Fable - Ask The Scent of Lost Magic

[Neith]

Neith frowned at him as she put another ruby down, blocking him from forming a line. "And they didn't, try to help you?.." she glanced up at him, her tone a solemn one. Her father had his cruxes, he hadn't always made the best decisions, but they stuck together at least.

"My father was heartbroken after my mother died. He blames himself for where we ended up, but it wasn't his fault, not really." she shrugged.

 

[Kyril]

He shrugged. "No."

Kyril reflected on those last moments in Elbion, those fleeting seconds where he had needed to escape after his father went to the authorities.

"My father went to the City Watch, and my mother..." Another shrug of defeat rolled over his shoulders. He had no idea what she'd done, if she'd even tried to stop the old man. Kyril doubted it, in truth. She had cared more about his prestige than anything else.

He'd ruined that for her, so why would she care.

Lips turned to a frown when she spoke of her father. "Well, nows the time to change it, I suppose."

He gestured to the board with a smile.

 

[Neith]

"Hm." she nodded in agreement with a light smile, but the frown still creased her brow as she thought of what he would be going back to. It couldn't have been an easy thing to consider. She put down another ruby and grinned at him as she made a diagonal row of three of the red stones and sat back with a stretch.

"How are you feeling?.." she asked, her eyes wandering over his gaunt face and pale skin. She refilled her empty cup with wine and gestured with it toward him in question.

 

[Kyril]

Kyril slowly shook his head. "I can feel it coming back."

The mage said quietly.

Though her magic had lasted longer than he had thought it would, that length of rope was now running out. The aching pang was back in his stomach, and the soreness of his veins was slowly beginning to creep back in as well. In a few others it would be back to pain, back to sweating.

A small look of fear entered his eyes.

"I think the worst will come soon." His words were filled with apprehension, and a hand gently grazed over his stomach at the thought. Eyes cast back down towards the board, and he focused on the game of stones.

The withdrawal would set in truly now, and the cravings would get bad. Bad enough that he would scream, yell, and demand for what had once made him powerful enough to bend the source of magic itself.

 

[Neith]

Neith gave a slow nod. There wasn't much point in sugar coating it, she knew there was much worse to come, and helping him with even the thinnest strand of her magic had only delayed the inevitable. Just as he'd have to endure, so would she. She noted the fear in his eyes however, and reached her hand out to cover his with a gentle squeeze.

"We'll get you through it.." she assured calmly. "Just, try not to get out of your own damned skin again.." she murmured with a weak smirk.

She looked to the window, the light golden now. She hadn't realised how many hours they'd been talking and playing games. "We should get some sleep." she stretched and hid yawn behind her wrist.

 

[Kyril]

Kyril smiled at her for a brief moment, though the expression did not last. His thoughts moved to the pain he would be in, the desperation he could already feel creeping over him.

An unease settled over his mind as he nodded. "Yes."

The mage admitted quietly, glancing towards the bed and slowly drawing himself up and away from the table. His fingers slipped from hers, and he glanced down at the board. Another small smile touched his lips as he looked to Neith.

"You would have lost in three turns anyway." As he teased her another of those pangs ran through his stomach.

Not pain, but a craving. A need.

His lips thinned, as he sat himself down onto the bed, half stumbling as he did so. "I wonder what it will be like, having my magic back."

 

[Neith]

Neith smirked as she scooped the stones back into the bag.. "Yeah yeah.." she laughed under her breath. It'd killed a few hours and taken his mind off of things for a while, it had served its purpose.

She curled up on the couch facing his bed, her blankets pulled tight around her. "Well, I imagine it'll feel like it did before..Once you're strong enough again. You might have to, re-learn some things and practice but I doubt it would take you too long." she smirked.

"Then you can teach me."

 

[Kyril]

He looked at her with a smile. "Well that should be the easy part."

The pang in his stomach struck once more, and he slowly leaned back against the wall of the ship. The gentle rocking of the sea was pleasant in a way, as though he were sitting in a hammock. It didn't take away any of the pain, but it didn't make it worse at least.

A breath filled his lungs, his head leaning back.

"I can probably even get you an Aspirant's uniform." He smiled. "Can look the part of a student."

Though they were not required for older students, everyone who first joined the College of Elbion was required to wear the Aspirant Robes. It might have been amusing to see Neith in one.

 

[Neith]

Her brows rose and she returned his smile with an incredulous laugh "Oh really?!.." she grinned and snorted with a mutter under her breath. "Aspirant robes.." her head shook.

"I'm not exactly the goody two-shoes type." she smirked at him and closed her eyes.

"Prick.." she murmured.

 

[Kyril]

"Neither are half those in Aspirant Robes." He mused with a smile, leaning down and settling his head on the pillow.

Arms curled around his stomach, thumb softly stroking over his own skin as he tried to ease some of the ache setting into him. Lips thinned, and he forced himself to take deep and slow breath. The more her magic slipped from him the more the pain began to set in.

