[OPEN] cold wind blowing beneath my wings

[coerthantorment]

WHO: Estinien Wyrmblood and YOU
WHAT: Estinien is back in the real world and not particularly happy about it, at least until he manages to meditate his way into the Horizon again. Meanwhile, his cellmate Relena goes missing and he gets very angry about it.
WHERE: In prison and also the Horizon.
WHEN: From July 24th to August 12th
NOTES: If you'd like something more specific with Estinien feel free to hit me up on the Discord or at quixocalypse.

I➔ And Back Again

The descent from the Horizon feels akin to being summoned back to a dead body, both in terms of power and relative comfort. The aches and pains of his imprisonment return with merciless acuity. While his energy had been boundless in that higher realm, here it is reduced to scraps as the ravages of hunger and exhaustion weigh down on him. It's the contrast itself that is the most jarring, along with the fact that he wakes up in shackles.

Yes, the fear that had been haunting his subconscious his entire stay in the Horizon has come back into context. This is what he'd been desperate to escape, and now that he's returned to it, he feels no less dread. Even worse is the fact that Ambrose seems perfectly chuffed with himself for what they've experienced.

Upon being returned to prison, he wonders what it was all for. Any connection to the power of the Horizon seems to be gone, and given that somehow accessing the Singularity was his one hope of escape, their return leaves him in a rather dire mood. To make matters worse, it seems that the guards haven't forgotten about his aggression on the way to the portal, and also on the way back. They decide to deny him food entirely on his first day back to his cell. He should be glad he's not been simply put back into solitary, something in his gut says.

The atmosphere around him is one of miserable defeat, during those first few days back in prison. Even during the recreational hours, his accumulated frailty can be seen. As much as he tries to flex his muscles, he soon finds himself slumping against the rec yard wall. He's tired, starving, and clinging more and more tenuously to any sort of hope. Was the Horizon an escape at all, when it was all according to the High Mage's plan?

II➔ To The Horizon

Fortunately for him, his obsession driven life means he is not one accustomed to giving up for good. It takes only a couple of days before he realizes the futility in surrender - especially when he's hardly explored all his options. The Horizon was something experienced outside the body, was it not? So why not see if the connection remains?

He spends the rest of that day attempting to sink back into the Singularity's power, carefully clearing his thoughts. He is used to stilling his mind from years of being connected to Nidhogg's eye, but it has been a while since such intense concentration was required of him. He's not sure when it happens, but finally, something clicks.

Instead of awakening on his prison mattress, he wakes in a field of rolling grass - and not long after, a pile of snuffling karakul. Everything comes rushing back. He'd remembered his time in the Horizon, but something about experiencing it again reforges the connection between those two states of mind: the mind of the dragon, and the mind of his true self. To think, that all of this had been made by his hand.

He frees himself from the overzealous affection of his flock, a lifetime of memories allowing him to better keep his reflexive fear of them at bay. He wanders the valley for a while, his memories casting all he sees in a new light. What did it mean, that his unshackled soul decided to build this? Was this what he wanted, after everything? He comes along the long bit of housing within his domain, a single-family household carefully crafted of timber, but left completely empty inside. For all the time he'd spent in the valley, he spent little time dwelling on this creation. He thinks he can understand, the emptiness of its walls resonating with a similar emptiness in his heart.

He traces his fingers along the windows, across the door, but he doesn't dare open it. Instead, he decides he'd rather go somewhere else.

Without his memories, he hadn't been particularly curious about other people's domains, mostly interested in his own creations and keeping them safe. Now, though, a lifetime of experiences draws him to the outside world. He wonders if anyone else has reawakened to this place. He traverses the Horizon on foot this time, and occasionally in soaring leaps and bounds that are nearly akin to flying. Yet, he summons no wings. He can't imagine he made a particularly good impression on anyone, the way he was before.

III➔ The Weight of Absence (Aug 5+)

And then, some days later, Relena is taken.

He doesn't know the meaning of it, at first. The guards simply come to remove her from the cell, saying it's for some manner of 'trial', and she goes, with nothing he or Himeka could do to stop it. He demands answers at the time, shouting at the guards, but receives none. Initially, he wonders if she'll be freed, much like Kay was. It'd make sense, he thinks. If the trial was just, he could see no reason for her to be put in solitary or anywhere else, and he knows she has at least one friend on the outside.

