buttsbuttsbuttsmate | You Unlocked Fast Travel!

Velo, for her part, has been spending her time in a little bit of a daze. Not just because of Portia beating the shit out of her, but also because of the Archivist taking the form of her father. Her dead father, who she hasn't seen in ten-odd years, whose visage she is now going to have to look at every time she comes in here.

She tries to get something done in the meantime. Gun maintenance, reading, tinkering... it helps to keep her attention on something physical, but it's not hard to see that she's really distracted.

Speaking of distractions, the local elven performer is totally down to be one.

Naeris had noticed Velo's shocked visage earlier in the day. Who wouldn't, really? She hardly ever lost her cool. For that to happen, something had to have gone amazingly awry. Related, and adding to the mystery, Velo's sudden changed occurred when the group should have been celebrating. They'd been victorious and managed to do some good for the Archivist! That's something to be happy about, right?

But Velo clearly wasn't, and that needs addressing.

She's gentle when she approaches, knowing full-well that Velo isn't exactly the best when it comes to sharing emotions, but it's worth giving a try.

"Hey! Are you busy?"

Velo starts a bit as her thoughts snap back from wherever they were to Naeris. She tries to play it off with a smile.

"Oh, uh, I'm just-" she looks down at what she was doing, realizing that she's been spending the past five minutes screwing and unscrewing the same bolt and accomplishing nothing.

"-...No. What's up?"

Yeah that's... not quite alarming, but definitely a little on the unnerving side. This is going to take a bit of chit-chat to get to the bottom of.

"Not much! Just exploring, really."

Naeris plops down on the floor, her tiered robes forming a little dome around her as she settles in, although she's clearly open and ready to bounce (perhaps literally) if Velo indicates that to be her preference.

"Do you have time to chat?"

Velo has an idea where this is going to go. If this was just a chat, Naeris wouldn't have asked beforehand. She's very sensitive to the feelings of others, and Velo hasn't done very well in hiding the fact that she's uneasy.

She puts down the device she was working with and starts to put her tools away, if for no other reason than to have an outlet for her unease.

"Sure. What's up?"

Naeris offers Velo a wide, happy smile at her acceptance. Hey, maybe this is the start of a positive change in sharing emotions! Wouldn't that be nice?

"You seemed a little... I don't want to say off, but you were kind of quiet when the Archivist put everything back together. What happened?"

It wouldn't make sense to ask if Velo is feeling okay. She's clearly not, so Naeris goes for the next best thing. The next best thing that won't just end up with a yes or no answer.

"Nothing bad happened, if that's what you're worried about. It's just-..."

Velo pauses for a bit, trying to find the words. The words, and the resolve to say them without breaking down.

"I wasn't expecting, uh..."

Her father. ...Well, no. The Archivist wasn't her father, but he sure does look like him now. She slumps forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her legs.

"Imagine if someone suddenly appears in front of you, and that person looks and sounds exactly like Githal. Except they aren't, and you know they aren't, but it still looks exactly like them and you can't get that out of your head."

"If you ever wanted to know what my father looked like, you've got your answer now."

That answer gets Naeris to pause and reflect not just on Velo's words, but also on the events that led up until now. Suddenly, it all makes sense: the timing, the emotion, all of it. She didn't blame Velo for feeling uneasy back then--everyone is entitled to their feelings, no matter what the cause, after all--but that only goes double now.

Envisioning Githal taking care of the Archive... seeing his goofy smile perfectly mirrored on a face that was a carbon copy of his, but lacking that unique spirit behind it, sends a pang straight through her heart.

"I see why that's difficult for you," Naeris starts, fiddling with her thumbs, "It's a lot to be reminded of all at once."

Somehow, Naeris acknowledging that is was difficult makes her feel a little better. All of this is really hard to deal with.

"I... I wanted just to run up and hug him when he first formed, but then he started talking, and I knew he wasn't my father. I don't hold it against him; the Archivist is a good person, but it's hard to look at him. It... it just makes me miss the real thing."

Tears start to form in the corner of her eyes. Memories she thought she suppressed were coming back: The invasion of her home, her father yelling at her and the rest of her family to escape as he picked up a hammer to buy them time... that was the last time she ever saw him.

Velo slides from the chair she was sitting in, joining Naeris on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chin. She is Very Not Okay right now. Or maybe she's never been Okay, and it's just now catching up. Maybe it's both, she doesn't know how to deal with it.

