Chapter 30: Sincerity

"Something to hold onto." ​

Light dances before your vision. Three blurry figures cast a faint shadow over your reclining figure.

Your limbs feel heavier than lead. Waves of pleasure intermingle with your pulse. Nothing is working how it's supposed to. You try to tense, or to ease the twitching and spasming in your shield arm. It won't relent, even as your vision begins to adjust.

Ray licks the side of your face. Your boy looks to you eagerly and with no indication of pain, despite seeing combat since you were last together. Caked and blackened blood is along his jaw, and he's got a gash along the side of his right eye. There seems to be no loss of sight, at least. Despite trying to move as gently as you can, the way you force your spasming arms to wrap around your dog is almost violent in its intensity.

Pain and pleasure courses through your limbs. Biting your lip gets you through stilling any sounds as they arise, but you're overwhelmed by relief and shame. Holding him all the closer does nothing to still how badly your voice shakes as you speak. "R-Ray—"

Oblivious to what you're going through, your dog simply leans against you, and gives you someone steady to rest on.

Relief, concern, and exhaustion soaks into you as you lay your head against him.

"Psst. Hey, Richard. Hey."

You nearly jump out of your skin, and whip your head around to see the offender. Ray growls at Ofelia. Her arm and shoulder has been bandaged. Dried blood is visible through the cloth.

No gore to speak of is on Celegwen, who's sitting right beside her. The elf looks comfortable, well rested, and her dress has even been mended.

Heart racing, you confirm that your robes, shirt, and trousers have also been mended. Trying to collect your thoughts, still your panic, or even avert your eyes is a lost cause. Ofelia muffles an amused sound, while Celegwen tries to reassure you. "I would like to say it was good to see you again, Father— but you were hardly presentable when we found you. I mended your robes while you were resting. You should be happy to hear that I have recovered something very important in our time apart." The sorceress slides a little closer. "It can wait, though."

The flush across your cheeks threatens to overtake your entire body. There's little distraction to be found by the smooth floor of the cavern, the rough facing of the walls, Ofelia's cooking equipment spread out by the remnants of a small fire, the cavernous ceiling, or even the faint light emanating from Celegwen's staff.

Oddly enough, the wooden instrument isn't taking in the surrounding darkness. It's making something new.

The sorceress leans in, and steadies one of your hands within her own. There's no indication that she minds the embarrassing and persistent spasm in your arm, nor the flush that's now encompassing your entire face. "You did not look human when you came back, Father. You have been unconscious for two days. We could not wake you."

Ofelia looks worried sick, and like she's scarcely slept. Desperation looks anywhere but at their intent stares. Your voice is shakier than your hands. "P-please stop looking at m-me—"

The halfling scoots a little closer, and makes a point of ignoring your request. "Richard, it is good to see ya'. But, well..."

The fractures in your composure threaten to break even further as you glance back up to her.

"I'm not gonna mince words. What the fuck happened to ya'? I didn't think you were even gonna make it outta there, and you somehow caught up to us? Found us? Lookin' the way ya' did, I don't even wanna imagine, but— but I wanna know."

A long pause from Ofelia and Celegwen gives you enough time to try regaining your composure.

Unease threatens to crush you.

Music

Pulling yourself fully upright with Ray's help, you hold yourself against him with one arm, and clutch at your chest with the other. You know that your difficulty breathing is coming purely from dread. The constant spasm in your arm is hard to ignore, too. So is the occasional, violent twitching in the rest of your body. Rising to your feet would be impossible. There's no doubt that you couldn't walk right now if your very life depended on it.

Verdant angst creeps through the scrutiny in your eyes. Your clean and mended robes may be hanging loosely off of your sunken stomach and willowy limbs, but you reassure yourself that it's at least enough to conceal the worst of you from view.

The prolonged relief from scrutiny or pain helps to ease the heat in your face. You do everything you can to still your frame, to restrain your trembling speech, and to try and look normal. As useless as the motion may be, you even take a hand off from Ray to try and smooth out your scruffy hair. There's still a great deal of guilt in your voice as you speak. "Flesh gifted me with— with the strength to survive. I— I abused His— His blessing."

Mercy's symbol is scalding to the touch. Relief drenches you as you keep it in your free hand, and close your eyes. Ofelia and Celegwen are utterly silent. You don't dare look at them.

