You Are The Sunlight In My Growing (Seodai)

[Seodai]

Seodai retrieved the things Syllke had directed him towards, and then climbed into the bed with the shivering Vantha. He bit back a sigh, because he was exhausted with the terrible affect that the pollution of gnosis was having on Syllke. It didn't seem fair. Not at all. And it made him feel a bit bitter towards the gods who should conceivably be able to stop this all. He just wanted his friend to be better again, and it hurt to watch him suffer so. All he could do, then, was wrap Syllke tightly in all the blankets upon the bed, then draw him back in between his parted legs so that the dark haired young man rest against his chest. Seodai reached his arms around the bundle that had become Syllke and found a precarious balance. "Tell me what you do know," he urged gently, nuzzling through blanket and hair to kiss a temple. "It doesn't matter how simple or meaningless it seems. Let's write it down. Then we can look at it easier. Like a puzzle. You'll feel better when you have it all sorted, Syllke. I promise. You can't deal with it until you know. So tell me anything. Tell me everything."

[Syllke Skyglow]

It was really the last thing he wanted to do. But Syllke let out the sigh that Seo refused to, knowing that his friend was right. There really was no other way. Trying to find some warmth in the folds of material he was now encased in, Syllke leaned back, content to have Seo be his support, emotionally and physically. Though he didn’t want to, he thought about the very things that caused him to feel so bad. It wasn’t so hard to recall what he had so far seen, in his mind’s eye. Each image was associated so clearly with the nausea, the penetrating iciness in his veins, the nerve wracking stinging sensations all up and down his skin. Though they didn’t make any sense, he knew what he had seen, and heard, and felt, and smelled. “There is a girl . . . “ He began, slowly, as he conjured her image in his brain. “Red hair. Green eyes – like a cat. Slanted. She is . . . beautiful . . . gorgeous.” He paused and his brain prompted him. “Irresistible.” His head tilted a bit so that his temple bumped into Seo’s jaw. An unspoken assertion that he was sorry that he found her so attractive. An apology for what he was going to say next – what he had to tell Seo, if he was to be totally honest. If they were to make any sense out of this . . . “The day you came here, after – after the thing with Lysander? When you were talking about – about Melchior,” – gods why did that name make his nerves crawl like that?- “that – that’s when I first saw her. When you . . . when you were touching me . . . my . . . “ He paused, miserable, embarrassed, that Seo should realize what had been going on at such an intimate moment. “It was her that was touching me, like that, Seodai . . . “ The Vantha’s voice had dropped to an abashed whisper. “Not you – her. Her name is Rosamond. She – she was . . . I was – in her.” His head tilted away from his lover’s cheek. Why oh why oh why did the thought of this girl make him feel so on fire, so icy cold – so . . . tortured, and . . . dead – all at the same time?

[Seodai]

Though the words began as something nonsensical, Seodai was a faithful companion and friend and he jotted everything down. Even when Syllke began down a road that Seodai could sense would not be a pleasant one, he continued. It wasn't until his lover said that name that Seo's writing hand froze. For a moment he didn't move, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Yes, red hair. And green eyes. Breath-taking. Irresistible, indeed. Except to Melchior, whose heart belonged to a Queen instead of that beautiful girl, instead of his wife. It was like a punch to the gut and he couldn't manage a word in response, not at first. He simply froze in place and allowed Syllke to come to his stuttering end. And then, drawing in a shaky breath, Seo nodded. "Okay." That was enough, wasn't it? Rosamond had been pure when she'd been given to him, and nearly that when she'd left for Denval. Whatever she felt for him, good or bad, she'd been faithful. And so that meant that the quaking Vantha in his arms could only have been one person. The only other person Rosamond had ever given herself to. The jeweler. "Enough for now," Seo said, trying to keep the quaking out of his voice. He shoved the parchment aside and wrapped both arms tightly around Syllke, rocking them ever so slightly as his mind raced to piece together how to deal with this. The jeweler had a name. Why couldn't he remember it? Gods, he'd read the report a million times and one. He remembered every jot on that page, even the way the very corner was singed because he had gotten it too close to a candle. He'd had a name, a name... Indin? Indis? Seo just couldn't find it. But what if he did? It didn't matter what the name had been. It was still the jeweler. The one he'd sent his own wife to seduce, the one his own best friend had tortured and killed. It seemed so unfair that Syllke should be forced to recall such a past life at all. "None of it really matters anyway," Seodai said, an abrupt change in direction. He kissed Syllke's temple, below his ear. "Doesn't matter if I was Melchior. Doesn't matter that you knew Rosamond. Doesn't matter if you were Innis. We're us, now. Syllke and Seodai." It wasn't until Seodai's next breath that he realized he'd found the name after all. Out loud, unfortunately.

