Daliah's Derp - Some cross posting from wra.org

1. A Return from Darkness

Darkness.

For so long that was all that there had been. The oppressive, all consuming void was the perfect breeding ground for grief, pain and of course, lies.

That she had not been able to move wasn’t the worst of it. At first, the worst was hearing him suffer, hearing him lose himself trying to cure her of the unknown assailant that had stolen her in all ways but one.

It was a rather clever poison, as these things go. Delivered via a small puncture, one small enough to heal quickly and be nearly undetectable, the poison began its systematic assault on her body. Numbness was its herald as her deceitful heart pushed the poison throughout her body – it was almost pleasant, that loss of sensation. Soon, as the poison took hold, the numbness intensified and was replaced with the ultimate emptiness: paralysis. Left unchecked, the poison would slowly begin shutting down the various organs and systems of the body.

Normally, it took a week for death. A week in which the recipient heard everything around them yet could do nothing. A week to consider every wrong they had caused and every regret they ever had in life. One week to listen to their loved ones in pain. One week to realize that death was coming for them.

At the end of it all the death would be attributed to an unfortunate stroke.

In many ways it really should have been the end for her had she been all she appeared. Had she been only a tailor, it would have. Luckily for her, the assassin had not realized that she had a few skills of her own.

While she was unable to cure herself, or even identify the cause of the problem, Daliah had been able to slow the progression. Calling on reserves of strength, she had been able to protect herself from organ failure and death. It was a daily struggle to keep the toxin at bay but it was possible. What she couldn’t do, however, was counteract the paralysis.

She should have lasted a week. Instead, she lasted a month. A month to consider the path her life had taken. A month to listen to Hathrenair’s pain. A month to make a decision.

There had been one brief moment of reprieve from her confinement. A spell cast at the price of Hathrenair’s health allowed her a few hours to be free of the poison. If he had it his way, it would have continued that way. He wanted to continue to trade parts of himself for her; he was insistant on it. She knew she couldn’t live with herself if she allowed that to happened. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. In the end, that was the breaking point.

He needed to live. He needed to move on. He needed to be happy.

So she lied. Again.

To set him free, she lied.

She made him believe that she had died. She had listened to his sobs, his heart wrenching screams as he took her home. It broke her heart but still she lied. It was for his own good.

In the end it took over a year. A year of enduring the oppressive, all consuming void that was the perfect breeding ground for grief, pain and finally truth. A year to heal with the help of a rather remarkable woman, to grow strong enough to free herself from the prison of her mind. Even then, it took another six months of rehabilitation before she was well enough to leave the small house nestled away in the hills of the Terokkar forest.

In the end, she had done it. Daliah was back.

2. Waiting...
For all of Silvermoon’s pomp and show, gold and riches, the shadows could not be completely banished by the light. What is one without the other for without either the other cannot exist. It is the torment that allows us pleasure. Payments of sadness afford us joy. Everything exists in beautiful, predictable symmetry.

Settling into the shadows - the darkness that had become a close companion - the hooded figure began her vigil. Afforded enough protection by the shrubs and trees to not be easily spotted, Daliah let her mind wander as she waited.

~~~

“Fix it yourself if you want to live so badly.” The haunting voice resounded within the confines of her mind. The indifference of the voice was infuriating.

“You know that I would if I were able. You know that was why I came to you.” Trying to control the rising frustration that was creeping into her thoughts, Daliah paused. “There has to be a way!” She internally cringed at the whining tone of her voice but this helplessness was foreign.

The pleading earned her nothing more than a cruel chuckle. “Oh, there is. Of course there is. However, I’m not going to do it for you. YOU need to do it for yourself.”

Rage, hate and vengeance boiled within her impotent body and fertile mind as she lay in the small cabin.

“You came to me before to learn. You committed yourself to it, as a matter of fact. Now, afforded the opportunity to do just that, you balk at your lessons? Pathetic.”

~~~

Someone was at the corner.

Refocusing her attention, she studied the figure. Jimmothy. He was looking worse for the wear which, for him, was saying something. A part of her was pleased to see him alive and, well, given his state alive was the most she could be pleased with. He was important to Hathrenair even if both preferred to act otherwise.

He seemed to have fallen asleep against the post.

~~~

“Better. Much better. Remember, there is a force in everything that lives. Every single thing that lives has something that you can draw upon to do your will. Focus and find your own reserves to draw upon. ”

The next several months blended together in a foggy haze of focus. This one all consuming goal became nearly the only thought in her mind. To be free, she needed to learn. Nearly every minute was spent chasing this one objective. The focus would have been terrifying had it been visible.

~~~

Two new people had arrived. Where was Jimmothy? Gone, it seemed.

Peering from the depths of her hooded cowl, Daliah watched them intently. Were they friends of his or just more random citizens of Silvermoon? There was no way to tell. Watching them told her nothing.

Shifting her position, Daliah leaned back into the comforting shadows determined to wait.


.

3. A Forced Dream

It was an act of desperation and nothing more. She knew there was nothing noble or pure about what she intended. Unable to find him after hours of waiting by that damn corner, or learn anything from listening to those that knew him, Daliah chose a new tactic.

