abraxaslogs | ( closed ) and when i think the story goes my way

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( closed ) and when i think the story goes my way

Who: Hilda & Altaïr
When: January
Where: Across Libertas & Cadens
What: Questing and hijinks
Warnings: n/a, will updated as needed

[ On paper, delivering letters should be an easy enough task to do. Did it involve walking and having some level of spatial awareness to deliver said letters? Sure. But anyone could do that on their own, including Hilda. But therein lies the rub. Even after all this time in Abraxas, Hilda still disliked the thought of doing anything alone. She enjoyed the company, liked being able to talk while they worked because it made the work go faster. These weren't just any ordinary letters however. They were condolences. A finality to the horror that they had all experienced last year. And that's enough responsibility and weight to tell her that she might not be capable of doing this by herself.

Some of them were packaged with the effects of the deceased. Some of them were just a single sheet of paper, meticulously or hastily written by scribes as the news of the dead and their identities had rolled in. A year ago Hilda might not have cared enough to take the initiative herself to deliver the letters. Maybe it was being on the island helping to identify the remains that had pushed her to see it through to the end.. Maybe it had been the hours spent helping to polish and clean the jewelry that had been taken back so that someone's loved one wouldn't have to look at the grime and viscera on it and be reminded of awful things. Or maybe she was finally starting to grow a little confident in her ability to do things.

Whatever the reason, there's comfort in going with someone else. Her choice in delivery partner had to be someone with a cool head, someone who could keep it together so to speak in the face of what is sure to be a lot of emotion because Goddess knew she didn't entirely trust herself to keep it together. Naturally her mind goes immediately to Altaïr.

They find their way to the first house with little trouble. With the letter in hand she triple checks they have the correct address before glancing up at Altaïr. ]

Okay, you ready? Don't forget what we practiced.

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[Altaïr nods. He won't forget, but saying this implies he'd been paying a great deal of attention rather than going along with Hilda's plans. It isn't that he dislikes the idea of this particular activity; it's worthwhile to show empathy and respect.

It's also nothing he has even remote experience with, but Hilda has to have an idea of that, if not a full understanding of how rarely his life before being Summoned involved softer interactions. He assumes that she wants the company of a friend during an emotionally trying task.

They reach the first of numerous destinations on their list and he allows Hilda to take the lead when someone answers the door, offering an initial explanation of why they are here and what is in the letter. He shouldn't stand there and stare without contributing, though.]

Your brother didn't suffer long. I was given a description of the body and he almost certainly would have passed out from the pain quickly.

[ Hilda had given him the benefit of the doubt at the time. Maybe in other circumstances she might have pressed him a little harder to really make sure that he had been paying attention. Then again, other circumstances didn't involve ensuring the timely delivery of letters to the next of kin who had already been put through enough.

...But maybe she should have run him through a couple more scenarios before they set out that day. The moment Altaïr opens up his mouth and she understands where this is going, her eyes widen a fraction. The younger brother had been morse, staring blankly at the letter up until the moment Altaïr says what he says. His gaze snaps up to him too, the beginnings of horror creeping onto his face. Unfortunately before Hilda can jump into action, the young boy's shock turns to anger.

Thanks.

The door is slammed in their face giving Hilda the distinct feeling that they had been spit on even though the young boy hadn't actually done it. There's a beat of shocked silence from Hilda before she whirls on Altaïr. ]

What was that?!

[For once, Hilda has surprised him, and it shows on his face.]

It was me sharing information I would want to know in his place.

[Unspoken but clear in his tone: obviously????]

[ Is her outburst really that surprising? Had she been the only one to see the way that the boy had reacted? There's a moment where it seems like she's trying to grasp for words - what words, she can't even really say. Currently they could be anything from livid to absolutely withering.

Thankfully the first one is ruled out, if only because all of this is so delicate and something neither of them have had any extensive experience doing before. Unfortunately, there's still exasperation in her voice. ]

Okay, but he's not you, is he? [ She waves a hand towards the now shut door. ] And he definitely didn't appreciate the delivery.

Sometimes people don't want to know how someone they loved died. We should leave those details out unless they ask.

I'd think that anyone would want to know that their loved ones did not suffer. I would.

[He's lost people. Knowing the ones who went quickly didn't suffer great agony didn't erase that loss — but it made it less agonizing than it could have been. Why would it not be the same for the people of this world?]

I didn't give him details.

I would too but everyone reacts differently. Maybe he didn't want to know anything about his brother, we don't know!

[ She lets out a little grumble, her annoyance due to the fact that their first delivery hadn't gone quite as smoothly as she'd hoped. This was going to be a long day if this one was to set the mood. ]

I'd just rather avoid upsetting people more than this is already going to.

[He shakes his head, frustration showing on his face.]

There is no way of guaranteeing that, Hilda. That is the nature of death and loss.

[Those left behind might lash out at anyone with even a tangential connection their departed loved one; they may become upset that a person's memory is reduced to written condolences; he doesn't know. All he can do is offer what he would want to hear and even that is not right.]

