RP:A Reprieve

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Bastion visits Queen Josleen in jail and offers her comfort by giving her the gift of connecting to her son and husband from a distance through an emotional, joyous connection.

The Dungeon, Fort Freedom

Josleen has been in the dungeon for just over two weeks and looks increasingly like a nobody. Power may be difficult to fell, but once fallen, it falls quickly and hard. Her wrap-around dress, though of a fine material, is lightly soiled and very wrinkled. She wears no makeup, her hair falls limply and messily around her shoulders, without form or shine. Her loyal handmaiden Floria has spruced up the cell as much as possible, but a silk duvet makes a cot no more comfortable, and incense can only feebly mask the stench of rot and neglect. A few loyal friends, family, and staff have come to visit the Queen, to pledge their belief in her that she did not and would never poison her husband, King Macon, who currently lies comatose somewhere else in the fort under heavy guard. Josleen’s heart breaks at the thought that she cannot be at his side, and that he who she loves deeply may pass. That grief deepens by the fact that she’s been separated from her son as well, under order of King Macon’s mother, Augusta. The boy screams terribly for his mother and father, and thanks to the royal family’s shared rage infection, Josleen can feel his rage from within the dank, narrow walls of her cell. She has spent weeks crying, screaming, threatening, then eventually begging, and now lies on her side in her stiff cot, emotionally drained, in a kind of coma herself, one from which she stirs only when she feels her son’s anguish, or she’ll stir for the occasional guest in hope of good news.

Bastion there were some situations in which neutrality and trust were both of incalculable value. When tensions ran high, people looked for those that they could wholly trust... and such were few and far between. Since the plagues had hit the land, Bastion had been to every corner of Hollow, just about, serving the people wherever he went. Even in this childish form, he was able to get an audience with the queen, the prisoner. There was pain, and madness in the making, here. He could feel it, see it. Passions that would overwhelm the ego, the very identity of their victims, given time. Such things, he was singularly equipped to fight. He knelt before the cell, a quiet moment, before addressing the queen. "Your majesty Josleen. I came as soon as I heard. I'm sorry for what has befallen you, and your family. I've come to offer my services in acupuncture, should I be allowed by yourself, and your jailors, and the current guardians of your husband and child. There is madness, here. I can help calm, soothe, and rejuvenate you, and yours. I hope you'll accept my help, it hurts to see you so."

Josleen turns slowly in her cot to face the voice that addresses her still as ‘your majesty’. She recognizes Bastion and struggles to stir, but eventually she sits up and crosses towards the bars. She pulls up a termite-bitten stool and sits. “No, I cannot accept,” she says. She doesn’t want to feel better, she doesn’t want to momentarily forget. To consciously ease her suffering and give in to hedonism, no matter how well intentioned or holy, even for a moment, feels like a betrayal of her husband and son who are suffering so much right now. “I can’t.” She swallows hard as the tears and snot rise again, provoked by some private torturous thought. “I just want to see my son, and my husband.” Her voice cracks, is punctured by sobs.

Bastion knew he hadn't the pull around here to make that happen, however much he sympathized. "If I knew a way to make that possible, I would, m'lady." He'd not commented on whether he thought her guilty, or innocent. "Likely, the most I could do is take your son letters, and perhaps give him the gift you refuse, if his gaurdians will allow it. I believe he suffers just as you do... and I sense that your malady isn't wholly natural. There is an anger in you, a force connected between you, and your family. I do not understand it, it is... hazy to me. But it is dangerous, dangerous to you all. I hope you will reconsider my offer, for I believe, so linked as you seem, that it will aid not just you, but your family as well, to find balance and harmony." But, if they link was strong enough, perhaps helping her son and her husband would be enough. Enough to help her, as well. First and foremost, he was a healer... but he would never give a service refused, never force treatment upon another, even if they chose to die, unlike most medical practitioners.

Josleen shakes her head gently at Bastion’s suggestions. She’s skeptical of acupuncture herself and would not want it tested on her son before herself, no way. Also, the Prince can’t read. And even if Bastion wanted to read the letters to Guillem, Augusta would never allow him, because she wants Guillem to purge Josleen, to quit his murderous mother cold turkey. Augusta believes Josleen did poison Macon, a fact which will rend the family in two for decades to come. Her eyes widen slightly as Bastion picks up on the rage infection the family shares. Normally Josleen would not, under any circumstances, confess the rage to anyone. The secret is too private and intimate. However, the circumstances right now are unusual, not because of her imprisonment but because of Bastion himself. He exudes an irresistible charisma that invites trust, despite the fact she hardly knows him. She feels like she is losing her grip on herself, like some strange force has seized her mind, as she says using her bardic gifts, “There is an anger…” Through bardic magic she ensures that the sound of her voice reaches only his ears in a supernatural whisper, that there is no way they can be overheard. To Bastion, the sensation will be like having a tiny creature standing in his ear and whispering. “How did you know? It’s an affliction… Perhaps this is a type of magic which you understand? My husband,” the tiny voice cracks, “When he imprisoned Kelovath, he took from Kelovath a stone which gives off an aura of rage to entice others to commit violent acts.” Note: Though Josleens is telling -her- truth, it is not -the- truth. She believes what she says, but what she believes is a lie. Kelovath never had the rage stone and never wielded it to incite violence. Macon did that all on his own, but unable to confess that to Josleen, planted this lie which she believed and still believes wholeheartedly to this day. “Macon’s exposure to the stone infected him. He no longer has the stone, but it is too late. He then unknowingly infected me…” This last part is true. Bastion can draw his own conclusions as to why Macon is capable of infecting Josleen, but no one else. “Then I passed it on to Guillem, not knowing that would happen either. We feel each other’s distress, but only that. I have never felt their joy, can only share in it like any mother and wife can. What type of magic is this?”

