RP:Shadows Looming Beneath The Fog

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Part of the What You Leave Behind Arc

Summary: In the aftermath of Kahran's attack on Cenril and the SS Turnt, Khitti's left to pick up the pieces of her fractured mind and Brand's lies just keep piling up.

The Tranquility, Cenril Wharf

There was chaos everywhere in the aftermath of Kahran’s onslaught. The screams of the partygoers that were left, the heat of the flames from magic and the burning SS Turnt alike, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air, making that headache Khitti had all the worse. As Brand searched for Khitti, she’d quickly moved from that spot she left herself at near the steering wheel to the further part of the stern of the ship, vomiting once more off the side. It was bile and nothing more, for they’d not gotten to the party in time to eat anything, and it made her feel all the more wretched.

Khitti collapsed onto the deck again, sobbing and holding her head in her hands. Brand’s utter distaste for fancy attire had saved them from certain bloody doom, but it couldn’t stop the assault that Kahran had given them via those visions. Where was Brand? Where was Meri? Or Onyx? Or Lionel? Or Dozla? Where was anyone? Maybe they were all dead. Maybe -she- was dead. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe she was alone and this was some sort of hell. And if it -was- hell, she wondered just what it was she did to deserve it.

Brand was rarely more grateful for the competence of his crew than he was at this moment. The fact that he could hand over command and trust that the operations of rescue and recovery would continue to run smoothly… they were something to be treasured, and he would mourn deeply for those they’d lost when the time came for it. But now was not that time. The morbid vision had left him shaken; seeing it with his waking eyes had made it that much more vivid than it had been as a dream. He desperately needed to find Khitti. He needed to rest his eyes on her and know that she was unharmed.

Brand roved the deck in a frenzy. Each second passed like a hundred. The smoke charred each breath and stung in his eyes, making the search that much harder. And then at last he spotted her, sobbing but not visibly hurt. Quickly, he swept her into his grasp and carried her to their quarters. The chaos of the topdeck was no place for conversation.

Khitti was being grabbed and soon picked up and carried elsewhere. She struggled and screamed, her eyes still closed so she couldn’t see the world for what it’d become: naught but fire and death. It was very much like the day they first met, when he whisked her off to safety to Sage Forest at the behest of the one who had been his other half. She wasn’t a vampire quickly losing blood and on the brink of death, but she was just as terrified. And then she wondered to herself: maybe her would-be attacker would be merciful and let it be a quick death if she stopped her struggling. Khitti even peeked open her eyes, the tiniest bit curious of which monster Kahran had unleashed was the one to captured her and likely damn her to a world of torture.

But… there was no attacker. It was Brand. -Her- Brand. He’d saved her again; just another in a long list that she didn’t remember yet. “Brand…?” There were tears again, the redhead near hysterical. Pale hands reach towards his face, and slide up into his hair--she really couldn’t believe he was real--before she realized that it -was- him and she was quick to throw her arms around his neck as he carried her to their room.

Khitti would let Brand put her on the bed, or the chair, or wherever he deemed best for she was certainly out of sorts and not in the right mind to be making any sort of decisions. A hand absently went to her stomach, as if there was some way she could know their child was still there and fine. But, there wasn’t any way of knowing. Not this soon. Not unless something went wrong inside and even then, it could be days before they knew. “I died,” finally came tumbling out of her mouth. She felt numb. Saying it out loud didn’t make things any better. “-I died-.” Khitti said it with more conviction now, but she still didn’t seem to believe it.

Brand looked thoroughly incredulous; maybe he’d forgotten, for a time, that she really -had- died. “What in the seven hells are you talkin’ about? You’re right here. You’re fine.” He gripped her by the shoulders as if to confirm it. “Did you… did you see a vision, too?” Maybe it had been a spell rather than his own mind betraying him. That -did- make more sense than him randomly losing his marbles, now that he felt calm enough to think about it. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

Khitti nodded, but she wasn’t convinced fully, “Yeah, but… It was -real-, Brand. Most of it. It felt wrong. Off. Different.” More tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she caught them just before they could, wiping them away and onto her dress. “I was hanging off the side of a bridge and there was this--this thing! It wouldn’t let go… and then I fell. And there was no one there. There was no one. You were all gone. I think you were dead. You and Lionel and Meri.” She shook her head then, “But that’s what feels wrong. Like you should’ve been there.”

Brand was firm. She’d hit on truth, but this wasn’t something he wanted her to know. “It’s nonsense, the whole lot of it.” He slipped beside her on the bed, wrapping her in a hug. “I know it felt real. Mine felt real, too. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. You’re here, Red. You’re alive.” He shook her faintly. “What more proof do you need?”

