"My two natures had memory in common."
- 83rd of Ashan, 717
- Celeste spoke quietly, her voice full of her own pain. It faintly occurred to the Venora Lord that the two were never able to be happy at the same time, and he tried to clear the dark cloud from his face, but as she opened up to him, he went very still, like a man hypnotized. So much agony in her voice, and for what reason? A sick man craving control. As they always were!
The scene played out in his mind, trying to conjure any faint memory he had of Peake Andaris, but it was faint and fading. Instead, his imagination replaced the Andaris brother with a monstrous silhouette, stalking towards Celeste with anger and corruption. He had choked her? Forced himself upon her? Each detail confessed tore a sickness inside him.
An unfamiliar fury that raged. So much so that if he spoke, he feared he would do nothing but roar and seethe.
She continued her tale, saying that only Xander knew and no one else, and Andráska's face had drained of sadness and was now replaced with a new mask. His vision was rimmed with red and his hands opened and closed, as if craving their own murderous release. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something, anything to calm him down and still remain sane in the eyes of a trusted friend. And yet, in an attempt to either distract him, or brush over her own agony, Celeste changed the subject.
“You don’t need my burdens on top of your own right now. Does Alistair know...?”
He stepped back as if he could move away from the question itself. His lips pressed into a thin line and he focused on breathing, and he gave a sharp shake of his head, “No.”
Andráska knew he should have already done it. After the king, he should have visited his family first. Instead, he hid like a coward, and he crossed his arms stubbornly. Andráska knew he should have; had given it all the thought in the world on his travels back to Rynmere. And yet, when Celeste asked him, his face flushed with shame, and his ears burned. He turned, staring intently at the wall and couldn't stop the voice that sounded so pitiful in his head -
How can I tell them I killed their only daughter when they've just started to like me?
“How-” he stopped, voice catching and he cleared his throat and glimpsed up at the Andaris lady, “I know the longer I wait, the worse it will be. I know I'm being selfish. There's just...so much.”
Alzorn to protect. Freya to deal with. A rebellion to dissuade. Friends to protect. A nation to save.
“If I tell them, I'll become a Sessfiend Slayer. A Kin Killer.” he swallowed again, trying to stop the lump that was trying its damnedest to settle in his throat, a cruel smile quirking up the corner of his mouth, “It'll be real.”
He feared what she must think of him, and avoided looking at her face, “Let's uh... Let's go get breakfast.” He glanced at the door and shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pleading with her to allow a subject change when he offered his arm. One of these days, he vowed, they would be in the same room and their demons would not haunt them. One day, they would both be happy.
...One day.
