Kneel in silence alone / my spirit bears me

[peacefullywreathed]

Characters: Solomon Wreath, Raine Sage, OPEN
Date: Month of April, ‘2016’.
Location: Primarily the Midnight Hotel, but potentially elsewhere as well.
Situation: Solomon’s adjusting to new circumstances, like the fact he’s now blind and a part of his soul has detached to act as a filter for his highly addictive magic. Fun.
Warnings/Rating: References to addiction--specifically an addiction to magic--and subsequent withdrawal.

The first five days after the accident, Solomon didn’t leave his room. Not only was there no point, but he was virtually incapable of it; he’d gone into the attempt to filter his magic knowing that he’d come out of it either insane or in withdrawal, and that hadn’t changed just because it hadn’t quite worked. He spent that time alternately too sick to leave the bed and too restless to bear it. It wasn’t until several days into the month of April that he dared to leave, and that was mostly to escape the feeling of being caged.

From the 3rd of April onwards the Hotel patrons will start seeing a tall, dark-haired man about the place. Not exactly an ordinary sight, either—these days Solomon had silver scars scattered around his eyes and face, thin in themselves but in large enough quantity to be clearly visible. They looked exactly as if something had blown up in his face, because something had; if anyone managed to catch him with his sleeves rolled up, they’d see similar laceration scars on his hands and wrists.

The really odd thing about him was that the shadows flocked toward him. Anywhere within ten feet of him, shadows would detached from their owners and gather around his feet like eager puppies, or caressing his fingers whenever he touched the wall. Which was often; the way he moved, the way he walked, it was clear Solomon couldn’t see a thing. Every now and then the shadows would spread out around him, as if scouting the terrain ahead, but even then Solomon’s progress was slow.

The observant would notice that the shadows, having touched Solomon once, would develop an underscoring blue mist which acted, in many ways, like a shadow for the shadows.

Though Solomon had been at the Hotel for months, he was so reclusive that ten to one most of the patrons wouldn’t recognise him, and frankly that was something Solomon was relying on. This was going to be hard enough without people gawking. Luckily he wouldn’t be able to see people gawking—but he’d know it, if only out of paranoia.

For the most part he tried to avoid areas with high traffic, or at least during hours of high traffic; but even still Solomon was potentially visible in the halls, on the balcony over the reception, and in the kitchen or the common-room in particular, drawing shadows around and, occasionally, cursing over a stubbed toe or banged knee. He didn’t seem to be striving to do anything in particular, aside from exploring his surroundings and staunchly ignoring anyone nearby. In the kitchen he was particularly interested in the tea area and finding the blasted fridge.

Regardless of where he was, the kedan gave him a wide berth; the only risk to his public seclusion was, therefore, the Foreigners.

[ooc: As a necromancer, Solomon has a death-sense—he can sense whether or not a person has died before. Due to progress in-game he’s also able to extend that to a sense of a person’s soul, though at the time of this log he isn’t able to tell anything more than whether or not there are large pieces missing (so your character’s emotional secrets are safe!). Please let me know if your character fits into this category through PM or a short ooc note.]

Comments

CLOSED to RAINE; their bedroom; 29 MARCH - 2 APRIL; cw: withdrawal and blindness

[peacefullywreathed]

Solomon wasn’t a good patient. He wasn’t necessarily a bad one—he did what he was told and didn’t argue about staying bedridden—but he got irritable fast, accompanied by cutting sarcasm and grumpy dismissal. That was compounded by the fever and delirium, and a soul-deep craving that turned his dreams into vivid and breathtaking rememberings of what it felt like to carry that much power, unfiltered.

There was a veil between him and his magic, not enough to keep him from using it but leaving the blissful shroud of power on one side and out of reach. Without it, death felt stark and cold, and crystal. At least he’d experienced that before and knew, somewhat, how to handle it.

The shadows in the room were never still; they fluttered all over the place as if seeking command or escape from the blue mist that matched their every movement. Solomon managed to snatch an awareness of his surroundings from them, but it was like trying to glean a street-level view of a room from a topographical map. It made his head ache, apart from everything else, this straddling between relying on his physical or his magical senses.