The first step to going from Not Okay to Okay is recognizing that you're Not Okay to begin with. There's nothing wrong with that.

That's what Naeris would tell Velo if those words carried any of the weight that comes with their particular situation, but this is something that requires a little more nuance and thought outside of the usual platitudes. Not that there isn't any use for them, it's just not the right time.

So she just leans over instead so her head can bump against the side of Velo's upper arm (normally it would be the shoulder, but that dragonborn lady is just so dang tall!), letting her hair spill down and cushion them both. There's literally no muscle on those bones, girl, we gotta get you to a gym.

Naeris is quiet for a few moments as she thinks about what she can say. Coincidentally, or perhaps because of their conversation, she falls back on what she's seen and heard Githal do whenever he's counseled either herself or another member of their congregation. He'd always been good at that: lending an ear and giving advice.

"Tell me about your dad?"

At this point, anything's better than silence. Velo adjusts herself to better support Naeris and answers, slowly at first, trying to find the right words.

"He was... he was probably the most gentle person I've ever known. You know what he looks like: big, imposing, could probably take Gorudak in arm-wrestling... but he was easygoing, almost always had a smile, and always made time for my sister and I. He worked as a blacksmith, but even while he worked, he would still include us. He'd teach us how to cast an ingot, or how to make an alloy, or just listen to us as we'd tell him about our day."

A small, melancholic smile comes over Velo's face as she keeps talking. The tears are still there, but if ever there was an appropriate time for tears, it was now.

"I remember Kovel and I would ride on his shoulders into town when we needed to go shopping. Unless we started fighting, which was a lot, then he'd carry us upside-down for a while until we promised to stop, unless Mom got one of us into a headlock first. ...My family was weird, now that I think about it."

Just as sometimes anything is better than silence, sometimes just listening is better than speaking. So Naeris stays quiet and still, only shifting along with any nudges of Velo's arm and glancing up at her friend's face, catching as much of the story as she can though facial expressions and involuntary movements.

She catches those tears brimming at the edges of Velo's eyes. Calling attention to them would only cause more harm than good.

Naeris can picture the memories that Velo is sharing, clear as day in her mind's eye. She may not know much about Kovel, but she understands sisterhood--moreover, she understands that special bond that comes with a family that's made of nothing but pure love and enjoyment of one another's company. She smiles.

"Yeah, you all sound super weird."

That tiny smile turns into a full grin.

"Which is just another way of saying you're all perfect."

"We were, yeah." Emphasis on were, because that's all gone now, replaced with slavery, then jail, then eldrich abominations and the end of the-.

No. Now is not the time to focus on the bad things. Now is good thoughts time. Sad thoughts, but also good thoughts.

"I just wish I could let him know how I'm doing now. He would have been delighted to know I demolished an Empire building, even if it was an accident. ...Actually, mostly delighted, but he would also point out every flaw in my work, and then help me do it better."

Velo falls silent for a while, entertaining the notion that she and her father would more than likely become terrorists if they were together after the takeover.

"Actually... Naeris, this is selfish to ask, but do you know how to give last rites? If we ever have time from this world-saving thing, I want to give him a proper sendoff. Maybe go back to where the village used to be and find something of his to hold a funeral."

“It’s not selfish at all,” Naeris reassures Velo, “And I’d be happy to do it! Just as long as neither of you mind that it’s a Lliiran ceremony.”

Granted, although she received and passed the appropriate training for last rite ceremonies (Coruthel wouldn’t have accepted anything less than Naeris’ best during those exams), Naeris had never actually held a funeral before. Not even Githal—maybe out of some strong denial over what happened, or perhaps because of the intense guilt she felt over her failure to do her job in protecting him—has had a ceremony held in his honor. At least, not one held by the little elf. She’s sure that Coruthel conducted a Temple-wide ceremony for the beloved Grand Revelmaster that would’ve outdone anything she could’ve accomplished. Again, Coruthel wouldn’t settle for anything less than the best, doubly so for her dearly departed husband.

She wonders about the other Mummers who’d lost their lives on that mission and the sendoff they’d received. Their bodies certainly didn’t have the luxury of a respectful burial, so any ceremony Coruthel held would’ve been strictly symbolic in nature.

…Suddenly, Naeris realizes she may have very well been one of those ‘buried’, thanks to the amount of time it took for word to reach the Temple that she was okay. A morbid chill runs up her spine.