At the small, dingy flat she had taken in the Lower City of Shattrath, the small woman sat on the cot and retreated into darkness to wait for an opportunity.

She had to know.

A light, salty mist from the crashing waves below brushes the couple as they lay sprawled out on an oversized blanket. Even at this height, the ocean could not be completely avoided. The spray has barely touched their skin before the midday sun has caused it to evaporate, leaving only a pleasant cooling sensation in its wake.

With a light chuckle, Daliah pushes herself to her knees and looks down lovingly at her husband. Bringing her right hand to rest lightly on his left cheek, she gently wiped his right cheek with a piece of linen, making sure the water was gone. For the moment, at least.

The thumb of her right hand gently caressed his cheek bone before she withdrew her hands and sat back and folded her hands in her lap.

"I worry about you, Hathrenair. Every day." She gave a small, regretful smile. "I wonder if you're happy. If you've found peace. You've searched for it for so long, it doesn't seem fair if you haven't."

Her eyes are drawn back to the ocean. From this spot they could see the Academy across the bay. A smile played on her lips as though she were remembering a secret.

"Do you remember the first time we came out here? It feels like it was a lifetime ago though I suppose in some ways, it was." For several minutes, Daliah just sits, staring out across the expanse to the glittering building. "I was surprised you trusted me enough to let me bring you here. Especially across the water.* A small breath of a laugh. "Though I suppose you never have been good at caution."

Looking back down at him, she gave a sad little smile. "I never wanted to leave your side after that day. Did you know that? Even when I lied and said I had to, I never wanted it. It was just necessary."

Her brow furrows as she looks down into her open palms. "Now, I just need to know if you're happy." Looking back to him with an expression blending desperation and hope, she nodded to him again. "Please? Are you happy with your life, my love?"
As Daliah withdrew from his mind one word lingered, one word occupied her thoughts: No.
Slumping back against the drab, peeling wall of her single room flat, Daliah let out a hissing breath from between clenched teeth. Her eyes focused on a water stain on the far wall as she wrapped her arms around her knees. The thumb of her left hand massaged the old scar tissue from a long ago brand on her right hand as she tasted the word in her mouth; rolling it over her tongue, feeling her lips form the shape to enunciate the single syllable as the warring emotions boiled inside of her.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to have gone.

4. Going Home

In a far corner of Eversong Woods, to the Southwest of Silvermoon, exists a modest farm. With an apparent focus on hawkstriders, the majority of the land is neatly divided into corrals and a large pasture for the winged animals who busied themselves looking for food in the grass or lazing about in the shade. Between the corrals and the house are a number of sheds of various sizes, each with a distinct purpose and neatly kept. The measured order and rigidity of the lines and spacing present in the corrals and sheds extends to the large garden lying just to the west of the home. Evenly spaced rows of green leafy stems, presumably vegetables and tubers, fill the dark fertile soil. Each area is connected to the next via a small stone path, ending with the house. Of typical architecture and size, the neat home is decidedly unremarkable.

This was it. This was the beginning of a journey started long ago that should have gone so differently had fate dealt a different hand to the family that once lived within those walls.

Just shy of clearing the forest, Daliah paused and pulled the loose cloak around her narrow shoulders, holding it closed at her chest. Her eyes darted around the farm, searching for a familiar figure. Seeing nothing, she emerges from the shadows of the trees and walks swiftly up the path to the small house. Knocking firmly, three times at the door, she took a step back and waited for him to answer.

From inside the home, a low grunt could be heard: someone was waking up. She had disturbed his afternoon nap, she thought. His heavy tread announced his approach. She chewed on her lower lip as she waited for him to open the door.

A friendly, yet bleary eyed smile greeted her as he opened the door to his unexpected guest. His smile froze on his face as he took in his hooded, robed visitor. For a moment all he could do was stare as she pushed back her hood and looked up at the face that bore more than a passing resemblance to her own. The smile vanished.

Fully opening the door to his sister, Daraak turned and walked back inside without a word. A rough, calloused hand rubbed over his face as he made his way to the kitchen table and sat down heavily with a loud exhale of breath.

He needed time - time to adjust to her presence, even though it wasn’t a complete surprise. Patiently, she followed him into the house and closed the door behind her, latching it shut. Without a word, Daliah took a seat across the table and waited for him to speak.

It took several aborted attempts at sentences and even more impersonations of a fish, opening and closing his mouth, before Daraak got up and went to the stove to make tea. What he really wanted at the moment was bourbon but that was no longer an option for the man; tea would have to suffice. As the water was warming in the pot, he finally turned to his sister and spoke.

“When all of this started, I never really thought you would manage to do what you said.” He frowned deeply. “As much as I hate myself for saying it, somewhere along the line I began thinking of you in the past tense. You became dead in my mind.”

Daliah simply listened as he spoke. Not making any attempt to assist in the kitchen or even reach out to him, she waited.

“I really never expected to see you again and then what do you do? Show up at my door just like you’re coming over for a normal visit!” He let out a shuddering breath before he could go on.

