* * *
Ebrelle
* * *
Pain isn't just something I feel now. It's a force that holds me to the floor of Mother's dungeon, disabling me from even squirming in fear. It's a living, breathing thing, mocking me, subjugating me, and dominating me. I lie still, unable to do anything else but listen. I still can't see - my eyes are healing from the blows dealt to me by our King.
There's a crisp clack, followed by another, and then another in quick succession. Steps. Heels. Mother's precise gait.
The final clack sounds on the floor behind my head. I feel the toe of her shoe nudge through my hair. She must be stepping on it now, to stand so close. I become aware of my own breathing, and how loud it is. It reminds me that I still am breathing, and makes me wonder whether I should be grateful.
"I don't know if he's done yet." There's the whisper of silk with the creaking of leather. Her fingers brush over my ear, then my cheek. She must be kneeling beside me now. "He's still very conscious of what's happening. He's still sharp, like a blade."
Someone chuckles behind her. One of the Kommissars? "He's to be wielded as if he's our King's sword, is he not?"
"You could say that. But our King does not prefer a double-edged sword." She runs a finger through my hair, the nail scratching against my scalp. "We'll keep the edge honed that he desires to wield. The other still needs to be blunted. Throw him back in."
I'm gathered up, my body limp, my eyes blind. I'm being lifted into something, nudged... somewhere, and we're turning. I'm being carried, and in that motion it feels like I'm pitching and yawing like a ship in a storm with a broken rudder. I'm being brought to my King again, to be broken again. After I'm done, I likely won't remember this, because I won't be here in my own head anymore. There'll be nothing.
I'm dropped. My face presses into rough-hewn wood, and still I pitch and yaw. Something wet sprays against my face. Then, the cannon fires, almost shaking my bones from my body with the volume of the report.
I open my eyes and am not blind anymore. There is an ocean. I am on a ship. The metaphorical boat is now... actual. My mind reels in confusion, unused to this memory happening like this. I try to figure that out, think of why I would be expecting anything in the middle of such horror, but before I can draw a conclusion about what mental state I'm in, a voice behind me shakes me out of my focus. "Get up! We've got tah fight 'em off!"
I prop myself up on an arm, then cling to the deck as the ship almost rolls on its side. Wait, I can move my own body now? When was I able to move? But the question seems irrelevant now - I'm out at sea, on a ship that's in quite troubled waters. I turn to the voice behind me.
Stevane glares at me from underneath a vast plumed hat, wearing a nautical-looking coat adorned with buttons, black leather boots reaching up to her knees. "Jhe 'Brelle! Get yer skinny arse up before we're beseiged completely!" What... why is she speaking so strangely, in such a crude accent?
I glare at her and begin to voice a retort, but then something skitters across the deck in front of me. I look up and see several others further down the deck. Little wet clumps of fur with triangular ears and soaked feathers along their backs. They have long tails. What are they, mutant rats? Monkey birds? Winged cats?
One crawls up into the muzzle of a cannon. Then Stevane lights the fuse on the back and plugs her ears with her fingers, grinning in anticipation. She raises her eyebrows as she sees me. "COVER YER EARS YA DOOF!"
My intuition tells me to take up the suggestion. The roar of the cannon is slightly more tolerable when muffled by my hands. My eyes track the trajectory of the shot - in mid-air, the cannonball opens its wings and changes course. Did the flying cat really get shot out of that cannon? It certainly appears so - and then it impacts the ship assailing us, bits of wood flying with the precisely targeted explosion.
Stevane loads up another shenanigan. Ah yes, shenanigans, I remember those from... where do I remember those from? It doesn't really matter - what matters is that Stevane and another Stevane, and another Stevane down the deck, are all loading cannons with the furry, wily little things, and that the ship we're facing is doomed.
I watch the spectacle and stay where I am on the deck, content to behold it, and feel as if I'm resting from some great ordeal that I can't quite remember.
* * *
Val
* * *
I withdraw from Ebrelle's mind. "It's done. I didn't quite think he'd make it into her dreams, but I suppose that's a safer place than his own." I look up at Alestere. "You said that's a common thing, for Poets?"
He nods. "We go nipping in and out of heads quite a bit, as part of our duties. Writing requires it, really. Your abilities aren't too different in comparison, in fact."
I smile, though he might not understand just why that contents me so. It's nice, though, to feel like what set me apart from people before is, for a certain group of people, a normal part of their day. "Well then... hm." I frown. "I didn't think she'd fall asleep so deeply after this."
"We'll leave her here." Alestere brings a blanket to the couch and covers her up, the shenanigan nestling near her feet. "She'll end up here in the morning anyway, and I feel it'll be best for her to be near him when he wakes. It'll offset any... oddness." He looks up at me, seeing the concern on my face. "I'll make sure to be here when it happens, don't worry. If you're extra concerned, I can have you here as well."
