RP:Fighting Terrifying Feelings

Summary: Xiem and Cal take care of Lita after her injuries earned in her first duel of the Vailkrin Blood bowl.

Leaving Vailkrin and traversing through Cenril

Lita is very aware of the fact that Xiem probably would have preferred to drag her to a healer for assistance. But she's never liked healers- not the people, they were usually so nice! But the magic was an entirely different thing. At least Xiem was here. Even if Rynvale was fairly far. She'd apologize for it later, or at least add him to the apology tour that already included Leo and Lora. "Soulskin." She'd murmur between bouts of darkness as she struggled to keep some semblance of consciousness. She was faintly aware of the fact that whatever toxin had been on the thorns of those vines Mahri had conjured up from hell, it was the only thing numbing the pain of the dragon's blood which had been in those mirrors. But it wouldn't last forever. And whatever blood remained on her skin or in her would simmer like acid, burning whatever it came in contact with. Wasn't her first time dealing with the stuff but she's in no hurry to do it again. The irony of the fact that Xiem is a dragon is not lost on her. "Find Cal." She says, repeating the three words, not entirely sure if they're all said coherently or out loud, just hoping that once or twice they might make sense to Xiem.

Xiembantointh knows there are non-magical healers they could have requested, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. She fought hard and won! “Okay,” he softly agrees before placing a caring kiss on her forehead, “I’m so proud of you.” Seeing her like this is scary for him and his heart is still thundering away with concern. He makes a brief stop in Cenril now that they are out of Vailkrin and lays her on a bench in order to get the rest of the dragon's blood off her along with plucking shards of mirror from her skin before throwing the shirt away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles before ripping a chunk of the skirt of her dress off in order to wrap it around her ribs firmly so it applies pressure. He scowls to himself as this reminds him of days in the military during war and his jaw tenses under the cover of his short beard. He now has to find a guy he’s never met or seen… great. Luckily, the front door to SoulsKin is left unlocked and he is unsure if that is even a good thing, but he calls out in an attempt to not sound too panicked, “Cal?!” Then he lays Lita on the couch they shared when they consulted on the tattoo he wanted, boy that feels like forever ago now.

Lita has every intention of lifting a hand to Xiem's cheek in Cenril. The vision of him is a little blurry at the edges just now but she wants to tell him she's okay, or at least that she will be. But that toxin is making her limbs feel heavy and all she really wants to do is sleep. The bench is comfy enough. She wriggles her fingers at him, some attempt at words mumbled. She grits her teeth, wincing, curling slightly in pain when he applies pressure on her ribs. At least the pain makes the world a little sharper for a moment... The shop is dark but the front door is unlocked, per usual. The sound of footsteps upstairs draws the smuggler's attention though, namely for the fact that it's someone with shoes on. He might not have supernatural hearing but he'd been listening to Lita's barefoot prancing for enough years to recognize it. He makes a sound of acknowledgement when Xiem calls out his name and takes the stairs two at a time, practically shoving the taller man out of the doorway before the glacial cut of pale blue eyes slips past him to catch sight of Lita near the door. A flicker of worry, and then annoyance crosses his features. "Fun stuff, huh?" He's closing the door behind him, as if Xiem might have had a thought to slip downstairs, and then crosses the room towards the vampire, crouching near the couch. "Been a while." He presses a hand over her ribs and she groans, shifting her weight a bit away from him. "Shut up and help me." She says softly between clenched teeth. There were very few people she trusted enough to ask for help, let alone in such a state. But Cal had seen her here before. And for better or worse, whatever their relationship, Cal had no qualms about causing her pain if it meant saving her life. While he adored her as a person, a greater part of him hated what she was- a vampire. "He okay?" Cal asks, nodding over his shoulder at Xiem. Lita nods and Cal stands, turning back towards Xiem finally. "Alright, bring 'er upstairs." He breezes past Xiem again, heading towards the staircase at the back of the room that leads to the second floor. The room upstairs had been an office once, and then living quarters with a medium sized bed and a lavish wash tub and a small desk. More recently, she'd taken to using it for storage since she'd moved back into the beach house and Leo was moonlighting at the parlor. Cal shoves aside a couple of boxes and points Xiem towards the tub. "Put her on the edge of the tub with her feet in it and get her dress off." The smuggler is rummaging through a few boxes, looking for something. If Xiem hesitates at this comment about disrobing Lita in front of Cal, the smuggler will only smirk a little and add, "Nothing I ain't seen already, no offense but she ain't my type. Please tell me you're not the faint hearted type." He seems to find what he's looking for, a smaller wooden box and he'll cross back towards the pair with it in hand.