“Do you even know what it did to me to lie to people for you? To tell them you were dead? To pretend to mourn for you? To make a fake grave and have to tend to it?” The last question was asked with a sharp gesture to the back of the house as punctuation. He rubs a hand over his face, leaving it there for a moment to cover his mouth as he stared at her. In a voice just above a whisper, he went on. “Do you even know what it did to Hath? We could’ve helped … somehow! And now what? We're supposed to just forget all of it?”

With sad, tired eyes his shoulders slumped as he looked at his little sister. Here she was. Back from the dead or so it seemed. There she sat looking as frail and vulnerable as ever and yet there was this contradiction; this massive obstruction that his mind was wrestling with and trying to reconcile. He had always been the one that had been there for her. He was the one that had protected her! He was the one she looked to when things were at their worst. Or so he had always thought. Now? Now there was living breathing proof that she was stronger than he ever imagined. Stronger than he ever was. He hated her for it.

Coming around the table, Daraak stood before his seated sister. Reaching down, he smoothed a rough hand over her soft hair and gave her an awkward half smile as he shook his head. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Daliah looked up from beneath Daraak’s large hand and smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t much mind a hug and some of that tea you’re making.”

Daraak dipped his head in a nod and moved back just enough for his baby sister to get to her feet. No sooner had she stood, he wrapped his arms around her in a crushing hug. For a time, neither of them moved. Daraak seemed desperate to hold on and believe he wasn’t truly left alone after all. Daliah stood quietly letting her brother have the time he needed.

That night the two of them talked until the sun began to shed its rays upon the horizon. The conversation did not flow easily as it tends to do between old friends. There were many things left unsaid and half truths given. As much as he tried to understand, it was clear that Daraak could not really comprehend what had happened. Daliah hoped, for his sake, he never would. He was a good man with the best of intentions in all things he did. It wasn’t his fault he had failed her when it mattered most or that she hated his weakness.

He would never understand the Darkness that lives in her but he would always be family.

.

5. Storms

It had been so long since anyone came to the farm it was easy to believe that there was no one else left in the world. That quiet, distant corner of the Eversong woods held nothing of interest and even less of value to draw wandering strangers. There was only one time in memory that an unannounced and uninvited visitor had come knocking on their door. Neither of them spoke of that day.

The brother and sister had spent the last several months quietly going about the day-to-day chores required by farm life. He worked with the animals while she kept the house and garden. Perhaps it was cliché but it worked for them.

Roughly a month after her arrival, Daraak had taken a number of newly-trained Hawkstriders to Silvermoon to sell. When he returned, he brought materials to keep Daliah busy with sewing for quite some time. He hoped it would help. It was as though a stranger had moved into his house.

That night, Daliah sat in the room that she had shared with Daraak as a child and stared out the small window towards the distant sea. Her brother had long ago fallen asleep in the next room, the one that had once belonged to their parents. She could hear his gentle snoring through the wall.

It had been trying, these past several months. It was difficult to remember that she needed to speak to people again, even if the only person around was only Daraak. The masks that she had worn so easily and for so long had been stripped from her while she fought to recover from that poison that nearly killed her. There was no use for them when the only person to see her was Sephrenia; her masks had never really fooled that woman, anyways.

Slipping off of her bed, Daliah padded softly across the room to the wardrobe and withdrew her thickest cloak. Water proof and wind proof, it would afford her the protection she needed against the elements tonight.

As silent as a breath, she slipped out of her room and through the darkened house, careful to not let the latch of the front door squeak as she slid it back into place.

The stone path was slick with a mixture of mud and leaves as she made her way to the western most edge of the farm. Abruptly, the path ended – presumably where the property line would be – and the small woman carried on over a worn trail through the woods. It was especially cloudy tonight. The low lying clouds completely obscured the moonlight and all stars from sight. The rain that had drenched the earth earlier in the day had taken a brief reprieve but the biting winds promised more icy droplets to come.

She loved nights like this.

These were the nights that a person could truly be alone. It wasn’t simply the fact that you were unlikely to find another soul in this remote part of the world, but it was a night where your deepest, darkest thoughts could come to the service and be scoured from your soul. These were the nights where you could lay yourself bare to the world because there was no one to see. These were the nights she could be honest about everything that the masks hid.

The familiar route took longer than normal to navigate given the slippery condition of the path. Eventually, however, she crested the small hill that gave her a clear view of the angry sea.

Months earlier Daraak had built a bench and made a small three-sided shelter for her to use on the nights she disappeared. She never used either, though the sentiment behind them was not lost on her. Pulling the cloak tightly around her shoulders and the hood low over her face, Daliah stood at the edge and watched the darkness; it mirrored her Darkness. It was comforting.

Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes as the sharp bite of rain drops bit her scarred face. The pain helped her focus. It helped her remember. Just as the waves assaulted the shores below her, her own memories assaulted her defenses. Each moment of happiness, each honest smile, each genuine laugh came back in a horrible rush and, for a moment, threatened to crush her beneath its weight.

THIS was real. These feelings were honest and true. Sometimes she felt like they were the only things that were. The memories were all she had left and she refused to let go.