I shake my head. "I still make him nervous. He thinks of me as the old Eistinn - when Eistinn and I were the same person, most of my features were dominant." I laugh. "It's a little strange to see Eistinn now and see how different he looks. Rather like Luci's son, in fact. All that curly hair."
Alestere smiles. "We'll have to have a bit of a reunion once Ebrelle recovers. Family has been rare for us, and far too spited too often."
That sobers me a bit. "Perhaps. Until then, I've sleep of my own to obtain." I rise, then nod to Alestere. "Good evening to you. Please tell me how it goes."
"Of course." He still lingers as I leave. I have a nagging at the back of my mind that Alestere should make sure to sleep too, but he can look after himself, can't he?
* * *
Ebrelle
* * *
"Well, you said you would consider having someone guide you through your dreams," Alestere says, as if what happened last night is in any way comparable.
I'd retort to him that I never agreed to such a thing and that I was only considering it, but it's a little hard to find it in me to argue too hard. It takes an edge to my temper to get a really good bite in my arguments, and that edge isn't there now. I would have to deliberately sharpen and hone to have that edge, and... I really don't care to.
I'm not sure why. I feel so strange, and it's putting me out of sorts. This isn't normal for me in the morning. I can't quite say that it isn't right, but... I'm certainly not used to it.
"It's because you feel fine," Stevane says with a heavy sigh. I raise an eyebrow at her intrusion in my thoughts, and then realize that she's not intruding. I let her in. I made an allowance, somehow, while I slept. I had already trained her to get halfway there, and then some part of me permitted the rest of it to be done. I almost speak up in protest for myself, but that would be tantamount to arguing with myself, which I've certainly done before but I won't allow other people to witness the spectacle.
I just close my mouth and don't quite say anything about this yet. That's as close to a retort as I can come.
Alestere pats me on the head. "It is abrupt, and I am sorry, but we wanted to assist you. Stevane and I are both tired of feeling your pain while you sleep and being able to do nothing about it."
I nod. I... don't quite feel intruded upon. There is that. I don't feel terrible, I don't feel violated, I don't feel trapped or like something has been stolen from me. I have a breadth of experience in all of those areas, so I feel confident in assessing these things. The fact of the matter is that I feel better this morning than I felt yesterday morning, or quite a few mornings before.
I just... need to think about it.
Alestere chuckles. I raise an eyebrow at him. He looks sheepish, but still incorrigible. "You look as if you want to be angry about us taking away an excuse for you to glower over everything." He laughs when I truly do glower at him in response.
Still. My mind is quiet, calm... peaceful. A clean slate. A place from which to build. To build... what? "I... thank you."
Alestere bows, then takes his leave with no more words between us, satisfied that we are settled.
Stevane deposits a tray into my lap. "Eat." She's just as businesslike and bossy as usual, but with slightly less of a raw edge. I realize that she does feel my nightmares to some extent, even if she doesn't always know what they are exactly. Last night, I dreamed in her head instead, and found no nightmares in there. She woke up without feeling my pain or remembering my fear - that will probably make her temper a bit milder in the morning.
I eat without any protest, occasionally nudging Stevane's shenanigan away from my ham. I recall the shenanigans hurtling from the cannons and can't help but smile.
* * *
Alestere
* * *
The guilt breathes down the back of my neck, surprising me with its heat and ferocity. It's not something I anticipated, but now that it's here... well, best to acquiesce.
Elete always managed to get away with these things, you see, or got herded around by Stevane before he could manage to do so. But Stevane doesn't keep watch on me. It's not her job, and thus she doesn't feel the pull to do so. She has someone else to shepherd now, and he needs her ever so much more.
No, I'm just a fool who can't remember that even a Time Lord must sleep. I really should have done so at night - even an hour would have been enough for me to multiply out into the potential for a full night's sleep, or close to it. I don't need much to work with, but I do have to work with something. But I was swayed by Elete's old habits and predelictions towards getting into trouble as a matter of course. Now there's no Judge nor anyone else to yell at me for it and shuttle me off to bed, and I... I sort of miss that.
That's silly. I don't need a babysitter. I should be strong enough on my own. I'm independent. But still I sort of ache, because I'm used to those old ways Elete had. And Elessandre had his shepherds too, in Captain Jules and Sam. I suppose all of me is used to being a kept man, to some degree.
I walk to my suite, enter my bedroom, and prepare for a morning nap. I'm not really all that tired, and I could get away with not sleeping at all. I'm very healthy, I have lots of energy. It's habit that's got me into bed, and that weird old guilt that I've betrayed the people who no longer look after me, and trust me to look after myself in their stead. Perhaps it's that trust that's riddling me with guilt. Perhaps I'm turning into a silly old man faster than I can even get gray hair (gods forbid).
A shenanigan curls up against the back of my neck and begins to purr, and another few nestle against my chest, and then the fatigue hits me. Perhaps I am tired, after all. I can get tired, even in this reborn form. It might just be time for me to accept that. I begin to consider it right as sleep rolls over me.