What was that like? Sending off your husband, your daughter, and some of your closest friends, all in one swoop? Naeris is confident that the ceremony was impeccable, but how did Coruthel feel throughout it all? How much resolve did it take to keep a neutral—if not downright joyful, as tradition demanded—countenance? She reaches up to touch the wedding ring dangling from her necklace, the urge to contact the strongest woman she knows rising in her chest.

“It’s the right thing to do. If we don't make the time to show each other how much we care, then we’ll lose sight of what it is we’re fighting for. Who we’re fighting for.”

"Well, my father always said improvisation was one of the best tools he had, so I'm sure he won't mind. He probably would have gotten a kick out of it. I can hear the eulogy now: 'Hey, dad. I couldn't find a cleric of Bahamut so I grabbed a party goddess instead.'"

Velo chuckles a bit despite herself. Humor had always been her biggest coping mechanism, which was another thing she got from her dad. The prospect of going back and paying respects will be something to look forward to.

However, that makes another thought cross her mind. The Empire took her land for a reason. The village sat on top of a rich mine, so the is probably still an active operation there. The thought of it makes Velo uneasy, both in knowing what happened and knowing what she'll want to do once they're there.

"Thank you, Naeris. I appreciate it. ...There is one other thing, though. Whatever's there, please stop me if I try to destroy it. A part of me wants revenge, but I know, rationally, it's useless. So just... help me stay focused. I don't want go get carried away and cause another revolution with a body count."

Revenge.

Ooooooh boy, she can understand the allure of revenge. She's fallen to it once or twice even before her little stint in Drodon—the one that undoubtedly landed the Lliirans into even more trouble all because she couldn't hold back the unbridled rage that came with injustice and the homicide of those she'd called family. A reaction that didn't even bring that family back, let alone the one person she wanted to return the most.

It left her in a pit of guilt so deep and dark that she simply couldn't talk about it to anyone, except a couple of party members. The same pit that she wouldn't want anyone else to experience.

So Naeris is solemn in her resolve as she nods.

"Okay. I'll help keep you on track. Promise."

There has been far too much fighting and friends nearly dying in the past...two? Has it been two days? Or two years? It feels like years. Whatever the length of time, there has been far too much fighting and nearly dying recently for Nin's taste.

And that's not even touching the whole mess that is Niall's everything.

Nin is beyond overjoyed that he's alive, but her joy is competing with despair over what has happened to him since he disappeared. Frankly, Niall's current circumstances fucking horrify her.

He's been trapped here since he disappeared, totally cut off from the natural world and transformed into a creature that's anathema to everything they ever knew. But he sounds just like she remembers, and seems pretty unaffected by the experience. Or at least, he's really good at pretending like he is.

Which, considering how good he always was at putting on a brave face so she wouldn't worry, is probably the case.

Nin doesn't want to let Niall out of her sight, but she has to rest sometime, if only because she's nearly out of spell slots. And if she wants to keep polymorphing him so that he can talk to her - which she does - that 'sometime' basically has to be within an hour or two.

When she finally has to let Niall go back to being monstrous and unspeakably horrifying, she claims a squashy armchair to do her weird elven not-sleep in. She's jumpy as hell, though, because this is some serious bullshit, so she's likely to jerk right "awake" as soon as anyone approaches.

Light on her feet by nature as much as nurture, Naeris is usually fairly quiet when she moves around. Here in the Archive, perhaps by horror-induced habit, she does her best to maintain that ideal level of silence that hovers somewhere between 'dead' and 'church mouse'.

So when she spies Nin resting in that luxurious armchair, it truly is Naeris' intention to leave her alone to her thoughts and hopefully a chance to decompress. Nin's foray into the full spectrum of emotions couldn't have been easy--and this family reunions, although usually happy affairs, couldn't allow for a complete bastion of joy when considering the surrounding circumstances. She deserves some peace and quiet.

Naeris turns to leave, placing all of her concentration into making the process as seamless as possible...

...which is probably why she winds up knocking over an entire end table, instead.

"...Oops."

Nin jumps when that entire end table crashes to the ground, jolted unpleasantly out of her uneasy trance. When she sees she's not alone, and deduces the cause of the jarring noise, ~~wine~~ mom mode kicks in.

"Naeris? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! I'm so sorry!"

