Gaius Worzel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winderlust) wrote2018-05-16 12:50 am
winderlust) wrote2018-05-16 12:50 ami tried to think of a wind pun for this title
but they all blew
winderlust) wrote2018-05-16 12:50 am
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The annexation did not proceed as smoothly as expected. Turns out, "minding their own business" did not remotely mean there was no fight in the people of the North. Despite a long long history of either ignoring eachother or squabbling amongst themselves, in the face of a larger threat the tribes banded together, becoming one big army of horses and fury.
They've been resisting the invasion ever since. But it's a matter of pride for the kingdom now so, unable to admit defeat and look weak to the surrounding nations, they've only upped the ante. Technology, magical and old fashioned fantasy as it may be, is in their favor. But the nomads have the benefit of hundreds of years of traditional weapon skills and a lifestyle that requires everyone to know how to kill things and defend themselves. Still, skills vs supplies is a war of attrition.
So it's sort of a stalemate, but it's one that, without a change of fate, will only end one way. And yet there doesn't seem to be a lack of morale. On this day, the fighting is as fierce as on the first. And this day, Gaius is as firmly set on defending his homeland as he's been for the last two years. He loves his land. And he loves his family, so he's willing to lay his life on the line if he can prevent a future where their freedom and identity are taken away. He was eighteen when it started. His little brother was 15, and nothing has ever hurt as much as watching Thoma let go of childhood to pick up a spear.
Gaius has been described by family and friends as a kind person. A gentle person. But he's not remotely hesitant on the battlefield. He's a whirlwind of violence, but at the end of the day, when there's a moment to breathe, he's buckling under the weight of grief -- for those who've died on both sides, for those who yet will, and for the peaceful life his sisters might not ever experience again.
But that's never shown to his enemies. It won't be shown today either, when he's come up against a prince of the kingdom. He's lost his horse already (a blow not unlike losing a dear friend), and he's tired, but he can't miss the opportunity to do his people a favor and take out some of the leadership. He doesn't, really, want to hurt anyone. There's no joy in his face when he steps over a knight still not quite dead and points his spear at Jusis. Instead there's only a quiet resignation -- he's not the type to hate anyone, but if he were, it's the royal family he should hate. And he is angry. Furious beyond words. But when their eyes meet, he doesn't feel the hatred his kinsmen might. It's just sad. Still he's firm in his stance, and unquestionably intending to kill.]
Raise your sword.
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His skills in combat and command have improved over the years of conflict, though he's still not at his brother's level. He's a spare heir, and while his general well-being is usually looked after, as long as Rufus is whole and safe Jusis can certainly be spared heading a company or two at the front.
Right now he's been given just that position, and he inwardly hates it, the waste, the death. He's lost another horse--a sharper tragedy to him than most--and the screams of dead and dying soldiers and horses haunt him.
There's no time to ponder or retreat, however, because it's a battlefield, and striding towards him with a lance and stature well known among the Albarea forces is one of the enemy fighters, one of their best.
He tightens his grip on his hilt, raising his sword at the man's command. A sharp pain of regret and even sharper determination clenches in his throat. If he can kill this man that's a benefit, less of his own countrymen will have to die. And yet he's still keenly aware they're the invaders here. Still, it hasn't made his blade hesitate in a long time now, and it won't today.
He offers only a grim salute before lunging in with his best sword work, determined to get closer, not wishing to be disadvantaged by the spear's reach.]
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Eventually, he loses that particular battle. But rather than try to defend up close, he tries to kick Jusis in the gut, to push him back away.
...But when he tries, he finds himself unable to follow through the motion. Instead he freezes, with his foot lifted, awkward and off-balance and looking startled as hell.]
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Except that it doesn't.
Momentum keeps him lunging forward but his own arm twists uncomfortably and the sword drops from fingers that suddenly feel numb and unable to hold anything. He stumbles forward, unprepared for the change in balance, his own expression matching Gaius's in confusion and alarm.]
What--?
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But something happens when he does it. The instant his fingers touch the fabric of Jusis' coat, Gaius feels what's best described as a jolt. It's like static electricity, zapping through his hand and straight into the core of him.
He's never felt anything like it. It feels like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind right out of him. He can't breathe, and for a moment his grip tightens, before he recoils as if burnt. The only thing he can think to do is back up, and put his weapon between them.]