Khitti frowned deeply as Brand shook her. He was like an unmovable object right now with this and now she started to doubt her own thoughts. “I don’t know. I feel like my mind is breaking.” She leaned over into the hug, burying her face into his chest, “I’m sorry.” Khitti sighed heavily, trying to shove these worries off elsewhere in her brain--somewhere far, far away so maybe she won’t think about them anymore. She clung to him for what seemed like forever before it hit her: he might be hurt and just not saying anything. This -is- Brand we’re talking about here. “Are -you- alright?” Olive-green eyes started to look him over, before finally fixating on his face again.

“Yeah. We were far enough away from the brunt of it.” He was still wearing his tuxedo, he realized. The starched white dress shirt had not survived as neatly as he himself had. “Might need a new tux, heh. I hope these last couple of shindigs don’t put you off attendin’ any parties completely. I promise they’re not -all- like this.”

Khitti seemed relieved by his answer, and actually managed a smile for him as she shook her head, “Doesn’t matter to me if we go to another one or not.” Ever so carefully, she climbed into his lap and focused on unbuttoning that no longer white shirt of his, “You don’t even like going to them anyway. You only did it ‘cause I asked.” Khitti shifted her attention back up to his face briefly, that smile of hers turning to a mischievous grin as helped him with his coat, “It’s not like it’s my fault you look spectacular all dressed up, though. And, uh… since we -didn’t- get to shovel free food down our throats, -and- I might’ve thrown up again thanks to all that chaos,--” Insert awkward cough here. “--your woman is kind of seriously starving.” Your woman who is eating for two now. Don’t mind the fact that that baby is probably the size of a watermelon seed or some such right now. She’s hungry. Changing the subject from those visions entirely seemed to help her a bit; it was definitely a big difference between this Khitti and the previous one. She’d learned not to dwell, and it was better now that she didn’t or else she might actually snap thanks to that mess going on in her head.

Brand stared, and stared, and stared. A tremor in his chest built slowly to a rumble. The rumble infected his lungs and spread upwards, contorting the muscles in his face. Before he knew it he was laughing, roaring with it, crying great tears of mirth he couldn’t stop. He clung to Khitti like a liferaft as the fit rocked him, and only when it had subsided enough for him to speak did he dare loosen his grip. “Only you,” he wheezed at last, “could think of food at a time like this.” She was still in his lap. With a struggle he rose to his feet, lifting her up with him. “I s’pose you’ll want me to carry you to the kitchen, now? Is this how it’s gonna be for the next eight months?”

Khitti smirked as Brand damn near died of laughter because of her humble request to be fed. Geez, Brand. Her hunger isn’t a joke! She’s starving! “The food probably yes. I imagine you’ll be up at all hours of the night, some nights, getting me food. But, probably not really. Because I’m stubborn,” she paused, just long enough to press a kiss to his lips. “And definitely no carrying me. At least not right now, because I imagine you’re likely very sore. I can take care of myself thankyouverymuch.” The redhead slipped out of his hold to stand next him, that smile of hers fading somewhat as she took his hand and led him to the galley. “I’m just trying not to dwell on things is all, but that also doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t talk about it. Do you think they’ll be okay up top for a little bit without us? It doesn’t feel right just being down here and eating, but… I don’t know what I can do to help and I can’t think straight on an empty stomach. I don’t think I can look at any of that up there right now...”

The smile disappeared entirely and concerned frown replaced it finally as she went to the ship’s icebox, searching for something specific. She finds it, eventually, and plucks the last bit of strawberry cheesecake out, grabbing two forks as well. “I hope Lionel and Meri are alright. They were both supposed to be there.” Now she was back to dwelling on it, despite what she’d said. She couldn’t help it; everything was so fresh and awful and raw. “Brand,” she’d finally say at length after everything else on her mind had been passed along verbally, “What’s the Shadow Plane…?”

Yes, the folks up top were in good hands. No, he didn’t know what had become of Lionel and Meri, but he hoped they were all right, too. Brand’s answers came easily enough to start with. The issue of the Shadow Plane, though, that hit him like a bolt from the blue, as goes the saying. (And seven hells, the whole ordeal with the SS Turnt had been like a bolt from the blue. But then, he supposed, that was how a good ambush was supposed to work.)

“S’not somethin’ you should worry about,” Brand began, but he knew even before he finished that wouldn’t be enough for Khitti’s curiosity. He stalled for thought, carving out an overly large portion of the cheesecake and shoving it into his mouth. “A dark place. Like here, and not. Very dangerous -- moreso’n here. Not a place anyone has any business goin’.”

