The Still of the Night [David]

[David B.]

He looked back at her, then the chained David, then chewed his lip.

"That stone....is a piece of the monolith. As soon as you picked it up, I noticed a spot on the side that's missing it. If you were to...replace it, I'd probably refuse with him and the world would turn back to normal but...I, personally, would have to relieve that."

He jammed a thumb over his shoulder at himself tearing down the tornado.

"Reliving your dying moment is...not on my to do list. That's all."

[Kyrie Blaze]

Kyrie remained silent, neither objecting nor supporting the argument presented. As much as she cared and could empathize with not wanting to relive one's death...she also didn't. She still considered the option of jamming the stone into place as completely viable and well within her range of action, ruthless as it could surely be seen. Kyrie she was willing to broach the topic from a different direction.

"Before you pulled me in, you woke up from a nightmare and blasted hurricane strength wind and lightning, and had I grounded myself in place against the wind, I would have been struck by the lightning. I suspect it happened to be from reliving this moment, anyway, or similar moments. Are you saying you want that on a consistent basis...and potentially hurt or kill anyone that happens to be nearby?"

[David B.]

David stared, saying nothing.

"Of course not. But my choice then, is to relive death until the me out there kicks the bucket, or risk hurting others?"

He scoffed.

"Certainly not much of a choice."

[Kyrie Blaze]

"So what makes you think, if you are part of the whole, that the part you are would die if you were to be rejoined with your other part of yourself..?"

[David B.]

He glanced away.

"I am no fool. I know where I am and what this is. The likelihood that I am but a manifestation of the real me is high. But like all beings, I am more than the sum of the parts making up this place. I can comprehend this reality. It only makes sense that me and this one were split, somehow...and that returning the stone would put everything right. I feel the pull."

He turned and looked back at the screaming David.

"..........back there."

[Kyrie Blaze]

"So, if I am understanding this right, you would rather be trapped in this...stasis?" That was what this was, after all. "All in all, this moment is in the past...so I am uncertain that this is living, at all, if you cannot move forward."

She sat, abruptly, with a quick folding of her legs so she sat cross-legged. An invitation for conversation, maybe, and she glanced at the image of the shackled David.

[David B.]

Shackled David was simply staring at the ground, sweating under the weight of the chains.

Sitting, the other one looked her in the eye.

"Do I look in pain to you? Back there is hell. Here, at least....I'm not in agony."

[Kyrie Blaze]

"I see you struggling." She stated, tone low but blunt enough. "I see you shackled by your own fear, David, and that is never something I thought I would see."

Kyrie exhaled against the building lump in her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was still steady.

"What did I claw back from the brink of death for..? Is this it?"

[David B.]

His eyes narrowed at the subtle insult.

"If you're so sure...."

He glanced over his shoulder.

"Step into your shadow world, and go take his hand. Hold it for just five minutes....then come talk to me again."

He was talking about the David that was calling down the tornado.

[Kyrie Blaze]

She knew what to expect as much as she knew she could never prepare for the reality of it. Still, she sat, straight-backed, and levelled her blue eyes against his with a slow blink. Owlish.

"You seem to forget what lengths I would go to, the sort of hells I would walk through."

She supposed, if this didn't remind him, it'd imprint a new memory into his mind. She couldn't ask anything less than what she was willing to give, after all, and she couldn't let her fear hold her back.

So she rose, pushing herself to her feet without the use of her hands. And so she walked to the distant David and the tornado, the looming spiral of death, and didn't pause; not even when she hit the shadow and disappeared. Then, it was such a simple matter to take his hand with one last, whole breath in.

[David B.]

To say she was struck by a lightning bolt is like comparing it to a candle, while what she felt was like the sun. The English language did not possess words that could describe the realm beyond the torture, the torment, the pain that she felt crash upon her like a planet. The instant of pain before the sweet release of death was supposed to be that- an instant. The body could only handle a certain level of affliction, of trauma. But rather than slip into an easy sleep, or be shut down by the throes, it went on. On and on and on and on and on and on. She felt as though the very fabric of her being, of her reality was being torn apart. She couldn't separate time from space. She couldn't rationalize her presence with his. It was the truest form of hell as every splinter and nerve in her body felt as though it was pulled from her body and ripped to pieces every second, every piece of a second. Every fiber told her to let go. Let go let go let go!

And that was just the physical.

