(1902) John and Maxwell

Continued from here.

John took hold of Maxwell's hand and shook. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied. "It is when we accept loss and move on, do we become stronger."

Trite, but correct. The Chatelaine nodded absently, peering into the fire as the conversation swirled about them. More and more Lost were coming. None were bound to his knowledge, save for a few Oaths between single Monarchs and their Courtiers. It made Maxwell nervous, and he shifted his position such that he could keep eyes on the lot.

"I think my wife would have liked this place," Pierce mused. "There is a certain peace to it, a peace that would let one think. I came here for her, you see. To Sacramento, where she grew up; and to this, tonight, where she would have wanted me to reflect and try to let go."

He sighed quietly.

"What do you mourn, John Doe? What brings you to the flames?"

"Didn't know you had a wife." He had learned something new about the Chatelaine. "Letting go is one of the hardest acts to do." He nodded in understanding.

To Maxwell's question, "I think we are in similar circumstances. I had a girlfriend in my former Freehold. Ava Lance. She played it off of 'avalanche.' She was an Elemental Snowskin who made her own beer on behalf of Spring. We were both rather awkward and shy about it." The Darkling smiled at the memory. "Best damn beer I ever had."

The Darkling sighed, and allowed his Sorrow to spill forth. "Ava was a victim of a coup in my hometown Freehold. Laramie, Wyoming is lost to The Gentry."

"I did. Even when I got back. I killed my Fetch and took my place back. They'd had a falling out, obviously, but I fixed it." A mournful smile crossed his face, half misery and half happy remembrance. "We were together fifteen years, in total. I..." He sighed, shaking his head as he teared up. "After all I've been through? All I fought through and did to get her back?"

The Chatelaine choked out a tear.

"You'd think it would be a story worth telling. But no. Just wrong place, wrong time. In the wrong crosswalk as the wrong old guy didn't catch the red light. Fate is fickle, and has a vicious sense of irony."

He glanced over at the Darkling, the sparkling of the flames reflecting on wet, brown eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss, John."

What else could they say to each other? Did it even matter? Or was the very act of being here with each other what counted, more than the words and expressions?

That was a surprise - Maxwell killed his Fetch. He pursed his lips for a moment as he considered that information. "Not many I know are prepared to do that. That had to be a surreal moment."

Then, the tragedy that was the car accident. "You're right, unfortunately. Fate can be cruel like that. When the Lost survived their Durance, none of them will never be normal again, and something so...mundane...as that... "I sympathize." He met the man's gaze and attempted to deliver a gentle pat on the Wizened's shoulder. "What matters tonight is that we continue to turn our Sorrow into ever stronger armor and weapons. To protect ourselves and others from the Gentry."

Sensing it was his 'turn' to share his grief, he did so. "I couldn't find my Fetch. House was sold, parents had moved," he confessed. "I tried tracking them down. No I.D. and no money made that awfully hard. I got lucky when Ava found me. Told me that I was a 'regular John Doe.' I liked the name so I adopted it."

"It was odd to kill him, but lord, was I angry seeing another me screwing everything up with my wife. And it was not as though I lived a peaceful life before being taken." His jaw set in a sharp line as the Wizened's mind moved from the oblivion of depression to memories of anger. It had been so damn righteous, and he had worn his Summer Mantle with pride back then, a gun for God and for his past Freeholds as he worked out the vengeful streak that had defined a younger version of himself. How times changed... "We'll do that. Even if most wish to simply enjoy the food... you and I will honor Winter's lessons, Sun Banisher."

He sighed at the poor Darkling's story. "If you wish help, John... you're not alone. There are people who are very good at finding and ending Fetches. If that would bring you peace in your sorrow, I will help you."

John shook his head, "I appreciate it, however, I would rather see Laramie be liberated." He paused for a moment. "I worry about the lives who have ties to the guy who looks like me. Killing him may end up doing more harm than good."

Again another pause as he considered his words, "I don't want to inflict Sorrow, unless it is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, it's just a hollow victory."

Maxwell's eyes continued to twinkle in the firelight as he peered into the flames with a sigh. "That is always the risk. Always. One day, Laramie will be Fae-free, for that is their nature to move after that which they pursue and to bring their agents with them. When the cat is away, the mice will play - and so Laramie shall once more have a Freehold. At least, so it could be, if Winter's way were followed," he noted.

"As for your Fetch... well. It is a question of whether or not your Sorrow would be easier to bear with his death, or without it. Your choice. Mine was easy. My life..."

His voice caught.

"My life was very good, and I had the power to reclaim it. How could I not?"

"I know that it will be liberated, eventually." His tone shifted slightly toward mild agitation on that last word. "At what cost though. There isn't anyone to teach the Ways of Winter, how to identify a threat, and avoid it. Someone needs to spread cautionary tales that preemptively break their hearts, and reforge them with knowledge." He sighed, "Hell, Laramie is a cautionary tale unto itself, really..."

The Darkling shook his head, "I've managed this long without succumbing to revenge. Whatever constitutes his blood, I will not stain my hands with that indelible mark." His reflective eyes bore the flames of the fire, "I've seen mundane folks fall into that anger trap. It can become just like any addiction, and just as deadly."

He looked back to Maxwell, "Your Fetch ruined everything. I don't blame you for it. I'm sure I'd have done the same if it was me." He paused for a moment, "I doubt I'll ever learn if mine made my life worse, the same, or better." He shrugged. "I'm at peace with that."

"Liberation can come with force of arms... or time, silent as snow falls over everything, covering all traces of the past passage of the Lost such that Their agents simply move on. When that time comes will be the safest time to restore the Winter way," he said with a sage nod. "Go where they are not. At some point, Laramie will be where they are not once more."

He considered his point about not succumbing to revenge. A wry half-smile flashed, the Onyx spook's eyes sad, though whether they were sad for himself or for John was unclear. "Bloodshed serving our Court's purposes has a place. But if it is not your way, then that is acceptable. Others can do that piece. Others will. As for your Fetch... I understand your position. If you've mourned what you lost and are at peace, then far be it for me to tell you that you are wrong."