________

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the stranger-that-was-his-sister returned to the house. He listened for the soft padding of her feet across the wooden floor that he knew she thought he didn’t hear. She wasn’t the woman he had known but she was all he had left and she was safe. Finally, he slept.

6. A Gift

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to leave.”

Checking her surprise, Daliah looks up from her sewing and regards her brother for a moment. An arched eyebrow gives voice to the question he seemed to be anticipating.

“It’s just that… I mean - well, aren’t you bored? It’s been four months since you last went into Silvermoon. You sew all day or tend the garden or cook or just do house-stuff!”

Agitated by his ineloquence, Daraak began to slowly pace in front of the stone hearth. With a gesture to the half-finished garment in his sister’s lap, Daraak frowned imploringly. “Since when did you want to spend your days sewing work wear? I mean, you used to make all those fancy gowns and robes for the nobles when you worked for Keelen!”

Folding the coarse fabric in her lap, Daliah folds her hands over her project and looks toward the darkened window that showed nothing of the outside world but reflects only the candle light of the room. She took the moment for herself before looking back to her brother.

“Do you not like the company? Or the help around the farm?” Her eyes were deceptively wide, feigning innocence and hurt.

“You know I do! I mean, of course! You’re always welcome to come here. It’s your home as much as it is mine after all.”

“Yet you don’t wish for me to stay…”

Daraak huffed out a breath of irritation and sat down heavily into the nearby chair. He rubbed a calloused hand over his face before leaning forward in the chair to look at his little sister. “I just don’t understand why you want to be here. You had so much in life before…” His words trailed off and Daraak got back to his feet and began to pace once more.

“Maybe you could get your old job back!”

Daliah sighed softly. Her innocent expression was gone as her eyes narrowed slightly and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Daraak, you know I love you. You know I appreciate all that you’ve done for me over these past few months – over the past two years, never mind. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you.” She paused at the lie before continuing. “I know that this arrangement has been stressful for you.”

He stopped pacing and tried to interrupt; to decry the remark as false but she would not stop. Holding a small hand up, she continued with her words.

“There’s no way it could be anything else. You’ve had to lie to people and I know how much you hate doing that. It wasn’t fair of me to ask you for any of it. You have done much more than any brother should.”

Setting her sewing to the side, Daliah got to her feet and moved over to the hearth, just shy of being within arm’s reach of her brother.

“It’s just that you always seem so sad. I mean, I know it couldn’t have been easy but there are still things left that you can do with your life, aren’t there? I know you said you couldn’t find him but maybe you could if you kept looking?” He looked down imploringly at his little sister.

His words were like a hot iron poker to her soul though she didn’t let it show. Instead, ignoring the question, Daliah smiled up at her brother. “I almost forgot!”

He looked down questioningly at her. The happy tone of the statement was a sharp contrast to the mood of only a moment ago.

Reaching in her apron, Daliah pulled out a small box that had been carefully wrapped with red paper and tied with a single golden ribbon. Holding the package in the palm of her hand, she held it up and offered it to her brother.

With a furrowed brow, Daraak took the gift and shook his head to clear it. “What’s this for?”

“Winter veil, of course! You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”

“Uh…”

“Well, go on! Open it!”

Frowning in confusion, Daraak hesitated a moment before slipping a finger under an edge of the wrapping and tearing the paper from the small box in one easy motion. Nestled inside a bit of fine golden and red cloth was an old pocket watch. The watch was scratched and dented, clearly nothing of any financial value but based on the hitch in Daraak’s breathing, it meant something to the man.

“Is this…?” He looked down at Daliah as he reached for the small golden timepiece. Reverently, he took the small watch from its nest and stroked a thumb over its surface as he held it in his hand.

Daliah smiled warmly up at her brother and nodded. “I found it while I was sorting through some old trunks in the back room.”

A bemused expression settled across Daraak’s face as he turned the time piece over in his hand. “I always figured this was lost. I mean, we never saw it when we had to leave. I didn’t know what she’d done with it!”

“Apparently she had put it away for us to find one day.” Daliah put a hand on Daraak’s shoulder as he sat down heavily into his earlier chair. “I don’t know how well it keeps time but perhaps you can get it fixed next time you go into Silvermoon.”

He nodded at her as he released the clasp and looked down at the clock face with a sad little smile.

She squeezed her brother's shoulder lightly and quietly made her way to the back of the house and into her room, leaving Daraak with his thoughts. Taking a seat at the small desk in the corner, Daliah pulled off the fingerless gloves that she never seemed to be without and stared at her hands. On the left, a small ring of magical fire encircled her third finger; on her right, a silver scar of an old brand. Folding her naked hands into her lap Daliah stared at the woman in the mirror for a long time.

“I suppose it is time to leave, isn’t it?” The woman in the mirror never did offer an answer before Daliah turned in for the night.

7. Memories of the Past (Everything in italics is based on old RP logs between Hathrenair and Daliah)

It seems bizarre to be writing things down. Pointless.