[Syllke Skyglow]

At first, Syllke thought his words had the effect on Seo that he had anticipated – that the reason Seo’s hand stopped writing, and his body stiffened behind the Vantha, was from a type of jealousy. Shock or dismay – or anger – that Syllke had been thinking of some woman long dead, when they had first been so intimately getting acquainted with one another. Syllke was at a loss to find the words to explain how it had really been – it wasn’t that he chose to think of her – it hadn’t really even been thinking at all. It had been like – she was there – that it had really been her hand, her lips, her . . . body. But Seodai didn’t want to hear any more – that was clear from the way he brought their experiment to such an abrupt close. Syllke didn’t care. He didn’t want to speak any more either. He leaned back into that tight embrace, wondering how the fuck everything had gotten so screwed up. He turned slightly, his shoulder dropping and his cheek nuzzling into Seo’s chest, wondering if he could just drift off to sleep and wake not feeling so fucking bad. Seo was murmuring reassurances, and Syllke’s eyes were closing. Doesn't matter if you were Innis . . . There was a heartbeat as that sound made its way into Syllke’s ear, to his brain and registered. His eyes flew open and the wave of nausea that hit him was so intense, he didn’t have any time to even get up off the bed. All he could manage was to sit bolt upright and the contents of his stomach, all the food from a good, if strained, dinner, came hurtling out of his mouth to douse his lap, Seo’s arms, the blankets – everything. It was tinted bright red from the wine and looked like clotted blood. Before the second reflux hit, Syllke had managed to scramble up further – though what good it would do now was questionable. On his hands and knees on the bed he retched and retched and retched, unable to move, unable to say a word – gagging and then retching some more. A pause – he tried to wipe the back of his wrist across his mouth, but another wave hit him and he hurled again, only bloody looking bile left, and little enough of that. Finally, still on hands and knees, his whole body heaving, tears streaming down his cheeks, he gasped, “Who the fuck is Innis?” His voice was hoarse, rattling in his scorched throat, and quietly desperate. “Seo! Tell me! Who was he?”

[Seodai]

There was nothing for Seodai to do except stroke one loving hand along the length of Syllke's back as he purged the contents of his stomach. The smell of it was acrid and nauseating, all over them both, but it didn't matter. Syllke was incredibly unwell and Seodai would be with him, vomit or no. It wasn't until Syllke turned those tearful eyes on him, demanding an explanation, that Seodai slipped out of the bed. He gently tugged the soiled blanket from beneath his beloved and tossed it in a crumpled pile near the door. "What?" he said, first, evasive. That failed, of course. Syllke knew him better than that, and Seo was a terrible liar in most instances. He rustled up a clean cloth and dampened it, wiping the remnants of their dinner from his bare chest and arms, cleaning his hands too. Syllke demanded an answer all the while, and Seodai's mind raced. How could he admit this? This was obviously so difficult for Syllke. How could he handle the truth? With a heavy heart and a damp, clean cloth, Seodai approached Syllke. He knelt to the side of the mess on the floor, and began to wipe the Vantha's chin, his beautiful lips, the tears from his cheeks. "I..." Seodai found that he couldn't force the words out, only stare with a sad expression at those colorful eyes. It wasn't until Syllke nearly shouted his demand, again, that Seodai flinched and looked away. With sky blue eyes diverted, Seodai began to clean up the mess. "Innis was a jeweler, Syllke. He lived in Denval, and had critical information about the stone."

[Syllke Skyglow]

His stomach was cramping and his mouth tasted vile, but Syllke’s eye were hard, as Seo tried to avoid answering the question. They were the deepest blue, like a cold void, and Seo’s seemingly matter-of-fact answer, when it finally came, set them awash with glints of ice, diamond like in their fierce inflexibility. The Vantha reached for his lover’s shoulders, in a grip that was anything but gentle, making Seo turn to face him once more. “What did Innis do, Seo?” The voice was unlike any his friend would have heard from those usually smiling lips – harsh, grinding, desperate. Even articulating the name made the bile rise to his throat again, but Syllke held it back, determined to have whatever answers Seo could provide. “What?” He barked. “What did he do? Tell me – I know it was bad, Seo! Just for fuck’s sake tell me!” His heart hammered uncontrollably in his chest, and he gasped. The ice in those swirling maelstroms was already melting, replaced by the deepest of sorrow, a bruised purple misted by unshed tears that trembled on those thick, dark lashes. “Tell me” he whispered, his grip on his lover’s arms now softening, as he slipped off the bed to kneel beside Seo, his tired head resting against the mattress. “What did I do?”

