You Unlocked Fast Travel!

[lizardtits]

It's been a long couple of days. At least, it felt like days. Lots of fighting and magic shit and soul-searching and non-euclidean nonsense which is all really tiring. But now there's a chance to have a rest. A real rest, not just a sit-down between fights to keep from running out of steam.

What's everyone up to?

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[snackattacks]

"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?"

[thewinemom]

"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.

[snackattacks]

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?"

[thewinemom]

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?"

[snackattacks]

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."

[thewinemom]

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."

[snackattacks]

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.”