Why did you ask me to join you in this?

[ Her annoyance lingers in the form of a line between her brows. It's a bit of a front if she's being honest - at least when it comes to his question.

She had asked him because he'd be the more even keeled between the pair of them. Someone who was used to fighting and therefore death by extension but not unkind. Someone she could turn too if she became too overwhelmed or emotional. Instead what comes out is - ]

Because I didn't want to go alone.

[ It's no secret that she prefers to do things with others than alone. But that almost feels too vulnerable to admit on its own. ]

And I thought that we should all have some closure.

[That draws him up short — both the painfully honest admission and what comes after.

Altaïr is silent for a moment. When he speaks again, the frustration has largely drained from his voice, though it's no less serious.]

Closure is an illusion. It doesn't exist after a loss of such magnitude.

[He'd chased it down. Done everything his grief commanded him to in those first moments after he'd realized he was too late. It had done nothing for him.]

Trust me on this.

[ Truthfully Hilda isn't sure what to expect when she admits as much to Altaïr her fear of doing something like this alone. What surprises her more however is the surety in his voice when he speaks to the other half of what she says. It's an admission to something in his veiled past.

There's still so much of him that she doesn't know. But she can't help but wonder if that has anything to do with what he'd told her when she had been laid out in bed recovering. ]

What do you mean? Why can't there be closure?

[Silence lingers again, expectation hanging between them like spider's silk. He could break it easily by brushing her off, changing the subject, even lying. The raw emotion stirred up by what they're here to do makes it feel impossible to choose any of those.]

I was on the other side of it once.

[More than once. Loss had been with him since the day he was born, and he expects he'll see it more than once again before the day he dies. But only one time had he thought he could control what he felt in the aftermath.]

I lost someone I — cared for. I had the opportunity to do something about it afterward.

[ The pause is more telling whether or not he intends it to be. Or maybe she's simply projecting on him because of a childhood filled with stories of love and loss. Tragedy made for incredibly potent love stories, but that didn't mean that she wanted that for herself or her friends. It was one thing to enjoy works of fiction that made her heart ache but a completely different matter altogether to know that those she cared for had loved and lost whether that was romantic or platonic.

So for that reason she doesn't want to assume. For that reason she treads carefully. The furrow between her brow softens into something sadder than before. ]

What happened?

A woman I knew was murdered. I arrived too late to save her.

[He doesn't have to say that he loved her. However stoic he is, there's an echo of that feeling in his voice still. The pain is softer now, the wound of Adha's death eased somewhat with the passage of time, but it has never fully healed.]

I hunted down those who were responsible for her death and took theirs.

[Put like that, it sounds simple, and Altaïr supposes it had been in a way. He'd focused on nothing but their deaths; he could not have acted more decisively. And when it was done, what did he have?]

It did not bring me closure.

[ So it hadn't been some starry-eyed preconceived notion of hers. There's no triumph in knowing that she's right however. Unsurprisingly, it's the opposite. The thought of the pain that Altair had gone through makes her heart clench tight.

Even during the war in her timeline, what she knew to be reality, she hadn't lost someone yet. She couldn't relate to the pain that he felt, that the ones that had been left behind in Abraxas feel. The clarity of that cuts through her sheltered, blissful life like a knife. ]

I'm sorry.

[ Because what else is there to say when someone has lost someone long ago despite the wound being tender? She doesn't want to dispute him because this is his lived experience. But she also can't come to terms with what they're doing being a futile act. ]

If you don't think closure is possible then why did you come with me?

[He nods in acknowledgment of the sympathy. It's all he can do besides gently wrap up the memory and place it in the back of his mind once more.]

Because it is still worthwhile to pay respect to the dead, and those left behind deserve to know the deaths of their loved ones were not overlooked as if they meant nothing.

[He knows it's a strange sentiment from one who has so easily dealt death himself, but maybe that's why he has it.]

And because you are my friend and you asked me to.

[ It's not a strange sentiment at all, considering she's killed too.

Even if she hadn't, she understood what he meant by wanting to do right to those left behind. The list of the dead in Claude's domain office runs through her mind. Names that had been familiar from their year at the Academy together. The conversation that she'd had with Jayden follows, as clear as the day they'd had it on the island, surrounded by the aftermath. The thought of being left alone to die and wondering if someone would remember you, if those that did would care, makes it hard to breathe for a moment.

The sensation is short-lived however, slowly burned away by what Altair says next. ]

Your friend? [ Hilda looks up, lips twitching slightly. It's clear that she's caught off guard. ] You really think of me as a friend?

[ Sylvain, sure. Claude, of course. But she can't recall the man in front of her ever calling her a friend. ]

[On one hand, he should not be surprised that she is surprised. Altaïr is not a demonstrative man and he knows that; he does not especially wish to be so and doubts he could even if he did.

On the other...he is. Actions mean more than words, and he thinks his have spoken quite clearly.]

Would I go along with your wishes as often as I have if I did not?

