[ CATCH-ALL ] and I broke my heart in two

[londonbound]

Who: Rhy Maresh & others
When: throughout September, early October
Where: Castle Thorne, Nott, Horizon
What: In the aftermath of the attack on Nott, Rhy is doing his best to help out as a healer in the fields, taking on the firefighting quest, and otherwise being fucked up about all the damage and casualties already piling up.
Warnings: blood, possible violence, will add as needed.




(( hit me up @ belleteyn or @ lenafish#3861 on disco. PM is cool too.

I'm happy to write you a custom starter!! even if we've never threaded before!! i am simply very bad at open ones. ))

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[blackeyedprince]

"I know you did everything that's humanly possible."

It's bad here, but Kell is sure it's a lot worse on the other side. The awareness of this fills him with ire that's nothing like his usual anger. Not hot rage that's good fuel for action, just the chill that festers, seeping away his strength, eating away at him.

Kell had seen the suffering, the dying and the desperate. He'd seen the hungry of White London, the grim slums of Grey London. But Rhy? Radiant prince Rhy, who'd throw the most exquisite parties to entertain his people? Who would go out of his way to make everyone happy? He'd never had to see such things first hand. He might have been aware of them happening, but the knowledge of a thing existing and experiencing it yourself are like night and day.
It's one thing to know people die in wars and skirmishes, and a completely another to have a child die in your arms from wounds she would not have sustained if not for some sick idiot's ambition.

Kell would rip his heart out if it only helped Rhy feel better. If it meant Rhy could be spared this anguish. But it won't. There's nothing Kell can do other than sit with him.

[londonbound]

"It doesn't matter."

His voice cracks, and now Rhy does lean into his brother, letting Kell take on more of his weight without pulling his hands from his face, as though just by holding the tears in with his hands they'll stay put.

"It wasn't enough. I know-- I know, Kell. I know you'll tell me I tried, that there are those who've been able to help, and those we cannot. You do not have to say it again. I do not want to hear it."

[blackeyedprince]

It does. It does, even if Rhy doesn't believe it. It does to those they are able to help. Even more so to those who brought the child to Rhy, who had to watch the desperate attempts to save her, who had to share the anguish of those attempts failing. Those that had to face the nagging questions that maybe if only they had found her sooner, if only they have travelled faster, if only... if only...

But Rhy doesn't need to hear this, so Kell is not going to say it. Maybe later. One day. When enough time had passed between then and this horror now. When it will be a distant memory. Maybe then.

"I wasn't going to say any of this," he says, moving ever so slightly closer so that Rhy can comfortably lean on him if that's what he needs.

There's little he could say, trying to combat on his own the rising fury at the cruelty and injustice of this whole situation. It's draining and depressing to throw all your strength at it, and see it's but a drop in the whole fucking ocean of suffering.

[londonbound]

He really had tried. But trying's not enough, sometimes. It's a lesson he keeps having to learn.

When Kell shifts closer, Rhy gives in and presses his face to his shoulder. Beneath the surface dust and soot, the lingering smell of blood on both of them, is something familiar and soothing; Rhy breathes it in, shaky and slow. Without looking, he reaches a hand between them, groping for Kell's fingers, squeezing when he finds them.

"I keep thinking about the Black Night," he admits in a mumble against Kell's sleeve.

"How many people died..."

A pang of shame follows almost immediately. It feels selfish to bring it up, now of all times. As if any sense of atonement he can't help but desire has any relevance here, when all he should be focusing on is helping those he can because he can.

Every time he tries to tell himself he'd never do something so rash and irresponsible and cruel as Ellya, the doubt tugs at him, evidence in the murky memories of that night, the long lists of dead and missing compiled after. He wonders if anyone is keeping track of the poor souls in Nott, already largely left to languish by the crown.

[blackeyedprince]

Kell exhales a tiny sigh of relief, barely a breath at all, when Rhy crosses whatever distance was left between them, and lets himself be held. He responds to the gentle squeeze of Rhy's hand when he laces his fingers with Kell's, with moving even closer. So close, there's barely any space at all. As if he could become a shield, a barrier to keep all the suffering away from Rhy. But he really can't, can he? He's already drenched in it himself.

"I know," he says, his voice barely above whisper. "But this is different, Rhy."

They both made mistakes that led directly to disaster. Stupid mistakes, understandable, but stupid. They both have been manipulated by people far more skilled at deception, cruel and ambitious, that latched at their weakest points. Rhy's desire for magic, he's own desire for freedom. And used them to bring destruction to their home. Other people paid the price of two princes being foolish. One of them in particular being extremely foolish.