Xiembantointh is unusually silent, allowing this guy named Cal to shove him out of the way as he stares helplessly down at Lita. For a split second he saw Nildran laying on the couch instead of Lita. His heart feels like it stops and he takes a couple steps back. Can he really do this again? Suddenly - he wished he felt guilty like he usually did when starting something new instead of what he is feeling now as the widower is reminded how it feels to have your heart ripped out by the mortality of life. With a sigh of the breath he’d been holding, he blinks away threatening tears and lifts her up gently as instructed. As he’s setting Lita up and does as instructed, he doesn’t offer a witty retort to Cal about seeing Lita in her undergarments, but he merely grunts because way too many thoughts are buzzing around in his head. “No,” the dragon simply replies because he’s seen worse and he’s seen people come back from worse, but when it involves someone who has carved a home in your heart, it is a whole different ball game. While helping Lita hold herself up on the edge of the bathtub, he only focuses on the makeshift bandaging around her ribs. He cannot look up at her face at this moment and he isn’t even curious as to what is in the small wooden box. Xiem just wants to stop feeling this way as soon as possible.

Lita is torn between wanting Xiem to be here and wishing he wasn't. Because she knows what's coming next and she doesn't want him to see it. It was one thing to be vulnerable emotionally but this was something else. The last time she'd been here had been just after Hanan had left. She'd picked a fight with the wrong people and wound up with a dose of dragon's blood injected into her. That had been a lot worse than this. Lita is gripping at the edge of the tub, staring down at her feet, watching the abstract patterns that form from the little drips of blood that fall from the various cuts and scratches those vines had caused. "Xiem..." She wants to tell him he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to. She'd understand. But the words feel far away and why won't he look at her? Cal removes two things from the smaller box: a small strip of black leather and a razor blade, well cared for, precision sharp, the metal of it glinting in the soft light of the room. "Hold her wrists steady." Cal says to Xiem, lifting the leather to Lita’s mouth. When she ignores him, he sighs. "Lits, you can't bite him." It's an almost gentle reminder but she growls at him all the same. Another sigh and he tugs at a strand of hair at her temple. When she snaps at his hand, annoyed, he slips the strip of leather between her teeth. "Breathe." He says, glancing briefly at Xiem. And he wastes no time cutting through the makeshift bandage tied around her ribs, his left hand against her side as his right holds the razor, plunging the blade into her skin beneath the initial wound, carving a low deep arc beneath it. It's a fluid motion and there is little care or emotion in the smuggler's eyes for having done it. Even the muffled sound of Lita's scream around that strip of leather isn't enough to deter him. Lita all but passes out, that bit of leather falling into the tub as her arms go slack. Cal drops the razor to the floor on the side of the tub, his hands and up to his right forearm smeared with blood. "Let her bleed for a minute or two." He says casually, as if they weren't just watching Lita bleed out but actively participating in it. "She probably got lucky if this was the worst of it. Heard there were gonna be some fun surprises in the tournament but they never fail to disappoint, huh." He moves from the tub to search a box with his cleaner hand for a cloth, finds a shirt and presses it to the new wound at Lita’s side to staunch the bleeding. "I'm Cal, by the way. I'm assuming you're the new guy? Xiem?" He messes up the pronunciation, even by Lita’s standards.

Xiembantointh swallows hard, focusing on anything but her face and he softly replies, “Lita…” in return. He can almost feel her apprehension about having him here, but there is no way he’s leaving. No matter how torturous it is to see her like this, he can’t leave her. In order to keep her safe from biting him and keep her steady, he pulls her wrists together and holds them tight behind her back while he presses his chest to her back to rest his chin lightly on her shoulder. “C’mon, you’ve got this,” he says gently against her ear as she’s struggling against Cal placing the leather in her mouth. He takes a deep breath and gently kisses the top of her shoulder while waiting for Cal to do what is necessary. As Lita goes limp, Xiem lets out a curse of, “Sven’s sack,” under his breath and adjusts so his one hand holds her wrists together and his other arm wraps around her chest, but his hand holds her jaw in case she comes to and tries to sink her teeth into him. For the first time in his long life, he wishes desperately to be human if it meant helping Lita in this moment. “Lita?” His voice is soft even though there is a panicked undertone. This is so stupid! He knew they should have just stayed in Vailkrin because that area probably specializes in healing vampires! Xiem believes in this moment that he should have just put his foot down and took her to a proper vampire healer. Xiem doesn’t care who the hell this Cal guy is anymore as his hand taps her cheek in attempts to keep her alert, “I don’t like this, Lita.” Then his hand goes back to supporting her jaw and he doesn’t even look Cal’s way when he replies, “mmhm,” while he seems not to care if he mispronounced his name. He doesn’t care about anything but Lita right now.

