RP:Compassion is to See Others Free From Suffering

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Penelope takes Aeric's advice and she is determined to get Linken out of the temple to restore his memory. Amnesiac Linken refrains due to wondering what would happen to his existence, but Penelope keeps on him and comes down to his level with a new sense of warmth. She does not blame him anymore. All she wants is for him to live the life Arkhen had set for him. There is only one condition, he needs one more day to live.

Arkhen's Forgotten Temple

When it rains, it pours. A couple days had passed and spring had begun. Instead of fierce snow, the weather changed to fierce rain. The woman had promised in two days, she would return in order to collect Linken out of the temple. Steps paced themselves rapidly through the damp forest until she was outside of the temple hidden in the tucked in forest. The beauty of the temple would be undeniable, but what rested inside distracted her from the architecture, so she wanders up the steps inside the temple. Her hair is damp as frizzy curls are plastered around her face. The rest of her clothes are damp. A pair of denim jeans, a black blouse, and black boots. Simple. As she enters within the building, she remains a stoic face as she approaches the statue. Linken had been there prior. She was in search and she knew he would be surprised of her return after she abandoned him. “Linken,” she would call out in greeting. She knew he was here whether he stayed by the stature of Arkhen, or he lingered in another spot in the temple. The healer was antsy and ready for his presence.

Linken gave no response. He was nowhere to be found in the vicinity. The temple was quite large, but mostly open, the few tight corridors and rooms reserved to the nooks and crannies lining the outer edges of the structure. Who knew which path to take? He could be anywhere, and there were no priest at the moment to act as a guide. However, as Penny would turn about, she would notice a faint warm glow, it's origin being the far corner to the left of the entrance walking in, only visible as one were to make their way out. There, tucked beside a pillar near the wall, was a small campfire, with a makeshift spit and a cooking pot, and lying in the glowing warmth of the fire was the elf in question, passed out cold with his back to the pillar for support and a half-eaten apple in his lax hand. Garbed in a simple white cloth tunic and pants, with his hair tied up in a loose bun atop his head, it was clear his options of entertainment were limited, given the small assortment of books scattered about his bare feet as well as a... spinning top? Man, he must be bored. Regardless, Linken remained unresponsive to her calls, his midday nap proceeding undisturbed as he snorted, a thin line of drool beginning to trail from the corner of his slack lip and tease the collar of his shirt. What a magnificently beautiful sight to behold. Almost picturesque.

Penelope notices he is not at the statue, so she makes her way around the rooms of the temple. “Linken,” she repeats as she makes her way through the temple. There were several paths to take, but it was not until the feeling of warm embraces her cheeks. Moss doe eyes find themselves in the path of the guidance. The faintness was just enough for Penelope to recognize the difference between light and the bland air of the temple. The healer follows the light that contrasts the damp cold on her body and there she finds the man. With the man bun. Out-cold. She stares at his figure as he seems as if he is in peace for the first time in the time he has been present in his amnesiac mind, though she knew, he only had limited time. The girl begins to approach the sleeping man until she is knelt down beside him. “Linken,” she would gently try to shake him awake as if not to frighten him. “Linken,” she would coo again. “We have to leave. Please. Wake up.” Pause. It was quiet within the temple. “Linken, please.”

