tushanshu_logs | [OPEN] O soft embalmer of the still midnight...

Entry tags:

[OPEN] O soft embalmer of the still midnight...

Characters: Bakura & OPEN
Date: January catch-all log
Location: Midnight Hotel, various
Situation: Bakura's reappearance on Tu Vishan in a critical state and subsequent healing left him in a coma for a couple weeks, but now he's woken up and has some processing to do.
Warnings/Rating: Angry angst? POSSIBLE SUICIDE-ISH THEMED (SORT OF?) CONVERSATION IN CLOSED THREAD "A". Add specific warnings if needed in subject headers.

A. MIDNIGHT HOTEL - CLOSED TO SOLOMON;
Waking didn't feel like waking, and for several long moments he didn't even realize that his eyes had cracked open and flooded with light, unable to distinguish it from a fever dream. His temperature had developed shortly after he'd finished being healed, as his body sought to marshal whatever strength it could find from a depleted soul. Its efforts were apparently sufficient however, and after forcing a couple blinks to determine that the light was going to remain, he stirred beneath the blankets, seeing which limbs responded. Blankets..?

The room was unfamiliar, the twinge across one shoulder like an old wound he couldn't remember getting, and soreness told him he'd been reclined like this for a while. He felt like he could barely scrape together enough energy to do so, but he managed to get himself leveraged half upright in a vaguely muddled haze. The action was more on instinct than any conscious desire to be sitting upright, before he realized why his head was pounding so unbearably, and broke off his efforts with a strangled, aborted sob. No...!

B. MIDNIGHT HOTEL - OPEN
It had taken another few days after waking before Bakura was recovered enough to start moving around on his own, but he was chaffing to leave the room and be away from Solomon's smothering presence. He had no specific destination in mind, and so had started exploring the various hallways of the Hotel, just to give him something to concentrate on instead of the horrible empty ache that he couldn't get away from. Once or twice he's touched a door frame to illuminate the inscribed sigils there, anything, anything to focus on. His constitution was still lacking however, and several times he's had to stop with one hand pressed to the corridor's walls, bracing himself while he waits for his strength to return. He'd rather drop into another coma than ask for assistance, but he's also in no position to avoid anyone who wants to approach.

C. KEELIAI; FIRE SECTOR - OPEN
Eventually he does start feeling better physically, something he can't quite deem a relief but certainly a state that's preferable. He's still too drained on energy to muster any kind of access to his shadow magic, but a few simple reconnaissances shouldn't be a problem. Bakura's first stop is the old Foreigner housing, to his old suite in the Fire Sector. He heard what's happened to these buildings and thinks that is a perfectly logical thing that the kedan did, although it was vaguely irritating to lose what eclectic possessions he'd had accumulated. His suite is currently lived in by a kedan family with four children, and the thief thinks, at least the space is being put to decent use, having always thought the Foreigners were allotted a lot of housing for individuals themselves.

The family does at least agree to open the door and speak tersely with him, but the immediate denial of having found anything of his possessions comes so quickly that there's a 50/50 chance of being truth or just flat refusal to help him. Bakura gives consideration to the possibility of just pushing his way in and searching for his things himself, but discards it after a moment and lets the door shut. He's not sure what he'd have done with his notes on the various planes and the links between the Dreaming and the khajbit anyway, save feel some kind of vague satisfaction at getting something of his own back.

D. KEELIAI; VARIOUS - OPEN
It's almost startling how much the city has changed in the span of almost a year, but Bakura supposes that if anything's going to spur such an overhaul, it might as well be the removal of any semblance of law and order and the high that comes from surviving almost-annihilation. There's a very different ambiance to the city now, and in a lot of ways it's better, he thinks. He stops to read a large poster that a kedan has just finished nailing to a notice board, who gives the thief a dirty look before moving off, and Bakura slowly works through translating it with his rudimentary knowledge of the language.

A public... court...?

---

((OOC: Or tag in with your own!))

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Raine had gotten into the habit, while Bakura was comatose, of dropping by to check on him occasionally, and even now that she knew he had woken, that had her turning her feet toward Solomon's room without thinking first. Well, even if he was awake now, it would help her peace of mind to know for sure how he was doing. She tapped on the door, then a moment later tried it, calling quietly "It's Raine," as she did so.

He isn't bedbound, but he has trouble focusing on anything and with his energy so low, it's easier to not stray far. Thus he's sitting in the stuffed chair in the corner, legs drawn up beneath him, an open book in his lap whose pages hadn't turned at all. The music box Solomon purchased plays quietly in the corner of the room, turned down just low enough so that it became a lilting white noise, rather than a distinct audio source.

"Come in," he answered, even though she needed no invitation.

Ah, there he was. Raine came fully inside and nudged the door shut behind her as an afterthought, studying Bakura from there rather than come any further in yet. He still didn't look wholly well, even from here. "It's good to see you awake," she said in a moment. She meant it, but kept her tone relatively neutral, reserved. Easier, since she'd gotten her relief out of the way days before. "Hello again, Bakura."

