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[Dohalim/Zhongli] You're standing next to me...
[it started out as vague dreams of what seemed to be a lifetime ago. something so foreign and yet familiar. even in his dreams, he can almost feel it, taste it, smell it. like warm stone on a summer’s day, like a strong embrace holding him steady. and in every dream, he sees the same person with golden eyes and a soft smile and all he can feel is a warm fondness for them.
who is he, Dohalim would ask himself, as he would reach out to him.
and that point is when his dream would turn into a nightmare; in a flash, all he can see is carnage, and that person who he’d felt that fondness for would look at him with a frenzied fire in those golden pools, his face contorted into what seems to be pure, unadulterated rage. why… he can feel the fear piercing his heart, along with a certain pain he can’t quite put his finger on, that he has to watch this man fall into his wrath and despair.
”My apologies…” he remembers saying, before he would wake up with a start, brow damp with sweat as he would sit up in his bed. at first, that dream wasn’t nearly as frequent, but now, it seems like it’s occurring every night. what does it mean? who is that man in his dreams?
what happened?
come morning, however, that dream becomes a passing thought, as it usually does, as he starts his day. it’s only a dream; he doesn’t need to dwell on it.
there had been reports of a sudden spike of astral energy in Traslida Highway, one that Dohalim had taken upon himself to investigate (much to the chagrin of his guardsmen). if it has anything to do with earth astral energy, who better than the lord whose affinity of that very element? if anything goes wrong, he would be the most capable of containing it, at least. what mattered most is that the citizens of his realm are safe.
but it’s strange, as he walks out of Viscint, that he doesn’t need to be told where the anomaly is. he can… almost hear a quiet whisper, indiscernible in its words, but pulling him towards where he needs to go. it’s as if he’s lost all autonomy of his body, falling into a sort of trance, but the pull doesn’t feel malicious in its intent. in fact, it feels almost as familiar as the feeling in his dreams; he has to wonder why that is.
as he approaches the new rock formation in the Tietal Plains, Dohalim strains to listen to guardsman speaking to him; something about how it had appeared overnight, and that they had deployed a small platoon to stop anyone from entering it. but the whispers nearly drown him out, beckoning Dohalim to walk through the portal. it’s reckless, he knows, to walk into something without even an inkling of what awaits on the other side, but nothing in him tells him to stop as he steps forward towards the barrier. he holds a hand up, as if to feel the energy radiating off it, and before anyone could pull him back, Dohalim steps forward. he hears one of the guards call out his name, only for it to be muted once he’s on the other side.
just where is he…?]
who is he, Dohalim would ask himself, as he would reach out to him.
and that point is when his dream would turn into a nightmare; in a flash, all he can see is carnage, and that person who he’d felt that fondness for would look at him with a frenzied fire in those golden pools, his face contorted into what seems to be pure, unadulterated rage. why… he can feel the fear piercing his heart, along with a certain pain he can’t quite put his finger on, that he has to watch this man fall into his wrath and despair.
”My apologies…” he remembers saying, before he would wake up with a start, brow damp with sweat as he would sit up in his bed. at first, that dream wasn’t nearly as frequent, but now, it seems like it’s occurring every night. what does it mean? who is that man in his dreams?
what happened?
come morning, however, that dream becomes a passing thought, as it usually does, as he starts his day. it’s only a dream; he doesn’t need to dwell on it.
there had been reports of a sudden spike of astral energy in Traslida Highway, one that Dohalim had taken upon himself to investigate (much to the chagrin of his guardsmen). if it has anything to do with earth astral energy, who better than the lord whose affinity of that very element? if anything goes wrong, he would be the most capable of containing it, at least. what mattered most is that the citizens of his realm are safe.
but it’s strange, as he walks out of Viscint, that he doesn’t need to be told where the anomaly is. he can… almost hear a quiet whisper, indiscernible in its words, but pulling him towards where he needs to go. it’s as if he’s lost all autonomy of his body, falling into a sort of trance, but the pull doesn’t feel malicious in its intent. in fact, it feels almost as familiar as the feeling in his dreams; he has to wonder why that is.
