westfallcorndog | Here Because of You (For Isidor)

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isidor

Here Because of You (For Isidor)

It's only been a few days since returning to the Nexus from Tamriel, but Harrowheart can't stop worrying about Isidor. She came out alive from everything they saw, but it's what they saw that worries him. He remembers what it's like, of course he does. How utterly unsettling it is to be a living person faced with monstrosities like that. The fear of it has faded with time, but he still remembers how sickening it all was the first time he saw the Scourge.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and his first thought is, 'Fuck me.' He still doesn't have Isidor's number. This is getting to be bullshit. Viatorus is going to start getting wise to how often he asks to spend time with his sister, and then the whole thing is going to come tumbling down. At least this time he has the excuse of an 'adventure' to cover for him.

V my man how are you doing? Are people being nice to you? Do I need to beat Peenia or Sajean up for you? Anyone at all? And when are we hanging out next?

Good, good cover. And honest, too. The last time they did anything interesting was when they went fishing, and after everything on Tamriel that feels like a lifetime ago. A little casual time with Viatorus would be great right about now.

How is your sister? I need to talk to her about things that happened. Do you think you can get her in touch with me? If she can meet me tell her to come to the clearing where we worked on magic training.

He expects Viatorus will pull through for him. Of course he will. That's why he's already in the clearing lying on top of the picnic bench, his runeblade resting on the ground beneath it. Nothing here has changed since the last time she arrived, apart from the turn of the seasons... And the little area of ground that she flattened for a fighting ring. It seems Harrowheart expanded on her work, turning a circle of flat pounded ground into a large square of hard-packed dirt.

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She's so quiet. So quiet for so long, and so intense all the while. Isidor's expression tenses and twists, and Harrowheart's slips to guilt. He doesn't have to be empath to know she's angry. He said he wasn't going to force her to talk about it, and he's about to make a liar out of himself.

"Isidor," he tries softly, "I need to be able to be there for you. That's how this works."

He reaches across the distance between them and tries to rest his hand on hers if she'll allow it. It's difficult to smile, and he's sure she won't want to see it, but he does manage to push away his anxiety long enough to try for some joy.

"Let me help you this time."

He reaches over and she lets him. The gesture, small as it is, makes her shoulders sag, her expression soften and her heart ache. She lifts her fingers so that the back of them touch his palm... but then she drops them back onto her lap.

"How can I?" She glances at him from the corner of her eye but soon looks to her hands again. "You can't even talk about yourself. How can I talk to you about me? If you need space and time to deal with your problems that's fine." No, it's not. He should be talking to her about it. Why isn't he...? "But don't think I'm going to pile on my problems too."

"Pile on?" He huffs in surprise and shakes his head. Something colors his smile, turns it from an attempt at positivity to something difficult to discern. Amusement and concern at once.

Her fingers fall away from his hand and he stands, then rounds the table and takes a seat beside her rather than across from her. He loops his arm behind her lower back and his hand finds hers once more in her lap.

"Sometimes I forget you ain't ever been in a relationship before, and then you gotta go and say somethin' like that."

He shakes his head again and this time his smile is as genuinely charmed as it ever is when he looks at her.

"When you tell your problems to someone who loves you, you ain't makin' more problems for them. If you tell me that you feel bad, that don't make me feel worse. I'll hurt a little for you, sure, but... Ah Hell, I probably ain't smart enough to explain it, but I'd be happier somehow? If you told me when things ain't workin' out for you, I'd feel like I'm part of your whole life. I wanna know you're happy, but... I wanna know the bad stuff too. I wanna share it with you and help you carry it."

He laughs and with his free hand prods her bicep. "Just like you carried me in those ruins. How'd you manage that anyway?"

"My trainer isn't as tall as you, but he's heavy too," she answers swiftly. It's a brief, but refreshing distraction from talking about Feelings.

Isidor inhales deeply and exhales sharply, whereupon she straightens and turns to look Harrowheart in the eye. "Fine. But if we're sharing things then you have to share too. You can't expect me to admit things aren't going well if you're not telling me when you aren't all right. Understood?"

The way she orders him gets a raise of the eyebrows and a surprised little laugh. "Yes, my liege."

He opens his mouth wide and takes a deep breath... And in a rush says, "But you go first."

The raised eyebrow and narrow eyes she gives him is so quintessentially Isidor it must be a good sign. Playfulness aside, she breathes deeply and looks away.

What does she tell him? Where does she start? She doesn't want to say something that might start her blubbering. No. No crying. If there's one thing she's sure about it's that she doesn't want to cry in front of him. Not again. A small goal. Surely it's an achievable one.

"On Nirn. That was the first time I'd killed anything." She stops to wonder if that's an appropriate place to start. Or to stop. Her hands rub each other and then fold together neatly. "You've killed before. Is it always so...?" Awful? Disgusting? Terrifying? "I... don't know the word."

