Kothos (prime)/Severance

Severance

Brother Blud ducked around a bulky stalagmite festooned with foul-smelling slime, thinking that this passage often left an impression of walking into the maw of some colossal beast, from the rock formations to the chilled mist passing over him; the cold breath of his devourer. A portal to the netherealm, which it was, in truth.

Soon enough his sandaled feet brushed over finished viridian marble, his journey into the underworld nearly complete. If only the rest of his task would be so simple. Kothos shivered, a response that had nothing to do with the bitter fog clinging to him as he searched through the dark corridors. Despite the oppressive gloom, the surrounding hallways were nonetheless opulent, and he entertained himself during his search in catching glimpses of his reflection in marble, polished bronze, he even saw the glint of his green eyes flicker over a black ora ophidion statue. For not the first time, he wondered how all of this was originally brought here, an Empire's worth of metals and gems, and the sheer size and scope of such a project- how was it built, and kept so shrouded?

Just as he reached his goal- the doors in the western wing- he heard a quiet footfall behind him, the swish of a robe fold coming to rest. Turning, he locked eyes with a stare as vibrant a green as his own. There the similarities ended, for the figure before him had shoulder-length hair as white as bone, and a complexion to match. Kothos smiled reflexively, an excitement at seeing a familiar face after such a long while. The expression, however, was not returned with the same.

"You are no longer welcome here, Brother Blud." The words had the same cadence as chunks of flint striking across one another. The malachite eyes regarding him widened slightly, reflecting the ora and bronze as he stared at Kothos. Absurdly, it made Blud flush, the man had, at the least, remembered his name. He found himself flattered, by both that acknowledgment, and the fact that his absence had inspired anger in this one. It was good to be considered, and he was hardly unused to making people frustrated. He made a single step toward his fellow priest, and the older man did not withdraw. His weathered face betrayed nothing else. Not yet.

"My need is great, Elder." Kothos turned himself to face the other priest, spreading his hands in a supplicant gesture, which also let the dim light of the ora sconces dance over his green cassock as he moved. He let his smile transition into a look of penitence to match his words. "I have made a sacrifice to rejoin your company. And disappointed some others, I fear."

"Then explain yourself, Kothos." Ah, even the first name. Blud let himself relax a little, the danger had passed. For now.

"I will not stay long-" He began, before the pallid one interrupted him with a snort of laughter.

"You never do."

Kothos resisted the urge to smile again, knowing only a little irritation would turn his request into a dismissal. "I have to explore the temple past these doors, my friend. And of all of the Great Spirits, the Jackal is the one I understand the least."

The pale head nodded, and waved for Blud to continue. Kothos did so, telling of his recent experiences with Pashtal in the Harbor, and of the reappearance of the statues from decades past. He slowed when he got to Reynai, trying his best to give little detail but at the same time give his words weight, imparting how important this was, for him, and how important she had become to him.

"But why here, Brother? What do you wish me to do?"

"I have failed to explain it, Elder, as I barely understand what I expect from this." Silently he wondered what Raelee would think of this quest, he hoped at the least she would approve of his curiosity, if not his research method. "I have missed your counsel, this past year. I would value the direction of one who is informed but not involved. So I ask you, rather than your counterpart next door."

A flicker of a smile passed over the older man's lined face, and he finally nodded. "From what you have said of the girl's night terrors, and her injuries- you should look for..."

Kothos listened carefully to the elder's instructions, for once tamping down his habit of getting distracted by his carnal nature. Blud had always been responsive to novelty, and he'd never known anyone like this man. Besides, a lifetime of yielding to impulses is what brought him here in the first place. Still, he had a mission. One he couldn't begin to guess the scope of, which meant he needed to get on with it. He offered a farewell, which the pale one only turned his back to, striding down the hallway in near silence. Blud watched him go, still smiling. He would look forward to the resumed occasional conversations with his "colleague."

He entered the Nightmare Lord's halls, eyes wide in appreciation of the contrast of this haunting place, the way the shadows seemed to follow him, not the light. He followed the elder's directions, and soon he was crouched on the stone floor before one of the temple's many altars. The soft hiss of his silks and long hair settling about him seemed to echo in the small chamber. The silibant tone kept going, unnervingly. Despite it, kneeling in prayer at a shrine brought him a sense of familiarity, a comforting pattern that guided most of his life. He tried to clear his mind to meditate, but the hum started to modulate, suddenly jolting into a skittering before dying back to the just barely audible buzz. Blud thought of Pashtal, with his long face frozen into a spasm of fear, and once again, tried to concentrate one what had brought him here to this strange, dark place.

Kothos thought about Xanthium and Giliad's constant nightmares, how often he'd seen their slumbering figures wracked with shudders and muted pleas- not unlike Pashtal, in the seconds that ticked by when the Sheruvian knew things had gone awry. Now with the addition of Reynai into his care, there were many in his beloved who had a connections with this place, with night and terror. The skittering returned, and Blud flinched- the hum rattled in time with the flickering sconce flame. The chittering rose in volume again, echoing his heartbeat with a nauseating fervor. Just as the noise started to weaken, Kothos felt a hot clench of pain on his chest, like a spider bite, but when he looked down, nothing was there, and it was quiet once more.

Brother Blud tried to return his thoughts to his questions, but a cold panic was slowly settling into his awareness, and the sound came back for more, this time, whispers, voices he knew, but too muddled with one another to understand. A new spasm of pain came along with it, his whole face felt aflame. One of the sounds was now his own whimpering- when he reached up to touch his cheek, his fingers came away stained with oily red slickness. The panic transmuted to something even more chaotic, feral, his heart hammered in his chest, but a weight pushed him down, keepinging him from moving, or even taking more than a shallow breath. And then the visions came.

