Thinking it Over

[Niethan]

The Barrens were a different story by night. The dust and wind had calmed, and the dry heat replaced by a cool breeze and the hum of crickets. The stars stretched on forever, a sea of possibility.

Niethan lay on a grassy hill, thinking. Sigrun lay next to him, silent for the moment. She had already finished her angry rant at his foolishness, and was now simply waiting to help. He was taking his time; it had been a long day. His chest hurt from the multiple stab wounds he'd recieved earlier.

Definitely a long day.

But he was here now because he needed to think, and think hard. Things were spiraling out of control, if they had ever been in control. He felt it in his bones like a helpless headlong motion, like he was running towards the edge of a cliff. Or had already fallen from it.

He was coming to terms that he needed to do something, and quickly. He was insane, and more than that he was dangerously insane. He wasn't even remotely in control anymore; the locks were broken and the walls were torn down. Witness seized his jaw and spoke when it suited him, and laughed incessantly when he didn't.

Well, I've learned how to be very happy, you see. Why shouldn't I laugh? This is hillarious, you know.

Niethan shivered. There was something very wrong with Witness. He'd always been quiet and cool and logical before. Now his voice had a terrifying edge to it. It sounded like sickness, like bloody grins and ice cracking under your feet.

Moment was almost a comfort. Almost. He hadn't ever changed, and that was a measure of security. But Niethan couldn't get used to the feeling of being worn-- being stretched-- like cloth over an animal bone frame. He had to resist feeling the line of his jaw with his hands, checking to see if it was really there like he remembered, or if it was a muzzle filled with fangs.

That's always an option, isn't it? Give in to Moment, entirely. Go back to eating stray travelers in Stranglethorn, perhaps? Sounds like fun, doesn't it? Rack up the body count until some hunter finally shoots you!

Niethan rolled over on one side, trying to turn away from the cold third. He didn't understand why Witness wanted them all dead. He hadn't said as much until today, but over the past week Niethan had been nursing a lot of injuries. Moment foiled any of Witness' outright suicidal attempts, but couldn't always forsee an 'accident.' He always healed back up after the dust had settled, though. So Witness kept trying.

Niethan sighed, settling down for a long night.

[Vilmah]

Yesterday was a royal pain.

As Vilmah walked towards the Sanctuary guildhall, she had the look of murder on her face. She wasn't pleased with anything, at the moment. First, she discovered Niethan impaled in the tavern. Fighting through Moment's thrashing, she managed to fix him... until someone else showed up to kill him. The annoying voice of someone they thought dead kept floating through their minds. Teasing. Poking. Prodding. Vilmah wasn't a fan.

Nojinbu was in the tavern.. if only for a moment. She broke open his door to speak with him, only to have him leave while she was busy with Moment. His silence infuriated her. It felt as if his absense made the burning sensation in her flesh more potent. And then of course, there was Niethan's decision...

"I care about you. I couldn't stand having you be away.."

That's what she remembered saying. Why did it sound so pathetic? As if she needed him. She valued his friendship, but no more than any of her other companions. Surely if he needed help to lock himself away, she would be the one he'd trust to do it. At least.. she wished he would. He said he didn't want his friends seeing him locked up, but in Vilmah's mind, there didn't seem to be another option. Who else would guard him as securely as she would? She'd already invited Sulajin to stay with them, in the guildhall. It was rapidly becoming known less as the Sanctuary guildhall, and more of simply... a sanctuary.

Finally seeing it at the end of the road, Vilmah opened the doors and walked in. Surely this building, left behind by Grisch, could be used as more than just a home for her guildmates. Surely there would come a time when more people could learn how truly valuable their trust was. For now, Vilmah would go to her room, and replace her bandages.

Still, her face burned. But for some reason, she thought of Niethan.

[Niethan]

Asylum was his first thought.

If nothing else, they would certainly take him in, and never let him go. Holdeng had plenty of straps, dulling venoms and locked doors. But, he decided, he could never really go through with it. He could probably learn to live with the pain-- or at least learn how not to feel-- but there was more than just his own life at stake, here. There was Sigrun to think of.

Sensing the dark edge to his musings, the lady of Darkshore growled at him. NO, Niethan. I forbid it.

“There I wouldn’ be able ta hurt anyone. Na even Zargoth coul’ make me.”

This is not up for discussion, dearheart. And Zargoth has never possessed you; you don’t know that he could force your hand.

“I know…”

He fell silent again. The stars wheeled overhead; the night had just begun.

[Vilmah]

((My favorite part of last night.))