Harrowheart stares at the nearby trees. His eyebrows twitch with the workings of his mind. His idle hand rubs at her knee while his other quietly drums against the table.

"It's been a long time since I didn't like killin'," he admits as casually as if it were any other fact of life – and for him it is.

He tilts his head to look at her again and his eyebrows rise as he recalls something. "But I didn't like that we had to kill animals when I was a kid. I remember tryin' to go without eatin' animals for a while when I was younger, but times got too hard and I couldn't keep it up. And... I... Remember joinin' the military not wantin' to kill people. Even if I knew it would only be bad folks, I didn't wanna do it back then. But if you do anything long enough you get used to it. Sooner or later it's just... Killin' to eat, killin' to survive. It don't mean anything after a while."

But something about saying that makes his eyelids twitch. That doesn't... That doesn't feel like the right answer. But it has been so long since he felt otherwise. His mouth shifts to the side, disappointed with his own faulty memory.

That... was not the answer she was hoping for. She frowns and her hands curl up. What was she expecting? This is stupid. He'll just think she's weak. He'll think she's making a fuss over nothing. What happened in Nirn was just another day for him.

Another deep breath and she tries to think of this a different way. Killing means nothing to him, but surely the monsters they saw made an impact.

"But... when you fight, and you see things... things like what we saw... They don't bother you? They don't... haunt you?"

His immediate response is to shake his head, but he stops mid-motion and stares as he thinks. "Hmm." The sound moves his chest and shoulders.

"It used to," he says distantly, as if this is the first time he's remembering it in quite a while. "Yeah," he continues, nodding now. His certainty increases and he gains confidence in the motion. "Used to bother me real bad. I guess I do remember what it was like bein' a livin' man seein' the mindless undead for the first time."

"It's different with free-willed undead, ain't it?" He jostles her so that he can get quick a look at her face, but he doesn't linger in staring. "Seein' someone like me or those death knights you met in Stormwind, that's real different from seein' mindless undead. You can get used to seein' a dead body move if you can tell yourself they're just a different kind of person. But things like what we saw before we found Felix..."

His arm around her waist holds her just a little closer now as the shaking of his head slowly drifts his gaze away. "I woulda been real bothered by that if I was a livin' person. I'd wanna sleep with other people around, or with candles lit so I could see the corners of the room. I'd be scared of the edges of my vision. I'd get sick eatin' food with the wrong kinda texture. And seein' that sorta thing over and over didn't get easier. It only got scarier, cause it gave me more bad things to think about. It gave me bad dreams. Real bad dreams all the time. Evil shit walkin' around in the real world in the day, evil shit stalkin' around in your brain at night. It's too much."

At first she thinks he's about to tell her that he never thinks about it, that it doesn't bother him in the slightest. So when he says that he can remember it troubling him she feels her muscles relax with relief. It's not ideal, but even if he doesn't feel the same way now at least he can understand.

There's a light frown on her brow when he jostles her, concerns that he's just saying all of this to make her feel better replaced with the memory of when he looked like those mindless undead. Is it different? But then she's nodding. He's right. It is different when they're still people. When they're not… She hesitates to call them beasts, or monsters. She knows people who could qualify as both, after all.

She wants to lean into him, but instead she remains sitting straight, rubbing her wrist. After a long pause she swallows hard and says, "I didn't mean to snap at you earlier." It takes her another moment to continue. "I can't help it. I try, but I can't. I keep… losing my temper with people. I can't tell if it's because I haven't been sleeping or because of something else." She looks worried, but she sounds frustrated as she huffs and waves a hand. "I can't fix it if I don't know why it's happening."

Her apology catches him by surprise. She snapped at him? Yes, she did actually... And he was so willing to forget about it, to let it happen and move forward. For a flash of a second he wonders if he should have asked for this apology himself, but he immediately feels guilty for thinking it. Isidor is going through a difficult time. It's his job to forgive her.

But he's at a loss here. Did he go through this when he was alive? When he first saw people dying, when he first had to kill? No. No, he's sure he didn't. He went quiet. He kept away from other people. It's different now, of course. Different now that he's undead.

It's clear from his silence that he doesn't know what to say or do.

With a weak smile and a little laugh he jokes, "You sound like me on Azeroth. Maybe you're turnin' into a death knight."

Isidor presses her lips into a thin line and gives him a sidelong look. "I doubt it. If I were a death knight I wouldn't have to deal with the-." She stops herself out of habit, and then feels even more embarrassed for the awkward pause. In attempt to keep things casual, she shrugs and looks away again. "I wouldn't have bad dreams. I wouldn't even need to sleep. V would hate it, but I could get so much work done."