And all the time, Raine’s presence hovering, bright enough to make the shadows cautious and accompanied by the dual smells of paper and disinfectant, and a weird not-smell but would have imagined was purplish-green, if it was possible to smell a colour. Since it wasn’t, he was running under the assumption that it was magic and something in his senses had gotten crossed.

Every time he awoke he’d forgotten his eyes were no longer working.

Every time he awoke he had to remember.

There was only so long before even Raine suffered his increasingly short temper.

[ruinsprofessor]

Raine had lost any lingering reticence about the fluttering shadows very quickly, especially with Solomon's ka threaded through them. She'd trusted his control before; now, with an aspect of his soul in plain view and the fact no shadows had made any untoward moves despite the obvious stress he was under, Raine did not think she had much if anything to fear.

She was, however, hovering a little more than was strictly necessary, and her customary briskness had given way to something a little more gentle. As if he was fragile, now. Every so often she requested that Solomon allow her to take another look at him, and often this concluded in trying one arte or another. Fruitlessly, of course. There was a part of her that knew the damage had been done and was by now irreversible, if it had not been the moment she found him.

But she had to try, nevertheless.

Even so, Raine was nearing the point where there was no other avenue to try. This time when she would ordinarily have asked him to submit to another try she simply perched on the edge of the bed, watching him thoughtfully, and if there was some sorrow in the way she did, well, he wouldn't see it. "Solomon," she started finally. "May I-- hm." She stopped there, unsure what else she would say, what magic she might have overlooked.

[peacefullywreathed]

"No," Solomon said, and the word came out so flat it had brittle edges, and surprised him. Then it didn't, because that was ridiculous, this whole situation was ridiculous. Solomon pressed his hands to his face and took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the tremble of weakness in his fingers and the slight ridges of the scars beneath them.

He could barely tell how many days had gone by. There was only a cheap clock in the room and no way for him to tell the time on it. About all he could judge the passing hours by was when Raine came home from the Guild, and when Raine brought him meals, and when Raine tried to fix him. Again.

"It's not working," he said. "Stop. Just stop."

Every time she tried some arte or another he felt as though he didn't have the strength to hope, and then did anyway. They already knew that Restore would only reset the addition, not solve it--he had gone to her before, the first time he'd endured this. That didn't stop her from trying every other arte under the sun, and it was enough.

[ruinsprofessor]

"I--" Raine said, and found she had no reasonable defense, and rested her hands in her lap.

They'd both known, it seemed. All that remained was admitting it.

Raine looked away. It felt wrong somehow, seeing him this weak, this worn, and only watching, but what more was there she could do? All her studies and practice amounted to this, being unable to help when it most mattered. "You're right," she said, quiet, and stood, paced to the desk. Her staff still leaned in one far corner; she glanced at it, then away again, frowning faintly.

Her gaze fell next on the papers on the desk, the books still out, and that, too, only served as reminder of what Solomon had lost. Raine shook herself then, abruptly annoyed with herself, and turned back to Solomon. What had happened to him was done, could not now be changed. She would not turn away from that, no matter if it hurt, and she would not burden him with her own failings, either. Not now.

"I'm sorry," she said, simple and plain, because it was all she now had to offer. "I don't know what else to do."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Don't give me your pity." Those words came out before Solomon meant them to as well, but they were less surprising, if laced with frustration. It was bad enough working through his own emotions without having to deal with ridiculous sympathy from elsewhere. Let alone from Raine.

Especially from Raine.

She'd barely left the room, let alone the Hotel, for the last few days. It wasn't enough that he'd been so badly bedridden, amongst everything else--but having her hover and not even being able to tell her to go away, because he needed the help ... He'd needed her there just so he could bathe, for God's sake.

He couldn't stand being helpless. He didn't know how to be helpless. There'd never been anyone for him to be helpless at, and everything about it rubbed him wrongly in ways he couldn't even define.

