Redemption

Justin entered the tavern with little fanfare, carrying a four-foot long stick in one hand. Around his neck hung a small pewter pendant of a dragon coiled slighting into a somewhat triangular shape. He wore a dark blue cloak draped over his shoulders, mostly hiding his soft, cotton shirt, of the same color blue. His jeans were visible from the front and anywhere below the knees, and both those and his shirt were torn badly, but sewn back together to keep out the cold. Over his back, a rucksack was slung, and a bundle of sticks, all four feet long at least. He made his way to the bar, getting himself a glass of ice water before sitting down and giving his cloak a slight push, so as to make it fall behind the stool and almost to the floor.

Natalie slipped into the tavern semi-unnoticed, her luxurious ebony tresses tamed into a long, single braid that stretched down the center of her back. Her mauve dress swished slightly as she walked, and her steps were measured and careful, her dark eyes searching the room as if to seek out and avoid any danger. Her lips, usually full, were pressed into a thin line from weariness, and she clutched a long, ornately carved staff some six feet tall. Examining the occupants of the room, she chose a seat at the bar, close, but not too close, to Justin. A few wayward strands of her silken hair had worked themselves free, and she pushed them behind her slightly pointed ears with a slender hand. Idle chatter surrounded her and she felt almost cocooned in her own little world of thoughts and ponderings.

Nodding to Natalie, Justin raised an eyebrow at her slightly, taking a long sip of his water. "You seem tired," he offered, his own eyes sporting bags that looked almost as heavy as the rucksack slung over his shoulder, although this was commonplace. "Didn't sleep well last night?" he asked with concern, her nose still slightly pink, but all other traces of his cold now long gone, save the occasional sniffle.

With a glance over at Justin, Natalie made a slight humming noise, barely noticeable over all the din of the tavern. Taking the end of her braid in her hands, she idly played with it, pondering his observation. "Perhaps I am a bit tired," she conceded, her voice unmistakably strained and her eyes bright but slightly red-rimmed. "Last night…" she began, then trailed off. "No, I slept fine last night," she countered, though her voice was quiet and held no sharpness. She missed his company more than she wished to admit, and felt a sting of rejection after their last conversation in bed, only a few nights prior. "And yourself?" More than just courtesy, her question aimed to discover if he had again spent another night outside in the cold, especially after trying to recover from being sick.

He shrugged slightly and leaned back on his stool, setting the glass of water down and balancing the stick against the countertop. "Not bad. I've slept better, but I've slept worse." He smiled lightly, almost amused. "The wolves have backed off as of late. It's rather a nice change. This thing hasn't gotten a single tear in it." He idly played with the hem of the dark blue cloak that folded around his shoulders. A slight sniffle escaped his nose, but he paid it no mind.

Natalie looked at the cloak quietly, as if to verify that there were no tears in it. Her eyes took in his form, from the patched tears on his clothes to the dark circles under his eyes, and she sighed softly. "You really shouldn't be sleeping outside. You know…" here she stopped and shook her head, as if reconsidering what she was about to say. Conjuring a bloodwyne, she sipped on it and measured her words, then began to speak, her voice low and soft, almost soothing, as it were. "I know you are strong, but even you do not deny that you are mortal. Could you not give it a day or two before going back to that? Another night in a bed would do you good," she insisted. A silent whisper, "With me," added itself in her mind, but she brushed it away.

He shook his head slowly, giving the faintest of sighs. "I'm alright. I've been in worse situations. Actually, that's a lie. I haven't, really." He gave a soft, half-laugh. "But I'm getting used to it. Once it warms up, it will be nice. This cloak helps me more than I thought it would, actually. And with the wolves leaving me alone lately, I'm getting a better chance to heal. Now all I need is a job." He rolled his eyes and continued. "Not that I can do anything that's worth money in this realm."

Sighing quietly, she shook her head, then eyed the mends in his clothes. "Couldn't you find work as a tailor? I'm sure someone around here needs things mended," she suggested, not entirely certain what occupations humans had available. Abandoning the slight tug on her braid in favor of twisting the silver goddess ring on her pinky, she suppressed another sigh and pondered quietly. So much had changed, so much was strange and complicated. It seemed as though she was a stranger now, a stranger to him when she thought things would get closer, more familiar. Now, in the moment, when she needed his friendship the most, he seemed galaxies away. She blinked slowly and sipped more on her bloodwyne, the taste scalding her throat and bringing back memories from years and years ago.