You've already seen so much.

"Through me, His s-strength gave you all the chance to— to escape. He healed me. And M-Mercy—"

Your breath catches, your hand tightens, and your eyes open for the briefest of moments. Gold lances the green.

Worry is written across Ofelia's face more plainly than anything Spirit has ever shown you. While Celegwen remains utterly neutral— and her gaze stays respectfully fixed just past you— you clutch more tightly onto Ray.

Trying to straighten up further— to clear your voice and get a hold of yourself— you inch your hands off of Her symbol. The tightness in your chest spreads. The gold fades.

"She healed me. They protected me when I— when I pushed myself far past my limits. I was able to catch up to you both. Thanks to Him, I was able to survive. I— I couldn't fight them all. When I invoked both deities at once, I thought— I thought we were all going to die." Despondency drops your tone. "But keeping them both with me would have ensured it. I— I went— I went too far. Mercy—"

The thought of tearing out hooked and barbed daggers from your back cuts across your mind.

Heat, torment, and ravishment sinks as sharply into you as any one of the knives that cut into your other limbs.

You close your eyes in the struggle to maintain any decency. "M-Mercy..."

There's a hand on your shoulder. Delicate fingers lay gently against protruding bone. A sound catches in your throat from the touch, and you stare with wide eyes to Ofelia. She's scooted close enough for her soft smile to be just as evident as her concern. You can't offer her a smile back, but it's enough to ground you.

Celegwen keeps a slight distance between you both, but is still listens intently. Your brow furrows, and you allow Ofelia's hand to stay in place.

"I kept Mercy with me through the— through the pain. She— She gave me—" You're struggling not to dissolve. To retain your sanctity.

A tactful, understanding alternative rises to Celegwen's lips. "A blessing."

"Yes." You latch onto the word. "A blessing. She— She blessed me in our time together. She enabled me to survive— to escape— to make it out of the city. I— I ran for hours— followed your trail— and— and I was able to endure. I had never— no one that I have ever heard of has ever—"

You look between both women, imploring them to understand. Ofelia's concern could not be more severe.

"Humans cannot easily invoke the Gods. To stay with one for any length of time is... taxing. To have—" Emotion threatens to completely overtake you. "To have been with Mercy at such length—!"

The faintest line of concern is on Celegwen's face. You want to reassure your friends so badly, but something is terribly wrong with you. It's so hard to speak— let alone to express anything clearly— that merely uttering Mercy's name has your heart aflutter. The tightness all through your chest is from anticipating another wave of pleasure.

"...breathe, Richard. It's okay." Ofelia's hand rubs slightly against your shoulder, trying to take you out from your reverie. You realize that you're clutching onto your chest while pressing your holy symbol into the skin beneath your robes.

Deep breaths.

Despite the tension and heat, there's trembling all throughout your fingers. Your muscles ache, and your chest is on fire— but you have to tell them.

"I felt like I had lost myself." You can't lose yourself. "I— I know that I couldn't have kept going without Her. But I— but I kept going to get back to you all. I couldn't— I thought that I would die. I knew that I would die if I fell. If I didn't make it back to you both—" You can't keep all this inside, and stop Ofelia from wrapping an arm around you. "I need you both to understand." Every inch of you is laced with fear, but you can't stop yourself. Pulling away slightly, you look both women over to try and grasp their attention. "You need to know."

Ofelia looks to you with apprehension. The stare Celegwen gives you is nowhere near as level as her voice. "What have you done, Father?"

You tear your eyes away, part from Ray's hold, and ignore his whining. There's no obliging his nudges as you wrap your arms around your legs, draw them up against you, and try to ease your shaking.

Your boy drops his head in your lap, demanding your attention. Tightening your hands, your eyes remain downcast. Avoiding the look that Celegwen gave you at all costs is paramount.