Cal is a little surprised he's still standing, let alone here. Point for Xiem in his book, but who's keeping count? "She'll live." He's saying, maybe trying to be reassuring. He's still applying pressure against Lita’s side, who is leaning back against Xiem a bit like a rag doll at the moment. If he's concerned about the state of her, he doesn't let on. He moves the shirt away from Lita’s side, seeming pleased that the blood flow is already slowing considerably, considering he'd just opened a second gaping wound across her ribcage. He isn't privy to Xiem's thoughts about wishing he'd stayed in Vailkrin, or he might have explained why that would have been a bad idea. All the same, he drops the blood soaked shirt into the tub and moves across the room to the desk, opening drawers until he finds a jar of some dark green sludge substance and a few rolls of gauze. "Not the first time we've been here, huh Lits?" Cal asks, smearing a healthy amount of that salve across the wounds on her side. Lita rolls her head back against Xiem's shoulder but she opens her eyes enough to glare at Cal, her lips turning up in a sneer as she hisses at him. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Tell yah what, you die this round and I'm turnin' this place into some eco-friendly sandal shop for all the tourists." Lita grumbles a few choice curses under her breath at him, leaning forward a bit at his insistence so he can wrap the clean gauze around her abdomen. "Let's get you cleaned up and in bed to rest, yeah? Xiem can read you a bedtime story." He's probably teasing about that bit. Cal turns on the water so they can get the last smears of blood and dirt off her skin. When he can't find a towel, he gives up and just tugs the top sheet from the bed to wrap her in to dry off instead. Cal won't try to get in the way of Xiem getting her into bed though. "I can bring a case of blood wine up from the tunnels. Best thing now though is to just let her rest as much as possible. Dragon's blood is a bitch and a half with this one." And then as if just remembering that Xiem was a dragon he adds, "No offense meant." With a last glance at Lita, he'll head towards the door.

Xiembantointh doesn’t have a temper, but Cal is testing him. None of this is funny to Xiem and he doesn’t appreciate the little jokes, but he must remember that this man doesn’t know or understand his fear of losing someone to death - again. He helps support Lita until she must support herself while him and Cal wrap the gauze around her middle. Finally, he helps Cal get her washed up and he double checks for any shards of mirror he may have missed while Cal is trying to find a towel. “No offense taken,” he replies simply while wrapping her in the sheet before cradling her just like he did the whole way here. “She wanted to go home, we will be at the villa,” at least that is one thing he can control in this forked up situation and they also have blood wine there. If Cal has any protest, it falls on deaf ears as he descends the stairs and makes his way out the shop to head home. Once he gets there, the sun is starting to rise, what a long ass night it’s been and he gently lays her down in her bed before tossing the sheet from the shop away to get her into one of his shirts - knowing she finds those most comfortable. Then he gently tucks her in before hovering his head on her chest to listen for that faint heartbeat and after he hears it, he places a sweet kiss on her forehead. Then he gets a bottle of blood wine ready for whenever she wakes up if she wants it and a chair from the kitchen so he can sit up while she rests, allowing him to be alert. Obviously, the work site will have to get on without him today. He doesn’t care to clean himself up for fear of her waking up to think she’s alone and the green L on his chest has become a vague L shape because it has smudged throughout this ordeal. He reaches over the bed to place his hand over the back of her hand while saying softly, “I’ll wait…”

The Villa

Lita can't tell if the sun is coming up or going down by the time she finally wakes up. She blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy, the room bathed in a soft glow of light. Her room. Their room. Xiem brought her home? The familiar scents of the ocean and sandalwood reach her finally and she moves her hand across her chest, feeling one of his shirts. Xiem brought her home. She vaguely remembers the events following the duel, mostly the warmth of Xiem and Cal's voice. She moves a hand over her left ribs and winces at the movement. Her abdomen feels like one giant bruise and her lower right leg is still a bit achy from Mahri's vines. She turns her head to find Xiem half slumped in a kitchen chair and she wants to tug him closer, or crawl into his lap. She reaches for his hand and squeezes his fingers and the green paint on his chest makes her smile. She can't help the tears on her cheeks suddenly. She doesn't deserve him. Her eyes close again and what she should say is ’thank you’ or ’I love you’ or ‘I'm okay.’ Instead she murmurs, "Hey, you."

