hugtopia_logs | Open + Closed prompts/ Catch all

We believed that whatever dangers the rift had posed had already long been defeated. That does not change what happened after.

[ The shred of recovered memory was vague, but her husband's emotions had been clear. Time had worn on them and the corruption had been absolute when it was done. ]

They thought we were dead, at first. Perhaps in a way, we were. My husband awoke to learn that his ally and friend had ordered his planet to be destroyed, and that his wife was a shell that could no longer recognize anything around her. In his state, he could only feel betrayal, and set a conquest for power across the universe.

[ Betrayal. Grief and rage and loss; it seems his husband had been driven by these things.

Yet for her husband's actions or the way in which he may have been corrupted by this darkness... surely she is not to blame. Being a "shell" of herself, losing her memory; that, too, is not her fault. ] You became a different person.

[ What she did after she became that person, however, Pyra does not know. ]

The shell became known as his witch.

[ It was quite an experience, to look back and dissect the trappings of a previous life. And yet it was not the first time she had endured the telling. ]

The Emperor kept her at his side for her capabilities with quintessence, gave her the title of High Priestess to keep her from the influence of others, and by doing so he crafted the most abhorrent and most faithful of his servants.

[ This is no unburdening, but a confession of her sins-- no, not her sins, but of someone foreign to her. Whoever this High Priestess was, it's not the Honerva Pyra has seen and known for these few months.

It seems Rawna is still not satisfied. How much more will she have to tell-- to her of all people. And why? Hearing this past of hers, how she had love, had a husband, had ambitions to study an energy so pure that it tempted them both, only for it to all fall apart... Isn't this enough?

Abhorrent, she's described herself as abhorrent. She wonders if she will next learn what had made her abhorrent. ]

[ Her hand is still tucked in Pyra's, and she does not know why the other has not yet pulled away. She is met with silence again, and the weight of it presses. How much more would it take, to satisfy a god. Perhaps there were reasons beyond what both of them knew of this world that brought them here.

Negative emotions and apathy. What a serving, indeed. ]

When Altea was destroyed, at the time, it meant nothing to her. Her race and origin were an enigma in her altered state, and in the end did not matter. Her purpose was to serve, and there were always improvements to be made. Energy to be discovered and refined. Weapons... experiments... and people were only ever tools. Only the Emperor's Will mattered and she was certain to carry it out, by any means. For untold years.

[ She holds her hand ever more tightly. How Honerva is able to speak of any of this with such distance is beyond her— but that may be as just a troubling sign as if she would be visibly crumpling under the weight of these burdens.

Pyra’s brow knits, shutting her eyes tightly. How cruel, spending an untold amount of years as using others as tools all while being a tool herself. It’s hideous, awful, to know that Honerva has been treated in such a callous way, her state of mind and being capitalized and used for conquest.

She may have done unspeakable cruelties, but she too had been a victim. For Honerva, Pyra’s eyes are already welling with tears. ]

How cruel... You were treated so cruelly. Instead of helping you, he had used you. [ By the one she had once been wed to, at that. ]

[ Everything about Pyra's reactions surprises and even confuses her. The pain in her expression, the way she continues to hold her hand tighter, to be driven to tears...

She'd described a shell, heartless and cold. Not one for whom tears should be shed for. Not one whose hand should be held so tightly. She was his will, she was a monster. The witch had failed all of his tests to prove that traces of Honerva had remained, and he'd banished or destroyed any remnants of any reminders.

Her free hand grasps tight at the fabric of her cloak, but her tone remains even and distant as it must be. ]

... I am not the one for whom tears should be shed. There was no help for us there.

[ For that universe, the planets that were lost, or forever scarred by his malice. The people. Her child. All far more worthy of tears. ]

[ She will cry for both, she can cry for both those people who this Witch has hurt and for Honerva, herself. ]

--You are.. [ She states abruptly, insistent, pained at hearing Honerva dismiss that a history such as hers shouldn't evoke any sort of sorrow from the one hearing it. If Pyra couldn't feel any sympathy at all at her fate, then she truly has no sense of humanity.

Honerva is no different than those she had wronged as the Witch: she had something terrible happen to her, something beyond her control, and she became someone else, someone not of her complete mind. Those walls they had spoken of before are not only walls, they are pieces of herself. It seems like she refuses to let herself or others feel as if she cannot be sympathized for. ] You are.

[ Her breath shakes as she inhales, attempting to steady her voice. She's unable to. ] ...And somehow, you've been... persisting, despite all of that. You've endured! You've found parts of yourself. Oh, Honerva... the real tragedy is if you cannot see how strong you are.

How does any of this speak of my strength?