Linken's head bobbed back and forth as Penelope lightly jostled him, the apple falling loose from his hand and rolling down by his foot as he smacked his lips, mumbling something other through a mouth full of half-chewed fruit. "Mmmmfph...heheh...youfph gothh...thumthnig...the thufph...on yourr...thhing,,,no, it wathn't..." His eyes would slowly flutter open, and upon realization that he was being shaken, his first inclination was to look up, immediately screaming in fright the moment he's suddenly met with an unexpected face. "Aaaaahhh!!" He shrieked, pieces of apple falling from his wide open mouth as he scrambled to his feet, subsequently slipping on the ill-fortunately placed apple and falling forward into a collision with Penelope, sending them both to the ground and pinning her down under his weight. "Ooof! Ahaaaahaha, oooowww...Grrrr, what the hell??" The elf snarled with agitation, rocking himself left and right to garner enough leverage with his hands to prop himself upright and off of the jerk that woke him up. "What's your problem, pal?? Don't you priests know you're not supposed to wake a sleeping- huh? Penny?..." Upon realizing who it was, pinned beneath his body and inches from his face, his expression shifted mid-sentence from one of anger to pure aghast and cringe, the color rapidly draining from his features only serving to make his embarrassed blush even more prominent. "Ya-Ah-OH, OH GOD." Linken tossed himself backwards in a manner as if an invisible force sent him flying backwards, making it up to his feet in to time at all before he was by her side, carefully hoisting Penelope off of the floor and back up to head level, briefly dusting her off as he examined her twice-ovr to ensure he didn't hurt her. "Oh, gods, I am sorry, I am -so- sorry! Are you alright?? Penny, -what- on earth are you doing here?? You've got no reason to come back... Did you want your basket back, or something? I mean, I ate most of the food, but if you want I can go get- wait, what?" The elf took a step back, standing firm with a fixed posture and furrowed brows, studying her demeanor for a few hesitant moments before lifting a hand, waving it in denial with an unsure smile growing on his face. "Wait, what on earth are you talking about? I can't leave. There's no way. The entire reason I came here was because it's not safe for others if I'm out IS THAT MY JOURNAL?!?!" His eyes wide, the floating hand quickly snapped down in rigid fashion, his index finger firmly pointed towards the familiar leather-bound book jutting out of the flap on Penelope's satchel. There were no words. No breathing. Only an expression of pure, world shattering embarrassment, comparable only to one realizing the stupidity of a mistake like looking into the eyes of a gorgon before being turned to stone...Did he -actually- turn to stone, though? Because he isn't moving. Or breathing. Like, at all.

Penelope could not help but give him an odd stare of his smacking and mumbling. “Linken, get up!” She finally hollers at him and then his eyes flutter open with a shriek. It was as if she was watching a circus act as he slips on the apple. Oh boy, he slipped on the apple. His weight topples onto her with a grunt. The poor girl was only five feet and two inches, so imagine that difference in size. Her eyes close from the blow as she tries to collect her wind again. “My problem?” She opens her eyes at him in a groan. “What about –your- problem—“ she was attempting to bicker with him until he recognized her completely. “Yes, who else would it be?” Her voice sounds agitated that she was pinned beneath him, though in an instant he lifts the weight off of her chest and pulls her to her feet. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” a hand is held up to indicate that he should not worry so much about her frame. There was an inhale before she exhaled words out. “I’m here for you. I should have never left you. Linken, we have to go. This temple is not going to protect you forever. It’s not. It’s going to find a way. It’s always going to find a way.” Her visage was concerned. “We have to fight this—“ he then cuts her off and gestures the journal. His face floods with embarrassment, but why should he be so worried? His past him did not write or sketch what was in the journal. “I know. Aeric took it,” she begins. The silence rests between the two, for she does not know what to say yet. Her mouth is parted as if someone stole her speech. Tick tock, Penelope. “You were right,” she flips through the pages and then closes the journal. “He never stopped loving me.” Her brows furrow. “You never stopped loving me.” She lets the quietness take over as she begins to walk around him. Eyes of juniper rest on the elf. Compassion is the wish to see others free from suffering. Linken suffered after she left. “I blamed you. I hid from you. I was terrified of you and what you were doing to me. You were protecting me. Loving me. You never would have killed him if it was not for his actions, but of course we both know, there could have been another way.” She lets her words breeze off her tongue. A distant memory. “I was wrong when I left without a word. Twice. I should’ve at least talked to you, and so I want to. I want to talk to you—him. I want your memory back because only your memory is what is going to help us with this predicament.” She steps closely to him. “We have to leave.”