He folded the book closed in his lap, not bothering to mark his place because he hadn't been reading anyway. His movements lacked the fine precision she would have come to associate with him; ever since waking, his reflexes had been lethargic and muted.

"Hello again, Raine," he answered, not addressing her first statement. It doesn't feel good to be awake.

She couldn't honestly remember the last time she'd heard her proper name from him. Had it been back when he'd introduced himself first, when he'd still pretended to be Ryou? Raine blinked at him, the surprise showing just for a second, before she smoothed it away. "How are you feeling?" she asked, back to the same even calm. She came around to sit on the edge of one of the beds, leaving Bakura some space while indicating she planned to stay for a little while.

He shrugged; the movement nearly lost in the cotton long sleeved shirt he wore. "As well as can be expected," he replied, and that was less trite response in this instance and more literal pronouncement. His voice didn't have any not of strain in it, and yet he wore exhaustion around him like a shroud; it was a tiredness that went deeper than the physical.

And Raine, who would have been used to feeling an enormous well of dark power within him, would sense it to be utterly drained. There was less darkness, certainly -- though she may have discovered that some of that darkness had moved, contained in the Ring that Ryou now wore -- but Bakura's essence was still ebbed low.

He still felt like Bakura, at least, but the sense of him had certainly been diminished. Still darkness in him, but less than there had been, more reminiscent of someone just beginning to experiment with those spells. And the strange negativity that had been wound through his mana seemed to have completely vanished, which Raine could only call a good thing.

"And how well can be expected?" Raine prompted, pushing just a little. "I may have been checking on you, but I have little idea what happened." Nor did she expect that to be explained, but she didn't know where else to start with Bakura. There was something unsettling about the exhausted way he held himself, such a far cry from usual, and if this was as well as could be expected... He might be worse off than she'd initially guessed.

A faintly brittle smile at the question, because it was predictable. Raine always needed to know more information, to clarify, to quantify. It was one of the reasons he'd always found working with her engaging.

"As well as someone with no ba left," he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, but the motion fell flat. "You remember what I said about that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." That it was a force that gave life, integral to the self; that it was, most likely, closely akin to mana. Raine fell silent at that, her gaze distant, thoughtful. This, in conjunction with the way he'd spoken before departing, pointed at a conclusion she was not particularly fond of. He must have died, in his world, and likely in the final way, even for a spirit.

Raine examined him more closely on the level of his mana, frowning a little as she did. "I also recall that we agreed ba roughly analogous to mana, as I would think of it," she said finally, "and that I still sense from you. Not quite what I'd expect from a healthy human adult, but enough." Either ba was not as close as they had thought it might be, or he was mistaken.

"Enough," Bakura repeated the single word as if it were a slur. "For what, precisely, is this state good enough for? Whatever amount, you can thank your satep-et for it. He's the one who did this."

The ire, even mild as it was, still didn't persist. Raine wasn't at fault, and Bakura knew that. The thief pressed fingers to his temple, wincing. His temper was too short, because trying to focus on anything for more than a few minutes sent his head pounding. It was ironic, that the voices in his head had kept him sane, rather than being a sign of the opposite.

"Satep-et?" Raine repeated, though there was a dryness to her voice; she could guess well enough from the context who he meant, and the query was only for exact meaning. She shook her head. "You're alive, Bakura. There's nothing to be good enough for: it's simply enough that you are." She could practically hear Lloyd's voice, echoing those sentiments, and for a moment she missed her students dearly.

Raine sighed quietly and got up, moving toward Bakura and stopping before him. "May I?" she asked, one hand extended. "It's possible I can ease that a little, if it's bad." She was sure he was uninjured, so there was only so much she could do, but she'd rather not see him in pain atop everything else.

"Satep-et," Bakura echoed dryly, purposely misunderstanding her invitation to translate the term. "Since I assume the two of you weren't sharing that bed the other night for the sake of warmth."

He glanced away for a moment at Raine's assertion of his state of life being its own sufficiency, because he didn't feel like arguing that point. Bakura didn't see the purpose of living only to be miserable, which was what he was at present and, with the loss of his ghosts and bearing the full weight of his failure to save them, could not see changing.

"You can try," he said lowly. "I don't think it'll make any difference without anything to heal, but it can't hurt."

Had he seen-- Oh, dear. It was not so much the fact that he had witnessed a show of affection as it was that co-opting Solomon's bed had arisen from a rather pronounced weakness on her part. Either way, however, Raine declined to follow that avenue of conversation any further. The contextual definition of the word would have to do.

"Everyone seems to react a little bit differently," she said instead, fighting her way back to neutral with one of the things she knew best: magical theory. "Likely due to variations within the definition of 'human.' And it's true that a full healing arte will do little, since you seem to be sound of body. However-- here." She cast as a halfway sort of thing, brought mana to her fingertips without shaping it all the way. The result was a faint glow, and a soothing warmth, and she reached to press her fingers gently against Bakura's temple.

This was by no means a recommended way to use mana, in its purer form rather than through an arte, but Raine had deep reserves and was in no danger of accidentally exhausting herself. And, more to the point, there was practically nothing else she could do for him, and helplessness always chafed bitterly.