Justin smiled slightly. "I'm not that good with the needle. Good enough to mend my clothes, but I can't compete with the people in these places that sling magic around like it were nothing; snap their fingers and clothes are fixed, good as new." He laughed slightly. "And most of them do it for free. I mean, look around." Here he paused and gestured to the tavern, though if he had looked over them, he had done it well enough that it went unnoticed. "None of them have tears in their clothing."

She heard his words and nodded quietly, realizing that he head a point. What did she know about the workings of humans? It was not her place, as a Goddess, to presuppose, and she hung her head slightly, feeling a light aching begin in her temples. The last bit of her cold lingered tenaciously, giving her the occasional migraine or soreness in her joints, though her stuffiness, coughing, and sneezing had abated. A sigh escaped her lips and she fell silent, not really knowing what to say to him. So much welled up in her, but then was not the time, nor the place, and she knew better, and so contented herself with sipping on her bloodwyne and avoiding eye contact.

Raising an eyebrow, he drank about a quarter of his glass of water before looking over to Natalie, noting her odd silence. "Natalie… is something bothering you? You're more… I don't know, withdrawn? …than usual. Or at least that's how it seems." His own posture, his manner, everything about him seemed to actually be relaxed for once, and not just the sort of relaxed state that he normally enforced upon himself, but a truthfully pleasant manner. His hand did occasionally wander to the hem of his cloak, or the pendant about his neck, but that was just a habit. Sniffling softly, but not bothering to rub his nose, he continued to look at Natalie with thinly veiled concern.

She watched Justin drink his water, her own bloodwyne mostly gone by that point. Reaching back, she grasped her braid and brought it around, undoing the clasp that held it together, then slowly unbraided it, shaking it free so that it fell around her shoulders and face like a waterfall of liquid onyx. "I am merely tired, that is all," she murmured, her voice just loud enough for him to hear, but low enough to remain unnoticed by the other inhabitants of the tavern. Fingering the silver goddess ring on her pinky, she did something rather uncharacteristic, and drew her knees to her chest, resting the arches of her feet on the stool so that she was in the fetal position.

He nodded slightly, somewhat suspicious that there was something more, but he said nothing in case he was wrong. "I see. Then perhaps you should get some sleep?" He gave a much longer than normal glance at the cascade of hair, followed with an undeniably warm smile and a soft sniffle. "You…" he began, then let his voice trail off, unable to hide his worry any more. "You honestly don't

look

like you're just tired, you know. You look like something's really bothering you."

Natalie looked up and caught the smile, feeling something inside her almost break at it. "I am truly just tired, truly," she insisted, biting down on her lower lip and nodding to that. "It is nothing," she lied, trying to hide the sheer exhaustion in her voice and demeanor. Unable to stop herself, she began to rock back and forth, almost like an autistic child, her eyes going opaque and her skin becoming covered in goose bumps. A slow trickle of blood oozed from a previously unseen cut just below her left ear, sliding down her skin and pooling in the small crevice of her collarbone.

He raised an eyebrow and stood, eyeing the stick that leaned against the bar, before putting it into the sheath with the rest of them. He knew full well that the stick could almost be seen as a symbol for his personal barriers, as he put them away; it was no small thing. He reached around behind the bar and grabbed a cloth, then walked to Natalie, wiping the bit of blood from her ear, neck, and collarbone. "Nothing's wrong, hmm? I see. I think we're close enough that I don't need to be hiding the fact that I don't believe you for a moment that you're only tired." His words, though seemingly harsh, were spoken in a tone that rang with nothing but worry and compassion.