Daliah sat back and stared at the single line on the otherwise unmarred sheet of paper. Setting the cleaned quill down in the center crease of the journal, she let her head slump forward to be supported by her hands. A deep breath heaved her shoulders before she let her hands flop to the desk as she sat back in the overstuffed chair.

Looking through the window to her right, Daliah let her mind wander as she stared at the rustling red and golden leaves of a nearby tree. The events of a certain night nearly two years to the day come back to the woman with near perfect clarity...

--------

As always Daliah lay still, though this time on the sofa out on the balcony of the apartment - her nurse must have moved her to enjoy the weather. Dressed, and with her hair brushed, she looked as though she'd simply fallen asleep while enjoying the day. Appearances, however, can be deceiving.

Beneath her unmoving and seemingly unresponsive exterior, Daliah was fully alert and cognizant of the events around her. She was locked in her own mind and it was within that prison, that her thoughts had been tormenting her relentlessly. Reaching out the only way she could, with her mind, Daliah brushed lightly against Hathrenair's mind requesting permission and attempting to provide some indication of her love for him. "Hathrenair? Are you awake?"

In true mage fashion, Hathrenair had arrived as soon as Daliah had called to him. The door to the apartment swung open, whacking into the wall. If not for Hathrenair's mad dash to get out onto the balcony, to Daliah, it would have flew back and struck him; It only caught his cloak, which looked to be new. The pattern on it was intricate, and it was obviously woven by a skilled seamstress. It was a dark red, matching an old set of robes, though they looked to have been restored. His hair was threaded into a ponytail thrown in front of a shoulder. "Of course I'm awake," he said as he came to kneel beside the sofa. "I mean -- I almost got caught by guards, and they knocked me out, but I'm awake now!"

If she could have, Daliah would have winced at the noise. As it was, her thoughts were laced with amusement at the sound of Hathrenair stampeding into the house. In her wordless means of speaking, she shared the amusement with Hathrenair. It wouldn't sound as a laugh, just the warm impression of a shared joke between friends. Simply hearing his voice beside her brought back the torment of not being able to do something as simple as open her eyes to look at her husband. Unlike her amusement, Daliah was careful to lock the frustration within her own mind and not share it with her husband. "Sorry, love. I wasn't sure if you'd come back while I was sleeping or if you were away. I just wasn't sure where you were. I'm glad you didn't get caught in any case."

Hathrenair nodded, grinning brightly. "I -can't- get caught, yeah? I'm still the best mage this city's ever seen, and no guard can stop me." His grin flickered into a thoughtful frown. "...Well, it was really about FIFTEEN guards, but still. It doesn't make a difference." A laugh passed the mage's lips before he gently took Daliah's hand in his own. "I'm back now, though. I wanted to see you, and I couldn't have city protectors charging in here. That's why they're all knocked out cold on the streets."

Hearing the smile in Hathrenair's voice caused another ripple of frustration to surge through Daliah's inert form. Silently cursing her inability to do something as simple as -see- her husband's smile added to the already large weight that had been weighing on the woman. Despite this, he was here with her and she couldn't help but laugh at Hathrenair's enthusiasm. "That's one way to do it, love." Daliah would attempt to pass a feeling of something like a hug to Hathrenair, something warm and comforting though the results may not be exact. "How're things going for you lately?"

Hathrenair's face colored slightly at the feeling, laughing. "Oh, things've been alright. Same deal, yeah? School moved to Orgrimmar." He offered a shrug, taking to absently running a hand through Daliah's hair. "This city just got bad. There's no way I'm going to do anything good here. It's just a filthy place, save for a few little coves where there's still something. Like this apartment, but other than you, I don't have much reason to be here."

Given the limited options available, Daliah would attempt to create a feeling similar to a hand brushing over the back of Hathrenair's hand. She hasn't had much to do then figure out ways to mess with people's minds for the past month or so! Regardless, she was listening attentively. "So, do you like it better there, Hath? I mean, things are working out well for you now that you've moved on with that part of your life?"

Hathrenair thought her question over, simply enjoying the sensation she had caused. "It's a city, Daliah," was his answer. "There are people I want to help, things I want to change, but there are laws. Laws that mean orcs can kick an elf's head in and get rewarded." He let out a sigh. "Laws just get in the way, but I'll figure it out eventually."

Laughing her silent laugh, Daliah continued to cause the sensation of her touch on Hathrenair's skin. "I think that's going to be an issue for you wherever you go, Hathrenair. There might be a few people that are able to live without laws and rules, like you, but most of them need that forced order. I know you'll figure out a way to work with them rather than against them one of these days. You're too stubborn and smart to not figure out something." She would fall silent for a moment before picking up the conversation once again. "Be careful though. The world needs people like you, and more specifically, you."

Hathrenair smiled at Daliah, his eyes shining. "Think so, yeah? I don't know what it'd be like to NOT fight those damn lawful bastards, but it might be alright. Certainly wouldn't cause so much worry." He perked a brow, thinking. "Then again, I doubt you worry too much anymore."