[His lips curl into a smile.]

[ Secretly, Hilda has always thought her persuasive in some fashion. Her ability to charm and bat her eyes were skills whether or not she wanted to admit as much and used more often than picking up an axe. But persuasiveness and wiles can only go so far and aren't foolproof. Getting Altaïr to go along with her wishes didn't feel like persuading as much as it was whining in her eyes.

But maybe she had been somewhat wrong about that.

The curl of his lips flusters her in the embarrassed way that she usually gets when Holst does something particularly sweet for her. Which, when she recognizes it, only serves to make it more embarrassing. ]

Well - I don't know. I could just be really persuasive and you feel bad for me or something.

[ It's not unheard of after all. ]

[It's unusual to see Hilda this self-effacing. Perhaps it's because he's surprised her, or because the somberness of the occasion still hangs over them. Perhaps it's neither.]

Do you really think me to be that sentimental?

[Persuasive, maybe, but that's irrelevant.]

[ It could be a bit of both and a little of something else. Maybe the something else is how she's framed herself and her entire life. How things are only supposed to be a certain way because it was predestined to be exactly like that.

Whatever the reason, she makes a point not to dwell on it for very long.

Altair's gentle teasing is met with a huff. ]

You could be. For all I know you're a big softie underneath that very stoic face and hood you sometimes wear.

I am not. You know that.

[Perhaps he is not without softness, though.]

My points remains. I would not join you out of guilty or obligation.

[ Hilda hums, clearly unconvinced. But now she knows to look and listen for the softness in his subtleties and she hears it now. ]

I guess I have no choice but to believe you then.

[ Even that is punctuated with a rueful little smile. She lets out a breath, peering down into the bag that she knows hasn't gotten any lighter since they stopped. ]

Should we keep going then? These letters sadly won't deliver themselves.

[Normally he would point out there always is and should be a choice, but in this case he's just glad Hilda has made it. They can set the painful topic aside in favor of...well, it is still a painful topic, but less personal for them.]

Yes. I will try not to offend upon their delivery.

[This guarantees nothing but at least she'll understand he is making an effort.]

[ Teasingly she points to her eyes before pointing back to him. ]

You better. I'm taking notes.

[ Reaching into her bag she pulls out the next delivery, this time one with a small package. Her heart sinks a little, knowing exactly which one this is. She'd taken the time to clean the ring tarnished with blood and who knew what else. It was simple and plain, but no less important and if she had to guess it was probably a wedding band. ]

It looks like this one is probably nearby. Hopefully they're home.

[His gaze falls upon the package and he shares in her sadness. No loss is worse than any other, but some have more painful reminders.]

This way.

[The woman at the residence they seek looks young, maybe younger than him — too young to be a widow. Altaïr lets Hilda introduce them again — he's not about to go on a limb now even after her very pointed criticism — but he does speak as the woman reaches to accept the package and letter, her eyes now tearing up.]

I hope this brings some amount of peace, even if it can't ease your pain.

[ The walk there is done in silence, Hilda taking the time to steel herself for this next delivery. It only dawns on her now that telling the young boy about his brother's death had hit closer to home than she had realized; she had died in another timeline. Who had told Holst about her? What if the situation had been reversed? What if someone had been telling her about Holst dying? How would she have reacted?

She manages to stop the spiraling thoughts just as they arrive at the young woman's house. Everything feels out of body as she tells her what happened, how sorry they are that she has to find out this way. The woman's hands tremble, holding the letter and package close to her as Altaïr offers comfort. ]

We wish that it hadn't turned out this way.

[ The woman nods before drawing in a ragged breath. Thank you. I know this can't be easy for either of you either. Hilda is quick to reach out to touch her shoulder lightly. ]

We'd rather do this than put the burden on the rest of you.

[We wish that it hadn't turned out this day.

He's glad Hilda says it. However differently the two of them approach this task, whatever their views on loss and solace are, that is one thing he is absolutely certain they both believe. If it helps, even a little, this will have been worth it.]

It's our honor to do it.

[And that's pure honesty, too.

They're both quiet as they step away from the house. There are more to come; their job isn't done. But as they walk away, he rests his hand on Hilda's shoulder, briefly. Actions speak louder than words but it may or may not be understood that he means it as a sign of comfort, support, a reminder that they are here for each other even as they're here for the people who have lost so much.]

[ It's impossible for Hilda not to tear up as they leave. But the widow offers her a watery smile and a tight squeeze of her hand in return. The rest of the task won't be easy and it's wishful thinking that all of the other recipients will be as grateful or anywhere near as forgiving as that widow - but she can't help but think that it'll be easier with Altaïr there.

When he places his hand on her shoulder the smile that she gives him is grateful. She's still learning what his silent actions means, but she thinks she knows what this means. Without a second thought she leans into him, resting her head lightly against his arm in thanks. There isn't anyone else she'd rather do this with. ]

I'm ready when you are.

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( closed ) and when i think the story goes my way

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fin? 🎀