Linken blinks and shakes the daze from his feature, the mention of the arrogant, thieving boy being enough to pull him from the depths of his mind awash with a visible agitation. "...Wait, AERIC?? OooohohOOOOHHH~, that grimy little..." Without hesitation, the elf darted out and snatched the book from Penelope's person, rereating back a few steps and burying his face into the book, as if examining it for any wear or tear it may have garnered during its brief travel. In truth, however, he was merely using it to hide his face, a barrier protecting him, shielding his heart from the revealing light that sought to expose him as she assaulted his ears with recounts of feeling he did not need explained. The contents of that book were no longer the feelings of an alternate-self, but -his- feelings, and their exposure to the world was deeply offensive. The elf remembered more than she knew, for his time with the book and its passages had brought many of the memories within to the surface, as well as the emotional weight they carried. He did- no, -does- truly love her, and in his current state, the present situation was just as dreadful as any atrocity the entity could commit. 'Why is this happening to me?...' he asked himself with closed eyes over and over in his head, feeling like a castaway, stranded on a raft with no land in sight, praying to whoever was listening for salvation as she circled him like a hungry shark hot on the scent of his blood. So, of course, when his eyes opened, they wouldn't be resting on any other page besides the one scrawled with the words, 'I miss you.' "Ack!" he quickly hiccuped, slamming the book shut and immediately going into a defensive tirade. "Look, do you have any-HWONK YAOW!!!" His nose. He slammed the book shut on his nose. As the book landed open-faced at his feet, the elf reached up to cup his schnauzer, kicking the journal to the side with his heel in frustration as he continued, eyes locked on the circling girl as he talked through his hands in a squeaky, nasal tone that made it a bit difficult to take his words in all their intended seriousness. "Ow! For the love of- look, Do you have -any- idea what I had to go through to get -back- to this place?? After I nearly -died- the first time, the only reason I had a chance of getting here was one of the priests suggesting it might not be able to read my thoughts if I kept my head clear, and that it might not be able to tell what my arm does because its prosthetic!" Linken lifted said hand from his face, making a display of his twiddling fingers as he continued, "Do you have any idea how -hard- it is not to think at all for two days!? Two. Days." Well, that explains why he was acting so different that day. So, well, calm. "Oh, no, I've got one better!" The elf made short work of the distance between them, holding up his hand before her face and pinching his finger tips together, squiggling them back and forth in a form of mock-writing. "Do you have -any- idea how hard it is to WRITE something without thinking about it!? Without even LOOKING!? It took me the entire night to write that letter, I didn't even get any sleep at all! And then I almost died! Again! Hah!" The elf began to backpedal, arms extended wide in a shrugging 'tough-luck' gesture as he aimed to return to his post by the fire. "And now after everything that I went through to get back, after -running off- without even a farewell, you just come waltzing back in and tell me all of it was for nothing, and I have to leave? Well, I'd hate to break it to you, but that's not gonna' happen, 'cause IT'S IN MY FOOT!!!" As he blindly waddled backwards, the barefoot elf wound up stepping directly on the spinning, medieval equivalent of a child's building block, and anyone who has evr stepped on such a toy could attest that the pain, regardless of the times, or the toy's shape, is absolutely incomparable. "AIYEEEEE-" Linken squealed, his pitch sharp enough to attract every pack of wild dogs in a two mile radius as he lifted his foot to clench it tightly with both hands, hopping backwards on one foot only to subsequently slip on the half-eaten apple. Again. The airborne acrobatic maneuver that followed would have been worthy of commendation if he had managed to stick the landing, but he didn't, and in turn he flipped directly into the pillar, twisting and banking around it only to land flat on his side on the stone floor, honestly fortunate not to have fallen directly into the fire pit as he rocked back and forth with a gentle, pitiful whine, hands still clenching his foot ant tears streaking down his cheeks. "Whyyyyhyyyhyyyy...."Linken did not know who the one child could have been, whose sole visit to this god forsaken temple in the last 500 years warranted the priests to procure this devil's tool under the guise of top, but if he were still alive, Linken was going to find him. And kill him.