[ Pyra continues to offer her kindness, even as she struggles with understanding it. Perhaps it only because Pyra knows her here, outside of her own universe, that she can speak in such a way. ]

... it was because I was too weak that all of this happened. When my family needed me, I was a shell. And even then, I do not know if it would have been enough, had I not been.

[ Her own voice may still be as measured as she can manage, but there is a tremble in the fingers that Pyra still holds. ]

Even to recall myself... that had only occurred because the Emperor had fallen to a comatose state after a battle. The witch wanted to save him... and instead was met with this confusing data. Yet... she still followed her purpose, to serve him, to revive him. It wasn't until she was taken away from that universe, that she was able ... that I was able to grasp what had happened.

[ --The moment Honerva's hand trembles in hers, Pyra's already flinging her arms around her to pull her into an embrace. One goes to her back as the other finds its way to the back of her head, fingers pressing into her soft hair to bring her close. She may continue to talk, but she holds her so very tightly.

(She notices yet again, how thin her frame is against hers...)

If Pyra were to tackle her words point by point, she suspects any of her words would be dismissed upon the spot, overshadowed by Honerva's burdens, grief, regrets and... self-blame. Self-blame and hurt and loathing for this past self of hers, so much hate that it seems that she cannot reconcile the difference between who she had been and who she is now. That somehow the Witch's sins are hers even though she is not the Witch any longer, that she continues to abhor that part of her because of a past that is no longer her own.

That, too is boggling to the mind. Too weak, Honerva confesses. She believes she had been too weak and allowed this to happen; as if she had the power to stop any of it at all from happening to begin with.

Her hug tightens for a moment, and then relaxes as she exhales. ]

...You will never convince me to hate who you are now, as you seem to do yourself.

[ Never convince her. How could she speak with such certainty...? Ever an enigma, but ever so kind, in this, here at the summit of her burdens. She had often considered her naive, with her stated goals and intentions... but how could she be, for this?

Pyra had offered her only compassion, her tears, and this gentle hold, as the trembles in Honerva's fingers turned to more, quivers in her shoulders as she slowly folds in closer to the other woman, because no more words would come, not from her lips. There is a flash in her mind in which she recalls, the first time anyone had held her so close. When she first began to understand that form of contact...

Hearts are a lot stronger than you think they are.

That similar intention, uttered here, but she still could not accept her own strength. The person she was now, right here, would not exist if not for others. Others to talk to her, to guide her, to help her to feel where she could not before. The fear was strong that any of these links could vanish and she would once more find herself bereft with nothing but the darkness inside to haunt her, taunt at the edge of her thoughts. She had ever lived with such whispers that only ever sought to undermine her, give in, to such a fate.

And here Pyra was, with all her warmth and her light. Her breath hitches, hating herself, but also ... grateful. There was yet still kindness in this world. More than she deserved. ]

[ Pyra continues to hold her throughout this moment, feeling the tremble of her shoulders, hearing the hitch in her breath. She remains presents, her arms secure about her, keeping her there in a way that supports her...

Her hands run up and down her back. She will not say more, for more praise, more compliments, more of her pointing out everything she believes is both wonderful and amazing about her may be dismissed, minimized, attributed to some other force, or countered with some past sin. She understands from where that comes, knowing it to be born in trauma and loss, grief and pain. By saying nothing, Pyra wishes for Honerva have this moment, hoping that she might allow herself this kindness from a near-stranger. Like her compliment of her hair during the sleepover, this is for her.

(How inconsiderate she had been, to have remarked upon her striking features all while not seeing the deep scars until now...)

Pyra pulls away only when it seems that enough time has passes, her eyes brimming with tears. A smile is in place, sympathetic, bittersweet, yet filled with admiration. Her hand returns from Honerva's back, and she lifts it to brush a strand back from her face, tender. The love she feels for this woman has not been swayed by the latter's unburdening; if anything, it has only reinforced it. ]

[ It is a needed moment, in which the action does far more than words could have, for the instant that her composure crumples. Here was an enveloping kindness, to brace her, to support her, to gently soothe away at the coiled, whispering darkness under the surface.

Pyra pulls away slowly, and Honerva allows herself to breathe deeper, to center herself from her trembles, even if she could not yet speak, after all she had said. She must calm herself. Even with scars exposed, they were here and they were in the present, and in the present she was not alone, and even this gesture proved that; that she was able to accept, to be so fragile in the presence of another. She had come far from that... other being she had been even if she knew not how to measure it and sometimes forgot to believe it.

She does not witness the dragonlings that scale the altar, as the next moment is lost in the light that radiates from them. ]

[ Honerva might not notice the light, but having done this once before, Pyra knows what it means. Whenever it seems that Honerva is ready, she slides her hand down to take hers and gives her a warm smile. She's here. She shouldn't be, but she is in stead of Honerva's family. She will do her best to be respectful of what they have.