as he approaches the new rock formation in the Tietal Plains, Dohalim strains to listen to guardsman speaking to him; something about how it had appeared overnight, and that they had deployed a small platoon to stop anyone from entering it. but the whispers nearly drown him out, beckoning Dohalim to walk through the portal. it’s reckless, he knows, to walk into something without even an inkling of what awaits on the other side, but nothing in him tells him to stop as he steps forward towards the barrier. he holds a hand up, as if to feel the energy radiating off it, and before anyone could pull him back, Dohalim steps forward. he hears one of the guards call out his name, only for it to be muted once he’s on the other side.
just where is he…?]
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at first, he thinks it must be the same. empty, sightless mourning, awaiting a face he's forgotten and a soul he never will. there hadn't been time, then. hadn't been the luxury of discovery in order to stop the rampant deterioration. water upon stone, until all he had been was overshadowed by all he should never be. when he calls out, there is no expectation. he's more alive than he has been in unknown eras, and yet... there is fear. if 'he' doesn't return, then what? then what...? will it all start over? he can feel again, just enough. the body-- no. perhaps it is his own soul that is nearly deserving of it again. but without him, what's the point?
inside the barrier is barely warm enough to keep from chilling the man. luminescent vines and the occasional glimmering rock provide a dim light, barely enough to follow the path. they crawl haphazardly over half-destroyed pillars and intricately carved walls alike, twisting upward until they flicker like pyrelight. despite all worries to the contrary, this place - shaped like an open, welcoming palace though it is - is empty. footsteps echo into the dampening embrace of foliage, and the paths are clear, if dim.
Please. it's a hoarse whisper, beckoning him through the halls. Find me. Find me. I'm sorry. --iss you. hope. fear. regret. they're chief among the emotions that hang in the air here, and if he waits too long, perhaps he'll see... something.
a shade of something, someone. pacing halls and pausing, head in hands, disappearing as their shoulders start to shake. again, intermittently, throughout the initial room. clearer near its back, thin and dim closer to Dohalim, never lasting more than a few seconds.]
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what could it mean?
Dohalim squints as he peers down the dark hallway, eyes trying to catch anything-- he could swear he could see a shadow in the distance, but could it just be his eyes playing tricks on him?
one thing he's certain; there is no malice present here. only... a heavy air of remorse, of sorrow, of regret. it weighs heavily on his shoulders and in his chest; it's like the same feeling from his dreams. is this the answer he'd been looking for? is this the reason why he'd dreamt of the same thing over and over again for as long as he could remember? is he meant to be here?
what could it mean?
he sees the shadow again, and he reaches out, before swiftly following it]
--Wait!
[he can't lose sight of it now. not when he's so close to answers]
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that shadow doesn't stop moving, nor does it turn toward Dohalim. as he approaches, he'll hear more whispers - what do I do? I can't think. It hurts- and the occasional choked sob. following it, the shadow is not at all unlike ghost lights, leading him down a path at the back of the initial room. it's clearer now, long hair flowing behind with every swift movement, and its narrative slowly shifts and changes.
the air of remorse and regret remains, and sorrow continues to feature, but the shadow becomes... heavy. distorted. its murmurs continue, favouring on narratives of what do I do and I can't and I'm sorry, sometimes appearing completely immobile, seated in an ancient, half-cracked chair or curled on a sill looking into other empty rooms.
perhaps the most important thing, though, is that it continues to move forward. dark rooms become brighter as Dohalim continues, vines lighting up at the sensation of his presence. it's easier to tell that he is the catalyst now, and the lights shift from soft blues and greens to an all-too-familiar golden hue. plants give way to stones, symbols neither Renan nor Dahnan carved into their surfaces. one more long hallway, and the shadow - spectre, whatever it truly is, pauses at the door to a purely black room. this time it looks back, all soft features and sharp eyes full of regret and guilt. it doesn't wait for him to approach any more than any other time, disappearing with a shuddering breath that seems to ghost across the Renan's face.