Xiembantointh stirs subtlety when her fingers squeeze the hand that’s been holding onto her’s for the last twelve hours. Unfortunately sleep had taken him eventually, but after all the adrenaline and stress, he couldn’t fight off the exhaustion. When her angelic voice brings him to consciousness, it earns a far more abrupt reaction than he can control. With a startle, his eyes snap open while he gasps and he looks around a little lost for a couple seconds until the entirety of the last twenty four hours come crashing down on him with realization. “Lita,” he looks down to the unopened bottle of wine at his feet and he leans down to pick it up in order to offer it to her. “Are you okay? Do you want some blood wine?” As much as he tried to plan how he wanted to act when she woke up. Maybe he wanted to hide his worry, or cover up his concerns, but he fails miserably and cannot help the sigh of relief seeing her alert. “You scared me a little there, my Lita,” he admits.

Lita wants to reach out and hug him as if to prove to him that she was actually here. "I'm okay." She says softly, trying not to breathe too deeply to irritate those wounds further. "I'll be okay." She clarifies. She's not dead, so she's pretty sure that's a good sign. She wrinkles her nose a little at the thought of drinking blood wine just now. She'd much rather head up into Rynvale and find a treat but she doubts Xiem would let her leave bed right now, let alone the villa. So she'll settle for the blood wine. With gratitude. "I'm sorry you were so worried." She says, and she means it. She probably could have been a bit more careful in the arena but she'd had stuff to work out after Frostmaw. Speaking of, "Is Mahri okay?" She vaguely remembers, suddenly, that Leo had carted the woman out of the arena to get her some help. "Is Leo still mad at me? How's Lora?" Her breaths get a little shallow with all the questions and worry her brow knit with the effort it takes to concentrate. Her palm is flat over her ribs, applying a slight pressure, simultaneously keeping that wound a bit more still while the steady thrum of pain makes it a bit easier to focus.

Xiembantointh watches her nose wrinkle and he sighs while opening the bottle for her, “it probably isn’t the best idea to have alcohol, but at least there is blood in there?” He contemplates something while handing over the bottle, “should I go fetch that redhead you like?” As long as the person is willing and Lita won’t drain them, he doesn’t really see anything wrong with it. He just wants to take care of Lita. With a subtle shake of his head, he waves away her apologies, “it’s okay. You won,” he says with obvious pride and he lets a comfortable silence rest between them for a moment. “I’m not sure, honestly. Leo is taking care of her and Lora. From the looks of it, Lora has a nasty cold, but she seemed to be proudly rooting for the both of you.” Then he shrugs, “I don’t know if Leo is mad at you. I’ve only met him once, but he seemed concerned for both of you I think.” Then he lets go of her hand, turning his seat towards her and leaning elbows on the bed to lock his gaze with her own. “Lita, would you tell me what you’re getting out of being in this tournament?” His voice is calm while his gaze studies her facial expression, “please help me understand the reasoning because… I’ll admit, I am having a really hard time seeing you go through this and I had a thought that ripped my heart to shreds last night when I thought I could lose you.” His jaw tenses again, but he doesn’t dare look away from her this time, “you have laid you soul bare for me many times and I you. You’ve told me your fear of being left behind again or forgotten. Let me share my fear… I fear of having to go through losing someone I care for, someone I love - again.” He doesn’t realize what he slipped up and said, but that suddenly doesn’t feel important because if she didn’t suspect that he loves her by now then she’s missed all the obvious signs. “So, please, Lita… help me understand what this tournament means for you and I will do my best to make peace with it to support you.”

