[RP] Keeping Your Head Up (Bellen x Zeylla)

[quite uneventful]

Bellen convinces Zeylla out of continuing a very dangerous lifestyle.

 

[quite uneventful]

Bellen was worried.

Okay, Vremea was worried. After their first meeting, Zeylla had taken to visiting the rehab center on occasion and helping out here and there. But it'd been more than a week since she'd passed by. Usually she came once or twice a week, but two weeks? Vremea felt her insides mesh together uncomfortably. It wasn't like she was a signed volunteer or anything, she definitely didn't need to be there. So Vremea shouldn't have felt so worried or nervous, she guessed. Adjusting her hat, the hemoanon pursed her black lips unsurely. Had she grown sick of their meetings? Maybe she'd grown bored of the same tea... Her shoulders tensed some, and Bellen rubbed her neck with an anxious frown. Was she that unpleasant? Maybe she was being too pushy... Or maybe Zeylla was just taking a break. Yes, it was nothing to get too worried about, right? Yes. Bellen exhaled.

Maybe she'd been culled.

Vremea's hands froze. Tensed. It took her a minute, but after a few seconds, the hemoanon managed to convince herself that she hadn't been culled, and that she was simply thinking something Bellen wouldn't think. She sighed and continued fixing one of the respiblocks, a little less excited now.

 

[artificial bones]

After fight with Tamiya, Zeylla had taken the travel back to her hive. She was beaten and bloodied from her battle, and while she had cleaned herself up at the temporary hive she had rented while in the city, she was still covered in scabbing wounds on her arms and face. There would be no hiding this from her lusus.

And she had been right, instantly upon arriving at her hive, she had felt the call to come to the darkest part of her frondhive, where Leechmom lay curled like an angry snake. Lots of screaming and anger ensued from there, with her lusus raging in her wild, religious ways about how Zeylla had failed her. How Zeylla had hurt her(emotionally), and how now she must be made clean.

Cleansing had never been something Zeylla enjoyed, and why would she? Cleansing involved being locked into a small block in her hive, with no food or water; left to fast for how ever long her lusus decided was necessary. But she was never locked in until after flagellation. Her lusus promised that the whipping of her tail across Zeylla's face and body was the only way to save her, to clean her of this violence she had come in contact with. Zeylla tried not to question how violence could be cleared away with more violence. Questions like that would only add to her punishment.

She wasn't sure how long she spent in that little room, maybe an evening, maybe 5. All she knew was when she stumbled out, she was weak and tired. But the shame she had felt, the regret of breaking her rules was gone, and she believed in that moment that her lusus knew what she was doing. She would control herself better now, she would have the fresh memory and bruises to remind her of the cleansing(and how very little she wanted to experience it again).

She didn't leave her hive and the surrounding forest for about a week after that, spending her time caring for her lusus and making up for mishaps. Zeylla was just feeling like things would be fine when her lusus called her in to her chamber, late one evening. The giant leech gave her a look over, and her sigh tickled Zeylla's mind, and sent her heart sinking. She was not clean, that was what her lusus saw.

The beating was worse this time, and Zeylla felt herself confused, because was this necessary. Had she not proved her self sorry? Had she not worked hard and already fasted for purity? But she said nothing as she was knocked to the ground again and again. Each time, demanded to stand again only to feel the cold, hard whip of her lusus' tail and then the cold, hard floor.

She sat in her room after the last cleansing, trying to destroy the anger rolling side her, but she couldn't. It hadn't been fair--but wasn't her lusus always fair? Always knew what was right, saved her from herself and her violence. And yet even though she knew her lusus was her savior, Zeylla couldn't help but feel cheated, treated wrongly.

So she slipped out of the hive, and what started as a walk around the fronds turned into her standing before the train station, eyeing the times for trips to Civisect.

The train came to a screeching halt in Civisect, and Zeylla slipped through its doors, ignoring the looks she received from other trolls. She had donned a widebrimmed hood to hid her face, which was bruising blue around her eyes and her split lip, and it made her look like some type of mysterious witch. She shuffled through the crowds on sore, aching legs and hunched her back as the pain of standing straight was too much after that stiff ride on the train.

The bell, sweet and gentle, rang as she walked through the rehab centers doors, yet she didn't drop her hood. She'd realized, as she walked, that if she spoke to Bellen(that was who she had come to see, it just felt right) she would have to reveal her blood. There was no way to hid the bruises from her lusus or the healing wounds from Tamiya. She could hide her arms and body, but Bellen would see her face. But still, she needed to speak to someone. She needed a moment where she wasn't being shamed and made to feel guilty for...who she was.