I'm sorry. I never wanted this for you. Please, --that side-- me... Thank you. Goodbye.
that Goodbye is a harshly breathed whisper, and behind him, all the light just... dims. what's ahead of him still glimmers brightly, pleading for him to continue on, though the room beyond remains dark past the doorway. the path he'd come from has hardly disappeared, but it's clearly no longer leading him forward - so here and now, this is all his choice.]
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Dohalim does notice the vines react his presence; a curious thing indeed. even with his affinity for earth astral artes, outside of wherever this place is, the earth and plants around him don't react in such a way. it's hard to ignore how receptive they are being so close to him, and he has to wonder why. another question to add to the long list of already complicated questions that he needs answered. eyes trace the unfamiliar but familiar symbols etched in the stones, as his fingers brush against the carvings.
he looks to the dark room, dark like the deepest obsidian. what could possibly await him beyond the threshold? he's sure it's not some sort of trap, the energy still lacking any malice. there has to be a reason why he's here...
Dohalim starts as he feels the breathed out words wash over his face, hands coming out to try to grasp any part of the spectre, as if hoping to hold onto something tangible, to stop it from disappearing. but he only manages to grasp at thin air; he looks down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up. he doesn't need anything to push him forward, his own feet leading him through the darkened room]
...Hello? Why have you brought me here?
[perhaps it's futile to call out to the darkness. but what more could he do, or say, right now?]
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It brings the first truthful stirrings in the room, and the first shallow, nigh inaudible breaths to him. Though really, this body has always done so - it's more that he can finally feel it, just a little bit. Just a tiny bit.
A spark, brightly yellow and fleeting as it scatters forward and over the ground, heralds a little more light at a time. Glimmering gold lights up between black rock, whimsical and light near Dohalim's feet and growing ever more structured, geometric as it approaches the center of the room.
There, as dim light becomes brighter, sits a raised stone dais. The words carved in it are worn, even if he could still read them, but they feel just the same as everything else here. And, should he try, he'll find himself somehow sure that it speaks of a barrier that will weaken 'when the rage is subdued'.
A shimmering barrier, like a thin membrane stretched taut over space, glimmers weakly. A seal, barely still in place. And beyond it? A body, curled in on itself, perched in the center of the dais. It is beautiful, in its way, as though carved from a plethora of varied rocks. Dark near the extremities, fingers disappearing from view in the dim, with ever more golden shapes cutting in to that darkness; a thick tail curls around the figure too, as if for self-comfort. Intricate horns crown his head and brown hair tipped with dark gold highlights pools out of view over one shoulder and behind his tail.
He can sense it now. That soul. After all this time, he's finally-- but he can't move yet. The seal is thin, but it isn't broken, and his body still resists instruction as a result. The most he can do is try to draw him closer, the soft call more hopeful than mournful compared to his spectre. Just a little more, and he can finally reach out. A little more, and he can see him again. How long has it been? How many centuries? Millenia? It's so hard to keep track...]
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again?
he reads the inscription carved into the stone, surprised that he can even read it. but, like everything else here, he has to wonder what it all means, and why he was led here. there's an undeniable pull, as he edges closer to the barrier, wanting to be closer to the being. Dohalim doesn't speak again for a moment or two longer, hand coming up to press against the barrier, like before. he can feel a slight vibration of astral energy under his fingertips, different than what earth astral energy feels like, but alike all the same. perhaps it's the magic cast upon this place? this couldn't have been made naturally, of course. but who would have created this place, this... prison for the being behind the barrier?
"My apologies--" the very words from his dreams rings in his ears; he nearly pulls his hand back. the voice had been so clear, clearer than he'd heard in his slumber, so clear that it almost sounded like his voice. but how could he... nothing cataclysmic like that had ever happened in his lifetime, and while he'd made mistakes of his own, that... that he's never witnessed, he's sure.
