07.05.3013: Liturgy of the Dark
Summary: Devon and Nitrim meet in a secluded place to reconcile their disconnect and the future.
Date: 05 July 3013
Related: None
Devon Nitrim 

RP Suite
Somewhere on the outskirts of Volkan
July 05, 3013

Devon has not called upon Nitrim for days — perhaps even weeks by now. She has not quietly knocked upon his door, nor has she sought him out directly. She has seen him when asked, but there has been a distinct impression that she has been isolating herself. Even Flint has not been given much opportunity to see after his nephew's widow. Finally though, perhaps unexpectedly, she sent Nitrim a simple note that requested he meet her on the northern road outside of Volkan, at night, and alone. She sits quietly on the edge of a large cluster of rocks that easily create a natural sitting area. A summer breeze, warmth enhanced by the natural heat of Volkan's volcanoes, ruffles through her pale blond hair — undyed today — and through the equally pale ash-colored dress. She looks almost like a ghost against the dark backdrop of the night. Waiting.

Off in the distance, a shadow emerges over the horizon in the shape of a lone figure, standing tall. The sands in the hourglass tip away as the figure grows closer, revealed to be a hooded Khourni noble riding alone on the back of his cybernetically-enhanced draft horse. The powerful muscles of the beast amble along at a leisurely pace as the man's cowl keeps his eyes to the road and little above. Looking up for the last quarter-mile, Nitrim's eyes scan the rocks to find the lone figure sitting among them. He slides out of his saddle and ties his horse to a nearby rock, and then climbs the small rock formation, coming to a seat beside her to stare off at the distant city of Volkan.

"Hey…" He says quietly to her, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigarette. He holds it in his hand and stares at it for a second before turning his attention to her. By the look in his eyes, he knows what this conversation is going to be about.

"Hey," Devon replies in her soft, calm voice. She looks over at the magnificent black and red spire that looms at a distance, looking like a shard of obsidian jabbing out from a sea of lava and fire. She allows the silence for several heartbeats before she glances down at that unlit cigarette and then back up to his eyes. "I apologize for not being there at your request. I had my hands in a dying man's belly." She offers him the vaguest of smiles before she looks back out at the city. "Tell me about it, little drake." She looks soft, young, and almost vunerable in her almost colorless state, but it does seem to draw out those blue eyes and pale lips.

"It's nothing you need to apologize for." Nitrim replies, slipping the cigarette to sit behind the back of his ear. As he leans back, the copper-jacketed rings on his fingers scrape against the rock that they sit on. He lets out a sigh and crosses his legs before him, staring out at the city as he often does from his window at the Blackspyre. His eyes narrow as a factory in the distance begins to spout a tall, burning flame as it expels its waste product into the sky. He tilts his head towards her, somewhat somber. "It was…troubled. Soleil arrived and is, as normal, furious with me. She wants leadership and most of the others want democracy. We'll need to meet again and there will be another power struggle. My hacker contact, Rook, has put together the algorithim for the Infosphere…" He tsks, letting out a sigh. "Devon, things were far easier when I was using and ignoring. Caring is daunting."

Devon grimaces. "The question will always be then why Lady Soleil is worthy of leadership over those of us who are ten years or more her elder with that same increased experience, and what that leadership entails. Are we at her whim? Are we at yours?" She glances toward him now, though she does offer a gentle smile. "They were easier because they were simple and insignificant. You are embarking on something that is bigger than that, so it will never be easy." She looks up beyond the top of the spire, where the stars are blotted out. "What do you think Lady Soleil's purpose is? What does she hope to have our gatherings do… for her? For us? For Haven?"

"Lady Soleil suggested that her and I lead together. Lady Helena walked out, later to inform me that it needs to be democratic, all equals with no rallying point. At the time I was doing my best to try to control all of the ice in the room but…I agree. There should be no overminds." He shakes his head solemnly, eyes rolling just a little. "I don't think that anyone should be at my whim. Like a drake, I'll blacken an acre to cook one calf. I leave this little wake of destruction, don't I?" He asks, cocking a brow towards her as he peels his attention from his distant home. "But the truth is, I don't know what Soleil's angle is. I've damaged her, Devon. I'm sympathetic, but…I can't crack that deep into her. I've seen her soul, she wants to do good, but she's covered in sharp glass."