She looked afraid. The hurt in your voice is unmistakable. "I prayed to Spirit. She— She showed me where to find you both. She showed me more than I asked for. I tried to make Her stop. I pleaded the— the entire time—" You felt as helpless then as you feel now. "—I begged Her and She is not MERCIFUL, Celegwen— Ofelia— She—" Your voice cracks. Words keep spilling out. "She showed me— She showed me your spirit. Both of you. I learned— I learned of your thoughts about me—"

"Woah woah woah wait just a minute—" The worry in Ofelia's voice starts to lace with anger. She pulls back properly, and fully away from you. "What? You did... what? Did you read my mind or somethin'? What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

Pain knits across the tired, twitching muscles of your face as you struggle to reply. "I— She— She showed me the heart of you. That you— that you and Celegwen have talked about me. That you both— that you both think that I'm—" You can barely stand it, but you tear yourself away from self-pity to look straight at the two women who call themselves your friends. The hurt that drips off from your words brings you no pleasure or relief. "You think that something's wrong with me, like— like everyone else. You— you think that I'm a lunatic? A pervert? Ofelia, you don't— you don't even know if I'm human?! How can you think that I'm brave, or want to help me— how can you both want to protect me if you can't even trust in me? How can you stand to touch me when you're scared of me—?!" You pull away further, glaring. "How can you say to my face that you're here for me— when you don't even know what I am?"

The rogue's face is red. For once in her life, she seems to hold her tongue.

You don't stop. You can't stop yourself, and turn to Celegwen— right arm shaking violently from the motion. You hold it tighter— tensing— but remain completely unable to still your body or your voice. "I know now that you've lost more than you let on, Celegwen. I know that you think I'm sick. That you think I'm reckless. That my mission is futile." Fury at the notion tightens your hands into fists. "Do you have ANY idea how much I've lost, too?! I'm not trying to play with lives— I'm the only person who seems to want to SAVE them!"

The sorceress has an odd expression on her face. You can't place it, despite how well you feel you know her thoughts.

"Why— why do you think I hate either of you looking at me? I know— I know that— I know that everyone thinks I'm out of my mind. That I'm no better than a demon. I'm not. I'm enduring. I'm the only person who seems willing to take the RISK to be with the Gods—!" Livid, you turn back to Ofelia. "Do you think if I was a God— do you honestly believe that if I weren't a man that I would be this way?!"

She moves to speak.

Clenching your fists on your lap, arms shaking, you cut her off. "Don't say it! I'm not a demon! I'm not crazy—! I'm weak—! I'm not PLAYING with lives! I only have one to lose! I'm a human! I'm only a FUCKING human!"

Every word echoes through the cavern, and hangs in the air.

Both violently shaking hands come off from your lap. One is placed over your holy symbol. The other goes over your mouth in utter horror.

A quiet, hesitant, and shamed prayer is muffled into your palm. "Mercy. Please forgive me."

"I get it, Richard. I get it." Beet red and visibly shaking, Ofelia stands abruptly. She seizes the rare opportunity to look down at you. "Didn't ya' see everythin' else, then?!" Your horror twists into self-resentment. She's making no attempt to conceal the tears streaking down her face. "Didn't ya' realize that none of that shit matters?! How bad I want to go home, and I'm still goin' deeper into this shithole because of you?!"

Her voice breaks as she slumps back down. The anger across her features softens with the steadily dropping tone of her voice. "Yer keepin' me goin'. Givin' me somethin' to hold onto down here. Both of ya'. It's been months with nothin'. No hope. No progress. Just demons, and darkness. I didn't even care if you were one, Richard. You've been givin' me hope."

Still fighting with indignation and misery, your voice hardly rises above a murmur. "I know that what I'm doing is right. I know who I am— what I am— and what I believe in. Where I need to go. What I need to do. I would— I would never ask you to follow me— or to follow the Gods in the way that I do." You're still trembling. "But I can't tolerate you and Celegwen not even trusting who I am."

The elf look to you with that same odd expression. You realize it's relief. Celegwen kneels beside you, looking more relaxed than you've ever seen her.

She smiles.

Ofelia punches her as hard as she can. "You fuckin' idiot, what the fuck is wrong with you—?"

With both hands clasped together, a soft expression, and words brimming with solace, Celegwen leans towards you. "Father, you really did see everything, didn't you?"

You have absolutely no idea how to respond to such an abnormal reaction. It's at least nothing like what you would expect from a human or halfling. Baffled, you pull back into yourself.