Yet, when he doesn't hear anything from her in the coming days, he can no longer rely on that hopeful thought. Kay has been allowed to come and go, just like the other guests. Would Relena not have come to speak to them, after being freed? If not for him, for Himeka or the others?

As each day passes, his frustration and worry increases. He'll start attempting to flag down any passing guests, asking if they have seen her amount the others upstairs. On the way to recreation, he will check to be sure she hasn't simply changed cells, and ask around the other prisoners.

"Relena - the girl from my cell, with the long sandy hair - the guards have taken her somewhere. Have you seen her?"

With fewer and fewer kind possibilities in his mind, he'll start turning his aggression to the guards, shouting at them to ask for her location, and trying to grab at them through the bars when they inevitably ignore him. Finally, he manages to catch sight of a guard he thinks he recognizes from the day she disappeared. He manages to catch them by the arm, dragging them back against the bars of the cell.

"Where is the girl?" he snarls.

Comments

I.

[gynvael]

Preference to be alone aside, until now, Geralt's not gone out of his way to avoid people. That they're allowed to speak—almost freely sometimes—is rare in captivity. That the majority of those who arrived are still here is even rarer. He's been willing to cultivate relationships he suspects might be worthwhile down the line. At least while they're all trapped. Besides, most aren't afraid of him at first glance here. Makes it easier to carry a conversation.

But since their return from the Horizon, he has been going out of his way to avoid people. He wants to say he's simply gathering his thoughts. The reality is that a weight sits on his chest; an aching loss he can't bury even when he tries. He should be able to. He's done it before. Has done it dozens of times, over and over. It shouldn't be this hard to let go of a girl he's never even met, much less took in as his own. It was not real. What he did in there, it wasn't real. His understanding of this does not a damn thing to loosen the weight.

Outside, the sun shines too bright. He walks; the fuck else is there to do? It does little to ease his restlessness. The first time he passes the white-haired elf (Estinien, he thinks he might've caught once through the bars) he doesn't look twice. The third time, the misery emanating from him is both harder to ignore and an appealing source of distraction from the shadows in Geralt's own mind.

So he stops. Pauses. He hasn't much, but Jaskier's a reliable source of extra rations. And what the hell. His appetite's not there lately; it's all ashes to him. He glances to the side to make sure the guards aren't focusing his direction before he pulls an apple out of his pocket. Not the largest or freshest apple—but it's an apple.

He holds up the piece of fruit. An offer. "You look like shit."

[coerthantorment]

Early on in captivity, Estinien had been prickly about receiving charity from other prisoners. It seemed naive to him, for people to give up the small number of rations they had. Eventually, he'd made an exception for assistance from the guests, but it was accepted warily.

This time, he doesn't have the luxury of spending that much time thinking about it. As much as he worries about guests like Kay and Kiryu damning themselves on his behalf, and part of him worried what this new man might be giving up on someone who feels increasingly like a lost cause... he's genuinely starving, and he's losing strength to match.

He looks up at Geralt, and his expression shifts from its grim visage of despair to a small smirk, and a chuckle so small it's more of a movement than a sound. His gaze also flickers to the guards, knowing that they might make it their business to make his life more difficult at this point. He moves quickly to take the gift, not wanting to leave the other man in the middle of an action that might get him in trouble.

Estinien thinks he might have heard this man's name as well, but as he tries to think of it, nothing comes. He's never been particularly good at this sort of thing.

Instead, he starts scarfing down before anyone can take it away from him.

"I hadn't realized," he says dryly, when he thinks he can spare the moment. "They don't have any mirrors in solitary."

[gynvael]

Geralt leans back against the fence. His weight settles carefully on his right leg. Seeing as the man is inhaling the apple, he figures it's gone to a good cause. Even if he's risking ire from any moody guards. He's reached a stage where it's becoming hard to give a shit. His patience, along with his caution, has steadily worn thin, against his better judgement.

"Too bad. I'd lodge a complaint." He studies Estinien for a moment. He's learned enough through Jaskier, who spoke to—one of them. Not too long ago. The woman with the reptilian scales? It's information he hasn't given as much thought to as he should. So much about the Horizon has thrown him off-kilter. Every time he tries to pull his concentration back, it's like rolling a stone up an unending hill.

"Surprised solitary was all you received," he adds.

