossed the link.

If it matters...I...

It was strange, wanting to touch him, the image flitted across the link as suddenly her face turned a shade of pink.

I like the time we have...I like...I like you, West

[Vae]

Again his eyes opened, and stayed open. He might have misconstrued the meaning, if not for the feeling and image. His thoughts couldn't help but turn backward, and he shielded his memories and thoughts of Ankh. Odd, that he knew what people would probably think when he took another Apprentice, and now this. He wasn't sure what to make of it; he was more than aware that such things happened, that students could become infatuated with their teachers, or that it might be a byproduct of the stress of the situation.

West realized he was letting a silence develop, and the pressure to say something didn't help his thoughts become any more clear.

You'll get over it. It's like Stockholm Syndrome.

There was a faint flicker of wry humor with the words, clearly it was his idea of a joke. Belatedly, he realized it sounded like he was blowing her off -- and he doubted that was anything near what she needed.

Not... that I wouldn't... but... it happens. With the whole Master-Apprentice thing. Then you'd just realize that's what it was, and I'm just an asshole that took advantage.

This time, there was an undercurrent of apologetic awkwardness.

West closed his eyes again.


There was silence as her emotions turned, and she began to question herself. It hurt. Rejection always hurt.

Oh. She tried to not let the emotion get behind it, but she could feel the waver in her mental voice. But she could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She had put herself out there and...humor, even a glimpse was not something she actually was expecting.

There was a hiccup in her train of thought.

Stockholm Syndrome?

West, I thought you were better than that. I know you’re not an asshole that’s just gonna take advantage of me.

She could feel the tear find its way down her face as she struggled to not sob.

Is that what you think you are? My captor?

[Vae]

No... I just meant that, you know. It's not uncommon, that it can... happen.

He shied away from using the word "artificial", because it seemed genuine, even if the circumstances encouraged it. He also knew that some women were attracted to powerful men, but he doubted that was the case -- or that she quite grasped yet how he 'ranked' among the Awakened.

It was a... joke. Sorry.

He fished around for what to say, not sure what to say about the revelation, or the fact that he'd made it even more awkward. Now it was this "thing" they were talking about. Like most men, he had a painful, guilty reaction to the sight of the tear, not knowing what to say or do to make it stop, and knowing he was at least partially responsible. There was also the sudden worry that this would be a turning point -- that she would leave the city, or find a new Master; someone less capable, or simply drift.

West moved slowly, squatting next to her, and touched her shoulder lightly. He felt like this was a 'hug' moment, but wasn't sure. He never was.

Maybe... maybe we should about this after we get back home? You're hurt.


She paused, letting her breath slow. Forcibly pushing her body to calm down.

Stupid joke.

There was an overtone of anger hiding the hurt. She turned her head away from him, she didn’t want him to see her cry, it was bad enough he was inside her head and could feel the onslaught of wave after wave of sadness, regret, and looming depression.

Is that what you want? To talk about it later?

Maybe I shouldn’t have told you


No... I just...

West struggled to find words, made even more uncomfortable by the emotions he was feeling from her. He refrained from saying that it felt weird, that it wasn't like her. On reflection, he wasn't even sure if that was accurate -- wasn't being fairly blunt just like her? He thought about her question. He'd always been pragmatic -- what did 'later' change?

No. It's OK. Don't be upset, little flame.

His hand moved, sliding around her shoulders, and he pulled her close.


Behind her mind varying shades of blue and green erupted in her own mind. And a slight pulse of happiness echoed out from her.

I like it when you call me that.

She leaned into the hug as the sadness came again. He was just trying to push her more, right? But even still she could still hear the unspoken mind-linked words moving through her head.

You want to talk about it now?

And...I’m still your apprentice ... right?

Because it could always be worse, and she didn’t even want to think about that...even if the thought did start to play before she worked to shut it away.


West wasn't sure what there was to talk about, and the fact that he wasn't good and didn't like talking about... personal... things didn't help. He wasn't sure where this all was going, and still wasn't entirely convinced that the past hour hadn't had some effect or that it wasn't some sort of student/teacher infatuation.

Of course you are.

It was a minor dodge; skipping over one question, answering the next. He even managed to block out the inevitable bad jokes that sprang to mind.

As long as you'd like.

Again, his thoughts shifted; again, he kept them to himself. She was his Gambit.

End Scene