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v697/OtakuQueen/okay.jpg

[Niethan]

Next, Niethan dug into his satchel and pulled out a bundle of vibrant blue, edged in gold; his tabard. The dark-scaled whelpling he’d named Altair was currently using it for a blanket, so he put the sleeping critter back into the bag. After so many times of needing to repair or outright replace it, Niethan had taken to carrying the tabard in his pack instead of wearing it. He sometimes felt bad about it, but he’d learned the hard way that wearing bright, eye-catching clothing in places like, say, Silithus was just asking for trouble. Hence the constant repairs and subsequent stowing.

But even tucked away in a bag, the tabard still meant something to him. Zusteakai was often abrasive and usually as distractible as Niethan himself, but it had been the larger troll that had pulled Niethan away from that first precipice, one that he had never even seen coming.

Niethan gave a half-smile at the memory. How long ago was that, anyway? It couldn’t have been that great a time. He’d already passed his fortieth season by the day Zust had walked with him through Ashenvale. He thought that they had talked of druids, and elven culture… and Niethan had mentioned Witness. The older troll hadn’t known what it meant, but he had started asking questions. Niethan sometimes wondered what would have happened if he had never had that conversation, if he had never been forced to recognize that Witness and Moment were not him.

What is the point of wondering? You know what would have happened. And we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?

He supposed he did know. Witness would have assimilated him. He would have written over so much that Niethan wouldn’t really exist. Just something walking around in his skin.

You’re no more real than I am. Stop pretending to be.

There was that, too. Niethan sometimes wondered if it really mattered, whether he was him or not. He figured that the real one of them was still somewhere. Sleeping, maybe… there had been incidents, times when he looked at the sun and found hours missing that neither Witness or Moment could account for. And once after this Zusteakai had given him the strangest look…

Niethan? What are you thinking?

“Hm? Oh. I was wonderin’ wha’ Zust an’ Zas would do abou’ dis. Or wha’ dey would say.”

Hm. Zusteakai would not be happy, I think. He wants you healed, but I doubt he will consider imprisonment an improvement. Her tone reminded him that she didn’t consider it an improvement, either.

“I didn’ t’ink he would.”

Zasien I am not sure of. He is very tuned to the elements, but what they could tell him of this, I don’t know.

“Ya… an’ he probably wouldn’ want a tie me up, either.”

With some reluctance, Niethan folded the cover over his bag, hiding the tabard from view and striking another name off of his list of options. The House would want to help, but Niethan didn’t feel this was a problem they alone could deal with.

The moon began its slow ascent.

[Sulajin]

Sulajin lay in his bed. An actual bed. Very strange... He was used to the hammocks favored by his people. He needed peace and privacy while his body adjusted. And for peace there was no better place to turn then Sanctuary.

He rolled to his side, looking at the wet ruin of a pillow coated in his blood and sighed.

"Where do I be goin now? I know dere be a lot of work a head of me, I need ta get all my Juju back up and goin in de lab... but afta dat I don' have anytin."

He rolled back onto his back, laying his hands on his chest. It didn't stir. No pulse beat beneath his breast. One more thing to adjust to.

"So Zargot' be dead. It be about time. But I t'ought I heard him de otha day... talkin like Shadowspeak. If dat be all he does, fine. I jus' hope he stays away. Too much of a nuisance. He jus' stands dere an' jabbers on... den try's ta kill everyone. Only t'ing he manages ta kill is my patience though."

Sulajin glances at the firepit provided him and draws the flames higher. The folks in the tavern kept complaining and whining about the fire. He'd had to keep his cloak drawn tight against the cold.

"An' sometin' be wrong wit Vilmah. Burnt. Badly. She keeps talkin about a fia mon who be hauntin her. Tryin ta posess her. Why would an' aspect of change be wantin ta make Vilmah his champion? By de sounds of t'ings he gonna be to powaful ta take out on my own."

Sulajin stares into the fire for a while.

"Of course, shouldn' be too hard ta get odda people ta help, dey all like her. Hmm... maybe dat shaman dat Niet'ans allways hangin around wit."

"Well... at least now I be havin sometin ta do."

[Niethan]

They had started walking. The Barrens were vast and empty; a good place for a walk.

He'd reached the last option on his list. Sanctuary. Vilmah had invited him.

I'll keep you safe, she said.

You won't hurt anyone. I won't let you.

I couldn't stand for you to be away...

It hurt to think about. The emptiness in his chest where until recently Sulajin's heart had been pulsed in sympathy for its still-beating twin.