Then again, perhaps not. There's a sense they're needed. As a resource of some kind. It doesn't exactly make him feel better, but. People wanting to put him to use for their own ends is nothing new.

[coerthantorment]

"I had thought I was to be executed," Estinien admits once he's down to the core. Naturally, he starts eating that as well. No point in wasting it. "Yet, it seems they had other things in mind."

It seems like Geralt has already heard about what happened to some degree, which is convenient. He certainly has no interest in hiding it.

"Have you wondered why us prisoners were allowed to bear witness to the Singularity's power?" Estinien certainly has. "It would be one thing if the High Mage had been taken by surprise... but nothing about his smug satisfaction in the aftermath suggested this was any less than what he planned."

[gynvael]

So had he, but Geralt decides not to say out loud he'd presumed the elf's head and a few others would be rolling by now. Seems rude. Thorne's unpredictability regarding the prisoners, regarding the guests, is one of the many things he finds unsettling. How long before we're all prisoners? Jaskier had asked, and the truth is, Geralt can't say.

Instead, he considers the question. Would be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn't wondered that. He hums; his gaze tracks across the yard. For a beat or two, it's difficult to tell whether he plans to answer at all.

"You feel it, don't you?" He looks back over. His expression is thoughtful; a tilt to his head. "After we returned. A tether. I suspect they wanted us to make that connection. Might be soon enough we find out what they mean to use it for."

It's the only reason he can think of, why they'd all been led there. Sure as hell wasn't for the fun of it. The connection is new. Unfamiliar. It isn't like anything he's ever felt before. A connection that the inhabitants here supposedly can't form. Are they lying about that? Is Ambrose? No. He doesn't think so. The fear he'd seen on some of their faces -- so close to the Singularity -- had been genuine. If the object is as powerful as they say it is, well. Power needs to be fed, doesn't it?

I. Or I guess it's kind of II. also in a way?

[stealsthetruth]

After their little field trip out to the Singularity, Kay seizes the first opportunity she can get to slip down to the dungeons and pay her old cell mates a visit.

She has been down here almost every day that she can get away with it, ever since Phoenix secured her release... Which is a habit that probably isn't doing her reputation with the Thorneans any favors, but she cares a negative amount about that sort of thing. Regularly visiting her fellow Yatagarasu member has been of the utmost importance to her this whole time, and now she has even more of a reason to go down to the dungeons, because two of her friends have apparently come back from the dead.

With a satchel full of extra food in tow, she half runs up to the bars of the cell, eager to lay her eyes on them to confirm once and for all that it is really, undeniably true. She hasn't seen either of them in the real world since the wurm mines, her amnesiac encounter with Estinien in the Horizon being the only contact she's had with either of them between then and now.

Turns out, the elf is the only one present in the cell at the moment. The other two must be out on recreation break, Kay figures. Doesn't matter. Estinien also appears to be sleeping(?) in the corner, but that also doesn't matter. She calls out to him without hesitation, trying to get his attention.

"Mister Estinien!"

[coerthantorment]

That first day, back in the cells... Estinien barely has the strength to stand. It'd be an emotional weight, even if it weren't for his wearied and starving body. It feels like he's been dragged back to where he started, with nothing gained for all the struggle and suffering he's been through. Back in the same cell, on the same bed, only now with no food.

And Kay isn't there. She's left them for something better.

It's foolish to feel abandoned, he reminds himself. The girl owes him nothing, and he's a grown man. The idea that anyone has been allowed out of here should be a sign of hope to him, but all it does is make it clear that he's damned both himself and Himeka. That someone he considered a comrade has moved onto greener pastures.

His head leans against the prison wall, his arms curled around himself as he wanders somewhere between waking and sleep. He can feel the Singularity even now, but where is the power it offered him? Is he truly back to having nothing?

And then someone calls his name. His eyes feel dry and hot as he slowly cracks them open. It's taking him a moment to truly wake up. His gaze blearily shifts towards the bars.

[stealsthetruth]

Once Kay's eyes adjust properly to the gloom of the dungeon, she finally clocks what rough shape he's in. She's not sure why she expected any better, honestly; it's not like the guards here have a history of treating even their best behaved prisoners particularly well. Still, seeing it for herself causes a painful pang of sympathy in her chest. She calls out again more urgently now, in what basically amounts to a stage whisper. She doesn't want to go drawing any guard attention over here.