"So you are havin' bad dreams," he says with a small nod. "But you haven't gone to that boy who fixes 'em? What's his name again? Some kinda scholar... Think he might be a Durant..."

He scratches his sideburn and looks around as he tries so very hard to recall the boy's name.

Isidor narrows her eyes at Harrowheart and gives his chest a light thwap that has no effort behind it. "As if you would ask Matt or Michael to go into your head and face the things you've seen."

Harrowheart tosses his head back and laughs at the slap. "No, I wouldn't! But that's cause they're a couple'a dumbasses! Viatorus is a genius!"

A mischievous spark lights in his eyes and he bites his lip as he considers her face. "But if you won't go to V, then I guess I'll have to try my hand at fixin' it. Come here!"

He hooks his arm around her neck and pulls her over so that he can look at the top of her head while she's trapped. He peers at her hair like an ape searching for fleas and dramatically "Hmmm!"s at what he sees.

"Yep, there they are! All your bad dreams. Let me just pick through these and take out the scary stuff..."

The first two fingers of his free hand 'walk' across her head like he's leafing through files. "That one... And that one... Oh, that one's real bad, better fix that up. And -- Hey! That one's about me! Oh, but that's not bad, just naughty. I'm leavin' that one to keep you company."

He finishes his 'dreamwalking' by ruffling her hair and lets her go free with a laugh and a smugly proud smile. "You're fixed now," he says, and can't keep a little giggle from bubbling up. "All your bad zombie memories are gone, so if you have any more tell yourself that they're just your imagination. Nothing in your mind is gonna hurt you, but if it tries, just remember the little Me I left there to keep you safe."

Give a man an inch and he takes a mile. Or in Harrowheart's case: Give a playful slap and he drags you into a headlock. Isidor's arm flail as one hand grips his arm and the other pushes against the table to keep her upright.

"What are you-?" Her indignation doesn't quite have the same fire to it as it usually does. She squirms in his grip and scowls loudly. For a minute she resigns herself to her fate. Until he mentions naughty dreams and she lets go of the table to start batting at him. "Hey! Stop that!"

As soon as he releases her she sets about trying to salvage her hairstyle, but it's too ruffled and with a sigh she pulls it down again to start redoing it. Still, it isn't a complete waste. From where he is Harrowheart can probably see the small smile she's trying to hide. She glances at him, shaking her head disapprovingly, but it's only when she turns back and begins running her fingers through her hair that it fades.

She wishes it were that easy. It's surprising how well he can distract her, but what about when he's not there? Back to jumping at shadows and crying in the shower?

Isidor steals another glance at him and then focuses on the suddenly intricate task of doing her hair. "Are you really going to come over? Don't you have... what do they call it in the army... shifts? Rounds to do?"

Harrowheart doesn't answer right away. He needs a moment to process this. Is she actually inviting him to stay with her? Letting him in on the secret that is her life outside of the Nexus? He watches as she does her hair, oblivious to the surprise on his face.

"Yes!" he finally says too loudly. "I-I mean, no! I mean..."

He clears his throat and, like Isidor, has to look away to continue the conversation. With the best enunciation he can muster he assures her, "What I mean to say is that I haven't got any commitments more important than you. I'd be happy to keep you company, and I promise I'll be a gentleman."

Returning to her with a renewed enthusiasm he whispers eagerly, "It'll be like a redo of Tamriel. Like campin'. You and me together spendin' the night. I'll cook for you, we can look out your window at the stars, and when you go to sleep it'll be on a real bed. There won't be anyone around to see us, and I won't have to hide away in a suit of armor."

Again her eyes slide to give him a sideways look, this time with a hint of sly smile. "Of course you'll be a gentleman. You know I can kick your ass."

The rest of it does sound nice, though. Too nice. Immediately she starts wondering if something might go wrong. What should she prepare for? What should they avoid? She closes her eyes and pushes those thoughts aside.

When she opens them again, she ties up her ponytail and then looks at him. "Do you need to go and sort anything out first? Get anything you might want?"

He pats the pockets of his shorts, feeling for his things. Phone, cigarettes... What else could a man need? Oh, that's right! His soul-consuming murderblade! He leans to the side and holds his hand out. The runeblade that had been resting on the ground rises and guides itself to his hand. He turns it so that he can rest his elbow against its hilt while its blade pierces the frosty ground. "All ready here, but..."

Harrowheart plucks at his shirt with his free hand and looks at Isidor worriedly. "Should I dress nicer, though?"

Isidor slowly raises an eyebrow. "Dress nicer? To come to my house?"

Oh. Oh he's never seen it. Does he think she lives somewhere like the Archon? Some big house or extravagant manor?

She smiles strangely at him. "No. No, you'll be fine."

