R U [ I ] N E D

The Augmentative Benefits of Drinking Manabe Blood: A Debate of Pros & Cons

The desired effect wasn't to make the sorceress cry harder, but that was what happened as Sol buried her face in his shoulder. "Thank you." 

It was muffled against his clothing, but Cal heard it all the same, and he pat her back gently as acknowledgement. He wasn't sure there was much he could do for her except be there in that moment, but doing so was a simple act that he was more than capable of. He welcomed the distraction from his own troubling thoughts, though he owed it to Soliel to share the secret of which only she was left unaware. "I never told you all about the memories Brady unraveled for me," he started. Staring down at the mess of dark curls visible to him rather than Sol's face was actually a comfort to the shifter, made it easier for him to say what he needed to. "He knows since he was in my head, and Erzia... well, she isn't the type to respect anyone's privacy if it means valuable information, so she knows too. And Phoe— " His chest felt tight as he remembered the look on her face, and the guilt made him want to curl in on himself that much more. Sol made that impossible, so he stayed put, even if his breathing grew sharp and shallow.

Soleil had to have noticed the shift, given her own quaking had stopped and she peered up at him through bleary eyes, her cheeks ruddy from the crying fit. "What about Phoe?"

"I didn't mean for it to come out like it did, but she knows now too. I hurt her by keeping it a secret. It was a lot for me to process, but I know that's no excuse for hiding it." Even now, he was being evasive, like speaking his reality aloud to Soliel would be too much for him. But he'd already resolved himself to bring the truth to light with all of them, so he couldn't allow himself to waver. "I'm not who I thought I was. The Grand Commander stole my memories of the past. He made me forget my beloved little brother and the life I'd lived before becoming a je Dellal." Falsely and in name only, that was. 

Realization sparked in the sorceress' eyes, and she smothered a gasp as she pressed her fingers to her lips. "Sachi?" she asked, and all Cal could manage in return was a nod. "Oh, Callan, that's just— are you okay?"

A weak smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head 'no,' albeit his words contradicting that assertion. "I don't know." Seemed there was a lot that he didn't know in that moment, like he was unsure of what he ought to be feeling. What was appropriate. But as he'd told Sol, his feelings— however complicated and muddied as they might be— were valid, and he couldn't just pretend they weren't there, even if that would uncomplicated the mess of emotions ensnaring his heart. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone..." But he had, and in turn, he'd driven a dagger into his own chest to match. Phoena hadn't lied. He didn't owe her an explanation. His history was his own business, not hers, but after he'd lectured her on vulnerability. On letting others in. When she'd only just started to open her heart to him, and he'd thrashed that budding trust against the rocks like waves at high tide. To her, he was surely a hypocrite, and given how high her walls were, he wasn't sure he'd manage to get past them again. He groaned, clamping his hands tightly in frustration. "I just wish things were quite so complicated," he muttered, slowly shaking his head. "That Manabe, Nim. They told us they might be able to help with my limited shifting, considering that nature of my animal." That had Sol arching a brow, and Cal did his best to offer clarity. "That was how it all came out. I smell like a dragon to them, and Sachi confirmed it. The blood of a legendary creature running in my veins. The truth was unavoidable."

Maybe it was better that it came out now rather than later? But Callan couldn't bring himself to feel relieved, the look on Phoe's face on a constant loop in his brain, and he couldn't shoo it away as hard as he might try. He turned his chagrined expression back to Sol, who sat up properly and leveled her gaze on him. "That's a lot of revelations about your past sprung on you in an unnaturally short period of time. Of course you're going to struggle with that." Guess it was his turn for a pep talk. "Whatever you decide, that's your choice to make. But if you're worried about Phoena, you need to talk to her." A moment's pause came and went before she added, "And sooner, rather than later. You've caught a glimpse at her true heart. Don't let her lock it away again over a misunderstanding."