Lita tries to sit up a little when he hands over that bottle. He was probably right about alcohol not being the best decision right now, but one chaos at a time. Injured vampire can trump a starving one for the moment. With her good right shoulder angled back some against the headboard, she tips the bottle to her lips for a few long swallows. It's not lost on her now that she watched Leo do the same with a few bottles of rum after his duel. She manages a smile when he mentions that redhead. And even if part of her wants to say *yes please* to the idea, more of her doesn't want him to leave. There's a pang of guilt that settles in her chest when he mentions Lora being sick but she's glad to hear Leo is taking care of both women. The easy answer when he asks about her motives behind entering the tournament is that Leo had asked. Or that the prize money was good. But she knows that's not what he wants to hear. And more so, now that she's won, she's realizing she'll have to step foot in that arena again. She's realizing that he's drawing the same conclusions. Slowly, as she watches him, she realizes what torture last night must have been for him. She's used to it, Cal is too, but maybe it wasn't fair to ask it of him. She reaches for his hand, as if to assure him that she is in fact here and okay. Mostly. "Do you know that feeling you get when you're faced with something that scares you? I mean, the things that truly terrify you, to your soul. The things that make you forget how to breathe because your chest is so tight. And you forget how to move or how to scream. Those things, for me, are all emotional triggers. They make me want to run and more than that, it's easier for me to turn them all into anger. Worry, fear, loss, guilt, doubt, even love- these aren't things I always know how to process but anger I understand. Hatred. The adrenaline of it." She sort of loses her train of thought for what she's trying to say and the point she's trying to make and she has to pause for a minute, takes another drink from that bottle to try and regroup. "Xiem, I can't just try and stay for you. That's not fair to you, or to me. I have to try and stay for myself. So I can be here for you. And facing the shyte in that arena, whatever might come, whatever terrifying it might be, I feel like if I can do that, then loving you won't be so scary." She wipes the back of her hand across her cheeks and the tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry about last night." She blurts out. "I didn't mean to scare you. Dragon's blood is dangerous for me. More so than most vampires. Because my heart still beats, once it gets in my bloodstream, it just spreads, and gets worse. Cal's helped me with it before and the healers in Vailkrin," she swallows hard here, "I'm always worried they'll stick me in some kind of lab or something to try and figure out why I'm different."

Xiembantointh probably wouldn’t have much trouble asking a worker from a brothel to come with him in his current state - all rugged and shirtless, even with the smeared green paint. He accepts her hand and sandwiches it between both of his larger hands. “I’m not trying to get you to stay or forfeit your place in the tournament. I don’t want you to change a thing for me, but if the thought of letting yourself feel something as great as love for someone makes you want to do this to yourself…” he stops. She doesn’t want or need a lecture right now. “I just don’t understand what more I could do to make you feel secure in the fact that I’m not going anywhere. You can love me one day, I know it’s not going to be today, but one day you will and I’ll still be here - I’ve got all the time,” he lets her hand go and relaxes back in the chair. “Okay,” Xiem accepts it even though there is a concern that maybe she doesn’t want the same thing he does, but it’s too late because he cares about her no matter what now. “We will just have to be smarter next time. I’ll rent a room in Vailkrin and have it prepared for anything even if that includes asking a willing person to be a blood donor. Maybe you can convince Cal to come along, but if it comes to it, I’ll just have to fly you back here. Are you afraid of flying?”

Lita takes another few swallows of that blood wine when he leans back in his chair again. She feels a little guilty that he's going through all of this. But she hadn't planned for this. She tries to remember if she'd signed up before meeting him, or maybe it had been around the same time. Certainly before things had gotten serious, before she would have thought he might be here with her, helping her, telling her he loves her. The fact that she's breezed past those words isn't lost on her but she's not harping on them. They don't feel as heavy as they have in the past, coming from other people. Maybe because she'd already seen it so many times before in the way he's looked at her. "It's not you," she says gently, handing him back the bottle of blood wine, now mostly empty. Her head's a little fuzzy but sleep feels like a good solution for that. "Please know that. I just need to prove this to myself. But I'll be more careful." She can agree to that. This had been her first time ever in the arena. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been a little excited, along with everything else. "And whatever you want after, I'll listen. I just, I'm really glad you were there." During her match and for the aftermath. "And I'm really glad you're here." She reaches for his hand again, aiming to tuck him closer. "Come lay with me." She murmurs, the words barely a question, her eyes already closing. "I'm not going anywhere." She'll promise, tilting her face up to kiss him if he'll allow it. "I've only been flying once." She says, trying to think. "But that was after Gualon and honestly I don't remember much of it other than being told it happened." Krice had a dragon mount but she didn't think more sentient dragons liked to carry riders. "I thought most dragons considered carrying riders beneath them?" That seems like something she'd read once, maybe in researching dragons when she'd first met Xiem. But then, he was very different to what the lore dictated, so.

Xiembantointh stands now, placing an affectionate kiss on his precious Lita’s forehead, “I will. I’ve got to clean up first because I didn’t want to until you woke up and knew you were not alone. Go ahead and sleep, I won’t be long,” he tucks her in again and disappears into her washroom.

Lita dozes off while Xiem is in the shower. She doesn't feel entirely sure that he's accepted her answer. Maybe she'll have a better one after a few more days of rest. She's vaguely aware of him crawling into bed next to her, warm and clean, moving slightly to curl against his chest. She should tell him she loves him. It wouldn't be untrue, she thinks. Even if she hasn't always trusted her own emotions. She buries her face against his chest and kisses him gently before she's falling asleep again.