5th Cylus, 718
He was out hunting, and Vega had been sitting on what was very much her rock, meditating on the scar on the palm of her hand. Focusing, listening, controlling what it was that needed to happen. It was tiring work and she was quiet, subdued and in a place of holding on the best she could. Of course, how she felt was a whole lot better than she had just two trials ago, when he had appeared here. Now, she'd had two nights of better sleep, but she was worried about him. Every time the nightmares fell in on her - and that was the only way she could describe it - he was there. His arms around her and his voice in her ear, his lips gently kissing her forehead. But that meant that he was not sleeping and that morning she'd insisted that he got a few breaks of sleep. He'd told her he was fine, but she'd done something which she really didn't think she'd ever do. She had asked him if he would, please, for her. She couldn't be worrying about him, too, she said. She just couldn't fit worrying about him, too, so would he please.
It wasn't even manipulation, and Vega had told him that. It was just the truth.
So, he'd slept that morning while she had meditated, focused. Not on the voices, she had promised him that, too, while he was sleeping, she was just going to try and build up her concentration, her focus. Generally. But now that he was up and about, and always she suspected in yelling distance, she was focusing. If asked to describe it, Vega could not easily do so, except to say that she could not hear herself think. She had become ~ in these moments ~ the quietest voice in her head and she was focusing on just trying to stop that. To grow louder until she was heard.
But first, she had to still the cacophony.
And at the sight of him, just for a trill her mind stilled and she heard, as plain as ever it had been before this, before the death forged rose, before anything.
So, she breathed in, forced herself to try and calm down, though the colour of her eyes told a very different story, and spoke with at least a semblance of less angry. "How did the huntin' go? It was seein' you that let me hear her at all, you know," she said, pulling her shawl around herself and wondering if her leg would burst into flame if she started kicking things. It was almost worth finding out. "I'm sorry I'm not helpin' out more. I'll do that." She wanted to cry and kick and shout and scream, but she wasn't giving in to any of that. Not her. She was Eva Lei'nox and she was not giving in to it. Unfortunately, she thought with a cynical twist of a smile, she also wasn't beating it.
"I don't know what to do, Arlo," she said, "she told me to clear my mind. It's not for lack of tryin' you know?"
It wasn't even manipulation, and Vega had told him that. It was just the truth.
So, he'd slept that morning while she had meditated, focused. Not on the voices, she had promised him that, too, while he was sleeping, she was just going to try and build up her concentration, her focus. Generally. But now that he was up and about, and always she suspected in yelling distance, she was focusing. If asked to describe it, Vega could not easily do so, except to say that she could not hear herself think. She had become ~ in these moments ~ the quietest voice in her head and she was focusing on just trying to stop that. To grow louder until she was heard.
But first, she had to still the cacophony.
"That's the best you can do, mongrel child? Tell him to sleep"
"You're not going to win. You're too weak, girl."
"You're going to die up here, and take him with you. You're going to hurt him."
"You should have sent him away. How could you do this? How could you? To him?"
"It'll break. You'll break it. You always do"
"Eva, don't listen to them, it's me"
That last, a voice she recognised. Iris. Her familiar. Vega looked up as Arlo walked back into camp and the conflict raging inside her was evident on her face. But she couldn't hear her, distinguish her voice from the rest, no matter how hard she tried. Vega had, in their time together both as friends and lovers, turned some pretty astonishing frowns on Arlo. Yet the expression on her face was clear - she had never, not in all her trials, fought this hard. The noise was enormous, she couldn't hear the wind blowing in the the snow-ridden mountains, though she could see the flakes flying around him as he walked into camp. "You're not going to win. You're too weak, girl."
"You're going to die up here, and take him with you. You're going to hurt him."
"You should have sent him away. How could you do this? How could you? To him?"
"It'll break. You'll break it. You always do"
"Eva, don't listen to them, it's me"
And at the sight of him, just for a trill her mind stilled and she heard, as plain as ever it had been before this, before the death forged rose, before anything.
"I need you to hear me, Eva. You have to find a way to hear me. Clear your mind"
"DAMNIT!" Vega cried in pure frustration as she flung the knife she was holding, watching it with vivid red eyes as it thudded into the trunk of a tree, flung with such ferocity that it embedded in there to the pommel. She lifted a shaking hand to her forehead, pressing the heel of her palm against her temple as though trying to force something into her head. She was, in a way, trying to force order and silence. "It's Iris. She's.. I can't hear her, Arlo," Vega was angry, there was no doubting it, but who she was angry at was also very apparent. "I can't hear her, an' she says I need to. But I can't.. it's so loud, I can't even 'ear myself. I think she's tryin' to 'elp me, maybe or.. damnit all why I am so bad at this?!" She was frustrated and really wanted to punch someone, or hit them with a weapon, but then the weapon would burst into flame and it all just went round in a circle. So, she breathed in, forced herself to try and calm down, though the colour of her eyes told a very different story, and spoke with at least a semblance of less angry. "How did the huntin' go? It was seein' you that let me hear her at all, you know," she said, pulling her shawl around herself and wondering if her leg would burst into flame if she started kicking things. It was almost worth finding out. "I'm sorry I'm not helpin' out more. I'll do that." She wanted to cry and kick and shout and scream, but she wasn't giving in to any of that. Not her. She was Eva Lei'nox and she was not giving in to it. Unfortunately, she thought with a cynical twist of a smile, she also wasn't beating it.
"I don't know what to do, Arlo," she said, "she told me to clear my mind. It's not for lack of tryin' you know?"