[ruinsprofessor]

A brief, considering silence, as Raine tried on that idea. Pity, hm. "Do you think it's pity, that keeps me here?" Raine returned in a moment, evenly. True, that the line between sympathy and pity occasionally was a blurry one, but the latter carried a connotation she was not sure she liked, nor was it a word she would have used. She folded her arms across her chest, studying him a little closer now.

[peacefullywreathed]

The considered evenness of Raine's voice just made Solomon feel even more irritated. It was so ... so calm, as if she was pandering to a recalcitrant patient--even though her being calm and straightforward was one of the things he liked about her. He knew it was contrary and it wasn't helping. It was just making things worse, to know he wasn't, currently, able to be that controlled, even when it was unfair.

"No," he said shortly, and lowered his hands and looked away even though he couldn't see her anyway. He was a bundle of emotions he couldn't even define. "That's not what I said, either."

[ruinsprofessor]

"Hm," Raine said, and crossed back that way, leaning now against the foot of the bed. It was probably inconvenient that she kept moving, she noted with an absent thought, but there was a restlessness arising in the absence of any meaningful, useful action to take, one she couldn't quite control.

It was good they were clear on that matter, at least.

"Do you consider it pity, then, to be sorry for what you've suffered? I suppose it might well be, but feeling sorrow for your pain isn't something I can stop, either." Still even, almost analytical, trying to pick whatever problem this was apart into its component pieces.

[peacefullywreathed]

The sound of her footsteps did grind his nerves. Most sounds these days ground his nerves. It was a side-effect, he knew, but that didn't stop it from being so.

"I think it's an unneeded reminder of how helpless I actually am," Solomon said bitterly. "I can barely leave the bed without aid. Do you think it's helpful to have you here at all hours of the day, as if I'm an invalid?"

Even though he was. That was the part that made it worse.

[ruinsprofessor]

"Then what would you prefer?" Raine asked, and there was a bare hint of sharpness now creeping into her tone. He seemed to be contradicting himself -- of course he was weak, he was coping with withdrawal symptoms and major trauma including the loss of a primary sense all at once -- how could she reasonably be expected to leave him alone, medical emergencies aside? "I'm not about to stop caring, nor am I sanguine about the idea of leaving you alone for the majority of the day right now. You're still recovering; I can't do anything about the time that takes."

She straightened up from her lean, shifted a couple of steps away before she managed to still her feet. Honestly. "There's nothing wrong with needing the help," she said. "But if you are not, in fact, an invalid, then you are welcome to get up and prove it." This was not said unkindly: if anything, there was half a challenge in the way she said it.

[peacefullywreathed]

He almost snapped, "I'd prefer you to leave me alone!" but managed to take a breath instead, his jaw clenching with the effort of keeping the words in. But Raine's challenge made his head jerk up and even though Solomon knew it was foolish, that she was baiting him, he pushed back the covers.

It took time--Solomon had to feel his way out of the bed step by step, and banged himself more than once. But far from garnering a reaction, he was silent in the face of minor injury; the only evidence that he'd even noticed was the fact his mouth tightened each time.

His legs were weak and shaky; for all his frustration, Solomon didn't rush putting his weight on them until he was sure they would hold. Only then did he straighten up, one hand on the wall to keep himself upright.

"There," he challenged her back, ignoring the fine tremble in his body. He couldn't see her but that didn't stop him from looking in her general direction, his sightless eyes hard. "Is that what you were aiming for? To prompt some measure of self-sufficiency out of the poor crippled man?"

The last words almost caught in his throat. Almost. He pushed them out as if they were daggers instead.

[ruinsprofessor]

Raine watched him all the while, biting her lip each time he hit something, but otherwise refraining from comment or action. Neither would be at all helpful right now, she had enough sense to know that.

It was possible, perhaps, that she'd been hovering a little much.

His words, though-- Raine nearly flinched, startled at the unexpected hardness in them. Then she jerked her chin up, her instinct to meet his eyes though the exercise would be some kind of pointless. "Self-deprecation aside-- yes, that is part of my aim. I will stop -- hovering -- if I don't fear that you're about to harm yourself being stubborn, and I sincerely doubt you would prefer to remain abed." She found she was coming perilously close to snapping at him, grit her teeth and tamped frustration down. "Come over here, then. If you cannot, I'd request you acknowledge that perhaps you need more rest yet. If you can..." Half a shrug, and a little sigh. "...then perhaps I have been hovering unduly."