"You're not like this bitch queen. Not in the slightest. Don't you ever think about yourself like that."

He knows he shouldn't voice his opinion out loud. Not this particular one. It could bring all sorts of trouble if it ever circled back to this paranoid, mad woman. But this is Nott, not castle Thorne, and Kell assumes that here, nobody really cares about him badmouthing the woman who should have cared about her own people, but doesn't. Apparently, she never did. Kell hates her for it, even if this is not his home country, and those people here are not his people. He hates her with the same cold hatred he thought he had reserved only for the Danes twins. It turns out he has a lot more of it to share. To think that Rhy would even consider comparing himself to that wretched woman is unthinkable.

[londonbound]

Kell is right that he's not like her, though Rhy still considers the carelessness of his own actions unforgivable, intentional or not. And that is where they differ most, of course: that he actually feels guilty, and he's rather sure she doesn't give a shit.

"How could she have such disregard for her own people?" he asks no one in particular, but the tone of his voice is low and angry.

"Attacking without thinking, without defending her own people first. And now this, the level of poverty and neglect here is... it's unthinkable. These are the people who provide for the kingdom. They should be treated with respect. No wonder the people here hate the crown."

[blackeyedprince]

Kell squeezes Rhy's hand, pulls him into even a tighter embrace. As if this could ease the suffering. It's so very Rhy to be moved by such blatant injustice. So very much him to so emphatically refuse the reality of it.

"Because she is a small, selfish, unimaginative little weasel not worthy of her title, her crown or her people." And Kell hopes she dies a gruesome death. Preferably, at the hands of those she had wronged so much. Those whose life she treated as disposable with her actions. "Unfortunately, such people exist."

[londonbound]

"I know," Rhy sighs. He wishes it were otherwise, but though he might be upset, he's not that naïve. Of course he understands some people are only in it for the power, that there are corrupt and even evil rulers everywhere. It's just so unfathomable to him on a personal level, even if logically his mind can process it as something sadly not even that strange.

It's difficult to reconcile the sense of responsibility he still feels, with nowhere to direct it.

"I wish we could do more."

And then, even more quietly, buried against Kell's shoulder: "I miss home."

[blackeyedprince]

Kell lets out a long exhale. The air he didn't even know he was holding. It doesn't make him feel better to know that they, foreign royalty, are already doing more than people that should be here and helping. That's already a pretty low bar. It doesn't help that the thing he'd most like to do, go there and just yell at this stupid woman until she wakes up, would not help, but most likely make things worse. And he hates feeling so powerless.

"I know, I miss it too," he admits. "Horribly. Even the small, stupid things." He smiles, a bleak, weak smile. "Like hats. You had so many silly hats."

[londonbound]

"I can buy silly hats here," Rhy mumbles. He knows that's not what Kell means, but he can't help but sound a little resentful. He's just so frustrated and angry and sad.

He misses his mother and father. Being able to ask them for advice, lean on them for support and guidance. He misses Tieren's calm and wisdom.

He feels so helpless.

[blackeyedprince]

"They won't be the same. They don't know how to make proper silly hats here."

Kell latched on this irrelevant detail because he aggressively tries not to think about people. Not to think about Tieren. Tieren who always knew what to say, always had a good word, or a stern one if Kell deserved it. Always knew how to right his course whenever Kell let his magic steer him the wrong way. Who would sigh and roll his eyes, but cover up their antics as long as they were just stupid and not actively destructive to others.
Who would tell Kell he's being dramatic, when he was, but would listen and understand anyway.

He even misses their parents.

[londonbound]

Of course Kell doubles down on the point. For some reason, it's-- well, maybe funny isn't the word. But it breaks through, somehow, a moment of levity in the heavy creeping of despair.

Rhy lets out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"...yeah, maybe you're right," he whispers, closing his eyes and leaving Kell's sleeve damp with the tears that fall.

[blackeyedprince]

Sometimes he'd say the stupidest things just to make Rhy laugh. Sometimes it works. Kell didn't expect it to work this time. His comment was an attempt to steer his own thoughts away from the misery of the situation they both found themselves in. But he's glad that it works. Something. Anything. For once.

"I think I am."

Any other time, he would have followed it with some witty remark, but now he's just too tired. Still, tired is good when it's just tired. Not drowning in the bottomless abyss of misery like he was just a moment ago. Feeling like all his efforts are futile and hopeless. He'll take tired over that any time.