Penelope lets the book slide right from her grip. He was upset. Why was he upset? He was the one yelling at her through the forest about the journal. Also, Linken appeared, in her gaze, to be a mess as he slams the book shut on his nose. “Watch it!” She sort of cringes with the slam. The nasally voice backlashes at her in his unwillingness to leave. She lets him burst on her. The distance is closed, and she does not budge away as she pinches his fingers together to emphasize that he had almost died to get here. For what? “So that’s it… You’re giving up to live in solitude for the rest of your life? Are you joking?” The questioning is cut off due to the child’s building block. Oh dear Sven. In conclusion, this version of Linken made her tighten her eyes and lift her shoulders tensely. He appeared, in her eyes, the naïve one. The tears stream down his face and the girl moves in to attempt to reach out to help him sit down. If he calmed himself from the pain of children’s toy in his foot and sits down, she would continue with a cooler tone. The Ardelian could not get worked up, for what was that going to solve? She caught herself. “I don’t know what you’re going through internally. I won’t ever understand, but you have the chance at freedom if you help me help you. Don’t you want your memory back? Don’t you want to have to knowledge about what is even going on? Peace?” The girl would turn to go pick up the sprawled journal. The woman would flip through until she would turn to the blood-stained letter. “I know what you did, and how you got here,” her voice is small. The journal is held up so he could see the crimson marks. “You wanted it to end… And now you’re just going to wither from society and not age in some temple that you don’t know whether or not will keep working after a while. You’re not living. You’re cowardice. You know who would know that information, though?” Ding, ding, ding. Non-amnesiac Linken. “At least have the decency for Aeric and Alexia. If I were you, I’d be fighting like hell to solve the problem for my kids. Please, Linken."