Dohalim applies a little more pressure against the barrier, as if almost tempted to break it, to free him from his imprisonment. a name dances on his tongue, a name he has no recollection of, a name he wants to call out, but can't seem to articulate]
M--
[he can feel himself run on autopilot as a gentle force takes over, clouding his mind with half formed thoughts and vague memories, unfamiliar to himself. is he dreaming again? has this all been but a dream? but it feels so real.
a name finally slips from his lips, softly muttered, but with an unwavering certainty]
--Morax.
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but as Dohalim speaks, there's a change. a charge in the air, as if listening intently. will he remember? after so long, it's hard to be sure. but... the name comes to his lips, unwavering but sure. the spell's undoing, simple as it is. too simple, except... this name is unnatural to the history of Renans and Dahnans both. here and now, perhaps he's the only one who could have truly spoken it.
regardless, cracks radiate out from his hand where it presses against the barrier, encircling it until the whole thing shatters. it's not nearly as destructive or dangerous as it might sound, just that seal bursting into light. and, in its fading light, the body behind it starts to shift and move. slowly, like waking from a long sleep.]
... Mm...
[his breathing starts to regulate, shifting as sense returns slowly to his mind. brows furrow and lashes flutter, slowly cracking open. everything feels... achy, sore. when golden eyes manage to focus on Dohalim just a little, there's a slow, warm smile that draws across his face.]
... Melqal... you're finally...
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and yet, as this person, Morax, calls him by that name, Dohalim can't help but respond to it as he steps forward, his heart beating fast as a warmth spreads through him. the feeling of relief when he hears that name floods him, leaving him with a soft smile on his face. is it he who is reacting to it? or is it Melqal? it's starting to become clear that his subconscious is not just his own, that there is another presence. it's not something he can explain, as he lets it take over (though it doesn't seem like he has a choice in the matter at this particular moment), riding backseat, for now. perhaps it's the shock of it all that he lets it happen, or a curiosity, but he slips into dormancy for now as the consciousness of Melqal takes over.
kneeling down by Morax, he reaches out to gently brush his fingers through dark, silken hair, to trail up his horns, his other hand gently cupping his face. his smile turns melancholic as his hands remember the feeling of the man, the warmth radiating off him. melancholic because of what he had to do to him, to protect the people around them, and to protect Morax himself. the sacrifice he himself had to make in order to do so]
Forgive me... Forgive me for what I had done...
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the other kneels down and begins with apologies, and he exhales what just might be a laugh. it's rough and gravelly, wrought with disuse and a touch of something else as fingers work through his hair, trail up to his horns.]
Hush... hush. [head turning, he nuzzles his lips into Dohalim's hand, soft and warm.] I have missed you, my treasure. I told you I would wait forever... but I missed you.
[with the remainder of his sanity he'd promised that, broken free in those critical moments. he's starting to recollect himself, to come to question the other things - the passage of time. the reality of mortality, and where they are now. in this moment it's not enough to bring the questions to his lips, but perhaps that's also steeped in the selfish wish to just... have his lover back. can he really be blamed for not wanting to break the spell yet?]
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I've missed you too, my beloved.
[but alongside the happy memory, he remembers the pain. the pain of having to imprison the other in this place. the muttered apologies when all he wanted was to reach out to hold him, to tell him everything would be alright. but there was nothing more he could do than to seal him away, using every last fibre of his being to create this place. this he remembers. and it hurts.
leaning in, Dohalim rests his forhead against Morax's, breathing out a trembling sigh. to be this close to him after hundreds of years... it almost doesn't feel like reality. he has to remind himself that he isn't dreaming, that this is all real, that Morax is here, calmed. but he does worry about the repercussions of being trapped in here alone would have on him; he couldn't imagine living in solitude for so long]
I am sorry... For leaving you alone for so long. The astral magic... the spell I used... it would not let me find you sooner.