"H-hey! Mister E! Look at me, will you? Don't go dropping dead on me when I've only just found out you're alive again!"

As blunt and pushy as ever, but her knitted brow and the way she's clutching at the cell bars both betray genuine concern.

[coerthantorment]

Her first call could be missed - her more urgent pleas, less so. His vision focuses, with the sensation of not being fully certain where he is as he wakes. For a moment it feels like it should be among grass and towering stone, but then... no. It's a cell. And here, he knows who he is.

And who Kay is as well. His last memory is of her in the Horizon, in a context free from Thorne's trappings. Now that there back here, though, everything is a lot more complicated.

...But he's not completely capable of ignoring her concern. It clashes against the knot of irrational resentment in his gut. Had she really thought they were dead this whole time?

"Kay," he acknowledges roughly, slowly shifting to a less vulnerable pose. "You've risen up in the world."

II and I-ish?

[cointosser]

The dungeons have now become an old friend after so many weeks have passed during his visits; he checks up on the people he know can name, that he knows a hint better, if they're there. Sometimes the prisoners are released -- if one could really call it that -- for the barest hints of fresh air. He can petition for other prisoners, to release them for a spot, but he hesitates. He already visits Geralt far too much for it to be casual, but... gods, he's doing horribly.

They all are. This has gone on far longer than he'd imagined it would, when at first it almost felt a game. Ambrose's game. No. It must be someone higher. The king, the queen. Though he has yet to see a hint of them.

It's not exactly Jaskier's plan anymore to be less suspicious, but he can be mostly a minor annoyance when it benefits him. So now when he goes to the dungeons, he brings his lute, allowing the guards to look over it, when it's necessary. There's nothing in it but hollow sound, when all the treasures have been stuffed in his pockets. A bit haphazardly, actually.

Another cool night and he steps down there, the lute warm against his back. Playing for them won't earn you a speck of sympathy, one guard mutters, and yes. He agrees. Jaskier only shrugs with a smile. "Give the bastards an inch, right? It's for practice, nothing more."

He walks past them, beginning to head towards Geralt's cell when he stops, going the other direction. It may have been some time ago, but he'd promised Himeka. He has no idea when he'll find the man, or even if, but --

He pauses, taking several steps back from a cell he's just passed. White hair. Tall. It's hard to tell, crouched down as he is, but his legs do look rather long. White hair. Wait a moment --

Oi! That fucking dragon! Instead of his exclamation, a faint noise squeaks out. He covers his mouth with a fist, biting his lip. No fucking way. That bloody dragon. The lovely one. The terrifying one. He looks so different here, especially in this cell, that Jaskier did not recognize him. How many times has he walked past already and not noticed?

He touches the bars with a hand. The dragon is far more an elf now than he is even close to a dragon, caught somewhere between sleep and... something deeper. Jaskier tips his head, curious. He's seen Geralt meditate many a time over the year and this looks quite similar. It's only a guess. Gods, he looks so different now, and it is not only that he no longer appears a dragon. He looks... bedraggled. Butter scraped across too much bread.

Somehow, it doesn't feel right to wake him, nor does it feel right to leave. So instead, he brings his lute to his chest, leaning against the bars of the dragon's cell, and begins to play the soft song he'd played to those sheep, in a plane he cannot explain.

Once cannot help but hope it can still reach him and, more importantly, that the dragon can remember too. That they were not only dreams that did not truly touch.

[coerthantorment]

The first time he arrived in the Horizon, he hadn't had a choice. His consciousness was something violently taken - so much so that it had been stripped clean in the transition, leaving him fragmented and confused.

As such, he has no idea how to invite this power upon himself. He can feel the connection, he can feel the Singularity, and yet... would it take him in again? He feels as if he's throwing himself upon the mercy of this universal force. It would be pathetic if he had anything else to grasp for. As it is, fighting for this feels like fighting for life itself.

He doesn't know what the Singularity wants from him, or any of them, but deep down he feels like he'd be willing to give it, if only he could have a chance. A chance to have justice, a chance to undo the wrongs he's already committed, a chance to fight back.

Somewhere in the absence of his thoughts, he hears something. Music... familiar music, music that snakes his way into his senses as he floats in the space between worlds. It ties him to a moment that lurks within his memory. A memory of lake water moving in gentle waves, the smell of ash, and wool between his fingers.