Continuing to rock back and forth, she trembled a bit from some mysterious cause, her jaw slack and her eyes unfocussed, her pupils dilated. The voices in her head did not give up, not even for a moment as she twitched almost convulsively, fighting desperately against the inevitable. She had held out for so long, so, so long. Through Darren's death, Casen's death and subsequent re-birth, through the pain of losing all contact with Casen, and then his brutal rape of her already ravaged body. The legal entanglements with the Hierarchy, the further involvement of Cetric in the act of raping her, the loss of her only dear friend, and now the most recent scary experience with Justin, as she bonded with him in such a personal and sexual way… her mind reeled and she gasped like a fish, a cold sweat breaking out over her skin. Blinking quietly, her eyes cleared somewhat and she looked at him, not entirely registering his presence. Her brain was fried and she could barely function; it was the onset of an emotional breakdown. Justin frowned slightly, not knowing what was wrong as he wrapped his arms around Natalie tightly, his mouth close to her ear. "Natalie, whatever's going on, I'm here." He let the worry show in his voice, confused as to what to do, as he was fairly certain that whatever was happening was not physical, despite the worrying cut below her ear. He knew full well that it was possible (though hopefully not likely) that she did it herself. "Tell me what to do. I don't know…."

Blinking quietly, she felt a few salty tears slip down her cheeks, leaving a shimmering path on her pale skin. "Here…" she repeated uncertainly, her voice shaky and confused-sounding. "To do, I don't know… don't know…" she echoed, blinking quietly and leaning against him, her brain now much. Just barely remembering who she was, she could not recall why she was on earth, whose arms she was in, and why he was talking to her. Something about him seemed wrong, though, and she half-struggled to pull away, the cut below her ear re-opening and her hand reaching down to her thigh for the knife strapped under her soft skirts. "Just to cut away the fog," she murmured, "It is thick; I need to cut it." She slipped her hand under her skirt and unsheathed the dagger, bringing it up to her neck quietly, her hand shaking. "Thick, so thick. Must cut through it. It is thick. It is choking me." Her words were almost slurred, though they had a scarily clear quality to them, as well, as she parted her lips slightly and placed the blade against her soft flesh. "To do, I don't know… I don't know what to do. Tell me. Tell me what to do, I don't know… I'm here… Thick. Too thick… to do… tell me… I don't know…" she whispered.

His eyes opened wide at the sight of the dagger drawn to her neck, and his right hand circled around her shoulders to grab at her arm, anchoring it and the dagger away from her neck. His other hand gripped the blade of the knife tightly, trying to wrench it free without hurting her. "Natalie… you don't need to do this. We can get through this. Let go of the dagger, we can get rid of the fog together without it." He forced his voice to be steady, replacing worry with a soothing calm as he did so. "Let me help you."

She shuddered and clung to the dagger, her skin white with the force of keeping it in her hand, her eyes open wide and staring blankly. "Need to do this… help you…" she stuttered, shivering and inhaling the sharp scent of her own blood from the fresh wound below her ear. "Together… help… together… get through this… together," she whispered, her skin iced and her lips almost azure. "The fog… get rid of the fog," she insisted, though she was merely picking and choosing from his words, subconsciously. The hand holding the dagger strained against him, moving to place the blade back against her neck.

Justin let his grip on the dagger tighten, not caring even though it bit into the skin of his palm, as he let his own blood flow along it, ensuring that his hand was between the blade and her neck. "Natalie, please… think about what you're doing. Please." Again his voice faltered, showing a hurried, worried tone, letting a tear fall from his eye as he pressed his cheek to hers, mouth almost directly at her ear. "It'll be alright, I'm here."

Trembling at his words, her eyes closed as she fought the fog, desperately battling, trying so hard. "Please… please… here…" she muttered. Trying to tell him that she needed him, that she could not handle this, she could only parrot him at this point, struggling to pierce the dense fog that had settled in her mind. "Love," she whispered, almost triumphantly, having spoken a word all her own. "Love," she repeated, bringing his hand to her heart, the hand still clinging to the dagger, her own still gripping the blade. A smear of both his blood and hers spread on her dress, right above her left breast, right over her heart. "Love," she pleaded.

He nodded. "I do. I love you, Natalie. But please… don't give in to this! Let go of the dagger, we'll get you through this. There are other ways of fighting, if you'll only let me help you. And I will help you, because I do love you." This last sentence was strongly accentuated, showing the truthfulness and the emotion behind it. The tear reached the point where their cheeks touched, and he barely seemed to notice the dagger.