The intent wasn't to embarrass Raine, only to change the subject away from something he didn't wish to talk about, so Bakura didn't press the subject either. It was his typical method of controlling a conversation, using sharp barbs or underhanded remarks to keep the upper hand, and a means he'd used on Raine before. She had understood before that he didn't do it out of any particular intention to be cruel, so hopefully she would again.

He leaned back slightly at the summoning of the mana around Raine's fingertips, but out of surprise rather than distrust, and not far enough to be out of range when she touched them to the side of his head. They felt warm for a moment and he opened his mouth to ask exactly what he was supposed to be feeling, when its effect took hold. Warmth suffused him, not just his head but his whole body, and instead of words, his breath gusted out in a mute exclamation of pleasure.

And like warm applied to an ache, it began to subside the pounding in his head. It could not address the source -- that was solely within Bakura -- but it seemed to be helping the symptoms.

"Even if I had shadow magic at the moment, it doesn't do anything like that."

She'd understand once the initial reaction had worn off, and indeed was already beginning to guess that Bakura had done exactly that on purpose. In any case his goal of putting off that general area of conversation had been achieved, and the topic of Solomon was not one Raine was likely to come around to again immediately.

The sound Bakura made she'd take as a good sign, at any rate. Raine left her hand there for the time being, reluctant to change something that was evidently helping, even if only a little bit. "Nor, typically, do healing artes," she admitted. Made a note of the fact his magic was temporarily gone, though she didn't intend to bring it up unless necessary. "Most were intended at least initially for combat. But this-- I know the theory well enough to improvise. A little better?"

"It is," he agreed, not yet withdrawing and intending to capture as much of the effect's workings as possible. "And I'm not surprised you can do something like that."

That left both unasked and unanswered questions in the air, but Bakura was not the one who was going to be breaking that silence. If Raine wanted to know anything, she'd have to pry a little.

Talking, but saying little, and her questions about Bakura's state were only expanding. Raine couldn't do or say anything more useful without knowing more, but to know more at this point she would very definitely have to pry, and she was not so sure that was a good idea.

But she was unconvinced simply letting it be was, either. A broad question, then, one he might answer as he willed. Or not at all, of course. Raine sighed once more, very quietly, and proceeded with the consciousness that whatever she said had a chance to backfire horribly. "What happened to you, Bakura?" A direct question now, rather than her previous indirect nudging.

The question was direct, but far more complicated than she possibly realized and he stilled under the mana's touch.

"I failed to do the one thing that I'd promised them I would," he said finally.

Raine had enough sensibility not to be too demonstrative about her sympathy, but there was a little sadness to her eyes, and when she finally drew her hand back, there was a visible hitch to her motion, like she'd wanted to offer something more. But he wouldn't accept it, in any case, and words were her stronger suit. "What was it you promised them?" she asked, quiet. "Peace, or justice?"

"One of those rare instances where those two things were one and the same," the thief answered lowly. "So looking at it that way, perhaps the failure is twice as heavy."

He wanted his ghosts back, even if they would hate him now for not beating the Pharaoh. Anything would have been better than this awful, crushing silence where they had been nearly as long as hed been alive.

"I'm sorry." It was simple and honest, the only way she had to express sorrow for how much he had lost. None of what put him in this position in the first place should have happened. "You've borne more alone than any person should reasonably be expected to."

Now that was approaching pity. Enough; sentiment would do little more good here. With some effort Raine turned her mind to the practical, to problem-solving. "With your world behind you, I assume the option of outright justice is out of reach. Could there yet be a way to grant your kin peace, however? That potential was why you initially sought me out after the Palace, after all, was it not?"

The tight line of tension across Bakura's shoulders breaks; he slumps a little in his seat. "I would, if I had them still. I haven't been able to hear or feel them since I was brought back."

"The word Solomon used was 'latent,' not 'gone,'" Raine noted, almost gently. Regardless of how Bakura felt about Solomon at the moment, he was the person in the next best position to know besides Bakura himself. "I wonder-- when we spoke, that time, I had the impression they were bound to the Ring you wore, not directly to you. Or is it both?" Since Bakura, too, had been in something like that position.

He doesn't address the first part, because he's angry at Solomon, and Raine citing Solomon won't get a good response. Bakura could tell no practical difference in the terms... one just sounded kinder, and the thief was not processing kindness right now.

"Both, in a way. They were bound to the Ring against their will -- all the Items, technically, but especially the Ring -- but they chose to do so to me."

Raine would almost rather a sharp answer than that simple lack of response; Bakura like this didn't seem right. She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her fingers absently against her upper arm. "I would suggest that you seek out the Ring, in that case. Ryou has it, doesn't he?" Another curiosity -- why had it stayed with Ryou, when it was evidently tied on so many levels to Bakura? "If they are tied to both you and it, the split of focus is likely not helping."

This was almost pure conjecture, but since Bakura was evidently refusing to consider the input of the person who did know something of the way his magic worked, conjecture was what he was going to get.

[OPEN] O soft embalmer of the still midnight...

most of the way to B?

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