For a moment, he feels grass beneath his back, under his palms, tickling the back of his neck. He cracks open his eyes and sees the blue of an untamed sky.

Then, he falls.

In the end, the music is the only thing that remains. He shifts against the prison wall, sliding forward as he accidentally offsets his balance. His head bobs, jolting him awake - he's immediately vigilant, the sense of vulnerability sending him searching for a threat. Yet, all he finds is a bard.

He grasps at the wall, scrambling. That's the closest he's been, he thinks - or was he merely dreaming? Has this man been waiting here while he slept? What was his name? Did he know it?

"You," he says, at a loss for anything else.

[cointosser]

Of course, Jaskier's whole plan had been to... err, all right, in retrospect he had not really put too much thought into this plan, but at least he had not meant to wake him up in any sort of rude manner.

Except when he does wake, Jaskier feels rather like he's been caught in the wife's bed with his knickers off.

"Ahh!" He starts, jerking his hand on the strings so the vibrations stop. "Gods, you scared me." That much is obvious. Still, the waking hadn't exactly been peaceful. No fault of his. His music was wonderful. So he moves on quickly. "Er, yes. Hello. I see you remember. As do I."

Simply to get it out of the way. It appears that's the pattern so far. That they remember.

He bows over his lute in the ease of someone who has done it many a time. How funny to think that, after all they'd been through there, that names had never been of important. "Jaskier, my lord. Lovely to see you again. I almost didn't recognize you."

[coerthantorment]

In Jaskier's defense, Estinien had primarily startled himself awake - or, at least, his brush with the Horizon had. As his consciousness begins to settle, he also realizes that beginning this meeting with "you" might be coming on a little strong. Yet, what else was he meant to call him, when they had never exchanged names? His other self had just not been that concerned with it.

Convenient as it is to think of that being as something separate from himself, he knows that's not the case. If anything, it has been the consolidation of fragmented parts, working off of lingering instincts from both himself and Nidhogg, with no memories to put them into context. He doesn't know if he should be ashamed, or embarrassed, or any number of other things, to have the curious mingling of his soul be so nakedly displayed.

He certainly would have made different choices with the weight of experience guiding him. Especially now that he can easily source the turbulent emotions that had fueled that day in the valley.

The bard - Jaskier, apparently - in contrast, seems very much the same.

Estinien crosses his arms around himself, trying to decide how best to deal with this. Does he need to explain himself? Perhaps not. They all underwent the same thing. Yet, their encounter had been... intimate... in a way others had not. What must this man think of him? He genuinely doesn't know. He has no pressing reason to care, and yet...

"Estinien Wyrmblood," he manages, the most straightforward thing he can say. "I was..." Not myself? It'd be a lie. "I'm finding it complicated to explain."

Even to himself. Is that really what his own subconscious thinks he should be? Is that what he is, untempered by lessons learned?

iii

[aquaveiled]

Time out of the cell is spent in an earnest search. Though she and Estinien aren't always allowed similar "free hours", likely due to their previous escape attempt, she uses that time in the same way he does--to ask around for any sign of their missing cellmate. Relena's departure had been jarring and suspicious, but if anyone there would be released, it would clearly be her. Wouldn't it?

A strong-willed and capable teenager though she is, Himeka can't help but feel at least a little responsible for Relena's safety, even if it has never really been up to her to provide it. As with many things in this world, it simply isn't fair that she should suffer the indecencies of being held captive, having done nothing at all to deserve Throne's ire prior to and after her arrival. And after their reunion when Himeka had been released from solitary, it seemed fitting that there was an understanding they would be back for one another.

It just didn't seem like Relena would leave them worried if she could help it.

So...can she not help it?

Himeka sits with her legs pulled to her chest and her tail thumping on the floor in irritation. Having come back from a fruitless search of her own, it's unsurprising that tensions are high in cell block one.

It's also unsurprising that Estinien eventually manages to manhandle a guard that wanders a little too close.

"What the--!?" the guard snaps back.

Himeka immediately jumps to her feet. As the Warrior of Light and friend to all (mostly), it should be her duty to deescalate the situation in order to gain information.

But frankly, she couldn't give a damn.

"The one who also shared this cell!" she implores instead, taking the opportunity for what it is. "It's been days and we haven't heard a thing!"