He was doing that thing again, the same thing Khitti’d told Meri about. About how Brand barely told her anything and did his best to smooth things over and continue on like nothing had been discussed. She so desperately didn’t want to start an argument between the two of them over something that might be nothing but… “Those were the same portals from my vision.” More frowning ensued before she finally scooped up a bit of the cheesecake and ate it, silencing the rest of her thoughts. He’d probably just say it was nothing, though. Everything was always nothing. Everything was always nothing, but it certainly felt like something. They always felt like important somethings that just turned out to be nothing. They were everything and nothing all at once and it was entirely frustrating and exhausting for Khitti.

Khitti sighed, muttered a faint apology for bringing up the vision again, and continued eating. If she was just going to get shut down, it seemed like it was just better to be silent. At least there was food for now.

Brand shrugged. “It makes sense, in a way. If the spell was meant to make us conjure some horrible thought and view it like reality… your brain just used what you knew. We’d just seen the portals amidst all this death. We’ve crossed that bridge at least a half-dozen times since you came back. You’ve met me and Lionel and Meri and know we all knew you before.” He stabbed his fork into the cheesecake and lifted up another heavy bite, though this one he paused before filling his mouth. “It’s dark magic from a dark place. Doesn’t make it real. I know mine wasn’t.”

“Okay,” Khitti said quietly. It wasn’t okay, but likewise, she wasn’t going to press things. After one more bite, she pushed the rest of the cheesecake towards Brand to finish, got up, and threw her fork into the empty wash basin for now. She knew she should eat more, but she started to feel sick again; everything was still threatening to overwhelm her and she was trying hard to keep it at bay. Khitti eventually sat down next to him again, but she just stared at the table. And then her dress. And then up at the ceiling. His answers didn’t sit well with her and it was making her restless.

“Cap’n.” Dozla had quite suddenly kicked open the kitchen door, hauling a freckled, sandy-haired boy by the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t from the crew. He’d probably come about from the Turnt, but Brand couldn’t distinguish one refugee from the next in his memory. “I found this one rooting ‘round where he shouldn’t be,” Dozla explained. “He was taking advantage of the chaos, I think. Taking advantage of our armory, too.” She dropped the boy at Brand’s feet and with her other hand threw a shortsword and shield onto the table. “Go on, then, boy. Why dontcha ‘splain to the cap’n what you’re doing with his things.”

Brand eyed the goods the boy had meant to make off with, but even at a glance they weren’t of particular value. He looked from Dozla to Khitti and finally to the child himself. He was an angry little thing, for one so young -- thirteen or fourteen, and positively shaking with rage. And still not speaking. “Well, c’mon then, out with it.” The boy shook his head and opened his mouth. He possessed only a stub for a tongue.

Khitti jumped in her chair when the door was kicked open and Dozla appeared. Thankfully, she didn’t have a heart attack from that. As Dozla spoke and the boy did not, Khitti watched him silently, looking towards the shield, the sword, and then back up at the child.

Before anything else could be said, Khitti slid from her chair and stepped over to child, still eyeing him carefully, “Are you hurt?” He didn’t seem like it, and if they responded in some fashion with a ‘no’, she’d continue on, “Were you taking these things because you’re trying to protect yourself? Or… maybe someone else?” She tried to be as kind as possible to the kid; perhaps they’d get answers out of him that way instead of being demanded. Khitti even tried to give him a smile too, in hopes it’d help, but she was also exhausted and it was beginning to show.

“Kid’s too young to protect anyone,” Brand muttered, and this earned an even deeper scowl from the child. “Alright, yeah, yeah, I get it. If looks could kill I’d be dead. But most folks don’t have that power, and I don’t think you’d be lootin’ our stores if you did.” Brand pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his brain to come to some solution. Staring at the child gave him no epiphany, and Dozla only offered a shrug. If she wasn’t able to get anywhere with him, Brand doubted he’d do any better, but…

Khitti. Brand might never say it, but he admired her compassion, even as he thought it naive. There was as good a chance the kid was a petty thief taking advantage of distraction as anything else. Still… maybe, just maybe, this situation called for a bit of compassion. “Red, you keep any spare parchment around here? Could you grab that and a pen?” Off she’d go, in all likelihood, and Brand turned again to the boy. “You know your letters, kid? You clearly understand me. You wanna write me a note why you’re makin’ off with my stuff?” The boy seemed to consider. Brand took that to mean ‘yes’ to the first question and ‘not really’ to the second. It was progress, at least. Brand borrowed Khitti’s demeanor and nudged him a little further. “I like your answer enough, maybe you keep the stuff when I throw you off my ship, mmkay?” ...Well, he tried.

