Closed The Weight Of Sight (Naiya)

[Colt]

Her hands made their own flutterings, spread across his chest in worried peace, reassurance, apology.

Apology. As if she had been the one to have done something wrong.

"Shahar," Love, lack of understanding, too fast. His blurring signs were escaping her, and he didn’t know if he was farther upset or if he was relieved. "Shahar." Can't tell what? "Please." Want to understand, want to help. She separated herself from him, leaving only her hands on his skin, tracing wordless patterns with her fingers as her worry instead moved to speech. "I want to understand, Shahar. Please, maybe I can help."

My fault! It was nearly a shout. Pain and guilt returned, laced with fear circling above like a vulture. They were wide, non-specific signs; his emotions were running high, out of control, loosed from their tight cages and running out of him like vengeful beasts, but it wasn’t about children, or what Naiya had asked for. No, this was about something else, a wrong Shahar had silently done her that had managed to get hold of his conscious mind and was hauling itself to the surface.

Shouldn’t have, should have told, done you wrong, I’m wrong, something wrong with me.

The slope was slipping underneath him, and he was desperately trying to stay away from the dropoff. He should have know. The moment he stepped into the seamstress’s pavilion, he should have known better. He wasn’t supposed to marry. He wasn’t supposed to have children. With Khida, there had never been a need to try. It should have stayed that way. Why hadn’t he known to keep away?

Why did he have to fall in love?

He had been selfish. Naiya was better than that. His love for her had tricked him, because the kindest thing to do would have been to have let her remain free, let her remain unbound to something like him. But no, his love had pulled him towards her, and now she was shackled in marriage. She, who was like fire, and like autumn leaves, and like a warm bedroll that drove away the cold in an instant.

She, who was whole.

And he, who was not.

She asked to know. She asked to help. She asked to see into his mind, and into the black bag, and into the eyes of the grinning demon who was throwing off the cairn stones and crawling back to the forefront. She wanted to know his pain. She wanted to know the truth.

Fear, was his response. Fear of himself, fear of his demon, fear of Naiya, fear of what Naiya would do if he told her. Fear you knowing. Past. Pain. Didn’t tell you. Fear, you know, love ends. I’m all wrong. The scars on his arms––why were they itching so badly?

He pulled away from her, hands dropping sign in favor of digging into the skin of his forearms––why did they hurt all of a sudden––scratching at the scarred, distorted skin, but his fingers weren’t enough. The scars burned, and so he bit at them, trying anything to make them stop.

[Naiya]

His fault, he all but screamed the words, more agitated than she had ever seen him. Pain, guilt, fear the shadows of words in his body nearly as loud as the shaping of his hands.

Shouldn’t have, should have told, done you wrong, I’m wrong, something wrong with me. Her response was overwhelming forgiveness nothing he had done was worth this pain. She was his wife, she loved him, even if he did not agree with her. Even if hes desire for children was not the same as hers, it did not matter. She had told him already, she was not willing to lose him, not over her own wants, not over something he had done.

Reassurance, no need to fear, he was growing frantic, it made her nervous, but she could see that the worst thing she could do now would be to show it, to draw back from him.

Fear, you know, love ends. He told her, and it was like a physical blow. Did he doubt her love for him so much as this?
Vehement disagreement, her signs drawn in the air with as much emphasis as she could manage. Love is not conditional, unchanging, strength to whether all Each sign slow, deliberate, a counter to the rapid shouting of her partner.

It was so unlike him to be frenzied, to be the one on rough emotional waters. To be the one who needed sheltering. She was not sure how to help him. Her concern grew when he began to tear at his arms, the scars there turning red at his fussing. "Shahar, what is it?" Worry, concern. He pulled away, his signing falling to the frantic scratching at his skin. When scratching turned to biting, she fell away from the stillness that had overtaken her, taking hold of his hands and pulling them away, wrestling his arms free from his mouth.