And so, Pyra gestures towards the altar. ]

For you.

[ Her grip is light upon Honerva's hand. If she wishes to step away from Pyra, she is entirely permitted to do so. Whatever gift the god has granted the Altaen woman, she is allowed to pick up on her own. ]

[ If they were both called here by the will of this god, then Pyra must also accept that her part too, was ordained. How many conversations had they had, where they had touched upon the edges of what she had to say?

'With them, the way is forward.'

'What matters is that change has occurred.'

A party had not been the place for a conversation such as this. Even though Honerva does not know, if she were not pulled here, led here to speak, if she would have been willing so on her own. Not with the way Pyra had seemed so innocent, and with only the best intentions for others. She did not want to lie but she did not like the discomfort of compliments that she could not continue to accept. They had shared energy once, surely she could feel, that darkness there.

Life was a struggle and Lup already, helped shoulder so much for her, as much as she wanted to give for her, in return.

And yet... she had not been surprised to see Pyra there. It was not the first time she had experienced such a pull, or she would not have her new family at all. At that time, she was less aware, of the implications of her own words, her story. In the end, what mattered more was learning to sympathize for the person in front of her, to be drawn by the suffering of another. To not even realize she had learned to be a friend, in a trying time. And now more than that.

But here, with Pyra, there was no such exchange. She had not known what to expect for her reaction to all of this, but she had listened, she had been... extrordinary. To listen, to be patient, and what for? Why was Honerva granted such a gift? She has no idea of what that could even be. She had nothing personal that wasn't already here.

A few moments pass, as she breathes, still processing. Pyra's hold is still there, and she slowly rises, with a gentle tug to indicate the other might still follow, that she was still willing to maintain this connection even if the compulsion had faded. What would come next was not from the will of these gods, or for them. She had been puppeted by so much already.

All too often, these gifts might be a trap. There was nothing it might show her that would be any more devastating than what she has said, but they had arrived at this point together.

Before them on the altar is... a simple planter. The sweet fragrance of what it contains will hit them first, as in it are clustered several deep pink flowers.

Honerva looks at them, and she both knows them and does not. The sensation that strikes her is... a nostalgic wave. She had encountered them once, not long ago, and in a universe that still had not been hers and she remembers how paralyzing that had been. The sensation was too strong, for a life she could not remember, but she looks on, quietly, before finally, answering Pyra. ]

... They are for you, Pyra. For one who would sit and take in the darkest of tales, who can feel for so many all at once. For your kindness, and what you have offered me, here.

[ This is Rawna's gift not to her, but to Honerva for completing this task, a "reward" for her ordeal of unburdening... if it had helped her at all. Pyra hopes that it did. Now that Honerva is suggesting that they are for her instead, Pyra can neither mask the surprise that comes across her expression-- ]

[ ...nor the smile that comes after. These flowers must be from her world, and knowing that both her own gift from Rawna and the other with whom she hand completed with unburdened had gifts of their lost pasts given to them-- well, she suspects that these flowers must be of great significance to Honerva. Perhaps they are even from her own home planet; that, or they may be of a planet that she later visited and felt a deep connection to. ]

Wh...what? No, it's-- that's too much.

[ What Honerva has just said is-- ridiculous. Okay, not ridiculous, because she knows from where Honerva is coming, and she acknowledges it. Yet the motion of gifting Pyra these flowers seems as if Honerva is only trying to further distance herself from her distant, original past that she might not even remember. Pyra will indeed take them if these flowers are far too much for the other to handle-- that, too, she understands-- however, she suspects that Honerva is greatly minimizing this reward that should be taken. Or maybe that she feels she does not deserve these flowers at all, this piece of her home.

If that is the case, Pyra wants to put a stop to that thinking right here and now. Let her have these wonderful, beautiful flowers. Let her have this kindness, too.

Honerva had first tugged her hand towards the altar; now, Pyra does the same. ] These are from your world, aren't they? They must be, oh, they're so... beautiful. Come on, [ Another tug forward, gentle. ] they don't bite--

[ A pause, and then she realizes she doesn't know if they do or do not. ] Er... do they?

[ Perhaps there was a ridiculousness in it. Between that fragrance, the nostalgia and that aggravating sensation of helplessness, she's not equipped for it. Not emotionally or practically.

... Or was refusing her own gift yet another mistake? Shoving away the responsibility of having such a reminder. No, she should be reminded, of all she had lost, with this ... mockery? Was that conclusion of this gift wrong too? She stares, at the flowers, barely hears the way Pyra now speaks of them. She would not accept--?