"There are already leaders within the Awakened. The Awakened do not need more leaders," Devon says softly, almost like the breeze that rustles past them. She does offer a bit of a smile at his assessment of the woman, and she shrugs her shoulders a bit. "The desire to do good and the ability to do good are not one in the same, Nitrim. If she wishes to do good, she must do good." Thens he breathes out a soft sigh, reaching out to gently lay her hand across his with a familiar comfort. "The damage will not be permanent, Nitrim… it will heal, if she lets it. You can only hold responsibility for so long, before you must realize that her continued pain is her choice." She then slidse her hand up to the opposite side of his cheek, drawing him near enough for her to press her lips to his cheek.

Nitrim turns his hand over, palm up to briefly hold hands with Devon, and as she touches his face, he leans into the kiss to his cheek and wraps an arm around her. His forehead drops to her shoulder as he squeezes, letting out a soft, exhausted sigh. Tired eyes, almost as tired as they were before detox, glance to hers as he pulls away and slips the cigarette from the back of his ear into his mouth. With clouded eyes, he lights it and takes his first drag. "Talking with you always makes me feel like I have a chance at making sense of all of this, Devon." Nitrim admits, sighing his lungful of smoke out of his nose with a shake of his head. "I'm waiting for the day when I don't have a guilty conscience. Until then I…honestly…just want to fucking leave for the Pit and forge myself into something that I'm proud of."

"Shh," Devon offers him a gentle soothing touch, brushing her fingertips back against his hair as she embraces him. Then she offers a soft laugh that seems to only add to the soft moment shared between the two. "That day will never come, little drake," she murmurs. "There will always be something that haunts you, something that weighs you down, something that blocks you from something you want." There is a hint of knowing in her voice. "I will always love my husband… I will always miss him. It was not even my fault he died, and still… I find myself lost in guilt now and then." She then drops her embrace from him as she folds her arms across her knees. "You are already forging yourself into something new, Nitrim."

Her husband. The mention of him brings a contemplative quiet to Nitrim's breathing as he watches her explain to him about her guilt and her loss. He reaches out again to squeeze her shoulder, and then less he stumble back on the weight of one arm, he plants his hand back behind him again. "I understand. I…" He chooses his words carefully, a rare point for Nitrim who normally knows exactly what he wants to say. "…want you to know that, with everything, that I think your dedication and love for him is a beautiful thing, Devon. I've never lost anything, nothing so dear to me." He doesn't need to bring up what happened between them. She was there for it. "What I want is…" he shakes his head. "…unattainable. Perhaps on the other side of this we'll find peace in death."

Devon starts to smile softly, and she gives his hand another gentle squeeze. "I could have given my all to you, Nitrim… and perhaps in time, I would have… but the youngest son of Lord Jevon should not wait for an old crone like me to finally get over her dead husband." She offers him a gentle smile, a faint amusement dancing in her eyes. Then she sighs, shaking her head a bit. "Regardless of that, I will always be here to guide and support you. And to provide you with fire when you need it."

"You know, for a short while there I thought that with you visiting me that You, I, the Pit, that I'd started to see a little bit of my future out before me. I won't lie, I could have given my all, too. It would have been nice, but…not on your terms and the Lady Devon shouldn't have to live with the guilt of having one husband and wanting another." Nitrim replies, rather maturely, understanding their situation. Water under the bridge, as far as he is concerned. "And I mean that in turn, Devon. I'm the Eye of Chaos itself, but till we see eachother in Elysium again I'll be your friend and your supporter." He stares off, something in his jaw tightening. Something has been gnawing at him, something he hasn't brought up yet. He doesn't try to hide it.