He continued to struggle, fighting her attempts to help. Tears welled in her eyes, her seeming inability to help coming together with her panic and fear, the outpouring of stress filling her eyes with tears. She sprawled across his torso again, hoping to block him from tearing at his skin, hoping to erase the distance in his eyes, to bring him back from whatever it was that had so ensnared him.

"Shahar," love, worry, concern.

.
.
.

[Colt]

He scratched, he bit, he broke skin––his arms wouldn’t stop itching, poisoned by the tree sap under her talons. Licking them kept the wounds from getting infected, but then they would heal, and she couldn’t have that. More talons, more tree sap, more burning.

Naiya’s reassurances slipped into concern, and then signs were abandoned altogether when she took hold of his arms to pull them from his mouth. Teeth parted skin when she ripped them free––more scars to find home among many––and they continued to burn. He struggled, tried to pull them back, but she didn’t let him; his wife pushed herself onto his chest, sprawled-eagled, keeping his limbs captive and away from his mouth.

Stop! His emotions flowed outside of him, outside of the tent, and he could feel Snow at his feet as his stress disturbed her slumber; she was coming back, sensing his need.

No. He didn’t want her involved in this. Not her, not Khida; they didn’t have to know. They couldn’t know.

Underneath the veil of not-quite-wakefulness, Snow was confused. Was there something she needed to stop?

No. She couldn’t be allowed to wake. Shahar stopped struggling, tilted his head back and stopped trying to fight.

Unrestrained and unchallenged, the demons of the black bag burst free. He didn’t close his eyes; if he did then all he would be able to see was what was inside. Instead he chose a dark spot on the canvas wall, and he let the demons run their course; memories overtook him, once kept under strict control, and filled his mind with her––yellow eyes, the stench of rotting meat and poison, a ledge that was high enough to tempt him with each passing sunrise. Ropes and dead weight, traps and servitude, the exhaustion of fighting again and again, the defeat when he couldn’t fight anymore.

The pain in his arms spread, but as it spread, it lessened. It trickled through his veins, growing less and less the farther it went. Naiya’s weight grounded him to the present moment, pressing him into the creases of their bed and preventing him from getting lost. His submission to his demons had separated him from Snow, whose confusion was fading steadily. Khida had fought these demons once. Long ago, when Snow was Hope and Hope was foolish. Khida had fought from the inside.

And Naiya fought from the outside. Through the feel of her, Shahar knew where he was. He saw the canvas walls. He felt her on his chest, pinning his arms, caught the scent of her sweat, and all of it was more real than what was inside. The demons ran their course joyfully, but eventually lost their first wind; when they ran up against to the reality of his physical environment, they paused to catch their breath and left him in the withering silence of the tent, curling up their wings and observing with wicked curiosity for what would happen next.

Shahar continued to regard the dark spot on the wall. His fear was gone; the demons were out now, and in its place was a dull submission. It was pointless to fear a lion that was already eating you.

There was a dampness on his chest, beneath her face. The measure of her breath was different. She was crying soundlessly.

“Shahar.” Against his wrists, she told him that she loved him. She worried for him.

Something other than demons began to echo inside. Something responded to her, although his trapped hands could not sign back. Her tears were for him. He understood why. But did she want to understand why?

Tell her, they said. Tell her what you really are.

“Naiya.” His voice was hollow, brittle as he waited for the demons to end their rest and begin again. “What have our people told you about the Zith? What do you know about them?”

[Naiya]

She struggled with him, fighting against whatever it was that caused him such pain. She couldn't reach him, offering only her touch, her face pressed against his chest.

Eventually Shahar stilled, he'd fought off whatever it was that had tormented him. She was relieved for a moment and then he spoke. He asked her about the Zith, what she knew about them.

She shook her head, not understanding the change of topic. Perhaps he needed to think of something else, to gather himself. She was unsure of what he would do, of where their conversation was going. Cautiously she moved, shifting so that she could see his face, so that his hands were no longer pinned.