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he really will never change, Morax thinks. hundreds of years and countless reincarnations, and he's still just like this. his sweet, gentle treasure, so prone to taking the pain of the world unto himself. there's part of the brunette that wants to simply pull him forward, to lean in and hold him until that fretting dies out, until he's sure there's not a breath of concern left. that may take forever, though, and he soothes his own wishes with a simple press of lips to Dohalim's, a brush of fingers to draw away the tears welling in his honeyed gaze.]
Melqal... you are still a worrier, I see. You did what you must, and I would have accepted no less. What I was... what I had become... [there's a weary, shuddering sigh. he can still remember, may never forget. a hand rises, warm and gentle, to press against the other man's chest.] I had hoped you wouldn't have to recall any of it.
I must admit... I've lost track of the centuries. In some ways, I fear this has been harder on you than on me.
[he'll spare him the details. comparatively, remembering what bits and pieces he does isn't nearly as devastating as whatever his beloved may have suffered. being sealed had its upsides, when it came to how much he'd had to deal with. and-- moreover, now he takes a moment to really look at Dohalim, at who his Melqal has become.]
Time has changed much, but you look well. [a pause, something akin to concern there in his eyes. energy, particularly astral energy, has a funny way of guiding life forward, he knows. he may still be simply Melqal, but it's equally possible there'd been some kind of schism, and if his senses aren't mistaken... it's more likely to be the latter than the former. two pieces of the same whole, truly, coexisting with or without knowledge of one another. even if he's wrong, the next question is of utmost import.] What is your name, now?
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[he mutters softly, his hand coming up to gently place over Morax's. he gives it a squeeze, holding it close, as if worried that he'd slip through his fingers. as memories start to slowly come back to him, Morax's words are not completely unfounded. the same heaviness in his heart that he felt earlier sinks into him. had it been fate that intervened, that punished the both of them for involving each other in a tabooed union? for a lowly human such as himself to fall in love with a being such as Morax, an embodiment of astral energy? was it punishment, suffering incarnation after incarnation searching for his beloved, only never to find him, and to live a life without him over and over again?
he doesn't want to say so, but perhaps...
Morax's words may be right. maybe this has had a more adverse effect on him... but before he could dwell on it further, Dohalim looks up at the question, letting himself be drawn into that warm, golden gaze. Dohalim himself stirs a little bit as he regains a little of his own mind back]
...Dohalim. My name is Dohalim.
[he says it more as a reassurance to himself that he isn't completely lost to this other person in his mind; a reminder that he's still here]
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[it's something he's never truly talked about; Morax has a complex relationship with things like fate, to the point that perhaps he struggles to believe in it. something about being no more than astral energy, that. but as Melqal squeezes his hand, working slowly through his own memory, his own history... his presence remains there, warm and uninterruptive, expression soft and wry. honestly, it's been too long, hasn't it?
but then there is the other matter at hand. a new name, and no doubt a new life. Morax shows no hesitation in watching him, a smile drawing across his face.]
Dohalim... [it's funny, how sweet a name can feel on his tongue. just the same as Melqal's, a reminder that they are the same - even if there's a difference in entity.] It's good to finally meet you, Dohalim.
[he wants to ask how much is shared, but... one thing at a time. still waking up to himself as he is, he doesn't have a clue how difficult this might be for either side.]