By the time he fell back asleep a steady ache had set into his body.

When he woke up, Kyril tried to open his eyes.

As he did he was not greeted with the sight of the little cabin. He did not see Neith or anything within the tidied up little home. Instead he saw utter consuming blackness, a single vein of light running through it.

Come. You need it. Take it. She has it.

The words rang in his head, and though he could see nothing but darkness Kyril rose from the bed, stepping slowly forward in a ghoul like fashion.

 

[Neith]

She waited until she was sure that Kyril had fallen asleep before she allowed herself to relax enough to do so herself. Neith was naturally a particularly light sleeper, most probably thanks to her years living on the streets. It made sleeping on a ship more difficult when everything was constantly moving and creaking, and so she tried her best to tune out of it.

The presence of someone moving nearby however, her subconscious mind couldn't ignore and her brow furrowed as it stirred her awake. She jolted onto her elbows, squinting in dim light. The pale moonlight on his pale skin made Kyril look ghostly, but she eased for a brief moment when she realised it was him, though when she studied his face a little further her brow furrowed.

"Ky?.." she whispered. "Are you alright?.."

 

[Kyril]

There was a hollowness to his eyes, an empty depth of field that seemed to go on forever.

It was a familiar look to her, something that she had no doubt seen before. Something that she would have witnessed years ago and in so many others. He looked down at her, a rabid sort of hunger pulling across his features. "Give it to me."

The abyss called to him.

She has it. She has it. ​

"You have more." He hissed as he suddenly reached down to grab at her, his fingers moving to curl around her collar to drag her up and throw her against the wall. "Give it to me."

Kyril hissed at her, anger, desperation plainly flowing over his features.

Take it.​

The voice pounded in his skull like a drum/

 

[Neith]

"Kyril, wake up. Ky, wait st-" Neith's words were cut off by her own sharp gasp as she clattered into the wall, smashing a framed map and bringing down a shelf lined with sailing instruments. She felt the bruises blooming instantly on her back as she landed on the floor with a groan, but she was quickly rolling onto her side and attempting to crawl out of his path.

"No." she growled through her clenched teeth as she crawled over the broken glass. "Wake up, Ky!" she begged, lifting one of the heavy brass instruments that littered the floor and dove forward to smash it down onto his toes, hoping the pain would snap him out of it.

 

[Kyril]

There was a loud crack, as bones were broken and toes were smashed. His nails began to bleed almost instantly leaving small speckles of blood as he took another step forward.

Kyril was like a ghoul.

She has it.

The words echoed within his skull once more, sounding within his head like a ruinous echo. They called to him, begged for him. He knew that they were true, knew that there was no way that they could be a lie. Neith had what he wanted, needed.

Even as the blood spilled from his feet and pain should have lanced through him he reached down and grabbed Neith. His hands pulled at her throat, dragging her from the floor and pushing her up against the wall. "GIVE IT TO ME!"

He shouted, face mere inches from hers.

 

[Neith]

"Shit.." she winced, hearing his bones crack. The instrument had been a little heavier than she'd anticipated, and still he had that distant, empty stare as she looked up at him in time for his hand to find it's grip around her throat.

Her spine barked protest as he slammed her against the wall once more, her hands pulling and clawing at his hands in attempt to pry them from her throat. Panic flared in her eyes and they teared as he robbed her of breath.

"Ky." she rasped, a ghost of a sound without the use of her voice or a breath to push it from her throat. She didn't know what to do, he didn't have enough magic left to take from him without destroying his chances of getting it back all together. And yet if she didn't, it seemed he'd kill her here and now.

"Okay. Okay." she mouthed, trying to push the words passed her lips as she slammed her hands down on his wrists desperately.

 

[Kyril]

She has it.

The words echoed in his skull like a thundercrack, so loud that he could barely understand Neith when she spoke. The quiet pleading cry passed her lips, her offer floating into his mind. It was the first thing he saw, the desperation in her eyes.

The fear of death.

Something deep within him snapped, something in the back of his mind screaming in echo. It was distant, far, but it rocked out in his very soul. Lips part in a scream, his lungs emptying as he wrenched himself away from Neither. "NO!"

The mage practically threw himself away from her, pulling away and slamming against the far wall. A crack rang out, fragile bone snapping somewhere as he sank down and clutched at his skull

"No no no." He repeated as he huddled away and made himself as small as possible. "No no."

Ky said again and again. "Not real. Not real."

His voice continued.

"Stay away." Was he speaking to Neith, or to the voice in his skull.

 

[Neith]

Neith clattered to the floor in a heap, dragging in as much air as she could back into her starving lungs. She coughed so hard she vomited before pulling herself in to the shadowy corner of the cabin, still gasping for breath. Her heart pounded throughout her entire body, a loud drumming in her ears, in her skull and she winced at the instant headache.