The stars spun overhead. And there were footsteps. Niethan turned, facing his visitor.

Zusteakai prowled beside him, mounted and armored. He said something, but Niethan couldn't make out what he was saying. The night had swallowed it.

Then he smiled, and held up a bottle full of light. "Watch," he said.

He dropped the light. It splintered on the stone floor, snapping into three. Niethan stared at it, only dimly realizing that he wasn't in the Barrens at all. The cold stone of the undercity was covered by stars.

Zusteakai gathered the fragments in his hand, the bottle full of light again. Niethan understood. The bottle was him.

He watched the light as everything else went black. It was the last thing Niethan ever saw.

[Vilmah]

Vilmah woke up in Ashenvale.

She, Zusteakaia nd Zasien had agreed to travel through their dreaming, and into Muir's consciousness. How, Vilmah had no idea... all of this dreaming magic mumbo-jumbo was foreign, but she understood one thing; Niethan Witness and Moment were three parts of a whole. They bellonged together. Without eachother, they would die. Combined... their consciousness would dissapear. Either way, as individuals, they would die.

She went into this, knowing it had to happen. Niethan Witness and Moment were miserable, especially Witness. He'd become cruel, and homicidal. Before, he was calm and helpful. He spoke with Vilmah many times, and helped her through both his own crisises, and hers. She considered him a friend. When he murdured Sulajin, she didn't know what to think.

She, Zusteakai and Zasien found four seperate pieces of ground in their combined dreams. Vilmah saw the dust, and thought of Witness. He must have felt lonely, bored, and desparing in a life that wasn't life at all. Zusteakai dove into the water, which he knew must have been the gateway to Niethan. Without hesitation, she walked into the dust. It eveloped her, and soon she was hanging by a thread amidst a barren city of stone buildings.

"Witness??" She called.

She fell from the thread, and found that it webbed through the buildings. Before long, Witness appeared. Vilmah could see he'd changed, and he confirmed her beliefs. Together, they argued back and fourth. Why would he not go back with the others? Was death so much better? He would not accept her trust. It became more painful for her, as he reminded her that should she succeed, Niethan would be no more. He reminded her of where Sulajin had placed her. Amidst the fire that she saw first hand, at the whim of the fire elementals. He laughed at her. He was even curious as to why she refused to look through the buildings, which he claimed to hold Niethan's memories and thoughts.

"They're not mine to explore. If he wanted me to know something, he'd tell me."

Witness laughed. "If you succeed, you'll never see him again. So he'll never find out."

But she'd know. He pointed out a plaque on one of the buildings, which bore her name. She knew there was something hidden, something Witness desperately wanted her to know. Even going so far as to lash out at her physically, creating a pit of sharp icicles that he dragged her to with a tendril of his own thoughts. Vilmah wouldn't be killed so easilly. She reached for the only thing she could find, the plaque with her name. She ripped it from the wall, and used it to hack at the tendril. It dissapeared, and Witness seemed surprised. Vilmah turned to notice that the place she ripped the plack from had something different. Her name beneath the plaque, intriquately and beautifully carved into one of the stone bricks.

"Why is it so pretty?" She asked.

"I suppose you'll never know, now." Witness replied, bitterly. He replaced the plaque from where she'd torn it. There seemed to be remorse in the air.

With that, he relented. The dream began to fade. "Maybe it would be a nice change. If I don't have to go alone."

"I promise, you'll never be alone," Vilmah said reassuringly. As the dream faded, she took one last look at the plaque. It faded from view, even as she surpressed her desire to explore what the building had inside. It was too late.

---

She woke up, beside Zusteakai. Zasien must have completed his task. Zusteakai seemed busy. She wished that she could join them. That she could have chosen Niethen, and perhaps said goodbye.. but she knew Zusteakai couldn't handle Witness, and Zasien knew little about him. What she did was needed, even if it did leave an unfilled void in her. Seeing the body of what she'd known to have been Niethen, Vilmah took the time to reassure herself that it would never be him again. It would be Muir. He would perhaps have sme of Niethan's traits, maybe even sound like him, but.. it wouldn't be him. Niethan would dissapear, and he'd never have to suffer again.

In quiet rememberence of her friend, she knelt down and closed her eyes. She was never one to pray, and she didn't even know of who to pray to.. but she hoped that somwhere,s omehow, Niethan would find her thoughts.

I'm sorry, Niethan. I loved you too.

[Zasein]

((Aww, that was sweet Vilmah. Sorry I didn't get to stick around for it ingame!))

[Vilmah]

((Is okay! =D))