"So, you're telling me that I should consider drinking the blood of a strange Manabe to jumpstart my abilities?" Cal asked in half-hearted attempt at humor and deflection. It drew a laugh from his own lips, twisted as it was, but Soliel's eyes simply rounded, and a disgruntled squeak slipped from the sorceress. 

"You need to do what?" she spoke those words as if each that followed the last required a heroic feat of willpower to string together. "That's— "

"Disgusting? Repulsive? Utterly unsanitary?" Callan supplied, chuckling again as if that would dispel the distastefulness of the prospect.

"Unsettling at the very least," she agreed. "Will you do it?"

"Not sure yet. Part of me thinks that I should." For the sake of the quest more than anything else, but perhaps that was his Humility talking. He didn't desire greatness or power. While he was bitter about his lack of skill, mostly in comparison to the apparent superiority of the Grand Commander's blood children in their shifting, he'd never desired to be a legend himself. He didn't need to be the best; he only wanted to be noticed and supported in his efforts. Just being good enough would've been plenty for him. As it was, unfortunately, his insignificant lizard form wasn't going to do the Runeholders any favors in their quest. In fact, it was hinderance, if anything. He'd been lucky in their battles, relying more so on his cleverness than his abilities, but in the long run— and against Elieveta— that wasn't going to suffice, and he knew it. The others had to be thinking the same thing. Even Soleil as they debated the matter, though she'd never say as much to Callan's face. "The other part of me is terrified of what comes after."

"You're allowed to be scared, Callan." Sol's uncanny warmth had returned, and she smiled at him, as if suffusing the shifter in her own light. "What was it? Don't apologize for feeling. Don't pretend that everything's okay. Be scared. We're all here to help you through it. We're a team, after all. Whatever you decide, we're behind you. To the end." 

There was something uniquely comforting in that sentiment to a Runeholder. Quite literally, they would all see each other to the very end, so Fate deigned by their very nature. They'd come and go as one. While some might've seen that as a morose prospect— the thread of their collective destinies so tangled as they were, a weave that could never be unraveled— Cal saw it as a promise. No matter how difficult the road ahead of them was, they'd always have each other. Now and when the curtain finally closed on their tale. None of them would ever have to be alone with their fears ever again. He wondered if a particular swordslinger had begun to see their future in that way too, as much as she might deny herself the luxury of those fonder feelings. 

Callan couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but the roiling anxiety in the pit of his stomach had diffused and his skin had cooled, losing that clammy heat. His legs ached a bit from sitting as he had, and the shifter pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand down to Sol. "Time for us to get back, I think." He clasped the sorceress' hand and pulled her up. "I might need to clear the air before everyone's in a supportive mood." Important discussions to be had, apologies to be made. There was a lot on the agenda for Callan and only so much time, so he needed to make the most of it. A curt nod of agreement from Sol had both shifter and sorceress en route for the tent they'd once fled. The others would be awaiting their return and Callan's pivotal decision. He prayed that it would be the right one, but only time would tell and that unyielding deadline was creeping ever closer, like their own shadows. Inescapable and ever-present.

###

Look who's writing again! If anyone at all is still following this story, I'm sure an update comes as quite the surprise. To me too, but it seems that I always come back to this one, especially since I'm so close to the end. Can I still write with some level of finesse? Who knows... I'll let you guys be the judges of that. Quality concerns aside, I really enjoyed rereading this story (as it was an absolutely necessary endeavor in order to continue writing it.) I missed these characters and this world. I miss giggling over my own dumb jokes and being giddy over the moments that make me happy— or just make me FEEL in general. I do hope that anyone who takes the time to explore this world with me gets even a fraction of the joy out of it that I do. Really, I think that's all that a writer could wish for. Give me a shoutout in the comments if you're still here. Feedback is always appreciated— what you like, what you dislike, what you want more of, WHO you want more of. I welcome it all with open arms. Hopefully there will be more updates soon. That's my goal: finish this love child before I have to re-read it all... again... just to navigate the plot holes. Until then, my best to all of you! ~ Rissa