What's going on?
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That's what I was going yo ask you!
[It's snapped, but this situation is absurd. If the enemy in front of him didn't do anything, and Jusis didn't do anything, then what's going on?
He's also very aware Gaius still has a spear he's putting between them and Jusis is now without a sword. He's not assuming that one hesitation and a weirdly dropped weapon on his part means the stranger can't hurt him with that spear, and this just seems like a very precarious position to be in.]
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It doesn't matter.
[It does, but he can think about it later.]
You have to die.
[So he's attacking again, with a forceful thrust aimed to go into Jusis' gut and up under his ribs. But when he tries his body seizes up, and his spear feel far too hot to touch. He drops it, hissing, and glances around in suspicion.]
...Why?
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Away from the city, smaller settlements rely heavily on the presence of the church. Wards and healing are the skills of the average town priest, but sometimes there's a problem too big for daily maintenance to handle. That's when they call in an exorcist -- a member of a small association within the church, with natural holy powers bestowed on them by the Goddess. Nevermind that said holy powers only appear in moments of heavy trauma, or that they feed on the person's life force, making them dangerous to overuse. They're a blessing. And the church is always right, even when it means executing a possessed child, or razing a den of spirits who are more "in the way" than dangerous. The church teaches that spirits and demons are made of human darkness, and they have to be destroyed, less they cause more darkness and eventually overcome the world.
They're not really wrong, but there are plenty of people who think they take it too far. The church doesn't punish disagreement, though. There's no church law. There's no policing anyone's beliefs or actions, and they'll put themselves at risk to help anyone -- as long as they're human.
Gaius has never had a reason to doubt it. His family have always been faithful, a nice, healthy family in a nice, healthy village in a peaceful area. They venerate the wind the same as they have since antiquity, and the venerate the Goddess whose servants bring them anti-demon supplies and facilitate trade with the cities. The village never saw much supernatural activity and what they did was definitely evil. Everything has always made sense... except the time the village was set upon by fire demons. That was definitely not fun -- a lot of people died, including the exorcist who'd come and gone for as long as Gaius could remember.
He'd tried to save everyone. He'd failed. And though his own family was safe, seeing the destruction wrought had triggered something in him, something bright and powerful and overwhelming. Gaius only remember his vision whiting out, and then waking up in the charred remains. Apparently, he blasted the demons to dust. And that's what he's been doing since. His family, and the 2/3 or so of the villagers who lived, moved on. Rebuilt. Everything is fine. And he's fine, relatively, after being swept away by the church for training and all.
Now he's the one out hunting down supernatural beings, but he has no issues with it. It feels like the right thing to do. There's no doubts in his mind, so the day he comes to a village that really doesn't want him there he's confused. He was told there was a powerful ogre in the area, and the next village over was so afraid they'd called him in to take care of it. But when he got to the target area, they barely even let him in the gate. The villagers skirted around him, staring suspiciously, and he didn't understand why at all.
At night, he went investigating, with a villager as a guide. It was a quiet walk into the woods, and Gaius was checking over his book of incantations as they went. He didn't remotely expect the trail to land, not at the lair of an ogre, but at a cheer cliffside overlooking white water. He turned to ask, and instead of one guide found a group of villagers, all armed. Even then he didn't think to fight them. Why would he? They were the people he was meant to help. But they didn't want it -- no, instead they told him the ogre was their protector, and they couldn't let the church hurt him. That was baffling but also a little aggravating: why would any humans think an ogre would protect them? What did they think they were going to accomplish by letting a demon into their village? And what did they expect him to do, just go home and leave it alone?
They did not expect him to go home. What they expected was for him to die, and scare off any further attempts at killing the demon. Gaius found this out rather painfully when he turned to argue with his guide, and abruptly heard the bang of a gun firing. The noise made his ears ring, and for a few brief seconds he thought it had missed. But then a sharp, burning pain flared in his gut, and he found himself doubling over a wound pouring blood.
He'd never felt so hurt. So... betrayed. And at the same time, he could only wonder what would drive people, not possessed, to behave this way. Desperation? Or was he really, truly wrong? What was it that made people want to protect an ogre, a demon, so badly they'd kill another human being? And why, if they had that conviction, did they all look so sad? Pain aside, he just couldn't find the will to struggle when the man who'd been his guide put hands on his shoulders, backed him up to the cliff edge, and pushed.