[peacefullywreathed]

Solomon made a sound halfway between a strangled laugh and a growled objection. Something had been unleashed, he didn't know what; but it made the words come freely, still as hard as before even in spite of Raine's concession. "When did I ever give you the impression I'd do myself harm by being unduly stubborn? You've barely given me room to breathe, let alone try to get up and walk around on my own!"

He wouldn't have, anyway. He couldn't have, and he wasn't so foolish as to ignore that. But somehow it had become a sticking point, now, that he was finding retroactively that he wouldn't have been allowed. As if he didn't have the wherewithal to figure out for himself that, yes, he needed bed-rest. As if he was, in fact, as invalid as he feared himself to be.

[ruinsprofessor]

A sharp intake of breath from Raine, and this time she did flinch, as if his words had a physical weight. "It's not like I--" she started, realized partway her voice had risen and she wasn't thinking, and just as abruptly she cut herself off and turned around.

One deep breath. Two. When Raine thought she had herself under control she turned again. "Just now, if nothing else," she said, coolly. Flexed her fingers, curled them into the fabric of her cuffs. He actually did have a point, though it did sting. "But I suppose you're correct. I am-- afraid." The last word sounded as if it was nearly dragged from her lips. "You could have died, Solomon. And the repercussions are-- lasting." Control was rapidly ebbing, and her voice grew a little more raw. "I will admit that fear has shaped my actions more than it should."

Much more quietly, after a beat to breathe: "Would you prefer it if I went, for now?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"Then you were complicit in my being stubborn, Healer Sage," Solomon pointed out, but even though his tone was still edged, it had lost some of the hardness. The admission had disarmed him, so that he still stood out of sheer will, holding himself rigid like someone afraid he'd fall to pieces if he moved wrongly.

Then finally he exhaled and relaxed bit by bit, and lowered himself trembling back to the bed. His legs felt like rubber. "I don't know," he said. "No." He looked away in a vain attempt to keep her from seeing his face. Vain, because he didn't even know what he was feeling in order to show on it. "There's a difference between needing help and being invalid, Raine. Which am I?"

She was the healer, and she was ordinarily so capable of being objective. If she thought it was necessary to wait at his elbow like this, what did it mean for him?

[ruinsprofessor]

She did not like the way that title sounded from him, either, willing as she was to accept it from other Foreigners, from patients. A part of her spared half a thought to be sullenly amused by the way she would now much prefer to hear him call her Master Healer Sage again.

"You're right," she said again, because she could at least admit her own weakness, as much as she disliked it. "And for that I am sorry." Not pity nor sympathy, simple admission that she had in that fear been unfair to him.

Raine uncurled her fingers, bit by bit, otherwise held herself still. Tried to be objective, though she was never sure she could be where he was concerned. He was blind and weak, but improving, and evidently well enough to be frustrated at his own weaknesses. Never mind that any number of things could happen to him: did she trust him to know his own limits and keep to them?

She had back when they first met. Loving him should make no difference to that; she could not allow her own weaknesses to burden him now, too. "You're no invalid," she said at length, watching him. "Given a little more time, you should recover well enough."

[peacefullywreathed]

It wasn't until Raine had said it like that, out loud, that Solomon realised how much he'd been relying on her judgement, how much he'd been assuming from the fact that she rarely left his bedside. He exhaled shakily and bent forward to rest his head in his hands, trembling now more from the wash of relief than the weakness.

Raine didn't lie. Solomon had been tacitly reading a conclusion from her actions, but she wouldn't lie and tell him he'd recover unless it was true. To a certain degree of 'recover', at least, but again--there was a difference between needing help and being an invalid. If she said he wouldn't be an invalid, that was an assertion he'd cling to.

He realised suddenly his eyes were wet, and inhaled slowly, and exhaled the same. Where before his voice had been hard and without waver, now it shook. "Thank you."