Bastion listened. He did not know aught of Kelovath, save what he'd heard, which was mostly lies, leavened with rumor and conjecture. He knew they were lies, because he'd found men spreading the tales with the intent of misdirection, telling recited stories that they didn't at all believe. He didn't know what to make of it, though. The paladin Kelovath may have fallen, or may have been a scapegoat... but truly, the mystery was secondary here. What mattered was the pains of a mother, and wife, who was distraught. The magic that made her voice reach only his ears had him lower his own voice to a whisper. These were her secrets, and it was not his place to let them be known to others. "It seems a curse, far as I can tell. I only see a red, almost bloody haze, hanging over you and yours like a corpse shroud. I am no exorcist, to draw it from you. I can only abate its effects, by soothing the body, mind and soul." It had great bearing on the lives of the commonfolk, but Bastion tread a thin moral line, and his vows took precedent over his ideas of the welfare of others. Peace, Truth. He would not work to incite violence or mistrust, and though he would not lie, neither would he mislead. He held the trust of others sacred, all others... no matter how evil or good they may be. What was told to him in confidance was not his to tell any other soul, under any circumstance. Should he fail in his duties, he would take on the burdens of a vow of Silence, and Bondage in repentence. "It is sad to me, that you only feel eachothers burdens. There may be a way to... cope with the bond, or subvert it perhaps, if you care for such a thing. I cannot break these bonds, but I can create new ones. You are close with your family, and I can help make it so you feel and understand their joy, their happiness. It will do little to affect this curse, this malady inflicted upon you, but perhaps it would be a balm to ease your suffering. Pain feeds on pain, and suffering grows easily, but so too does joy when shared so."

Josleen looks deflated but not surprised when Bastion says he cannot lift the curse. Headmaster Percival of the Academy of Magic and the brilliant naga scientist Muzo also failed to lift the curse. She’s come to accept they may never be rid of it. Some things, even in a land as magical and clever as this, are permanent. She nods hesitantly. “I would like to feel them now, both of them. And I want them to feel me, and not only my rage. You can help me do that? I want both of them to know how much I love them, think of them, miss them.”

Bastion nodded. "Normally, I'd require the consent of all parties before doing this, but you're the mother of your child, and your husband is indisposed. As such, I will perform the blessing with your consent." It was a deceptively simple process, one of which he could do from his side of the bars. Normally, he'd also need them all to be together... but the curse that bound them connected them in such a way, that he could simply ride its currents, so to speak. He sent his Ki along them, and sought his way along the channel with his vision. Suffering, it shared... and this was part of the mortal condition. It was easy for him to establish new links alongside it, growing its purpose to encompass more. Joy, happiness, contentment... these things too would be shared among those who bore the burden of this curse.Threads of pink wound its way among the curses red threads. Not the entire emotional spectrum would be shared, but it would be less a bane than it had been. And, without so much as lifting a finger, Bastion had finished. He was quite fatigued from the effort of exerting his energies outside of his body in such a manner. "Ah, there. You will all share in eachothers burdens still, but also in eachothers triumphs and jubilations. I hope this will bring you comfort, your Majesty."

Josleen believes she can feel her husband and son at the end of Bastion’s pink threads of magic. She wills her love to them, reinforces to each of them that she is here, thinks of them, misses them, loves them, cannot wait to be reunited with them. The moment offers a brief but powerful salve to her grief, so powerful it moves her to tears. “I miss them so much.” She sobs into her palms, and it takes some time before she can compose herself enough to properly thank Bastion. The guards, hearing the Queen’s agitation, come to cut the visit short. Bastion’s time is almost up anyway. Before they coax him away, Josleen says, “Thank you so much. I cannot express how much it means to me to feel them in this way. I will see to it that your kindness is repaid.” Once he is gone, she tries to contact Macon and Guillem again. Without Bastion’s presence, she isn’t sure if she’s reaching them or not, but feels that she is. Only time will tell how long the pink threads will last, or if they’ll succumb to the heat and will of the rage.