Lighten up, she tells herself, in Lup's voice. It's not the end of the world. She's been the end of worlds. When she speaks again her voice is soft, as she struggles to deal with this. With Pyra tugging her closer, now. ]

They... do not bite. Though I could not tell you very much else about them. They were... native to Altea. I do not -

[ There it was. She'd caught it in herself before she could utter the words, that inability to trust herself to care for them. She hadn't trusted herself to know how to care for her own cat when there were others around, but Lup had showed her the way, then. This was wrong. Her habits... she'd let herself get dragged back to that dark place again. An ongoing internal battle. So why were they here, and why these flowers? ]

... I do not know how to care for them, but the responsibility is mine. Yet I would... still share some of them with you. Perhaps... together we can learn more.

[ Pyra may have a good amount of information about the species of her own homeworld, but that does not mean she knows how to care for alien plants. Fortunately, her background does give her the ability to guess at what may help this plant so that it does not wither.

And, weren't they just talking of making a garden of some sort before? She hadn't been too keen on it considering gardening doesn't involve a lot of opportunities to engage in contact, but since Honerva has asked help with these: ] W-Well... I will help.

[ She won't refuse! ] Besides, these flowers are too pretty to not care for. [ But here, let's take them so they can be on their way from the temple. ] They don't happen to mean anything, do they? [ In the language of flowers. ]

[ Part of the reason she had offered them to Pyra was because she thought she could appreciate the beauty in them, since she so often commented on that aspect.

At Pyra's question, as they begin to move, her gaze drifts back toward the flowers, and then away once more. ]

... I know not.

[ A longer pause, while she considers them further. It is difficult, to work through those bare glimpses of her past that she was so far able to grasp. Most of those memories were not related to Altea at all. ]

... they are called juniberry flowers. I feel... they had a great significance to the Altean people, but I could not tell you why.

[ Such knowledge had been taken from her, as she had already said. Still, they seemed to have such a sweet, distinct fragrance. They had to have meant something more, of all the plants in the entire universe to be singled out, native to a planet that no longer exists. Or perhaps she may have simply favored them, at a time. Or both.

She does not know. ]

[ To be fair, even Pyra does not know what all flowers symbolize in general.... and she reminds herself that this is where the questions should end for the night. No more; Honerva has gone through enough.

...Honvera still hasn't taken the flowers, she notices, and so she gestures towards them for her to take. It should be her honor to handle them first.

Although she wonders, is she that hesitant on taking them? ] We can receive them together, if you like.

[ The emotions there are too tangled for it to be an honor, but she should be grateful she has any at all to bear.

Should she truly be forcing such a thing upon the other woman? Together would be too easy to ask for, and perhaps too much, for her hesitation. Pyra had not asked for any of this. At her words, her gaze moves back toward the resting plants. Another... weakness? She lifts up her hand, and a soft lilac glow surrounds the base of the pot, lifting it off of the altar to float. She does not touch the pot or the blossoms. ]

... I have already asked much of you.

[ Or perhaps it was the Gods that had done so, by having her there to listen. It was complicated. ]

[ So she says, but Honerva's expression makes her non-existent heart ache. Seeing that Honerva uses her magic to levitate the flowers from the altar, Pyra's finally struck with the weight of why Honerva had suggested they were for her instead in the first place: Honerva can't even bring herself to touch those flowers...

She's not ready.

Pyra steps forward, lifting a hand towards the vase of the flowers and tugging it out of the well of magic that holds it aloft by Honerva's power. ]

Ah, I changed my mind.

[ She's not certain what changed, for Pyra. Certainly she had seemed to not want them before, she felt she had to all but coerce her even into taking some of them, but now...?

The magic surrounding the pot fades when Pyra tugs them away, and Honerva remains quiet for a few moments, allowing this and yet, trying to discern a reason for the sudden change of heart. Perhaps her discomfort with the existence of these flowers was palpable, something she would either think about for hours or end or throw herself into anything but thinking of them and what had brought them forward.

Stare at them or pretend they didn't exist. And yet those were the usual answers to problems, ones she was struggling to unlearn. ]

... It is all right, Pyra. They are my responsibility.

[ Even if she felt they'd surely wither away with her inexperience, but this had been conferred onto her, and would haunt her whether or not they were in her presence. ]

[ After a soft look, Pyra determines that... no, it doesn't seem Honerva is ready to take these flowers. Hadn't she just said she didn't know how to care for them?

Pyra believes that these flowers are worth salvaging for her, not because of some long-forgotten memory or meaning she does not recall them to have, however. Sentient life has a way of assigning meaning to things that do not; flowers are one example. While recognizing this, Pyra finds those meanings romantic... Yet, doesn't it also mean that Honerva can assign her own meaning to these flowers? ]

Edited 2020-02-04 02:45 (UTC)

Open + Closed prompts/ Catch all

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)