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more questions to add to the mountainous pile. he can feel a headache coming on as he sorts through his own memories; he can feel the line between his own and Melqal's start to blur ever so slightly. what happens next? will Melqal take over? would he cease to be? it doesn't seem like the other person in him would leave anytime soon, not when he found Morax at long last. but to lose his own autonomy because of a past love and life... is that what would happen?
he can feel Melqal's eagerness to be with Morax again, the warm feeling blooming in his chest. but with it comes a cold anxiety flowing through his veins. he sits up, eyes looking at the other with a slight uncertainty, hands pulling away to gently place in his lap. fingers start wringing each other as he sorts through... well, everything. just what does he do next?
it's no secret to himself that he holds little value of his own life, but to lose it like this, if it comes down to it... then again, perhaps it may be beneficial of sorts to forfeit himself to this other person. perhaps if he were to fade into obscurity so Melqal and Morax could be together once more... perhaps it wouldn't be so bad]
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Hands move, and the brunette shifts his weight, tail curling at his side. So then, it's complicated. How to best proceed from here....? Perhaps, he supposes, straight to the heart of it. Melqal himself had ever been a bleeding heart, giving to the point of self-destruction. It seems that these two share that... if he's reading it right.]
... If you are entertaining thoughts of simply suffering silently, Dohalim, I would suggest that you reconsider. It is... endlessly selfish of me to ask your patience, but I am asking anyway. [His expression softens as he speaks, weight with gentle understanding.] It is clear that this situation is... strange, but I am sure you would both agree that it is appalling to be forced into something that makes you uncomfortable at best.
If you would allow it, I have every intention of learning of you as well, Dohalim. Perhaps, in so doing, we will find a suitable compromise for all involved.
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You truly are kind. However, my own life is inconsequential compared to that of Melqal's.
[Dohalim is casual in his words, but to him, there's a truth he can't ignore. he's heard the stories, the history behind his namesake. there is nothing he can do that's comparable to the heroic deeds his ancestor has done. Melqal has waited centuries to be reunited with Morax, and he would only get in the way of this reunion.
and if he were to lay dormant, perhaps it would put his mind at ease about things he's done in his own past. the mistakes he's made, he would rather silence those thoughts. what if this is the way to do it? and truly, would there be anyone who would miss him? he himself had been alone for several years at this point, if he were to fade away, would it make a difference?]
You and Melqal have each other again. I...
[Dohalim hums to himself as he falls silent again. should he continue? it's not like he'd been able to say much about his past to anyone willing to listen. it's kind for the other to let him speak, but it's another thing to want to speak, altogether]
I would prefer not to get in the way of things.
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indeed, what history must this young man have fallen upon that he's so ready to give up on himself? Rena has never been perfect, but this...]
... do you think that opinion is shared by anyone here past yourself, Dohalim?
[the words are stern, but not cold, and the knit of the man's brows echoes his concern. his hands remain laced in front of him, partly because he's not confident he wouldn't reach out and
shaketouch Dohalim otherwise.]I know not what history you've beheld to make you so eager to run away from it, but I do not believe life is so inconsequential that one should simply give it up. I recognise that I cannot force you to do anything, but you have continued to live on thus far, so I can see no benefit to the loss of such a tenacious individual. ... If nothing else, it does seem that you can ask Melqal his thoughts on the matter as it stands.
[as someone who, for the most part, cannot die, he can acknowledge his own bias. his mistakes will never fade into obscurity, and the option to simply disappear from the forefront of it... well, it's ludicrous. maybe that's why it takes him a moment to find all the words, to soften the edges of them just enough to bear his disappointment without turning to ridicule.]
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I've lived this long because of an obligation I owed to the one I killed.
[his voice is just as tight as his posture; there are so many things he hadn't expected, but this particular topic... well, he's never been prepared to touch upon it. and more so with a being he had only heard in legends. but it dredges up his own memories that he would prefer not to talk about. his hands clench at each other, knuckles turning white as he tries to keep himself calm]
It is not a matter of tenacity. It is a prison of my own doing. Perhaps if I were more ambitious... No. I have no plans on living past my tenure as lord of Elde Menancia.
[how he goes about saying it sounds like he's made up his mind on it a long while ago. he lets all of that slip before he tight lips himself, eyes now flitting around to find an exit. Morax is right, he truly is eager to run. it's always been a habit of his, after all, to run rather than tackle a problem head on]
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An obligation is certainly a powerful tool.