A cacophony of images wriggled about his kneeling body, each one a curse. Xanthium's cold body crumpled in the inner sanctum, a glistening multitude of scarabs crawling over Giliad's writhing, screaming body, Reynai crying in hopeless terror. The mirages tangled with one another, until they became akin to the whispers, too mingled for him to see anything but flashes of blood, shadow and fear. Over all of it, there was a tableau of predatory menace, of being stalked and hunted by something that knew he was here, that hated him, right behind...

Kothos screamed and retched, fighting back against the unseen force pressing down his torso, but only his arms answered his distress. He spasmed again, the presence creeping over him like a wave of ice. He felt it sink in, straining through his terrified mind, lodged under...

Shrieking, he dug his fingers into his ocular sockets, the sharp pain nothing but a background note of his visceral horror. Anything to make it stop, make the images retreat, the shadow to coil away. Blackness fell, the force pinning him ebbed, and he fell against the stone floor. The echo of his injuries raced back to what consciousness he had left, the agony sick and deep, but he saw nothing, felt nothing- he was alone. The relief flooded his ravaged body, and he sobbed into his gore-streaked hands.

After some interminable time, the gripping fear left him, as well, stranding him with a vile awareness of what he'd done. He couldn't see where he was; the dread started to swell once more, thinking about trying to navigate the temple corridors and the outer cavern. A flush of shame came along with that fear, knowing that not only was he still in pain and lost, he also had failed- he knew nothing more than when he'd arrived. Still, there was one aspect of his mission he could finish, without his sight, at the least. He fumbled about in his cassock pockets until he came across a silk scarf, using it to get his hands as dry as he could manage. He stroked one finger through the upper chamber of his holy censer, removing the dusting of ash held within, barely enough to stain his fingertip.

When Pashtal went up in flames, Brother Blud had gathered the spirits to cast upon the Sheruvian, trying to save him, or bond to what he could, and thus bring him back from the Gate. Pashtal's doom had been too sudden and immense, however, all he had gotten was this tiny streak of ash. With no idea of where the altar lay, he struggled up to his knees, bowing his head to pray. The motion made him nearly sick again; a slither of blood oozed down his throat and face. Something wet plopped down on the stone as he moved, and it took him a breath or two to get his concentration back.

"Lord of Nightmares..." he began, barely managing a whisper over the blood still seeping into his throat.

"Your acolyte devoted all of himself to Your cause, and though he tormented those I love..." He winced and coughed again, considering the irony of him afflicted with the same tortured injuries as Reynai had done to herself, twice. If she could bear them for months, then he could finish a bloody prayer.

"I was the priest at hand. The only Lornonite. Pashtal was my enemy, but his calling to Serve left me in awe. I bring him back to You, Lord Sheru, and memorialize him to Your altar."

He muttered a few more blessings, and spread his fingers, letting the dust fall away in the whispers and shadows. The shrine about him seemed utterly cold and empty...allowing him to hear soft footfalls in the distance. Not the swish of sandaled feet, it was the muted clip of boot heels, and they were coming his way. Despite his circumstances, Blud no longer felt any fear- whatever this newcomer did, it wouldn't match what he'd just endured.

"You should be pleased..."

Blud gasped as the speaker's fingertips slipped over his jawline, helping Kothos to his feet.

"Even now you, with your mortality staining your skin, you are a magnificent ruin."

"Giliad..." Kothos tugged at the familiar arms, and they sheltered him, pulling him against the Faendryl's chest. "How did you know?"

The elf kissed his brow, muttering Kothos's name softly before continuing. HIs long fingers linked about Blud's shoulders, holding him up as much as returning the desperate embrace.

"I know what it is like, to have a daughter who is haunted, Kothos."

Feeling overcome, the priest managed a nod, and bowed his head, wincing at the pain. "It was the only way I could find answers. How to help her...and I failed."

"Mm. Are you so certain of that? I see you bear Sheru's mark, much as Reynai does. I would also bet the wounds go in much further than your missing eyes."

Blud tried to shake his head and wound up flinching again, and Giliad held him still a moment longer, fishing out a bundle of herbs from his travel case. "Here. It will stop the bleeding."

He dutifully chewed the offered pothinir, feeling a little less hollow as the properties took effect. His lover drew him forward, leading him onward, managing to somehow be graceful even with an eyeless priest clinging to him.

"I am going to take you home, Kothos." The Faendryl pressed a phial of liquid into Blud's palm, and continued, closing the priest's fingers over the vessel. "There's enough in there for you both. Let her feel what you have done to yourself, for her sake."

"Maybe...yes." Kothos shivered, awkwardly stowing the bur-clover potion into one of his voluminous cassock pockets. "We can guide ourselves out the shadows together."

"Just so. And that is the answer you needed. What you both needed, yes? That's the hardest lesson, when it comes to children- the fear. And in truth, you can never be safe, never protect someone with absolute efficacy. The world is chaos often enough, and through experiences like this, Lord Sheru here- in his own way- outlines what power that fear has. It is the threshold you must cross to find your courage."

"A pity I didn't ask you in the first place, then." Giliad's fingers gripped his with affection and reassurance, and a light laugh followed the comment.

"Pretty priest, this is when I remind you that my age and Faendryl nature allow me to reveal in my own way and own time. Come on, let us get you home."

The two shambled and limped out to the cavern to make their way above ground. Behind them, the whispers and howls seeped into the silence of their fading footfalls, the new tormented cries and prayers casting up to join the benedictions adorning the vault in the Temple of the Night.