Brand, you’re so lucky Khitti doesn’t have her memories right now because she’s lecture you so hard about who’s too young or not when it comes to learning how to protect themselves. Okay, so, maybe they -were- getting taken advantage of. Or, maybe they weren’t. If Dozla had found this kid, she’d surely have found others. Hm. Parchment and a pen… parchment… and a pen. Right, yes. Khitti nodded to Brand and wandered over to the drawer she kept a few recipe books in. Blank paper was pried out from the back of it, and a pen brought with her, both soon given to the captain. “If you tell him… I’ll give you a slice of carrot cake. It’s the best you’ll ever eat,” she said as she took her seat next to Brand again briefly, doing her best to sweeten the deal for the kid. Literally.

Brand gave Khitti an odd look, but elected not to argue. “Right. And there’s carrot cake, I guess.” He handed over the writing tools, and the boy took to scribbling hunched over on the floor. M… O… T… Brand could make out some of the letters from his vantage upside-down, but the boy caught his peering and covered up the rest. Only when he was finished did allow Brand to see -- in fact, he stood and shoved everything back into the captain’s hands. Brand looked the parchment over, clearing his throat. “ ‘Mother and sister were killed by Kahran,’ “ Brand read, suddenly solemn. “ ‘They cut my tongue when I screamed at them and left me there to bleed. A mage healed me, but couldn’t bring my family back. I want to make Kahran pay.’ ” Brand blinked at Khitti and at Dozla, who had pressed her lips into a bronze-painted grimace. “...Seven frakkin’ hells, kid. Some of the best warriors alive were out in that, n’ he still got away. And you think you’re gonna do better as a teen with stolen medium-grade steel?”

Khitti just shrugged at Brand. She was trying to help, okay? When the kid handed over the parchment, she was anxious to hear about it, but that soon changed after Brand read the first sentence. A deep frown surfaced as she stared at the table, listening to the rest of the note before she’s getting up and fetching the cake for the kid. There’s an unmistakable pop of a cork being taken out of a bottle behind Brand. A small shot glass of wine is poured--it was nothing too fancy or too expensive; just something enough to maybe settle the kid down a bit… if that was even possible--and then brought to the table with the cake. “Sit.” Her tone was a little more firm now than it had been before. “Eat. It’s too dangerous for you to go back out there alone, first of all, and certainly not in the state you’re in. Brand’s right, and it wouldn’t matter if you knew how to use those or not, if your head’s not where it should be, you’ll end up hurting someone else or yourself.”

Eating the cake was an ordeal without a tongue, and its sweetness did nothing to improve the child’s attitude. Three bites in, he snatched the paper and wrote again: “If I eat all this, will you let me go?”

Dozla had been lost in thought, her expression full of sorrow. But she was the one to speak up now, and her voice rang clear: “Hand him over to the Warrior’s Guild, Cap’n, if he wants to help. He’ll have reason enough to train hard, methinks, and there’s no sense punishing him for grief.”

Brand took Dozla’s advice in with a hesitant nod. “Fine. Assumin’ Lionel’s alive, for a moment: we’ll send word to the inn and see if he has use for you. If it all works out you’ll learn from the best, but you’ll have to stay alive for the lessons, y’hear? No runnin’ off to kill Kahran by your lonesome.” The child nodded his assent, though it was difficult to tell if he agreed or if he was just trying to get out of trouble and get on his way.

Khitti frowned at the kid. Sighing heavily, she let Brand and Dozla deal with him as she put the wine and cake away. It was funny how they were so quick to throw a kid at the Warrior’s Guild, but it was only just a couple weeks ago that they let her even go near a weapon. Or told her about her magic. Or told her about the illusion they put on her violin. And now she was pregnant and even more useless than before thanks to that damned morning sickness, and well, just being pregnant in general.

Khitti was a little bitter. Okay, maybe a lot bitter. She said nothing as she left the galley and headed back to the room her and Brand shared, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing through the hall.

Dozla cocked an eyebrow. Brand saw it for what it was, a question and nonverbal indictment all in one: what did he do -this- time? “Look,” he said, scrambling to defend himself, “she already had a flair for the dramatic -before- she was pregnant, all right? Don’t look at me like that. I have no idea what I did.”

Brand || “If I had a copper for every time a man has said that…” It was Dozla’s turn to sigh. “I’ll deal with the kid from here. She slams any more doors that hard, she’ll be splitting the hull in two. Best you see that doesn’t happen, cap’n.”

Brand reluctantly marched out the door and up the stairs. It didn’t seem Brand had been left with any better option, unless he wanted to go back to the topdeck and… yeah, actually, dealing with death and dying sounded completely preferable to grappling with Khitti’s mystery wrath right now. She’d cool down just fine on her own, right? It would be fiiiiine.

Brand took a hook left instead of right, and up to the topdeck he went. Some old habits die hard.