"A mortal man— who could endure lifetimes of loss." The elf closes her eyes, drawing her hands to her chest. Utter relief sinks into her as she looks back to you. "I was the one who did not understand, Father. I want to learn. I need to know. Your journey has helped me regain fragments of memories. These fractures of what I have lost. I came down here to learn, to study, and to grow— and I realize that you merely wish to do the same. I do not question your Gods because I do not believe in Them. I do so because I fear for what they do to you."

The rise and fall of your chest is sharp and intense as Celegwen continues to lean in. You pull back further, and look to Ofelia for any kind of assistance.

She's clearly hurt, but doesn't intervene as the sorceress takes her hands in your own. "I trust you." Celegwen keeps your fingers clasped around hers. "I want you to trust me, too. I wish to earn that trust. I will show you— without your Gods intervening. I made you a promise, Father. I hope you can one day find it in your heart to trust me again."

"Thank you, Celegwen. I—" You try to pull away, but the firm grip on your hands and wrists persists. There's little doubt in your mind that she wants to keep you from clinging to your holy symbol, failing to steady your own hands, or hurting yourself further. Voicing your sentiments out loud feels appropriate. "I don't want to make any more assumptions."

Looking between both women, you speak more and more meekly. It's as if each word could be cause for greater harm than the last. "I can't even imagine what you're both thinking right now." Your hair must be getting longer. All attempts at making yourself presentable have been forgotten as you hang your head, and your vision becomes masked by blood-caked strands.

"I'm sorry."

A long moment passes between you all in silence.

The sound of Ofelia blowing her nose snaps your attention to her pained stare. Her handkerchief vanishes into a clenched fist. All of her worry is still mixed with anger. "You sounded pretty fuckin' confident in everythin' you said, Richard. First time I think I've heard you be so frank— when you weren't drunk, or outta yer mind."

There's no way to take the bite out of what you want to say, so you make no attempt to soften it. "I'm not sorry for what I said."

She bristles.

You nearly trip over yourself in an attempt to clarify. "I'm sorry that I haven't been more forward with you both sooner." Both women look to you with concern. "There was simply no way that I could have— that I could have shared any of this with you before. I simply hadn't known. H-how— how could I? I don't like it anymore than either of you. I hate that this is how it's happened. But I— I'm glad that I know now." The hold on your hands feels wrong in every conceivable way. The concern on your face tightens instead. "I know that despite— that despite everything you both think of me— in spite of everything, you both— I hope you still care."

Ofelia's tears are back in full force. "Of course I do—" Her voice cracks as she shoves you as hard as she can. "—you fuckin' jerk!"

The hold between you and Celegwen slips, as she's caught by surprise. "Ofelia, please."

There's no point trying to catch yourself. As uncooperative as your muscles are being, you still uselessly try to help yourself off from the floor. "Calm down, boy. Easy—"

Ray scoots behind you, and moves to prop you up. All the while, your guard dog's teeth are bared at your attacker. He outright snarls as Ofelia pushes past Celegwen to shove you again.

"Easy—!"

The small woman practically screams in frustration as Celegwen effortlessly holds her back. "You both think you know everythin'!"

Ray pauses in his attempts to keep you upright, solely to place himself between you and Ofelia. Every inch of you tenses, and fights to prop yourself up as you slump to the ground. "Ray, DOWN." He instantly obeys. "Ofelia, I—"

"Do you know how fuckin' worried I've been?!" The handkerchief she's been holding is thrown to the floor in frustration. She rushes over, and takes you into a hug.

Your words catch in your throat. You manage to raise a violently shaking arm to command Ray to stay down, and to stop his growling. He lowers his volume just as Ofelia's increases.

Her voice cracks with emotion. Burying her face in your robes— far closer than you'd normally be comfortable with, in order to get her arms around you— she cries with enough force to take your mind off of your tremor.

She seems desperate to hold you. Your shoulders have never felt so broad as her hands clench onto the worn fabric, and pull you in.

"You idiot! I was so scared! Don't you pull another stunt like that again! You hear me?! I don't care if you wanna yell or scream or how mad you get at me! I don't even care if we nearly get killed—!" Her sporadic cries breaks out into full-blown sobbing. "Just don't go gettin' yourself so hurt. You can barely even lay there. How are we supposed to get outta this place? How are we gonna get back home if you can't stop gettin' worse?"

It isn't just tremor that causes your hands to shake.

"Ofelia..."