There is a touch of guilt there as he speaks, perhaps knowing though that he felt those things even before he said them. She straightens up a bit on the rock chair, folding her hands gently in her lap. Then, his finaly words draws a bit of a smile on her lips. "May the Sage see us worthy of such Heaven," Devon says softly to him before she notices the slight discomfort in his frame, and she tilts her head. "Speak, Nitrim… as your friend, I demand it."

"This…is going to sound fucking ridiculous, Devon. It sounds hard coming out of my own mouth, and I'm trying to piece it all together." He preambles, shaking his head to get his thoughts clear. "One of the cabal. Rook. She's my hacker contact that's digging through the Infosphere in support of that algorithim. There was an…indiscretion. She's a citizen. She has connections to crime syndicates. We've become close friends." He slips the cigarette back between his lips. The end of the cigarette flares to live as the paper crinkles. As he exhales the smoke, which catches into the high wind and whips away. "I think I need to be locked up in a place where there are no pretty girls, aye?"

Devon laughs, and she breathes out in a slow and thoughtful exhale. "Life is never quite so complicated until you involve matters of the heart." She stretches out her legs a bit as she tilts her eyes up toward the stars. "Nothing says you cannot continue to be close friends, and nothing says you cannot engage in more… indiscretions." She tilts her head. "But there will come a time when a choice will need to be made… if you want her to be with you always, if you're willing to never feel that way about your wife… I have seen marriages that survive an additional Companion, but… yes… she is a Citizen. She will always be second to whoever your noble wife becomes."

"Maybe this is just another addiction I need to leech out of my system." Nitrim says with a ghostly tone to his voice. Something, deep within the back of his brain is starting to knit together. He's aged more in the past six months than he has in the past two years, and it's starting to show. "No love from my father, plenty of love from my friends and sisters and I keep thinking there is something out there for me to just…cling to." He smirks a pained, awkward smirk. "Don't let that make you think you weren't absolutely fucking world-breaking, important, and heartfelt, alright?" He laughs, if he had a beer he'd tap it against hers. He flashes her a crooked grin. "But I know my flaws. I love seeing them so I know what to scrub at. I'm afraid of doing to some wife what I did to Soleil. Or this girl. It's an…" He motions to his stomach. "…it's a place that feels wrong." He flicks the cigarette out far in front of them. It spins in the air like a superheated bullet before it crashes against a rock in a shower of sparks. "I want to go to the Pit. I want to hit bottom. I want to die and be reborn, Devon. THAT I know."

Devon laughs in that full and gently musical note. "I will remember that. Always." She offers him a soft smile before she looks back out across the Wastes. She shrugs her shoulders ever so lightly at his concerns. "If you wish to be reborn in the fullest possible way, Nitrim… you will need to let go of everything about your life now that you don't want to continue to burden yourself with." She hesitates. "Not that I suspect this Citizen woman is a burden of yours, but here is your opportunity to decide where you want your life to go from here."

"I'll make sure before I reborn that in training with the Ash Legion that I'm nothing. Not a Khournas. Not Nitrim. When I die and am reborn I'll have nothing left but my breath." Nitrim leans back against the rock and threads his fingers through his hair. Clearly, he's burdened, there's no escaping it, but he means his words. He has work to do, and things that he needs to think on. The long, slow death will be a painful one. He looks back to Devon and offers her his hand. "Are you going t—" He stops himself, shaking his head, correcting himself with a laugh. He's starting to understand better. "You'll be fine. I'm glad you called me out here tonight."

Devon does not need to speak further on his desires, his dedication. He is resolved, and that all she cares about. She touches his hand gently as he offers it, but she does not use it to stand. She merely squeezes his palm before she releases him gently. "I'm glad you came," she returns in a soft whisper.

Content to just stay, in place, Nitrim folds his hands in his lap and leans back against the warm, unforgiving stone of the rock formation that they sit on. He stretches his feet out before him and lets out a cleansing breath. There, side by side, he and his mentor stare across the Wastes at the city in the distance.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License