[ruinsprofessor]

"It's the truth," Raine said, simply, and though she did move again it wasn't quite driven by the same restlessness. Rather she came to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, near but not touching. There was a little hesitation in her movements, as if she wasn't sure she'd be welcomed.

"Tell me," she said quietly, after a moment. "Neither of us fully know where your limits are right now, or where they will be. Finding them may prove painful. I only want to help, but-- tell me. If I begin to-- smother you again. Preferably before it drives you to frustration."

[peacefullywreathed]

"I thought healers knew best," Solomon said, lifting his head and trying to smile. He made it about halfway and kept it pinned, even when it fizzled slightly due to his wet and blank eyes. "I didn't imagine you'd--treat me like that unless it was necessary. But I'll try, in future."

He wasn't much good at outright asking for help, either.

Solomon took a deep breath and managed to keep the blasted lump out of his throat. Now he felt wrung-out, and couldn't imagine where all the anger and frustration had gone. "Let's change the subject," he said. "I seem to recall you laughing like a loon the other day. What was that about?"

He hadn't had the wherewithal to ask, at the time.

[ruinsprofessor]

"As will I." The faint edges of a smile were in her voice. "I may be a healer, but I am not always the most rational where you are concerned." And she was only mortal; she made mistakes. Rarely, but not never.

The subject change threw her for a moment, mostly in the realization that he'd heard her. Of course he'd heard her, in retrospect. She'd been right outside their door. Raine half-laughed now, and it was a bit sheepish. "A tie," she said, realized that this would make no sense, and backtracked. "Someone who I can only assume was Skulduggery left a rather nice tie on the doorknob that day, in reference to a previous discussion. It was unexpected enough that it sparked what you heard."

It had not been nearly as funny as her fit of laughter would imply, but it had been a long week.

[peacefullywreathed]

A tie left by Skulduggery, for Raine? For a moment Solomon's face showed nothing but bafflement. It had been Solomon's birthday; whyever would Skulduggery leave a tie for Raine--oh.

--Oh.

Solomon broke out into laughter. It was rather raw and faintly hysterical, as laughter usually was so soon after relief, but genuine. "How did he find out about that?"

[ruinsprofessor]

"My fault, I'm afraid," Raine said dryly. It was good to hear him laugh, even if it was a little bit edged. "When he saw fit to inform me that your birthday was near, we discussed possible gifts, and my reaction when he asked my rationale was evidently telling enough." She was not noticeably subtle, and he knew well enough her coloration did not lend itself to hiding a blush. "I haven't quite been able to look at him since. The tie is yours, however; consider it a gift from both of us, I suppose."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Really?" Solomon cast her a look gearing up admirably for true amusement. Yes, he knew very well she wasn't good about hiding blushes. Even though he'd never get to see it again--his heart skipped a beat and his smile wavered.

No. It was enough that he knew what she looked like when she blushed, that he had the opportunity to make her do so over and over again. At least he had that.

The smile came up again. "I'm not sure how I should feel about a gift I haven't touched, given to you by Skulduggery on the basis of ... shall we say, propensities. I think I should get to touch this 'gift'."

He was still too weak for anything truly energetic, and they both knew that. But he could still tease.

[ruinsprofessor]

The smile lifted a weight Raine hadn't fully known she'd been carrying, at least for the moment. "Really," she confirmed, equally amused. "That's a reasonable request. One moment."

She got up, crossed to the desk again-- she'd left the tie coiled in one of the drawers, out of the way until she knew exactly how to give it to him. Well, this solved that problem neatly. Raine settled beside him once more, pressed the length of sleek fabric into his hands. "Do you trust his judgment when it comes to matters of style?" she inquired.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Style is the only thing about which I trust his judgement," Solomon said dryly. For a moment he fumbled, but then the tie fell properly into his grip and he smoothed it through his fingers. His eyebrows shot up. "This is satin. Well, well." He smiled. "You know, he claims he isn't sentimental. I'm not sure I believe him anymore. What colour is it?"