Her hands came up to cover her throat, touching at the bruised skin gingerly as she watched him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Another day, another brush with death. Not that she ever got used to that fear, not that she wanted to.

She tucked her shaking hands under her arms and pulled her knees in against her, not daring to go near him for fear of another attack.

 

[Kyril]

Kyril sat again the wall, bunched up and with his head hidden in his arms.

For an hour he was there, repeating the same three phrases again and again. His body shook violently, his head ached, and more than a few times he vomited onto the floor. It was like her was struggling with himself. Forcing his body to remain where it was so that he would hurt Neith again.

As time passed, the addict fell into another deep sleep.

He rambled and spoke even during that, shivering and pressing himself against the wall. A bruise spread over his side where he had cracked a rib, though it was hidden by the bare cloth of the tunic. Though he slept for what seemed like hours, Kyril got no rest.

Every moment was haunted, every second was spiders crawling over his mind.

 

[Neith]

Neith waited until sleep fell over him before she moved. Pain lanced through her body as she pulled herself to her feet and she crept over to where he sat curled up against the wall, pulling his blankets from the bed and bundling them around him. She wouldn't dare try to move him.

She cleaned the vomit from the floor and opened the window to let the salty breeze flow into the room in her desperation for more air. Of all of the ways to die, she thought, being unable to breathe had affected her far worse than any blade or beating. It took her hours to stop shaking, and she stayed close to the window, wrapped in her own blankets as she watched the moon fall below the horizon and the sun slowly rise.

 

[Kyril]

His mind was a haze the next time he woke up, a distant, brushing sort of thought that couldn't even think.

All that stuck was her expression.

The face that Neith had made when he'd snapped out of, when he'd wrench himself away from her. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, welling with tears as he took a small ragged break. He didn't look up, too ashamed to face her. "Neith."

He said softly.

His voice was quiet. He didn't know what time of day it was, how long he'd slept or when he'd choked her.

"Neith just tie me up." Kyril told her softly. "Get me some rope."

They were on a ship, there was bound to be some. "I'll do it."

Even if his wrists were bloodied. If he screamed. At least he couldn't hurt her. At least that way he wouldn't do what he had done again. He didn't care about the pain, the agony. He didn't want to do that again.

 

[Neith]

Neith's eyes were heavy lidded as she looked over at him, her brow furrowing at his words. He hadn't been himself, he hadn't meant to hurt her, she wasn't about to tie him up and make this any worse for him than it was.

Her head shook slowly and she swallowed with a slight wince. "No." she whispered, her voice still too crushed to use. "I'm fine." she added in a breath and pushed herself to her feet to lift the basin and pour the hot water she'd prepared.

She knelt next to him with it and dipped some fresh cloth into the steaming bowl. "Your foot, your hands.." she whispered and held out a hand, waiting to see the wounds she'd inflicted. "I'm sorry."

 

[Kyril]

He frowned for a moment, glancing down at himself.

Kyril knew that he was a mess, a shade of what he had once been. Five years ago things had been different, so painfully different. People had expected him to be a Master. He was supposed to have been so much more, but here he was.

A burnout that was hurting the only person that was trying to help. Fingers tightened for a moment around himself, and then slowly he extended his hands towards her. "You need to."

He told her softly, trying to convince her.

"I can't control myself. Can't...stop..." It was like he wasn't himself, was just a shade walking in a corpse. "At least I wouldn't be able to hurt you."

He frowned. "Just until It's done."

Then she could let him go.

 

[Neith]

Neith frowned and shook her head once more. "You did stop yourself." she answered, her whisper cracking. At least before it'd been too late, he had, somehow. She cleared her throat with a grimace. and took his hands, her lips thinning as she huffed at the scratches she'd left in his skin. She bathed his hands with the hot salted water for a moment before drying them off and wrapping some fresh linen around them one after the other.

"Now your foot. Are you hungry?" she rasped, trying to change the subject.

 

[Kyril]

For a moment Kyril didn't move, remained stuck against the wall as he drew his hands back away from her. It was never easy to admit that you had done something wrong, even harder to admit that you might do it again.

Most men, most women did not want to admit when they made a mistake. Less so, they didn't want to admit to the shame that came with those mistakes. Kyril looked at her for a moment, his lips thinning, his eyes squeezing shut. "But..."

His voice cracked.

"I don't know if I'll stop again." He almost hadn't the first time. He had been so close.

That call. That voice in his head. That abyss he had stared into. It had been so easy to give in, so easy to believe. He hadn't even known he was doing it. "I don't want to hurt you."

Kyril plead quietly.

 

[Neith]

Neith let out a quiet sigh and gingerly dabbed at his bloody toes with the damp cloth. "Fine.. When you're going to rest, I'll find some rope.." she whispered calmly.

"I wouldn't have given it to you.." she added. "The Lyrum." she glanced up at him. She'd meant to pacify him enough to let her go, to give her time to breathe and think and get away from him, but she hadn't intended on giving him what he wanted.