In her mind, she'd see bodies like a mountain, organs and limbs littered about. Standing at it's peak was she, with a purple "Storm Dragon" cloak on. She was covered in blood. It leaked from her mouth, poured out of her eyes like tears leaving the stain of self-horror. Flesh of her enemies were under her fingertips, and she screamed, her face phasing into a new shape, partially her, partially a Dragon. Roaring into the distance. She could see the sun blotted by smoke, setting on the horizon. And the massacred foes of hers stretched to the point that it's beams kissed the hills. Her mind felt the weight of a thousand deaths. Of a thousand thousand deaths. She'd feel herself in an ocean made of man, moaning and clawing at her as waves of bodies crashed over her and around her.

Then, a hand on her forearm would pull her out.

Kyrie would find herself back on the battlefield, standing next to the screaming David. The one who told her to grab his hand had pulled her out, and was now searching her eyes. He swallowed.

"That....is what it means to be a Dragon."

Perhaps a final lesson for the one who took her title? Strength and power and glory were all things the Dragons had. It was all people spoke of. But what history and it's people ignored were the body counts. And they weren't just some arbitrary number that they laughed at. They felt it's weight, always. They felt the pain of every death because, Dragon or not, they were human.

"That was five minutes...would you still return me to it?"

[Kyrie Blaze]

Kyrie has no concept of time and space and self...for they simply ceased to exist.

It became very apparent when she was pulled away, as for a spell of time after that she seemed to be stuck in a silent scream of her own, mirroring David in expression with her gaze completely unfocused. Slowly she seemed to become aware of her own self once again and clawed at the air with a shadowy swipe towards him that was sorely misjudged and missed entirely.

Five minutes had felt like eons and eternities ravelled into one but suddenly she was breathing rapidly, chest heaving so violently it might have been her retching for all anyone knew. The gauntlet coiled around her arm glowed fiercely and it was almost like her pupils had distorted into spikes radiating unevenly outward. Shadows rolled over her skin, holding shape only briefly before breaking apart and reforming, like a funnel cloud spinning a tornado only to pull back and reform again.

Luckily, Kyrie came back to herself shortly after and partially collapsed, eyes dry despite the tears that spilled over.

“...wh-why...” She has trouble forming words. Then as she regained more footing, her voice strengthened and shook less, and her blue eyes came to be more direct. More focused. “Lock yourself into that moment? Extending it into eternity and beyond as if it could make it better?”

[David B.]

He looked to his counterpart, the one screaming and pulling down the tornado.

"Justice."

He furrowed his brow, talking as he looked over his own frame.

"Long ago, I abandoned the Dragons. I abandoned everything it meant to be myself. It turned me into a monster, and I used that monstrosity to rip apart anyone who stood in my way, becoming the Dragon Leon and Mathew already were. In this moment, I chose to end the battle and thus, the war, with my own death. For the people who never had a father, a mother, a brother come home because their blood was spilled on my hands. I had to throw myself into my own abyss...to pay for my sins."

He gave a soft smile.

"I can't imagine how living after this must have been. It would be hard to put the genie back in the bottle, so to speak. At least here...I thought I was giving back to all those I killed."

[Kyrie Blaze]

Kyrie has a hard time processing the information for a moment before her expression darkened, reminiscent of the storm clouds overhead.

“So you see fit to play God over yourself? Rolling out punishment you feel is deserved, like it would make a di—” Kyrie ground to a halt, her teeth rubbing back and forth with a creaking noise for the force of it. “You can never truly make a difference stuck here. All it does is prolong the memory of all this death. You refuse to let them go and be at peace in whatever way they can, if they can, but that’s not up to you to deign. You’re not a God!”

She heaved a breath and drew whatever tattered shreds of self-control she had back...though she was clearly some kind of emotional. Definitely harrowed and haggard, maybe.

“They are dead. Nothing will change that, not even staying in this moment. Beside that, call me selfish if you want as I include myself here, but it has an effect on those still living...and I would not deem it positive for the loss of it. Everything has consequences, even choices of nonaction. Still. I could choose for you and simply slam the stone back where it clearly belongs but that also violates part of your autonomy. I would do it, and deal with the aftermath then. I may still do it and I would not hesitate to make that journey with you if I could. In the end...you,” She lifted the hand that still clutched the stone before glancing at the motionless David, and then back to him. “Will need to come to some sort of consensus. Divided and tortured, enslaved by fear and power, David...”

[David B.]

He thought to himself for a moment. She seemed to be getting to him!

Does she continue to press, or try to let him has it out himself?