Getting to her feet, she pulls out her PINpoint. While she waits for him she eyes the runeblade, but she tries to smile for him once he's in front of her. With a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "Ready then?"

What a relief. He stands, smiles, and claps his hand to hers. "As I've ever been."

They arrive directly into her apartment. It's layout is exactly the same as Viatorus' with a slightly lower view outside the large windows. That is about the only thing that relates the two spaces.

Isidor slips off her shoes and sets them by the door, then she walks into a living space full of modern, sharp cut shapes. The couches are strictly rectangular, the shelves and cabinets are black and box-like. Everything is cleanly cut and contrasting with whites and blacks making up the majority of the furniture. Not a thing is out of place. Even the books and ornaments on the shelves look like they have been placed with purpose.

"Do you want something to drink?" She's already starting towards one of the doors, but then she stops and looks back at him. "I'm not Viatorus, either. You can ask for something stronger than tea."

The first thing Harrowheart does is stop and stare. Of course that's what he does! He takes in the sights around him slowly, his gaze lingering on her rectangular couches the longest. Only when he sees her movements out of the corner of his eye does he snap back to attention. He follows her lead and quietly removes his shoes. It's only good manners, after all. His runeblade can stay there by the door as well, and in a moment of thoughtfulness he turns it so that the skull on the hilt is facing the wall rather than the apartment at large.

When she heads toward the door he remains near the entrance of the apartment as if he were lost. He's allowed to be in Isidor's apartment. He's still processing this. At least until she speaks and brings him back to reality once more. When he realizes what she's said he smiles, and doing so brings him the confidence to leave the safety of the doorway.

"She brings me to her house and then she tries to liquor me up." He wags a finger at her and grins. He's onto you. "I'll tell you what: Get me whatever you're havin', but if it's alcoholic you accept that I'm gonna lose my inhibitions and flatter you with compliments all night."

He wanders to the window then but is mindful not to get too close. What if someone sees him? Still, he's so tempted to admire Earth. As he looks out the window he calls to Isidor just loudly enough to be heard wherever she's gone off to. "This the same building as where your brother lives? Closer to the ground though?" He plants his hands on his hips and smiles faintly. "Course it's closer to the ground. 'Cause you're an Earth mage, and a stable lady, and I bet you think about wild scenarios like 'What if I gotta jump out the window? Can I make the fall?' That's real you. The whole place is real you. Furniture and everything."

A few seconds of silence pass before he anxiously calls, "I'm allowed to sit on it, right?"

Isidor rolls her eyes and starts to walk into the kitchen when he accuses her of trying to liquor him up. "Coffee it is, then," she mumbles and gets the coffee maker started.

She steps back into the room to set down a plate of biscuits on the table. While she's there she points to the ceiling. "V is in the apartment above mine." With a deep breath she adds, "A decision I made before I remembered he would be getting married, of course." Narrowing her eyes fondly at his teasing she continues, "And being closer to the ground is safer."

Heading back into the kitchen, she starts pouring their drinks and has to try not to laugh at his question. What does he think, that she's going to make him sit on the floor? ... Oh wait, maybe he does think that. Isidor shakes her head. Azeroth is weird. "Yes, you can sit on it," she calls back, hesitates and then adds, "On the chairs."

The next time she returns she sets down the two cups and a coffee pot. Like the furniture they're simple and dark. As soon as they're set down, Isidor locks her fingers, looks around the place, and then to Harrowheart. Now that she's here with a friend, a man, in her home, she finds herself feeling a little awkward. "I... don't really have people around," she admits with a smile to hide her unease. "If you want anything tell me and I'll sort it out."

When Isidor returns Harrowheart is, in fact, in one of the chairs. He sits with his palms pressed together between his knees and an anxious look on his face that betrays his worry and excitement in equal measures. Excuse him, he's still enjoying the novelty of this entire situation.

The appearance of the coffee takes him by surprise. Somehow he thought she might actually bring out the alcohol. He's fairly sure he just learned something about Isidor. For the briefest of moments he realizes he must have sounded indistinguishable from that obnoxious young man at Viatorus' engagement.

"All I want is to spend a little time with you," he says quietly. "Everything else don't really matter."

He takes the cup of coffee she's set out for him and holds it in one hand but doesn't drink it yet. As he looks around the apartment – even at the ceiling – he begins to realize something.

"We've known each other so long, and we've been through so much," he says, eyes busy considering the details of her cabinets, "But sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about your personal life. I know..."

He takes a sip of the coffee and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I know this place looks like someplace you'd live. I like it. I'm just sorry more folks don't get invited over to like it too."

He clears his throat and finally looks at her, then faintly smiles. He means what he said. "I know somethin' I want, if you don't mind me askin'. I want... To hear a nice story about you. Tell me a memory that makes you happy."

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