He was as blank as the inflection of his voice, eyes locked off in the darkness. She ducked back against him, biting back her tears. "I know of the zith," Her voice was strained, quiet. "I have seen them, the terror they bring to our city." What did he want to hear, how could she help him the most? "I fought one last summer, killed her with help from others." She signed her confusion, smoothing her touch across his chest.

She was tentative, curled against him, but fearful of what might come next.
.
.
.

[Colt]

She was once again hesitant, although this time it was for an entirely different reason. She felt him grow still, caution clear on her shoulders as she moved, warily releasing his hands and rising to see his face.

In the wake of his freedom, Shahar did not do much––in fact, he did not move at all. His arms remained where he had pushed them, as he possessed neither the energy nor the motivation to do anything with them. He did not move his hands, did not turn his head to look at his wife, did not move from his position in any degree. He simply remained where he was, and continued to stare at the dark spot on the wall without really seeing it.

Moments passed and his question lingered. Naiya ducked down, pressing against him, her voice stretched in emotion as she replied. "I know of the Zith," she said quietly. "I have seen them, the terror they bring to our city. I fought one last summer, killed her with help from others.”

Her words ignited a flicker of something deep inside his chest, something he did not expect: surprise. Naiya had fought a Zith, and beyond that, had slain it. Slain her.

“You are lucky to have survived,” Shahar murmured towards the wall. “You are lucky there were others.”

So very lucky.

“You could have been alone. Maybe you were alone, and there was no one else around. Maybe there was no one to help. Maybe you had been stupid, and spent the night away from Endrykas by yourself. Maybe you hadn’t bonded to a strider yet, and then you couldn’t run away. Maybe she was stronger than you. Maybe you were just weak.”

One by one, his demons quieted, as one by one they crawled from his mouth and into the open.

“Maybe she was a hunter. Maybe she hunted you. Maybe she caught you. Maybe she kept you. Maybe she destroyed you. Maybe she made you wish she had killed you.”

He allowed his eyes to drift close. There were no images behind his eyes now; they were all in the air, given form by his words.

“Maybe you escaped. Maybe your strider came and carried you away. Maybe you ran, far away, down into Semele. Maybe you found a place with walls where nothing could find you. Maybe you were alone. Maybe you were nothing anymore, because maybe she had destroyed you in her cave. Maybe you were nothing but animal. Maybe you had always been an animal, and she just took away the lies. Maybe you decided that before, you were dead, and now, you were newborn, because if the first you was dead, then the second you wouldn’t be broken anymore.”

Maybe it was time Naiya deserved to know that she had married a demon’s broken plaything.

“Maybe you were her pet. Maybe she wanted to see how much she could hurt you. Maybe she figured out that it was worse to hurt you inside where you couldn’t heal. Maybe she decided to enjoy herself while she did it, and maybe you weren’t strong enough to stop her. Maybe she wasn't alone.”

He closed his eyes.

"And maybe, in time, you pretended to forget. And then maybe you met someone, and you didn't know why, but you loved them, you had always loved them, even before you met, and they loved you. And then you were selfish. You pretended to be whole, and you made them marry you, and you didn't tell them you weren't good anymore."

[Naiya]

Shahar lay immobile. No flicker of notice nor recognition of Naiya. When she spoke, there was silence for a long moment before he spoke again. His eyes did not leave their spot on the wall, his movement limited to the rise and fall of his chest as he spoke.

She was lucky, he reminded her, to have survived. She knew he was right, that she had nearly died, that the only reason she returned safe was the cool healing water they had found in the dark belly of Semele.

“You could have been alone." He continued, the rumbling of his voice the only sound, their breathing the only motion as Naiya gathered herself from the tears she had shed. "Maybe you were alone, and there was no one else around. Maybe there was no one to help." She would be dead, then, she knew. She had faced the creature with a knife and a stone, her weapons useless where they lay on the shore of the Uvic.

His tone didn't change, but the run of his words did, seeming to build upon themselves as he continued. "Maybe you had been stupid, and spent the night away from Endrykas by yourself. Maybe you hadn’t bonded to a strider yet, and then you couldn’t run away. Maybe she was stronger than you. Maybe you were just weak.” He wasn't talking about her anymore, Naiya realized, this was not a simple consideration of what if.