She reaches down and picks up the table, placing it right back where it fell from. It wobbles for a second, and Naeris holds out her hands as if daring it to fall again, but it stays in place.

Naeris glances up at Nin, her face scrunched up in a heavy wince.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. Are you okay?"

"It's fine. I wasn't having much luck with it, anyway." She gives Naeris a tired smile, and scoots to one side in the generous squashy chair. It's big enough for a man Gorudak's size to sit with a goodly amount of room left over; fitting two slender elves who don't worry much about personal space will be no problem. She pats the cushion beside her, just to ensure her invitation is extra clear.

Come sit with her, Naeris.

Naeris doesn't need any more of an invitation to scurry on over and plop herself into the chair next to Nin. It's not a snug fit by any means, but that doesn't stop her from sitting close to her dear friend. Her dear friend who is clearly hurting. It's a topic that she's not sure how to broach, but, at the same time, she doesn't want to leave Nin without anyone to talk to--as long as that's what she wants, of course.

"...Everything with Niall is bothering you, isn't it?"

Nin fully expected Naeris to sit nice and close, and honestly? She's been desperately needing some closeness so she is more than okay with this. She wraps her near arm around Naeris' shoulders and leans hard on her friend, pressing her cheek against the soft curls covering Naeris' head.

When Naeris speaks, Nin makes a quiet noise that could be a short, humorless exclamation of laughter or possibly a quickly choked-down sob. Who can say? Even she's not sure.

"What gave me away?"

Naeris instinctively returns the lean, shuffling her shoulder to allow Nin the bestest most comfortablest headrest in the history of all elvenkind. It's the least she could do.

There's a lot that gave Nin away. A whole list, even. But that's all stuff that's painful, and harping on it is just going to make things worse for everyone. That said, Nin didn't respond just so she could be ignored or, even worse, given some useless platitude she'd probably heard hundreds of times before.

She deserves a well thought out answer. Naeris is far from a philosopher (both Coruthel and Githal tried really hard to get her into it, only to be met with limited success), but she can speak from her heart.

"Hmm... I think it's that I've never seen you so sad and so happy at the same time."

Her next short exclamation is definitely more mirth than grief. That's sure one way to put it.

There are a lot of horrible thoughts banging around in her head, most of which are only half-formed and half-baked. They are nearly without exception negative; worst-case scenarios, excruciating "what ifs", painful "if onlys". None of them are complete enough for her to express aloud, even if she were inclined to. If the Silent Ones can apparently hear a pin drop on the other side of the archive, she can't chance Niall overhearing her express her fears.

But something has to give. She closes her eyes and allows herself to draw comfort from Naeris' proximity, focusing on the warmth of her friend and relaxing against her. And she tells Naeris the only thing going through her mind right now that she would also share with her brother, because it's in regard to her own failing, and has nothing to do with her fears for Niall's future.

"I didn't accept that he was dead for a long time. It was just the Sunbreak Ruins, we'd played there a million times before. There was nothing there that would bother a druid. There was nothing there that could kill one. How could he be dead? There was no way." She stops talking and squeezes her eyes shut. After briefly burying her nose further into Naeris' hair, she continues. "I was seventy. I knew how to take care of myself. I could've left Murkwater to look for him right then. Mom didn't forbid it. She didn't even discourage it. But I was scared. I was convinced he was alive for years and years, but too scared to leave my home to prove it. By the time I finally did leave, almost thirty years had passed, and I'd more or less come to terms with his death. Because how could he still be alive and out in the world, but never come home in all that time?"

Her voice breaks, and she draws a deep breath, shuddering with the effort of holding in the sobs threatening to break loose. "We were supposed to leave to see the world together. But he didn't mean to leave, and I left by myself, and thirty years later than I should've. If I'd left sooner, maybe I could have found him sooner."

She knows those are a lot of big "ifs", but it doesn't stop her from feeling any less guilty.

"I feel like I betrayed him," her voice drops to a hoarse whisper, though it's doubtful Naeris will have any difficulty hearing. "I refused to believe he was dead but didn't go look for him. I only left Murkwater after I couldn't imagine him being anything else."

There’s a lot to unpack, and Naeris remains quiet as Nin works through her complicated feelings on the matter. Feelings that Naeris finds herself empathizing with: the powerful nature of denial, the paralysis of uncertainty, the never-ending well of guilt that comes with the undying inkling that perhaps, perhaps events could have been changed if not for one’s incompetence. They all had a tendency to rally together, clashing and swirling in the kind of inner tempest that never quite died, but only grew quiet over the years, always threatening to rise up again.