Bellen would keep her secret(she had a feeling her new companion was quiet good at secret keeping), and she would have a confidant.

"Is Bellen here?" she requested in a voice that had barely been used in two weeks, and ignored the searching look of the troll before her, turning her head so they couldn't see the dark blue forming on her face. The receptionist looked a little unsure, but picked up a phone and made a request for Bellen to come to the lobby any ways. Zeylla nodded her thanks and slipped into a seat and waited.  

[quite uneventful]

Bellen had been called for. That didn't usually happen, especially when she strived to associate herself on a name basis with very few people besides those in the center. Her shoulders tensed as her mind went through the usual procedure— What if it was the military? What if they were going to capture her on her way there? No, she hadn't given them any reason to place suspicion on her, right? Right...? She bit her lip and made her way to the front desk, looking at the receptionist and feeling her shoulders sag when she didn't see any more drones than she was used to in the center. Instead, she pointed at a grey figure near the front, hunched and curled into themself with a wide brimmed hat. Bellen tilted her head slightly. "Hello? Yes, you called for me?" They seemed to be in heavy pain, by the way they moved and curled into themself. "Are you alright?"

 

[artificial bones]

She was worried, for a moment, that Bellen wouldn't be in. She was curled up on that chair, in pain and waiting and she wasn't sure the other greyblood would show. Had this all been for nothing. She had been foolish to leave, she was only going to be punished again for this.

"Are you alright?"

Zeylla looked up, her face shadowed but recognizable under the brim of her hat as she lifted her head. A crooked, small smile that she used often with Bellen crawled onto her face, though it faltered when she felt her split lip crack. She put a hand up to it, to make sure it had not started bleeding again and said, "Sorry I missed our visit," before adding, "I am fine, just--" she groaned as she slowly stood, body singing in pain, "--sore. Can we go somewhere more private?" she glanced around at the trolls moving around the lobby, and knew she couldn't reveal her pains here. Not where so many could see her.
"I just need to talk."  

[quite uneventful]

Vremea recognized the smirk. She, however, did not recognize the cracked blue of her lips. The moment Vremea realized who it was, the yellowblood felt her insides clench. It was Zeylla, an obviously beaten up Zeylla, a blueblood. Zeylla, a blueblood. Vremea swallowed. Bellen kept her composure. Instead, she decided not to focus on the color of the scab, more the fact that there was a scab in the first place. She was hurt!

Bellen's shoulders tensed and the yellowblood looked up at the receptionist before pursing her lips and clenching her fist. If it was something bad or incriminating, she needed to take her somewhere else. The center judged trolls for things and depending on how bad they were they could even take them in as if they were mentally ill or against the hemospectrum for ludicrous reasons. Zeylla arriving definitely called the attention of the staff. She needed to take her out. Somewhere, like...

Her hive. Vremea was an idiot, wasn't she. She motioned a hand gesture at Zeylla, murmuring something along the lines of "stay there" before hurrying over to the receptionist and explaining the bare minimum of her situation. She needed to go, that she'd be back later, and not to worry because everything was fine. With quick steps, Bellen was back with the blu— hemoanon, and she placed delicate hands on her wrist, motioning outside. "Do you think you can manage a few more steps? I live nearby, and I think that would be more private." She didn't know if they had cameras.

Maybe she was being too paranoid, but Zeylla, a well mannered but sassy and fairly mild troll, didn't seem the type to instigate such a serious beat up. If anything, she avoided anything too serious. She clearly remembered her running from bluebloods upon their first meeting. Bellen pursed her lips. "Don't speak. Nod or shake your head. Can you, or can you not?" She asked, a little more firmly this time.

It was times like these she was thankful she spent so long studying those medical books.

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla didn't argue to her motion of 'stay'. She was sore and didn't feel much like moving as it was, so she barely nodded and shifted in her seat as Bellen spoke to the receptionist. There was a tenseness to her shoulder, and her face said she was in rush as she spoke. Zeylla glanced around as Bellen talked and realized she was being stared at by quiet a few different trolls now. It made her nervous, uncomfortable and she tucked her head back down.

She jumped a little when Bellen came back and touched her, head snapping up painfully before she relaxed. Two weeks without contact with other trolls had put her back in more edgy, sensitive mood. When Bellen asked if she could walk, she nodded and carefully stood with the smallest, sharpest inhale as her body protested movement. "I'm fine," she insisted before Bellen could voice any worry. She was glad to see her fellow anon, but felt bad that she was so obviously worried. Zeylla was not used to just a level of care from anyone, and so she shied from it with a fake front of strength.