He continued on, laying out a story that seemed to cause him great pain, although he showed no outward sign. The outpouring of words, more than she had ever heard him speak at once, decried a story that had been deeply buried.

He spoke of being hunted, becoming prey, being tortured to the point of wishing for death. Her tears were back, a new sorrow prompting their decent. He spoke of an escape that wasn't, a death that did not end. She thought his tale could get no worse.

“Maybe you were her pet. Maybe she wanted to see how much she could hurt you. Maybe she figured out that it was worse to hurt you inside where you couldn’t heal. Maybe she decided to enjoy herself while she did it, and maybe you weren’t strong enough to stop her." She understood, then, why her question had prompted his reaction, why he seemed so unsure of the direction she was pursuing.

His eyes closed, the weight of his words heavy between them. Her tears were silent, crying for every moment of horror her husband had faced, for every touch on his skin that had harmed him.

"And maybe, in time, you pretended to forget. And then maybe you met someone, and you didn't know why, but you loved them, you had always loved them, even before you met, and they loved you. And then you were selfish. You pretended to be whole, and you made them marry you, and you didn't tell them you weren't good anymore."

"No." Her voice did not waiver despite her tears, there was no room for argument in her tone, the absolute refusal echoed in both hands and body. His eyes didn't open, he looked defeated, and she wouldn't stand for it.

"You met someone, you loved them and they loved you." She echoed his speech, mirroring the patterning. "You married them. You gave them safety. You offered them the first true home they'd ever had. You gave them love that was unguarded and unconditional. You gave them yourself and everything that entails, and they gave you the same."

She shaped a delicate word against his skin, shared sorrow, for his story was dark and unchallenged, but he wasn't alone anymore, he did not have to believe the story as he told it any more.

.
.
.

[Colt]

“No.” Her absolute refusal overtook the stillness that had fallen over their tent, even while his chest was chilled by the tears she had shed in silence. Her voice broke through those tears. "You met someone, you loved them and they loved you. You married them. You gave them safety. You offered them the first true home they'd ever had. You gave them love that was unguarded and unconditional. You gave them yourself and everything that entails, and they gave you the same."

He didn’t know what he had been expecting. Rejection? Pity? Disgust? It wasn’t what he had received. Her denial was immediate, unhesitant; his words had brought her to tears, but not to doubt or refusal.

Against his chest, she traced shared sorrow.

Shahar let out a rough, single breath of a chuckle, disbelieving, impossible. “You don’t want to share my sorrow. This pain isn’t the sort that ends. It hurts those who touch it.” Can’t stop it, don’t know how, helpless against.

He shifted underneath, rolling his head to look at her.

“I am not whole.” I don’t know how to be. “It’s something bad to get close to. It makes me weak. It’s not something I’ll ever be rid of.”

He reached to touch the back of one of her hands, distant loss of hope.

“I love you.” I love you. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” Unfairness to you, injustice, my fault. “I know you are strong, but you have bound yourself to something broken.”

[Naiya]

Shahar laughed, a hollow imitation of the happy sound. His disbelief was clear, his conviction was deep seated, he felt helpless against it.

He rolled his head to look at her, a motion that looked strange, almost as odd as the stillness that had preceded it. He spoke as though there was no chance, no way for them to move beyond this. He touched the back of her hand, loss of hope he said, a distant sign, something that had happened long ago.

"I love you." He told her, not quite hesitant, reluctant, his motions tinged with sadness. “I know you are strong, but you have bound yourself to something broken.”

With gentle, deliberate motions she touched his face, trailing her hand down the line of his jaw. He was looking at her, that was a step in the right direction. Firm disagreement she signed, "I am not strong, Shahar," She began, seeking a better way to explain but coming up with none. 'I am," there were a million words that better described her, clumsy, unsure, frightful, she paused a moment, then added, skilled, changing, braver than before.