This isn’t a matter that trite platitudes or well-meaning validation can help fix. Nor is it something that will go away with tight hugs and cozy cuddles. Just as before, whatever Naeris says or does next can only continue to come from the heart if it’s to make any difference.

She’s quiet, closing her eyes to concentrate. Githal would always tell her to listen to what her very being is trying to say. That can never be wrong—it’s only when selfish desires, born from scars both physical and emotional, come into play and twist your heart’s words that things can go awry. She’d learned that firsthand, far too many times, at that.

“You chose to hope for the best. That’s not betrayal,” she begins. Her words aren’t confident at first, but as she continues, they grow stronger with conviction, “The thing about hope is that, as wonderful as it is, it can also be scary. It can be scary in a lot of ways.

“You can be scared of having it destroyed, you can be scared of how powerful it is, you can even be scared of what could happen if whatever you’re hoping for comes true. And it’s okay to be scared, just as much as it’s okay to take some time to become brave. What matters is that you did, and now look at where you are. You can help Niall come home. All because you became brave.”

Edited (now that it's not 2AM...) 2020-02-07 14:50 (UTC)

Everyone has been through some deep shit these past few days, both physically and emotionally, and because of it, Velo is having a hard time sleeping. Instead, she's checking up on everyone else under the guise of serving everyone some tea, which she got by popping down to hell real quick to get some good stuff from Todd.

Velo makes a token effort to be quiet as she approaches Nin, but the clacking of her claws on the hard tile floor are difficult to muffle. If Nin ignores her, Velo will simply leave a cup of tea on the table next to her chair. No sense in bothering her is she's passed out, or whatever the elven equivalent of passed out is.

What's it like to pass out? To sleep? ~~Perchance, to dream?~~ Nin has absolutely no idea, but it looks super peaceful, and there are times she really wishes she could try it. Like now, for instance. Not because Velo is being a noisy asshole - she can tell her friend is legitimately attempting to be stealthy - but because if Nin could truly pass out, then maybe she could stop thinking about today's everything for a few hours. That sure would be nice.

But if she can't have ~~the sweet release of death~~ peace, she'll take the next best thing, AKA the company of her good friend Velo.

"Thanks for the tea," she says, reaching out to pick it up as soon as Velo's set it down. Is that a delicate bouquet of hell she's detecting? Mmm, that Todd - the true MVP of this campaign.

"How're you holding up?" Watching Velo take a flurry of blows from Babushka Portia's horrid skeleton arm legs had not been great, and not only because she hates watching her friends get hurt. For a seven foot tall Dragonborn, Velo is alarmingly squishy. Naeris has done the healy sparklefingers by now, of course, but Nin still worries. This is her favorite Velo, and also her only Velo. She doesn't want her to be hurt, ever.

Oh hey, Nin is up. So much for being quiet. Might as well chat for a bit.

"Sore, but no one is dead or permanently injured, so I'm going to count today as a win," Velo answers as she pulls up another chair to have a seat next to Nin.

"More importantly, are you doing okay? I know coming into the Archive wasn't something you were keen on." That, and Malcer, but that can be left unsaid. Kind of a given at this point.

"You know what, that's fair. It's definitely a win when you put it like that."

No one has been permanently injured - that's true enough. But permanently transformed into an eldritch horror beyond mortal reckoning? That...remains to be seen. And based on the Archivist's lack of an immediate solution to Niall's...situation, she has a Bad Feeling about what's coming in the immediate future.

So she'll just put off worrying about that to focus on Velo.

"Well, I never considered the risk-to-reward ratio of coming here to be all that great. But now that Portia's not in charge of this place anymore and we're probably not going to be violently killed, I'm fine." Nin's biggest objection to going into the Archive had always been the danger, regardless of the motivation. Has she learned some uncomfortable truths about both the Archive and her objections ~~and Malcer~~? Absolutely. Will she own up to them on her own without prompting? That remains to be seen. Will she apologize if someone calls her out? It's more likely than you'd think.

As a self-aware hypocrite, she does try to be conscious of the hypocrisy she allows herself, after all.

"...Well. Mostly fine." She's still reeling at the revelation about her brother, and is just starting to be angry at herself for not coming in here a million years ago, the first time Malcer helped them break in.

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