Linken sat himself upright with her assistance, anxiously waiting for the pain to drain from his foot as he listened to her informed observation. Eventually, she'd present him with the journal again, flipping to it's final, blood-soaked page before claiming to know 'what he did, and how he got here.' The sight of the letter made his heart ache. "You don't know a -damn- thing," he snarled in a low tone, snatching the book from her hands and placing it upon his lap, gazing down at it's crimson pages with a studious nature. Blood soaked most of the lettering into obscurity, but he could see through the red with mental clarity; he knew what it contained, for he remembered it being written, and she couldn't be further off. "What, you think this is a suicide note, or something?" He almost wanted to laugh, withholding it in an attempt not so seem insensitive about the subject. Penelope seemed so fixated on her having hurt him, that she couldn't see past any of his actions as more than a way out of a life of hurt. It wasn't her fault though, she just didn't know. "Linken-" he sighs. He really needed to stop disassociating himself as another person, especially if he was to ever become whole again. "...-I- didn't want to kill myself. I merely wanted the option available to me, if ever I was ready..." The book closed softly in his lap, hands placed flat upon its cover as his eyes lifted to lock with hers. "It may not have been the only reason you left, but I knew how you thought I felt of you. The implications of my long-standing life... You even said it to me, that you didn't want to be just some other woman in a long line of failed or past lovers, expecting me to move on to another when you were finally gone. And the day you walked out, I realized just how magnificently I'd failed at conveying to you just how much I love you." Love. Most definitely not past tense. Perhaps just a slip of the tongue in the moment? "That I never wanted there to -be- any others after you. And I'm positive that my search for those relics was the only reason I didn't seek you out sooner. I didn't want to show myself to you until I had material proof. Something I could give you, to show you that forever was nothing without you...And, clearly, I failed again, given that I never succeeded, even in my prime...What happened that day, however..." The book was lifted from his lap, presented to Penelope with two outstretched hands as his eyes averted to the floor between his legs. "...was not me blatantly hunting my own death. It was merely circumstantial. An unfortunate twist of fate, occurring while being bent to the whim of the Gods..." Aeric must have told him, his lofting brows and tone laced with sarcasm enough to enforce that point. "...I was just doing the same thing I always did, yet this time, it didn't work out in my favor, and before I knew it, I was laying on the side of a road, watching seventy-percent of my body's blood content soak into the dirt. And, when I finally realized I was dying, with no hope of salvation in sight, the only thought that came to my mind was you. How badly I missed you, How I longed to see your face again, to feel your touch, the deep, sinking regret I felt at never having sought you out sooner, to make amends...to show you how I feel..." Linken's knees drew closer to his chest, arms wrapping around to bind them together as he buried his face in his legs. "...You and I both know they wouldn't have killed me. Not unless they had found what even -I- couldn't, which I highly doubt. Sometime, years, decades from now, I would have opened my eyes again... But, I knew that when I opened my eyes, I would be in a world without you. Without any of those I loved. So, with my final breaths, I started writing to you. Everything I wanted to tell you, everything I never got a chance to say. Would never get -another- chance to say, all in the hopes that somehow, if my letter ever found it's way back to you, you'd know the truth, and wouldn't blame yourself...And then I coughed blood all over it..." His hands release the journal, whether or not Penelope had accepted it- He no longer needed it. It's secrets were revealed, and it was always meant to make its way into her hands. The same hands which, now free, make their way to his forehead, pressing firmly into his temples and attempt to knead away his anxiety, finally ready to address the situation of leaving. "...Freedom." He smirks under his hands, though not out of amusement. "I don't know where you've been, but apparently, for the last two decades I've been living isolated at the top of a massive tree in the center of the woods, miles from any form of civilization... I think I already had social distancing down to a pat before I ever lost my memories... The problem is I can't protect my children from myself now. Even in isolation, I'm a liability to those closest to me. To them, to you...Penny, I-" he chokes. "...This is not -my- life. It is mine, but not yet. I used to be strong, capable, fearless, adamant...but I am weak. Incapable. Terrified. As you say...a coward. A fool out of time, thrust into a world where the fate of everything another man holds dear is left in my dim-witted hands, and I don't believe I'm either strong or capable enough to hold it all together without breaking everything! This isn't just about potentially destroying my present, but potentially destroying my -future-..." Linken's sobs begin to intensify, his shoulders and back rising and falling in rhythm with the booming in his diaphragm as he succumbed to the fears that have plagued him throughout his journey misplaced in time. "You don't understand just how scared I am, Penny... I do want my memories back, more than anything, but you fail to forget one important thing: -I- am just a memory." One hand fall from his brow, coiling against his shoulder and pressing two fingers into his chest firmly. "Were I to somehow manage to become whole again, I don't know what's going to happen to me... I am not the same person. Will I retain all my experiences here, in this world, with the added knowledge of my life before now? Or will I simply revert back to my previous self, and the person I am now s-simply ceases to be..." Regardless of how cowardly he may seem, Linken made a solid point, one that Penelope possibly hadn't considered. This may be Linken, but he is still just a boy, and he's been presented with a situation that, regardless of the outcome, will result in his ceasing to be. No matter what, it is the fate of this innocent, unfortunate boy to die, and all he wants is a chance to live. There isn't a soul his age in existence who could handle such a revelation any better than he was. No wonder he's so terrified. "...And what happens if I -do- live? If I merely welcome all of my past knowledge back into myself, to carry on where I left off?" His head lifts slightly, sore, red eyes casting a quick glance to the journal before burying themselves in his lap once again. "You read the book... You know where I was... What if the knowledge accompanying my memories only serves to remind me just how hopeless everything is? You say you wish happiness for me, peace... But what if the only hope I have for peace is a clean, fresh start? In abandoning the horrors of the life I've carried with me..." This poor, poor soul. No matter where he looked, what path he chose, there wasn't a single, minute fleck of hope in sight for him. Linken was, in fact, doomed.

There was a stabbing pain when the man snarled at her. Her face twisted to hide what she was truly thinking about the man before her and at this moment she cannot look at him. Sensitive, yet insensitive to what Aeric led her to think. Aeric had said that Linken had wanted to be free and had basically made her believe that he had given up. The two Linkens had different traits. Different personalities. It was hard to balance what was lost and what was present right in front of her. How had he known what Linken had planned? Were memories coming in fragments? ‘I love you’. Moss eyes look up at the elf before her with a gaze that showed fear. Hesitance at the word. “You talk about relics… What relics are you talking about? Relics for what?” Her eyes slowly dance over him before she watches him toss the journal where Linken’s memories reside. All she could do is stare at the book, for she would not hold it in her own hands. Over time he begins to close down, releasing sobs, and she finally nears him and lowers to his level. The fickle girl sits across from him, criss-cross, before reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder in order to comfort the elf. The metallic-armed man was innocent and had a mind of his own, and she did not have much to say about his thought-process. ‘You don’t understand how scared I am…’ and the feeling of realization is uncanny. “I don’t know what would happen to you either…” Her brows furrow and she releases a hand off of him. There is a sense of fear for him through her own self. “I think a part of you would still lie within if the whole ever became complete again. I think a piece of you would live and be aware—just a lot more world flooding back.” She was speaking of the unknown. The girl takes a moments breath to let him get out his thought process.