[coerthantorment]

The guard is not happy about this, nor particularly inclined to be helpful. As Himeka joins the interrogation, he only snarls, elbowing Estinien as the elf tries to hold him against the bars. On a better day, Estinien might have been able to get him in the chokehold he was aiming for.

As it is, he's just a desperate man grasping at straws. He doesn't even get close.

Instead, he manages to get the guard by the arm, and then the opposite shoulder. His armor clangs against the bars as Estinien finds a moment of purchase, but the guard has far more leverage. It only lasts a moment before the guard breaks free, at least in part, and seizes Estinien's wrist in return. He twists it against the metal, and soon Estinien is the one in a dangerous situation, the muscles and bones of his arm straining against the pressure.

Estinien snarls in pain and frustration. Unfortunately, the guard is not interested in giving them any answers.

"I've had about enough of you, you lanky bastard," they spit.

[aquaveiled]

As soon as the tides turn on them, Himeka is right next to Estinien at the bars. She is far from a pacifist in her own right despite growing up in a village that was created for the sole purpose of avoiding war and unending conflict, but she is not foolish enough to think that any attempts to reach through the bars on her own would be helpful.

If only she had an onze of her magics, this guard would be in pain that he would need to ask very nicely for her to heal.

"Wait!"

Which means she has to try another method, one she has been forced to rely on more frequently these days. She grips two of the bars in front of her, turning wide sorrowful eyes towards the guard as her tail visibly droops.

"We're just worried about what happened to our friend, can't you see?"

Her gaze shifts to Estinien for a moment before refocusing on the guard.

"Please. All we want is some assurance that she's still alive."

[coerthantorment]

The guard growls, and for a moment it seems like he's only increasing the pressure on Estinien's arm, who can do nothing but flinch and hiss in response. He pounds his palm against the bars, twisting as he tries to slip away - but the downside to his reach is that there's also a lot of him to keep hold of.

The guard twists until Estinien can feel the stabbing pain of a muscle overextending - only for the guard's case to finally shift to Himeka. It's unclear exactly how much pause her pleas give him, but it's at least enough to reassess his level of force.

"I've nothing to say to the likes of you," he snaps.

And with that, the guard stops twisting Estinien's arm, slowly releasing the pressure... just in time to yank him through the bars up to his shoulder. Estinien smacks into the metal, snarling as the guard slaps one side of a pair of shackles around his exposed wrist.

"If you were worth my pity you'd be released by now."

This really isn't going how Estinien hoped.

I

[sanc]

Returning is both a boon and a disappointment. At least here she knows who she is, but she misses the illusion of freedom the Singularity gave. Maybe she just misses the opportunity to have some control and stretch her legs. Relena had not had a wholly good time, but it was still better than a dungeon.

Still, this is reality and this is the place where she has to solve her current situation. She can't run away into something where her troubles from home and here are lost to her. She has to face them, just as she has to face Estinien when they're all shuffled back into their cells.

She's not sure how to address him or if he even wants to speak to her now when she's come across as so weak and misguided to him. Even if she stands in her beliefs, he'd given her a dose of the reality of her current position that she hasn't had to think about before. He's given her a quandary she has to sort out now. It's the truth of her being knocked out of her position of power and clout. She can sway no hearts here with her reputation and hope for the future of others. This is not her realm. These are not her people. She is, in a sense, nothing right now and she will have to figure out what she's meant to do here while acknowledging that.

Will that mean fighting? Killing? Will she have to make the decisions Heero's had to make protecting her and others? She feels like a coward under the weight of these ideas. Would her fathers hate her? Would Heero lose faith in her? He is her judgment, the one who knows when to kill her. He is not here to judge her. What does she do?

She sits against the wall as she settles in, lost in thought. She doesn't address anyone else in the cell, instead looking at her knees, off somewhere else in her mind with no immediate awareness of the others around her.

[coerthantorment]

Were Relena more willing to face Estinien, she may have realized he's already facing her, staring from his customary corner of the cell. The wheels are clearly turning in his head behind that stare, to anyone who decides to look. He has his own quandaries to ponder.

The woe of being back in jail is only slightly abated by the fact that he's been returned to his former cell instead of solitary. Or perhaps... well, more than slightly abated. He's not sure how much more of that he could stand, especially now that he's come back with additional worries. Though far from the paramount concern, his Horizon conflict with Relena is among them.