She slowly, reluctantly released her grip on the dagger, grabbing his hand instead, holding it to her heart, the blood filling the crevices between her fingers, staining the light fabric of her dress, though she did not notice. "I do. I love you… through this… I do love you…" she murmured repeatedly, rocking back and forth, her eyes slowly opening though she was still not much better. The cut below her ear had stopped bleeding again, and her expression was vacant and empty, her skin pale as the snow and her voice strained and fuzzed. "Love you… I do… I do love you…."

Justin could not help but wonder to himself within the logical part of his brain if she was simply parroting again, or if she actually felt that way, but in his heart, he knew full well that she did. He smiled slightly and seemed to consider a few things. "Come on, we should probably get you to a more comfortable place." He nodded to his own words and did not pull his hand away, having barely noticed the clatter of the dagger on the hardwood floor of the tavern.

She tried to cut through the fog, to tell him that she loved him, but she could not. Her eyes closed with the effort of concentrating, but she could not find her own words through the fog; they were lost, hidden, obscured. "Come… come…" she murmured. She had not stopped rocking back and forth, and her pale skin was still burning cold to the touch, her words choked but soft. Fluttering open, her eyes still retained a glazed look, unable to focus on anything as she did not even register the sound of the dagger as it hit the wooden floorboards.

"Come on, let's get you somewhere where you'll have a back to rock against." He gave a wry smile, having absolutely no idea what Goddesses weighed, though it didn't matter, as he knew full well that he could lift at least a hundred pounds, and when needed, more. Removing his hand from her chest, forcibly if needed, he gathered himself, drawing in a deep breath of preparation before placing one hand behind her shoulder blades. He slid the other under her knees and lifted with carefully measured strength, giving his muscles a moment to adjust properly to her weight before trying to move over to the chairs.

She allowed herself to be raised and held like that, her body hanging limp in his arms. Due to flying and the necessity of smoothness in the air, Goddesses have hollow bones, so her weight was little to nothing, even with her beautifully crafted wings. With the absence of his hand at her heart, she gripped the fabric there, as if trying to squeeze out the stain of blood, though she desperately needed to cling to something solid. Her other hand shook and twitched, needing something to hold onto, to stop the constant shivering, the inability to control her actions while she was in that state. A faint tickle began to build in her nose, the beginnings of a series of sneezes, quite possibly the return of the cold due to her weakened emotional state and lack of meditation as of late. The fog thickened and choked her, her eyes rolling back in her head as she gave up fighting it, saving her strength to hold on to consciousness, not vision, as she deemed it more important.

Justin was pleased to note the lightness, giving a quick mental thanks for small things as he carried Natalie to a couch, setting her down gently and taking her hand in his. "There, a bit safer here, at least," he began, nodding slightly to his own words. "Now come on. Natalie, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, or how to help. I'm just not a miracle worker, I'm afraid." He sighed softly, not quite sure what to say. "Please, you have to tell me." Closing his eyes lightly, he took a seat next to her, still holding her hand.

She shivered slightly, her eyes closed against the darkness, and against the tickle in her nose that threatened to build into those tickly sneezes. Knowing the sneezes would interrupt her train of thought as she searched for the words to say, she tried desperately to fight them off in the suffocating blanket of the fog. "Sa… ahh… aahhetchhhoo!! Ishh… ishhhooo!! Heh… hehkisshh! Ishh!!!" Sneezing very wetly and not even having the ability to cover her mouth, the resulting spray landed on Justin, coating him with the shimmering wetness. Not moving or making an attempt to wipe it away, he remained there and kept his silence, waiting for her to continue. "Safer here," she trieda gain, trying to tell him that she was scared. "What's wrong… I'm afraid… I'm afraid," she repeated his words, frustrated that she could not use her own. "Please, please," she whispered, trying to ask him for reassurance of how he felt. Channeling all of her energy into one word, she stopped concentrating on breathing, or on her heartbeat, and managed to murmur a single syllable. "Love," she begged, her hand going limp in his own, though she still retained consciousness.

He nodded. "I do, Natalie. I love you; you know that." Smiling softly, warmly, he continued. "I want to help, but I don't know what's happening. Are you sick?" He tilted his head slightly, still not realizing that she had only repeated words that he'd said. The blood still dripped from his hand slightly, unnoticed as he looked into Natalie's eyes, trying to see past the haze and hopefully find some sort of answer that didn't require words.