Hathrenair's supposition caused Daliah to cringe - he couldn't have been further from the truth. Given the force of her reaction, Hathrenair might be able to pick up on it before she was able to replace it with a more neutral emotion. His incorrect assumption was probably for the best and who was she to correct him given the way her thoughts had been drifting lately. Mustering up a neutral tone, Daliah finally responds. "There’s not much to worry about out here other than if I'm going to get a sun burn or not, right?" Daliah went back to stroking Hathrenair's hand and asked lightly. "Have you gotten many new people in the school?"

Hathrenair frowned at the negative pulse of emotion. "I meant -- about me, not..." He trailed off, eventually abandoning the thought. A pang of guilt crossed his mind, one that Daliah would certainly be able to read. "Uh... School's alright. Some new faces. Not too many notable ones, though; Mostly just people who came here thinking they'd get what they wanted without pain. I give them a week."

Daliah silently cursed herself and set about trying to sooth her husband through her rather inadequate (in her own mind) methods. "That's good to hear. It's probably a better place for you then in Silvermoon, anyways given all of the crap you've had to deal with here." Daliah moved the 'touch' up to rub along Hathrenair's hairline as though fingers were gently brushing strands of hair from his scarred face. "Have you found many to help there?"

"Same people, one or two more." Hathrenair closed his eyes, letting the touch take him. He breathed out a calming breath, a warm smile coming to his lips. "Yeah, it's a little better than Silvermoon. I mean, at least I'm not exiled. But you're not there, which is why Silvermoon's still my favorite." He laughed loudly. "As much as I can like any city. I love you."

Daliah paused, trying to hold in the pain and the frustration that she was feeling. It was enough for her to go through it, she wasn't about to subject Hathrenair to any more than was necessary. "Hathrenair, will you do something for me? Promise me something?"

"Anything," Hathrenair answered without a second's hesitation. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Just ask."

"Never change, regardless of what happens. You're such an amazing person and the world needs more people like you. Just never stop being Hathrenair Violetsong Miri'el, alright? Just the way you are is the way you should always be." Daliah's 'voice' would sound slightly choked up towards the end of this.

"'Course!" Hathrenair didn't seem to find anything strange about what Daliah had said; He was as full of confidence as ever. Her choked tone flew right by him. "Why would I change? Not like I need to. I've got you, after all, and that's more than enough for a hundred lifetimes."

Daliah paused for a moment before answering. She needed the time to figure out how exactly to phrase what was coming next. "That's what I mean, Hathrenair. I want you to remember that promise even if you don't have me, regardless of what happens."

Hathrenair blinked in surprise, his head canting to the side. "I'll always have you, yeah? You'll wake up soon. I know it; Al says it." As his name was called, the roach flew out of Hathrenair's pocket, landing on his shoulder. "I haven't lost hope yet, and I won't."

Bringing her mental tricks to full effect, Daliah would attempt to cause the feeling of her hand stroking through Hathrenair's hair as her other arm wrapped around him and pulled him in for a hug. Her voice was barely above a whisper, even in its present form, it sounded as though it took a great deal of effort to get the words out. "I know you haven’t lost hope, love but hope isn't enough. I'm not waking up from this."

"Y-You are," Hathrenair stammered. That was something he couldn't accept, even as her magic hugged him. "Don't say that, or it'll be true. I can't live without you."

"You can, Hathrenair. You have to!" Daliah's magic kept up the illusion of her hands on his hair as she tried to console him. "I can feel my control slipping; I can feel ... whatever this is closing in on me more each day. There's nothing left that we haven't tried and I don't want to give you false hope."

"Let it be false," Hathrenair whispered, desperate. "I just need -something.- I need -you.- Don't give up," he pleaded, his face falling. "You can't."

If Daliah had a proper voice, it would have caught in her throat as she tried to force back a sob. "Hathrenair, I can't give you any more. I've tried everything; YOU've tried everything and nothing works. I'm going to die, Hathrenair. There's no way around it but I want you to know I'll never stop loving you."

Hathrenair was fighting back a storm of tears; Crying was something he didn't do, and the fact that he was now was something he was unprepared for. "You a-aren't going to d-d-die," he choked out. "I'll l-love you f-f-forever, D-Daliah, no matter w-what happens. But you'll l-live."

"I know you will, Hathrenair." Her magic seemed to be fading for as she tried to brush her phantom fingertips over his cheek, they would lose the earlier potency of the illusion. "You're the best thing I ever had in this life or the next and I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to fight this." Her voice seemed to be growing quieter as she spoke each word. "I just can't keep fighting it off."

"Don't apologize. You d-d-did--"... Hathrenair didn't try to finish. A horrid sob wracked him, his eyes flooded. "I'll n-n-never find a-a-anyone else l-like you, D-Daliah. I c-couldn't ever find y-you again. P-Please," he murmured. "Don't leave."

Daliah's emotions were running rampant with sorrow and regret as she lay uselessly on the sofa. By this time, she didn't bother to try and suppress the sadness and despair that had overtaken her. "I'm t-trying, Hath! I just c-can't anymore. I'm sorry!... It's just so h-heavy, I can't keep fighting it anymore. Please, don't forget I love you. Don't forget your promise." If Daliah could cry, her body would be shaking with the force of her tears.