Love, strength together, she let the signs weigh heavily between them, Grow, change, overcome. She sketched other words, thoughts, impressions of him, of the man he was.

It struck her after a minute, something else he had said. "It isn't your fault." She told him, strength in her words, trouble, fear, hiding, secrets she shaped the words, encompassing all he had told her in the shapes of her hands, she understood she could never know what he faced, but she could help him move forward.


.
.
.

[Colt]

She disagreed with him. Then she said something beyond strange: she said that she wasn’t strong.

“I am not strong, Shahar.” What did she mean by that? “I am..." clumsy, unsure, frightful. A pause. Skilled, changing, braver than before. Her words took on a different quality, looking to the present instead of the past. Love, strength together, grow, change, overcome.

Another pause, as something else appeared in her mind. Shahar tilted his head and regarded her, wanting to know what it was.

“It isn’t your fault,” she finally said. Trouble, fear, hiding, secrets.

“If a calf walks into the lion’s den, do you blame the lions for eating it or the calf for approaching?” Finished with idle touching, he enclosed her hand in his. That wasn’t important. The fault, wherever it might lie, was long since deceased and left to rot. All that mattered was what was left behind, and that was damage.

“I don’t know how to heal this, Naiya.”No hope, defeat. “It’s done. It cannot be undone. What happened, I don’t want it to hurt you, too.”

He removed her hand from his chest and sat up, removing himself from her embrace. He didn’t want to touch her. He didn’t feel worthy. He was tainted, and would always be tainted.

“Forget this. Forget it and it won’t hurt you. It’s a mess and it sticks to you. You don’t want it. You don’t want to see it. You don’t want to step into that water.” Not worth it.

Because despite what she had said, she was strong, and he would never see anything but strength in her heart. He was afraid of his weakness tainting her, too, and he loved her too much to allow that. Because underneath it all, beyond even his own awareness, there was the ghost of subconscious disbelief… no, it was more like an incapability of belief. He didn’t believe it was worth it. He didn’t believe in his own value to Naiya. He didn’t believe what she was saying went deeper than what was expected of a wife to a husband. He didn’t believe in himself.

He didn’t know how.

[Naiya]

His hand closed around hers, there was a strange sense of finality to the touch, a deeper meaning to him that he didn't impart to her. Distance even though he was wrapped in her embrace. Fault fell outside of his worries, the shape of great distance falling over him.

“I don’t know how to heal this, Naiya.” He told her, he was hopeless, defeated, she tightened her fingers around his, reassuring, him with a promise to stay. “It’s done. It cannot be undone. What happened, I don’t want it to hurt you, too.”

She started to answer him, to tell him that he wouldn't hurt her, that she wanted to help him. Before she could speak he pushed her hands away, sitting up and pulling himself free from her. She was too startled to react at first, his pulling away from her was so surprising.

He didn't feel worthy and that locked her in place. Hadn't she only chimes ago been having her own doubts about her worth to him? She had spent seasons working up the confidence to ask him the questions that bothered her so, because she felt he was so much more than her.

“Forget this. Forget it and it won’t hurt you. It’s a mess and it sticks to you. You don’t want it. You don’t want to see it. You don’t want to step into that water.” He told her, signing that the effort was not worth it.

She was shocked, that he could think so little of himself would have been laughable had she not seen it herself tonight.

She reached out to him, despite his reluctance, following him as he made an attempt to escape. She reached for his hand, clasping it in her own should he allow it.

"Shahar," she began, baffled[i] by his insistence that he wasn't worthy of her. "[i]I love you," her tone left no room for debate, "I don't want to forget," Love, desire to help, "I want to help you Shahar, I want to spend my life with you." She considered for a moment, seeking the words and she watched his reaction, trying to see if he understood. "I am happy with you, you encourage me to be better, I want to do the same for you."

She reached for him again, attempting to pull him back into her embrace. "Please, don't push me away." His disbelief was palpable, and she didn't know how else to tell him. "I love you, I will always love you." Heart, soul, together as one.

.
.
.