Once she was standing fully, she nodded like Bellen requested and stepped slightly to the side, signalling she was ready to follow her. Though she felt guilt rake her, because she was going against to many rules to do this. To discuss her problems went against everything she had been raised with. Zeylla wasn't sure she was ready, but it was too late now to change her mind.  

[quite uneventful]

Bellen's hand almost shot away when the other tensed, but she merely sighed in relief when the other relaxed. She watched her move, and Zeylla's expression looked almost as if she were cursing every step. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her insistence of being fine, Vremea knowing very well that fine was, in the very least, the ability to walk without pain. She kept her mouth shut, however. She wasn't Vremea. This, she had to keep reminding herself lately. What was wrong with her?

Bellen pat her satchel lightly before beginning to lead the other from the center to her hive. She spoke little but offered help and a helping hand should she stumble or trip. Bellen was careful to pick the longer but easier route, as the shorter route involved stairs that she was sure the hemoanon wouldn't be able to manage. Bellen pulled out her keys, opened the door, and welcomed her into her hive by quite literally ushering her into the hive and rushing her onto a plushy couch she owned. It was empty save for many hemospectrum colored wall and table designs. It was small, maybe even smaller than her actual hive, but it was home.

Vremea sat her down. She joined her, instead pulling another plush couch next to her and folding her hands together. Bellen looked directly at Zeylla. "What happened?"

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla tried hard not to need Bellens help as they walked, but found herself taking the other trolls arm several times as she stumbled along. Her pride felt decimated by her weakness, and her struggle with what she was about to discuss only added to her feeling of shortcoming. Their walk was silent besides her slight sighs and groans of pain, something Zeylla was thankful for, and when they arrived at the hive, she didn't need much urging to sit back down.

Bellen's hive was quaint; small and cozy. Zeylla found herself eyeing her surroundings, soaking in the color and friendliness of the block they were in. Such a stark difference from the dark, undercoated blocks of her own hive. She nervously picked at the bandaging around her hands and arms, and then slowly removed the hood she had been wearing to hid her face, eyes still wandering as she did so. It was hard to look at Bellen, hard to go against her very grain.

Her face was a mess. One eye was freshly bruised and semi-swollen, though it still opened enough for her to see from it, and there was another long, dark blue bruise that came from her cheek and across her neck, courtesy of her lusus. The wound on her forehead, from her hairline to just above her right brow, was thick and painful looking, with a scab showing signs of healing, and showing it was far more aged then the bruises and cut lip. Her lip was split, with drying blood(it had split as they walked) around it. Zeylla nervously licked her lips, tasting the metallic tang of her blood. Her heart was dancing between fast and slow, and she felt a little nauseous as she revealed herself in all her wounded, bluebloodied horror.

She knew that Bellen was waiting for an answer, but it was hard to get the words out, so she took the moment to carefully removed her jacket and then take the wrappings off her arms, eyes trained on her work as she carefully spoke, "I...I had a fight, and..." she paused, struggling to admit the next part. "...and my lusus was not...happy with me," she glanced up at Bellen as she finished, eyes saying both 'Ask me more' and 'I can't say...', her hands deftly removing the wrappings on her arms and revealing scabs that looked about the same age as the wound on her forehead, and more fresh bruises, painted across her like painful art.  

[quite uneventful]

Bellen felt her insides mesh and tumble as she watched her remove her hood, blood pushed being squeezed and she slowly took in how beaten and bruised her companion was. She listened to her speak, lifting careful, gloved hands near her face but pulling back as she realized what an invasion of her privacy that would've been. Bellen pursed her lips. "You had a fight. About? And who could..." Bellen had to remind herself how normal it was for trolls to be beaten up or hurt, but this had to be an exaggeration. "Who hurt you?" Bellen murmured, struggling to ignore the color of her blood but seeming a little appalled she was so civil toward others. Most of her experience with bluebloods was that they were mostly dumb and annoying, save for younger ones with little to no experience of the world— What happened to bring her to this point? "The older wounds, they're from the battle, right? And the..." Vremea sighed.

There was so much going through her mind right now, but she needed to organize her thoughts. Hopefully asking carefuly questions would help her understand the complete situation. This was definitely a cry for help, she could see that much in her expression. "Can you tell me what happened in detail, if you are okay with that?" Her voice was unsteady and nervous, slipping dangerously into Vremea territory but steadying last minute into the usual voice she used for Bellen. "Why wasn't your lusus happy with you? Did they... do the rest to you?" Bellen wanted to help, she wanted to help so bad, but she needed to see the gravity of the wounds before she could start healing all willy-nilly. She needed to heal her and take out any sort of embedded item in her skin. "Please show me all your wounds, I promise... I can help." She offered her a nervous smile, hands folded just as tightly. She just wanted to help.