[Seodai]

It was crushing, watching Syllke fall to pieces like this. Seodai dropped the soiled rag and lifted his arms to encircle those shuddering shoulders, pulling the Vantha into the strength he could offer. He smoothed that dark hair over and over. "Shh," he consoled, trying to calm the frantic young man as much as he could. "Shh, Syllke. I'll tell you. Only take a deep breath. It's alright. I'm here, and these things are over. Hundreds of years over. Shh, now, my love." When Syllke seemed less likely to bolt from the room, Seodai began a quiet recounting of the story as he knew it. "Innis was a jeweler. He knew about the stone. We... that is, Alahea, needed that stone. To win the war. We... they tried to get information from him, but he wouldn't budge. And so... so they sent her, Rosamond. Innis was more easily persuaded, then. He gave us the information we needed, to collect the stone." There was a weight of silence, after which Seodai pulled back enough to look into Syllke's swirling eyes. "That's it. That's all, Syllke. In a war so vicious and brutal, it was nothing. And Denval... the Suvan, they were wrong. You helped the good guys, Syllke. You helped me."

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke couldn’t return Seodai’s gaze. His eyes fell to the spot where his friend’s neck blended into his chest. Seo’s pale, golden skin disappeared into the skewed collar of his shirt, which was partly soiled now where he had hugged the Vantha to himself. In that spot, Syllke could see it clearly. It. The stone. As it had hung about Orionis’ neck. It had lain right there. He closed his eyes, tired beyond belief, as he whispered in a monotone, “I helped you? You were on the other side, weren’t you? If I knew about the stone, then I wasn’t on the same side as you Seo.” His hand came up to curl his fingers loosely in Seo’s hair. “If I helped you, then I must have . . . must have betrayed the ones I loved. I betrayed my people, whoever they were – however right or wrong they might have been.” His voice trailed off and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against his lover’s collar bone, his fingers moving to touch the exact spot where the stone had been intended to lay. “Did you wear it, Seo?” His voice was almost inaudible, tears trickling unchecked down his cheeks. “Did you wear it when you took it to her? Did I – Did Innis go with you?” No, this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

[Seodai]

Seodai didn't address the topic of betrayal. There were places inside himself where he felt as if Melchior had somehow supplanted his own thoughts and he could no longer tell himself apart. In this, Seo only felt a burning conviction that the Denvali had deserved the betrayal, that Syllke had done the right thing so many years ago. That was hardly helpful in the present conversation, though, so he held his tongue. The other questions, though. Those demanded an answer. "No," he said softly, gently, as if to soothe. "No, I did not wear it, Syllke. I had to protect it, and keep it hidden. Many people wanted that stone." Many people died for it. With work worn hands he lifted Syllke's face to his so that he could kiss the place where tears first fell, stealing away the salt of his sorrow with affectionate lips. "And you did not go with me. By the time I arrived in Denval, you were dead." It was hardly the sort of ending he'd like to give any story, especially a situation such as this, but didn't Syllke need the truth as much as he had? It had to be processed, to be synthesized. Only then could they try to survive under the burden, to move forward in this life.

[Syllke Skyglow]

There was a finality in those words. You were dead. Dead – but how that came about, Seo did not volunteer. And Syllke could not force himself to ask any more questions. In a way, he knew the answers lay inside himself, as much as they lay with Seo. He just needed to look, to allow himself to see. But . . . not now. Not tonight. He’d had enough. He’d had all he could handle, for one evening. Wearily, he pushed himself away from Seo’s comforting kisses, pushing himself upright and then rising to his feet, though he reached for his beloved farmer’s hand. Here, he was Seo. Not the other one, just Seo. And Syllke was a young artist from Avanthal. Not Innis. Not now. Just Syllke. “Come. I need a bath. Come with me – I don’t want to be alone.” His voice sounded as exhausted as he felt. Seo’s beautiful, big blue eyes turned up to him and he quickly scrambled to his feet as well. With arms draped about one another’s waists, they silently made their way to the bathing room down the hall. With water warmed much in the way of a Roman bath, with an underground heater that was tended night and day, it took no time at all to fill one of the wooden tubs, while Syllke washed off the most of the mess that was on his arms and chest with a rag. Syllke eased himself into the steaming tub, followed by Seo, and though it was a bit cramped, they found room with Syllke laying back against Seo’s chest, Seo’s legs wrapped about his hips. Syllke dipped his head forward, dunking his head completely under the hot water, scrubbing at his face, before coming up blowing and wiping the streaming water from his face with his hands. He rested back against Seo again, his fingers going to entertwine with his lover’s. He slowly brought their hands to his lips, kissing Seo’s fingers. “Shall I tell you a story, Seo? I’m sorry about . . . all of that.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of his room - his now dark eyes, tinted deep lavender, flickered upwards and sideways to try to catch a glimpse of Seo’s dear face. “I – I want to forget, for now. Let me tell you a story – a love story.” He squeezed Seo’s fingers gently. It was a peace offering, and an apology, a way to forget, and to . . . forgive – each other - all rolled into one – a gesture that at least made sense to the Vantha, for his stories were so much more than a simple series of words strung together.