Penelope eventually lets the poor soul finish before she scoots herself closer to him. An olive colored hand would reach for his cheek to have him look at her, if he would. Doe eyes are soft. The Ardelian speaks slowly in a satin-like voice to bring a washed over comfort. That was one thing about the healer, she could entrap someone with reassurance and warmth in a split second. An old quality she always carried. An old quality that Linken appreciated. At least she never lost that side of her. “But what is a life if you can’t spend it the way you would dream of?” A thumb brushes along his face as if she is talking to a child. Linken was innocent in this world. “The way old you lived, you would have to carry it and do the same. Arkhen gave you a chance. The entity is still tied. You will still be making the same decisions as Linken once did. As –you- once did.” Tranquility falls. The presence she wafts off is soft, ginger. She releases her hand if it was there in the first place. “Linken you can be the hero of this story. That was one thing you always were… a hero. You were the good although the bad came with the choices that were made. Natural consequences for moral actions. Arkhen chose you, and Arkhen wouldn’t want you hiding in his temple for eternity.” The girl begins to stand. “I don’t need you to protect me, but I do need to protect you. To make sure that this entity doesn’t turn into something much greater than you or I think it will. Let me help you.” She would slowly hold out her hand for him to grasp if he was willing to fall into agreement.

Linken shrugs and shakes his head at her inquiry, dismissively wafting his hand at her question of the nature of the relics he sought. At this point, it was a hopeless afterthought, unimportant to the situation at hand given the predicament he hopelessly prayed for a solution to. "Relics, I don't know... Weapons. Ones that were blessed, touched by the hand of a god of light. Something actually able to -kill- this thing inside me...Like I said, It was a lost cause...I never found anything..." Lost in his grief, even as she approached him, Linken would be taken by surprise as Penelope suddenly closed in to make contact, her gentle touch drawing him out from the depths of his most innate fears only to be lost in the swirling pools of her eyes. In that moment, as he gazed longingly upon her beneath her gentle touch as she cradled his face, it was as if the cosmic curtain had been drawn back on their life together, a flood of memories washing over him, and he was caught in her undertow. The visions that flashed through his mind were all different in their ways; A different place, different time, or different weather, but they all carried one common thread binding them together: The elf, broken and shattered, barely able to go on, lacking all will and motivation to carry on... and the woman, knelt before him, the one beacon of life that could draw the man out from the depths of hell to carry on fighting one more day. This instance was new, and yet they had been at this very place countless times before. It was easy for a man who could not be killed to throw himself into the fray, lunging with weapon out and belly in at any danger, knowing that no matter what, one day his eyes would open again. But the actual will to -live-? The will to fight for -his- life, to protect it, to carry on with the resolution to bring himself -home-, for the sake of those he loved, and who loved him; It was the greatest, most infallible strength one could carry in their heart, the strength he had been lacking all this time, and in this moment, he realized that strength she spoke of, the one that carried -him- through all of their past ordeals...was her. It was always her. For one, all-too-brief moment, Linken felt whole again, cooing in submission to her will as he gently placed his steel fingers on her wrist, their cold touch contrasting the warmth of his opposite hand as he place it over hers, holding it firmly to his cheek as shutting eyes cause his trailing tears to pool in the web of her thumb. It was ironic, even almost funny to him; Of the countless times Penelope preached to him of his heroic deeds, what he'd accomplished, and the people he'd saved, she was completely oblivious to the sheer number of times, vastly outweighing the former, that she had saved -him-. From his darkness. From himself. And in that moment, as she pleaded with him, asking of him what could possibly amount to the very act of giving up his life, he knew that even such a momentous task was but a spark in comparison to the raging sun that radiated the warmth of her love. He knew what he must do, and he would do it. For her. "I-" Linken gasped, his eyes darting open as their contact was broken, the loss of her touch pulling him back into this moment, seated on the cold, stone floor of a temple, Penelope gazing down on him with hand extended in alms. He'd blink, taking a moment to collect himself by sniffling and wiping the tears from his sore eyes, before taking her hand with a deep breath and gazing upward with a determination she had not seen in him since days of yore. "I will do it." Not even an ounce of hesitation. Gripping her hand, he'd pull himself up to his feet ith a wince and a light hop, given that his foot was still tender, before brushing the dirt from his white garments and lifting a single finger before him. "I will go with you, to finish this, once and for all, but on -one- condition, and one condition only.." The extended finger folds down, slowly creeping forward to deliver a light, gentle poke to Penelope's shoulder. "You still owe me a picnic." Linken offered a half-mocking, half-genuine pout, tossing his arms to the side as if putting the temple behind him on display for her before continuing, "The whole reason I put myself through hell -twice- to get both of us here was so I could have one nice day, somewhere safe from all the danger that's followed me around since my arrival, and as soon as we got here, you left! If I'm going to die, I am -not- leaving this world with my every memory of my being here having trudged through blood, bones and nightmares the likes of which I never could have concieved!" As his feign frustration dripped away, his facade took on a much more genuine, hopeful expression, another version of himself that had not made itself present to date as he slowly stepped up to meet her, gazing down at Penelope with a sense of pleading in his eyes as he took her hand back up into both of his. "Please, Penny...All I am asking for, in return for my fate, is one afternoon with you. One good memory, for me to carry with me wherever I may end up after all of this, if the gods are gracious enough to permit it of me. There is nothing else I wish to take. Please."