[his voice softens then, and this time he does reach forward, placing a hand over Dohalim's own. it's light, easily brushed off or pulled away from, but it is most certainly there.]
I apologise. It seems that there are still some... lingering aches in my own history. But I have found that life is not so bleak as we think, no matter our past mistakes, and simply forgetting them is just too easy. [and oh, does he ever know that. inhaling a slow breath, he shifts his weight to test the idea of getting up, legs stretching out slowly.] I can offer nothing more than condolences and an ear, of course. If your decision is to simply disappear, then I have no recourse for that.
But... I wonder, then, why you were the one to find me? Perhaps you don't want to die as much as you believe. Perhaps ambition, for you, is not as simple as the whims of Renan culture. I don't know your history, so I can hardly do more than guess. I simply suspect that you and Melqal are not nearly so far removed as you think, in self nor in your... insufferably bleeding heart.
[insufferably, he says, with such warmth to his voice that it's clearly a frustration borne of love.]
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I was beckoned here.
[there might be some sort of higher power at play here, but Dohalim doesn't pay any mind to it. astral energy, especially in high concentrations, could provide varying and interesting results, but right now, Dohalim has no interest in it. no, all he wants is to back out of this conversation, to turn his thoughts off for a moment and compartmentalise them before he does something rash. however, he doesn't catch it before the words slip out from his lips, softly muttered and nearly inaudible]
--Just let me die.
[Dohalim lets himself sink back down into dormancy in his mind; at least it's quiet. perhaps it may be Melqal's doing, or maybe something else as a coping mechanism, but it's a nice change from his usual tumult of memories and emotions.
he looks back at Morax with a sigh, a sign that it's not Dohalim speaking to him now, but Melqal instead; he drops his hand from his shoulder to his lap as he relaxes his shoulders and back slightly]
I... Had not realised...
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... moreover, there are those words. Tired, frustrated. Painfully lucid in a way that at once twists in his chest and feels entirely too familiar.]
... ah...
[Dohalim may not be his beloved, but the thought of him coming to harm-- the thought of everything just ending in some abrupt way tears at his thoughts. Of course, that's only another fault, isn't it? He can feel so much and still his words can fall so...]
It is... a complex issue, clearly.
[even with Melqal speaking again, with his same, gentle countenance taking over, Morax can't completely recover.
How many times had he pleaded, back then? Struggling for a lucid moment so that he could stop, so that he wouldn't...]
... is it really such an... acceptable thought, for him? [how much had that one life meant? How much more was missing from this narrative?] Perhaps... perhaps it was still too early. For this.
[for him. He struggles with the man's plight in a way that's perhaps completely hypocritical for a creature who just called another a bleeding heart. His gaze is unsure, lips pressed together into a thin line.]
I have... forgotten most of the details over the years, but he reminds me of the beginning. When you gave me pause in my heartlessness. [When he was just another symbol of destruction, power to be wielded. It hadn't been a swift change by any means.] Forgive me, Melqal. It seems I yet lack the passion of your verbiage. I fear, more than that, that it's deteriorated in the darkness. I...
[His hands shift, hesitating now. It's an old habit, one he hasn't realised exists, let alone how hypocritical it is.]
... what would you recommend, Melqal? I've no memory of this place and its layout, but I... I would like to leave it.
[and to get the other man out of it, honestly.]
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[when Morax says that, Melqal flashes a wry smile of his own, remembering those early days. he had, understandably, been guarded, not particularly favourable of Renans who only sought to use his power. Melqal had been different, once he realised that the astral spirits truly were alive and could take on more corporeal forms. reaching over, he takes Morax's hands into his as he shifts closer. thumbs stroke the back of them gently as he lets out a soft breath]
You were fine. I... Am sure he just has not had anyone tell him his life holds value. The fates have not been kind to him, either.
[Melqal recounts what he does remember seeing; Dohalim soon after taking over the position of lord in this glorious land, and the work he'd put into it to grant it peace among its people. work that was, no doubt, a distraction from intrusive thoughts that told him he should not be allowed to exist, thoughts that told him he was not allowed any sort of happiness. not for what he'd done.