It's a miracle that I'm still alive. I've wasted away to practically nothing. I don't even want to see how bad I must look— but I can imagine, if it's even half as bad as how I feel.

"I can't lie to you, Ofelia. I know you're right. I..."

For Mercy's sake, a halfling can get her arms around me. Agriculture will have to understand. Her harvest waxes and wanes in an endless cycle. I don't want to disrespect Her— but I can't keep going on like this.

It isn't the tortured muscle or scarcity of your frame that's making you tremble.

Flesh is right. When I get to the surface— when we get to the surface— things will be different. I have to do something.

It's anxiety.

Your stomach is in knots. It feels like you're losing a little part of yourself with every word. "There's no telling what else we'll encounter here. I can't promise you— I don't want to say that I won't need to invoke the Gods. But I swear to you—" You cringe as the dampness of Ofelia's tears soaks completely through to your skin. "I'll do everything I can to look after myself. Once we get out of here, I'll— I'll take a break. A long break, from everything. I don't think I've ever given myself a vacation, or—" Confidence raises your volume. "—or really taken care of myself. I'll keep our promise— when I get home."

You exchange a weary grimace with Celegwen for her extremely appreciative smile. You wish you could offer her one in return, as she picks Ofelia's handkerchief off from the floor. The rogue's tears have stopped.

You can't stand the thought of her holding you with what you're about to say. It kills you to do it, but you pull back from Ofelia ever so slightly.

Her clear blue eyes are lined with red as they bore into you. "I appreciate it Richard, but that doesn't answer my fuckin' question. What're you gonna do here? Now?"

Cringing further, you shy away from that look. It's wrought with worry, and cuts you in a way that you can derive absolutely no pleasure from.

Instinctively, your hands go to your holy symbol. Her question taints the weight, solidity, and respite you should be granted in a way that's utterly crushing. The tightness in your chest is not abating. You take a deep breath, and another, to try and work through the desire to curl into yourself and shut down completely.

You sound as tormented as you feel when you reply, "we— I need the Gods— to survive this place. I've never invoked Them unless my life— or another person's— was in danger. I— I am not trying to make excuses. I know that you're both scared. I can't blame you—" Pain lances your grimace as you struggle with yourself. "Something is— something is wrong after I spent so much time with Mercy. I know you both can tell. I don't want to scare either of you. I just want to help. I just want to protect you all. I never intended to abuse Her blessing."

They're giving you that look again. You hate it so much. It's not quite worry. But you can see the faint lines under Ofelia's eyes, and the strain on Celegwen's fair features. Their fear.

Desperate to justify your actions, you pull into yourself. "I needed to survive. I couldn't have made it back here— to you all— without Her. I couldn't have survived the swarms of demons that threatened our lives, I couldn't have healed, I couldn't have endured—" A pained sound escapes from you in the battle to articulate just how desperate your situation has been. "—She is the reason I'm even here today. The Church of Mercy took me in—! They spared my life— they raised me— I owe— I owe everything to her. I... I—"

An exasperated sigh, and an extremely pained smile hits you from Ofelia. "You idiot."

Soft and slender arms take you back into an embrace. She holds you up, sending the nerves along your wiry shoulders aflame.

Celegwen scoots over, and holds you as well.

The spasm in your limbs is unrelenting, and wearing hard on your patience. You almost look to Ray for assistance before you're completely engulfed in their embrace— but you can scarcely manipulate your limbs, and wind up leaning into them. As Ofelia scoots in closer and mumbles into your robes, her blonde hair brushes up against your face. "You don't owe shit to nobody but yourself."

You want to protest, but Celegwen destroys your concentration with her proximity. Her breath is close. Her head moves onto your shoulder.

You blush— wanting to scoot away— but she leans in, and holds you all together.

"I cannot profess to understand everything you have experienced, Father— but if you were able to endure the weight of my knowledge— I suspect that you can endure much more than you give yourself credit for."

Articulating a reply is completely out of your reach. It's all you can do to lean against your friends.

The heat in your face is absolutely overwhelming. Your nerves are fried. There's knots in your stomach. The tightness in your chest is suffocating.

Celegwen's voice is strained with worry, but her words are as reassuring as you could hope for. "We will be fine. You must try to take care of yourself."

You can scarcely think.

I don't even know where to begin.