Penelope would drop the conversation about the relics. A mental note would be made, for finding a weapon that would kill the entity would be crucial. Perhaps it was not a lost cause, but she would remain quiet. As he lets her keep hold on him, she noticed a different energy between the two and she watches as his metallic fingers wrap around her wrist. Natural. No flinch from the chill. Balance. He cries softly and she wipes the drops with her thumb. It tore her that he was this frightened, broken, lost, and it killed her to know that she had abandoned him for the time when he was trying to figure out what was happening to himself. She ached that she abandoned him long ago without a word, for she developed a fickle mind over those years, or maybe she was scared. Scared of herself. Scared of her past. Scared of love. When she looks down on him now, she lets out a small puff when he caves into her wish. His hand clutches her and she pulls him to his feet. ‘I will do it’. The woman looks up to him at his expectations and the only request he gives her unravels her stomach that was tied in knots. A wave of emotion comes crashing through. The emotion sets in her eyes. The pain for him. The somber. Her chin keeps high and her mouth remains closed to show her strength for him. To lift him up. To feed into his requests. The last plead is what makes her finally speak as his hand coils around her own. A long stare is given and she folds her other hand over his own. “A good day. We can manage that.” Beat. “A picnic is what you want, a picnic you will get. Any requests?” She tries to ask in a more positive light, but the melancholy still rests in the back of her voice.

Linken closed his eyes, letting slip a sigh of relief through the most genuine smile he'd given during his time in this Hollow world. When his eyes opened, they'd swirl with anticipation and eagerness, leaving him quick to deflect any requests with a shake of the head. "No, no. Surprise me. I'm sure anything you bring will be wonderful. I suppose I'll have some preparations to make here, as well- I know of a nice spot. Now go, shoo, shoo, you've got things to gather!" the elf mused, releasing her hand to waft his towards her as a means of ushering her along. "Meet me back here as soon as you're ready! Rain or shine." He'd pause, peering around the corner towards the door, the dim light and audible white noise of rain still present. "...Well, perhaps it will have cleared up by then... Either way, I stand by my word." His head snaps back to Penelope with a smile. "Rain, or shine."