Melqal can feel something stir in him; is it Dohalim? is he growing restless from the recollection of memories? perhaps he shouldn't think about them, for now]
As for my recommendation... We should make our way out of this place. I think you have been imprisoned for far too long.
[and perhaps, a change of scenery would be good for everyone involved]
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[Melqal had indeed been different; Morax himself had been far wilder and less trusting, carrying with him a flagrant disregard for mortal life. Warped from the constant misuse of his astral energy, he can still remember how long it took to shake him free from that.]
... perhaps I was mistaken in whom he shares traits with, then. The fates...
[The fates again. Mortals are ever so focused on that, on the idea that their lives are simply meant to be this way. It seems too sad, to him. To think that all of those years of abuse and unkindness were just meant to be, for himself and Dohalim and Melqal all - it's just too sad.
He's quiet as the other recounts a little of Dohalim's history, hands curled around the redhead's in turn. Here and there he pauses to ask questions, mostly to put Elde Menancia of the current years into perspective or to clarify something he doesn't have any logical memory for.
When the retelling ends and he suggests they leave, there's a soft, appreciative smile that blooms over his face.]
Then let us go. I am curious to see what this land has become with the passage of time. And... I hope to hear more about it, as well. For now-- I will follow.
[leaning on Melqal for a start, Morax rises to his feet and lets his tail shift to wrap around his lover's waist. It feels as comforting as it is familiar, sweet. This place, now that he really sees it, is indicative of what they had become, isn't it? Shared energy lighting the path, even with the circumstances being what they had been.]
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the Renans, however, he couldn't say the same. a race that is ruthless most times, had only gotten worse over the years. they would waste no time in lording their power over the Dahnans; they feel like it's their right as the master race. Dohalim, Melqal thinks, is... different. he brought about peace and equality in the realm, judging people by their merit rather than their lot in life. he recalls to himself seeing Dohalim in his studies, questioning why it was deemed absolute that the Renans' place above the Dahnans was a rightful one. of course, in a society where challenged ideals could mean complete ostracization of the family, and considering just how high on the pedestal the il Qaras family sits, Dohalim quickly pushed that topic away.
he always did walk away from confrontation rather than face it head first...
perhaps it's a good thing that Dohalim had brought the ideals of coexistence to the realm, he thinks, as he helps Morax up. it would be inevitable for the spirit to find out just how misused the astral energy of the planet is, but maybe seeing Menancia thrive would help... soften the blow, so to speak. but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there.
a hand comes up to gently cradle the tail wrapped around him, fingers gently grazing along the warm scales. he sighs softly, missing the feeling of it under his hand. warm and strong like stone under the sun. Melqal stands slowly with Morax, his other arm wrapped around him to keep him steady and close]
Steady, now... Are you alright?
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for now, the elemental is trying not to think on that subject. it will be something to learn in time, as always, and he's much more focused on the individual-- two individuals-- here in his presence. there is no rush, even if Dohalim is so intent on leaving himself aside for the good of Melqal and Morax. it didn't sound like the young man's tenure as the Lord of Elde Menancia was anywhere near complete, after all.]
Ah... I'm fine.
[he's especially fine with the way a hand cradles his tail, bringing rise to nigh endless memories of quiet, warm nights just basking in one another's presence. his feet are a little unsteady, but not nearly as much as one would expect, for how long he had been sealed. that fact hardly stops him from leaning on Melqal, reaching up to brush fingers through his hair. it's interesting, seeing the differences in Dohalim's body - the mark of time's passage, and of descendants besides. and it's too bad, he thinks, that Dohalim should think himself so unworthy of anything. with a kind face and a kind heart, he can only imagine...]
I can do anything, so long as you're here with me. [bunting his cheek against Melqal's, he shores himself up and takes a tentative step forward.] Shall we?
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