Hathrenair wrapped his arms around Daliah, holding her as close to him as he could. He wanted to say goodbye; That much would be apparent amidst the mess and storm of his thoughts. Sorrow, pain, anger at himself above all else; He was generally a wreck.

"I w-won't forget, D-Daliah." He tried to say a farewell, but it only lodged in his throat, coming out as a sob. "I love you."

Daliah lay lifelessly in Hathrenair's arms, as unmoving and unresponsive as she had been for the past month or more. With an apparent final force of will, Daliah would attempt to wrap her phantom arms around Hathrenair, holding him tightly against her.

"I love you, H-hath. Forever and always you're the best husband and best man I could ever have asked for." Her magic surged once again to create the illusion of a kiss against Hathrenair's lips. "I love you." She paused for a moment and went on in a low whisper. "Hathrenair, take me home to the farm when I die. I want to be buried there. With my parents."

Hathrenair kissed her, crying horribly. "F-F-Fine. The f-f-farm..." He couldn't even think of what to say. Thoughts whirled, but he let them all rush out in a blur. "I love you, I'll never forget you, l-love -- F-Farm, I don't -- I'm sorry, so s-sorry..."

Daliah attempted to sooth her husband, to replace his sorrow with comforting memories and to block out the pain. She tried, but her magic seemed to be fading so who knows how well it worked! In a low whisper in his mind, Daliah formed the three words once again before it seemed that all life left her body there on the sunny balcony overlooking the Bazaar. "I love you."

Hathrenair held Daliah for a time, his heart racing. His mind seemed to blank for a moment, before something else replaced every sad thought there was. It flared up, raging through every instinct and impulse he had; Anger. Pure anger. He wiped the tears from his face and stood, ripping open a portal into Eversong Woods. Leylines would make it possible, but his own rampant emotion certainly helped. He'd bring her there, carefully place her; He couldn't bring himself to bury her just yet. But after, a very large part of that forest would be burned down, and he wouldn't stop there.

Left alone, she called out one more time … “Daraak? I need you.”
---------

Heaving a sigh, Daliah’s focus returned to the darkening woods outside the window. A swift wipe of her hand rid her face of tears that had trickled over her cheeks previously unnoticed. The guilt was as fresh as it was the day she had lied so horribly to her husband. After this long, she supposed it always would be.

Daliah got to her feet, and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and went out to the living room to find her brother.

“Dar?”

Pushing himself up with a grunt, Daraak looked over the back of the couch at his sister. It was obvious he’d fallen asleep reading again. “Hrm?”

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re right. About what you said before. It really is time I left.” She walked over and pressed a kiss to her groggy brother’s forehead. “We can talk about it tomorrow, though. You really should go to bed.”

“Mmrmkay.” Pushing himself to his feet, Daraak wrapped his arms around his sister and hugged her tightly. “Love you.”

As he padded off towards his bedroom, Daliah’s lips curled up in a small smile. “You too.”

She sat down with a sigh and stared at the embers of the dying fire, trying to answer one single question: Now what?

.

8. A Reunion (Another collaboration between Hathrenair's writer and me)

This has to be a dream.

The soft rumble of a snore chased that thought from her mind and Daliah looked over to its source. Laying on his side with his back to her was her husband. A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she tried to guess how many times he had gotten his nose broken over the years. It really was a wonder he snored as quietly as he did most of the time.

Shifting slightly away from him, Daliah managed to turn just enough to be able to study his exposed shoulder and the back of his head. Scarred, burnt, and covered in soot. Those were the three things that generally came to mind to describe his appearance. A breath of a laugh escaped her lips as a thought occurred to her.

If I add in angry, insane and violent that would probably cover what most people think of him. Luckily for me, they don’t know how wrong they are.

Rolling onto her side, Daliah pulled up the heavy quilt to cover Hathrenair’s shoulder. As she brought her hand back to her side, she paused and softly stroked the long red locks that lay between them on the pillow. It felt like straw: rough and brittle with ends that either split into multiple strands or curled from the kiss of flame. Absently fingering the strands of his crimson hair, Daliah’s mind returned to the events of that evening. The strange random set of events that had brought them back to one another, that had brought them home.

He hadn't recognized her due to the hooded cloak she'd taken to wearing everywhere. She, on the other hand, had recognized him the moment she saw him. He had been close enough to touch. He had been closer than he had been in years yet he hadn't realized. Why should he, after all? She was supposed to be dead. An unfamiliar feeling had coursed through her body at the sight of him: pure, unadulterated panic. Frozen to the spot as surely as he stood there, she had been unable to do anything more than stare. She had tried to run when he spoke to her. A pathetic attempt at an apology preceded her flight from the country inn.

Smiling, she chuckled quietly to herself as she remembered the events. Yeah, that didn't look suspicious at all! Leaning forward, Daliah pressed a soft kiss to the partially exposed shoulder before returning to her earlier spot.

“Tell me who you are, why you're here, and what that was in the inn. Al said you acted strange. Do that, and no one gets hurt, yeah?"

Daliah scanned the small space, looking for the roach but was unable to see him in the dim light. Leave it to Alphonse to notice what Hathrenair would not; that roach played a large part in keeping Hathrenair alive over the years, she mused.