His last thought before losing consciousness, before he ever hit the water, was just: why?]
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He's been living near this particular village for a long time now. It's remote. It's situated high in the mountains. The winters are cold. It reminds him of a home long and distantly almost forgotten, hundreds of years in a past he tries not to remember.
But in a way this village and its people remind him of it anyway. They're tough but kind, and despite what he is, how he lives apart, they treat him like he belongs. He barely remembers why now, it was generations ago, he saved a child in a snowstorm and somehow, when delivering her home was caught--instead of being feared he was welcomed with gratitude, and he's stayed nearby to protect them ever since. Close enough to watch over, not close enough to truly integrate. It's painful anyway, in a way, the continuous cycle of watching the humans grow and age and die. But he's numb to it, mostly, and while he's friendly and helpful to everyone, he doesn't let anyone close.
But today he was coming to town with herbs from the high mountains when he overheard it--a priest, here to hunt Rean himself, and the more able-bodied gone to the cliffs to kill him. The idiots. He might be grateful for their love but to become murderers over him...
He reaches the cliffs in time to hear the gunshot and see the stranger fall. All he hears is shouting when he dives after the man.
Snowmelt is cold, colder up here, and the rapids are rocky and deadly, but Rean isn't human, hasn't been human in centuries, and diving through the water to not only catch but haul the large man out of the torrent is a feat only a demon could manage with that kind of ease.
There's a lot of upset on the shore below the cliffs as Rean hauls a dripping, unconscious, bloody priest out of the water into the circle of lantern lights as the villagers gather, and he has to alternate between reassuring everyone that it'll be fine, he's grateful, and also making it clear he doesn't want a single one of them to dirty their hands for him. Maybe it's the Goddess's will that her servant is still breathing but Rean only requests medicine from the village, and sends everyone away while he hauls Gaius back to his own cabin. Naturally he stops to staunch the bleeding first, but the frozen water has done wonders for Gaius not dying of his wounds, and it's up to Rean to make sure he doesn't die of the freezing.
He's picked up some medical techniques over a few hundred years, so he's stripping Gaius and submerging him in warm water before pulling him out and drying him, properly pulling the lead out of and dressing his wounds, tending whatever breaks or sprains he gained from the fall, and wrapping him in blankets, administering what painkillers and antibiotics he can to help, and that's all Rean can do with the man but wait. He makes another trip to the village, smooths things over, picks up more medical supplies, promises everyone he'll be fine and he's happy for their protection but he doesn't need them to, and then it's back to tend his patient for however many days it takes Gaius to regain consciousness.
Gaius will wake on a sunny day in a warm bed in a warm cabin that smells like herbal tea and fresh honeycakes, probably aching in every bone in his body.]
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Waking up is a horrible contrast between all that and the idyllic setting, but what he's really concerned about is that he has no idea where he is or how he got there. He'd expected to die. Startled, he tries to sit up, but the pain from the gunshot wound is enough to make him see stars. He yelps despite himself, falling back against the bed and trying to breathe shallowly, to avoid further jostling.]
W-what...?
[How is he alive?]
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[It's a pleasant young man's voice, out of Gaius's immediate field of vision, and there's the sound of someone standing and moving around on the other side of a curtain cutting off a lot of what Gaius can see about the rest of this cabin. The maybe alarming thing is there's no sense of presence from the person obviously here.]
One second. You probably shouldn't move around too much, you're still in really bad shape.
[And then the curtain is being pulled back and a tray is being set right next to Gaius. It has soup and tea and it smells great.
The guy holding the tray... Is another matter. Even though they're inside and the cabin is warm he's wearing a hoodie pulled far over his head, black gloves, large black sunglasses, and a surgical mask. Basically he looks like a massively suspicious weirdo, but he's picking up some bottles and shaking pills out to set next to a glass of water for Gaius.]
You should eat and take these, you really took a beating, they'll help with the pain.
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...Only attempted, though. Somehow. And he has been bandaged and all... But he's still not taking pills from a weirdo.]
You realise you don't look very trustworthy.
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[One of those sentences has nothing to do with anything but it's implied he's referring to himself, at least. He pulls up a chair and sits next to Gaius, looking at him with that laughably suspiciously bundled up face.]