What could he say? His opinion on the matter hasn't exactly changed with the return of his memories, but if he'd been allowed any context he would have preferred to be somewhat kinder in his delivery. He could understand naivety, or innocence, for what it was. It seems less worth a full dismissal in a world where he recognizes her as so young, as opposed to a realm where age seemed meaningless.

It takes him a while to get to it, but eventually, he will speak.

"Relena," he begins, and then immediately hesitates. Come to think of it, he's not sure if she's angry with him, or merely being reflective. His words catch in his throat.

[sanc]

Relena hears her name but doesn't quite have the courage to look up at him just yet. She doesn't know what to say to him. If she had more of a mind with her own experiences, her own travels through her ideals and the history she has with them, maybe she would have been able to speak more on his level.

In the end, she'd only embarrassed herself.

She worries her hands together and keeps her gaze cast down, but opens her mouth to speak.

"Yes, Estinien?"

[coerthantorment]

Damn it. Though he's bought himself a few moments, he still has to figure out what to say. He watches her hands, and how they fidget - is she worried about what he will say? He can almost recognize it as something he's seen in Alphinaud, with the boy overthinking his every mistake, as usual.

"...When I saw you in the Singularity's realm, I was speaking without perspective."

Now that he's actually speaking, he glances away. There are a lot of emotions to process, and the journey home has only provided so much time to do so.

"I had no memory of my life prior to arriving there. If I had... I would not have phrased things as I did."

iii/wild card

[extremethirst]

"Huh?"

It's an unintelligent noise that slips out as he's wandering through the halls of the dungeon. He's come to really like all the prisoners a lot more than the honored guests; he likes their spunk and their tenacity; he likes their spirit and how it's not yet been broken. He wonders how much longer it will take before everyone decides to murder as many people as they can in pursuit of freedom and justice.

"Hey." Nero cries out instead as he gets a better look at the person behind the bars. His own pointed ears lift in interest. An elf! Unlike when he met Link, he's feeling at ease in meeting one of his kind in this situation. The reason for that is that the dungeon seals away their magic.

"Life seems to not be treating you very well, cousin." He saunters up to the cell so that he can get a better look. Leaning against the bars, he tilts his head up to look at the other elf. Fucking shit. He's tall. "Wanna talk about it? Sounds like you're having yourself a time."

[coerthantorment]

Estinien is standing in the corner, ostensibly just finishing up making use of the bucket that serves as their lavatory when Nero approaches, and he is clearly not prepared to be engaged with such enthusiasm. He jolts in surprise, hefting up his poor-quality hempen pants.

It's easy for him to notice that this man is a creature like him - an Elezen of some sort. Maybe too short to be an adult one, but without the features of a teen. It doesn't look quite right, through a mixture of his proportions and other more minor features, and it's enough for Estinien to be unsure.

Does it really matter, though? It's the first elf-like being he's seen since arriving in this world of Hyur. Not that it guarantees this man can be trusted.

He furrows his brow.

"Depends on who's asking," he says. "One of the High Mage's guests, I assume?"

[extremethirst]

"You assume right." His shoulders give a small shrug. He wonders if his cousin is sad that the High Mage didn't cry tears of joy at seeing his junk like he did Nero's. "He really just seemed to love my dick so much that he welcomed me into Thorne as a guest."

Did that actually happen? No. Does Nero like saying it happened? Yes.

Honestly, he isn't sure how else to take someone suddenly crying out in joy at seeing his whole hog. He certainly wasn't sure what to make of the warm welcome he got after climbing out of a well stark naked. Sure, it had something to do with the tarot that was drawn for him, but whatever.

"Don't worry." Nero quips back, cheerfully. "You also have an impressive piece, cousin. I'm sorry that the High Mage didn't understand to appreciate it more."

[coerthantorment]

What the fuck?

Estinien has had a lot of conversations with strangers in this place, from both sides of the bars. Never has anyone immediately started talking about their dick. Never have they immediately followed that up with talking about Estinien's dick.

He recoils very slightly, mostly just due to being caught off-guard. It's just not generally the sort of thing that would happen in Ishgardian society all that often, even in a particularly bawdy place like the Forgotten Knight.

"...So you're a degenerate, then."