Her attempt at an explanation was pathetic, to say the least. She had given him some dribble about him reminding her of someone that she had lied to. At least it was partially true. Being that close to him again seemed to shut down the part of her brain that helped her lie convincingly. Besides, if she was honest with herself, a part of her wanted him to realize who she was from the moment she saw him.

Smiling at the memory, Daliah returned her attention to Hathrenair’s hair and began gently working her fingers through the strands as he slept. A small “tut” sound escaped her lips as she found a particularly matted section near the nape of his neck. He was having a bath in the morning whether he liked it or not. A bath complete with conditioner! There was all the time in the world for those things now.

"At least you don't seem dangerous. And I don't care much about your lie, or you at all." He had paused at that moment and a small smile breached the irritation his features displayed. "But sometimes, talking about it helps, yeah? A random stranger's the best person to talk to. You'll never see me again, and I don't even know your name."

She had stood there, staring while he spoke. At least the cowl hid the way she had been inspecting him. Each new scar, burn and injury registered in her mind. There was something deeper that had changed as well. It showed in his eyes; the way they sparkled with the sickly green taint of fel corruption.

The smile and the offer were too good to pass up. She had thought of running from him before but this? Well… this was the part of Hathrenair that he rarely let people see. For all of his brash violence there was a deep rooted decency to the man that few bothered to find. There was a kindness and inherent goodness to him that stayed locked behind the walls he had taken years to construct. Even his school was based in his desire to help, though few ever realized it.

She had asked him the question she really wanted to know: Would he want the truth? Of course it was covered within the confines of the deception she was upholding at the moment but she had asked, nonetheless. If he had been lied to, would he want the truth?

It had taken some prodding to get the answer. There were the “ifs” and the “buts” that layered his answer. Hathrenair gave alternatives both for what she should do and what he would want if he had been the one to receive the lie. In the end, however, he had said it.

"I would rather have the truth," he had murmured. "Because no matter what happens, at least with the truth..." His gaze fell, a memory slashing through his thoughts. He lifted a hand, burrowing into his robe, pulling a golden chain from around his neck. Attached to the end was a brilliant red gem, though it suffered spidering cracks, its luster faded by the same war and battle that the mage had endured. "...At least with the truth, I would have whoever I loved back, yeah?"

A part of her realized he could very well hate her for all eternity for what she had done. Another part knew that with his emotions running as high as they did, she would very likely get burned when she told him the truth he said he wanted. That was the least she felt she deserved, after all. She had taken care to ensure the protective shield she had created earlier that night was still fully in place around her before she had taken off her gloves and walked up to him.

Her wedding band, the ring of fire he had enchanted just for her, was in plain sight as she walked over and addressed him by name.

A grave robber, a thief, a bandit! He had screamed at her, demanding to know where she had gotten the ring.

Leaning back in the bed, she drew her left hand up from under the covers and inspected the glowing band. It gave off a soft, wholesome glow in the dim light. It had been the one thing that had given her hope over the years. Years ago, he had told her that as long as he lived the band would glow. It was connected to him. It had been the only thing that she had to hold onto during the time Darkness had taken hold. For all the bad that existed in the world, as long as HE was alive, she had a reason to keep fighting. Tucking her hand close to her heart, she nestled against his back and closed her eyes to let the memories come.

The pain was clearly displayed on his scarred face as he realized the truth. She had lied. Everything he had done over the last two years to get her back had been in vain. You can’t resurrect a girl that isn’t dead, after all. Every hurt she was responsible for was there for her to see. The toll it had taken on him was obvious. All of it was her fault.

Biting down on her lip under the cover of darkness, she inhaled the scent of ash that never seemed to leave her husband, regardless of how often he bathed. It was a part of him. The scent tugged at a place deep inside of her where those things closest to her heart were stored. Growing and burning as fierce as any fire, feeling as though it were about to rip out of her chest, she let her feelings for her husband run rampant.

“I would do it again if it meant keeping you alive, my love.” The words were a soft whisper against the back of his neck, nowhere near loud enough to disturb the heavy sleep of the man beside her.

Their reunion had been volatile. From the globule of fel fire that tore through the air beside her to their crumpled mass as she let him into her mind and shared every experience since they had last been together. It was brutal and messy but it was honest. He saw every last detail of her life for the past two years this night and she had no secrets from him.

That was an odd feeling for the woman.

For the first time in memory, she had no secrets. No lies. No half truths. No deliberate misstatements. Although she had tried to explain before, something is always lost when you try to use words to describe events. They’re a limited form of communication, after all. Daliah had always feared he hadn’t seen the real person she was describing. Tonight, however, she had done more than tell him. She had opened up in a way she wasn’t even sure was possible and he had seen exactly who and what she was and he still loved her. Daliah hugged him tightly to her chest at the thought. She never felt worthy of him, even less so now, but she was determined not to waste the chance she had been given.

With that thought at the forefront of her mind, Daliah smiled to herself as she pressed a kiss to the back of Hathrenair’s shoulder and finally allowed sleep to claim her as well.