If I meant you harm I wouldn't really need to make you take a pill for it, right? You're really lucky to be alive right now. It's been three days since you got shot.
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[Okay that's a derailing thought. He was going to criticize the outfit some more but he's realising he hasn't contacted home base in that long.]
Where's my-- oh.
[He had a phone. He doesn't need to be told he doesn't have one now. But it is making him more than a little anxious. It's church policy not to go to anywhere an exorcist went missing without proper preparation but eventually, eventually that will probably happen. So long as they don't determine it's not worth risking people with such rare powers, which is entirely possible. He's not sure which would be worse. He doesn't want to be abandoned but, somehow, despite having been shot and pushed off a cliff, he also doesn't want to get a whole village in trouble.
He's wondering why it's bothering him. Either the villagers are salvageable, in which case there's nothing to worry about, or they're corrupted in a way he couldn't sense, in which case strong action would be the right thing to do. But he's remembering the looks on their faces, now, and it's deeply unsettling.]
...Why am I alive?
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How he did it isn't really a mystery. The secret society's secrets were betrayed, and it's all become some horrible self-devouring mess, leading to the fall of both the society, the factions in Erebonia, and several other organizations. Somewhere out there there are still bracers and church members fighting, but the upper echelons of the church and any remaining forces have been infiltrated. All that's left is to take over the rest of the world.
Rean needs to help. His demon power is one of the strongest things they could manipulate. So he's being held right now by guards, as two of his closest connections are dragged in and shoved to their knees in front of him. Crow is struggling, spitting mad. Gaius is just quietly seething.]
If you aren't willing to participate in this campaign, we'll be forced to use heavier handed means.
[Like the bombs they've already shown they have. The man is relaxed, as he stares Rean down waiting for a response.]
You can refuse. You'll die, and so will these two, but that might settle your conscience. But if you want to live, you should bow.
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But he's looking up at the main, keeping his breathing as calm as he can.]
You've got me where you want me. I'll cooperate.
I made this journal for organizational purposes
[The man sits on what's now his throne, and makes a gesture to a guard. That guard hands Rean his sword -- but there's no fear in it. Even if he were willing to kill everyone in this room, his friends would die first.]
Kill one of them. It should be noted there are men on standby to give the order to proceed, should you fail.
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He's stuck. But worse than the possibility that he'll die is knowing Rean's going to be forced to do it. There are a lot of things Gaius feels passionate about, and Rean's very near the top of the list. It's heartbreaking to see the person he's been through so much with bowing to a monster, and even moreso to think he'll have to have this choice weighing on his heart.
He wishes he could make it easier. All he can do though is stay quiet, trying not to push any buttons and make it worse. He'll make eye contact, but he's not going to yell or otherwise fuss about it.]
Rean...
sometimes u need 3 comments to do a single tag
Don't just do what they tell you to, damn it! Fight back!
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He's curious. But this is the same old work, so when he welcomes Patrick to his room it's with a dazzlingly pretty smile and a deep bow.]
Welcome, sir. My name is Gaius. It's a pleasure to serve you.
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But that part that knows he's not actually God's gift to the world is deeply buried under his attempts to prove it wrong and his upbringing right.
So when his brothers bring him to their usual haunt he takes it as a thing to be proud of, when really, he's feeling extra insecure.
It doesn't help that the slave he's apparently meant to fuck is huge and gorgeous and has more muscles than Patrick will ever manage.
The first thing out of his mouth is defensive rudeness acting like arrogant snobbery.]
So you're the second best whore in this place?
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So they say. But I assure you, my services are anything but a second-place experience. Shall we have tea, or would you like to begin straight away?
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I assume you know your own business.
[Which is in no way an attempt to deflect from making a decision in a situation he's deeply unprepared to make decisions in. He's not prepared for this situation, he's a stupid, soft, stuffy jerk but he's also a virgin and doing this to prove he's cool to his older brothers when he'd probably rather court someone for three years and have a grand wedding before his first time.
These are definitely not things he's at all day dreamed about.
He's totally here for fucking. And stuff.]
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I act at your behest. But if you prefer, I can be bold.
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[He couldn't handle boldness. He can't handle this, as it turns out, so he'll just loudly make demands like a spoiled brat and hope no one notices that he's out of his depth.]
You may make tea, I suppose I can deign to grace your efforts with my attention.
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