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla felt herself closing in as the worry spread across Bellens face. She hadn't wanted to get the other troll all wound up over this. Sure, the cuts were a new touch, but the bruises-while usually far less, for less terrible offenses- were something she was used to. Why had she thought it was good to do this? Talk about this? Even come here? She should have just stayed in her hive, hidden away until she healed, and then everything would be easier. She couldn't look at Bellen as she spoke, she felt such immense guilt at the moment, guilt against her lusus and guilt for upsetting and involving Bellen in something that she couldn't even fix. It felt for a moment like drowning, and Zeylla desperately tried to stay above water.

It was after a few moments of silence that Zeylla realized Bellen had stopped speaking and was now waiting, hands carefully folded in her lap, with a look of care and worry on her face. Zeylla felt sick seeing that look, seeing worry made her feel like she was weak, like she was pitied, and she didn't like it. So she cleared her throat, and using her strongest voice, she went to speak.

"I ca--" she meant to say I can't tell you, I'm sorry this is pointless, but her words choked in her throat, and she looked around the room once more. At how peaceful the area was, at how friendly and bright, and she looked at Bellen, who had brought her into her private space and was offering her so much. She suddenly knew she couldn't back out, she had to explain this. Had to explain it all.

"I fought a purpleblood, a couple weeks ago," she started, and then spun a tale, though simple and straight forward, it explained how she had come about the scabbing wounds on her forehead and arms. She explained how she never caught a name, but that the troll had wild purple and white make up on, and how she fought with a lead pipe and golden claws. And when that story ended, she paused. The next part was harder, it wasn't just admitting to losing a fight, it was revealing a part of her life she had never expected to share with anyone.

It was hard to put into words. It was hard to figure out where to begin. So she started with the simple request Bellen had placed to see her wounds. Perhaps if she shared those first, she could find a way to feel easy moving into an explanation. Zeylla stood slowly and carefully lifted her undershirt(jacket already discarded on the couch) to reveal the bruising that marked her middle area and back, and revealed the wasting state she had been in while in isolation with her lusus for the last two weeks. Along with the large bruises on her stomach and back, she had the ones on her arms and face, which she felt Bellen had already seen. The worst though was the one across her back, thick and angry, and clearly the reason it hurt for her to stand

"I live...a complicated life," understatement of the year, "I lived...in isolation for my formative years, tucked away in my frond with my lusus. I worked hard to be invisible and blend in to my surroundings, and never truly interacted with...trolls, till recently..." it was like admitting she was an idiot, like she didn't know anything about the world-which was true, but besides the point- and she hated that feeling, but that wasn't the worst she would feel, "My life, it's full of rules...and consequences," and from there she dove in, slowly sitting down as she spoke, then getting up and pacing, and then sitting again; all the while explaining her life. How her lusus believed in this sacredness of blood, how instead of being protected as a kid, she was busy caring and feeding and working for her lusus as she grew, how she was banned from interacting with trolls. How she was okay with this till recently.

She also explained how she couldn't shed blood, a rule she often broke. Guilt splashed her face as she mentioned it, because even though she was venting about Leechmom, she was still a believer, she was still a follower. She even explained her hemoanonymity, and how every time she broke a rule, or disappeared for to long, or just when her lusus thought she needed it, she would go through cleansing. Fasting, flagellation, emotional shunning, and in the end she finished, "But...it's my life, it's my structure...." because it was, this life of rules and restrictions...it was the only life she knew.  

[quite uneventful]

Bellen stayed quiet. She listened. She was good at that, listening. Her mouth was pressed in a straight line as she listened to the hemoanon tell her tale, recognizing the troll who'd attacked her as Tamiya simply by description alone. The nightmares she experienced night after night didn't let her forget, and after seeing the cuts Zeylla received from that crazy, rabid troll, Vremea knew she needed to call attention to the growing threat of Regina's new crew, but she'd address Byakko of such another time. Now, she was listening.

Bellen watched her lift her shirt to reveal the deathly skinny stomach of the teen covered in blue bruises of different strengths all over her body. Bellen sucked in a breath, visibly concerned over her and beginning to reach out so she could heal her— Her hand twitched and she caught herself before doing something stupid. Bellen's hand fell, listening to her explain her lack of interaction with the troll race and all the rules and regulations the poor girl had. She stayed eerily quiet as she listened to her explain it as if she was telling a secret— Low, important, and paranoid others would hear. She listened to the sweeps of pain Zeylla had gone trough, and with a tightened, almost shaking fist, Bellen exhaled. She could not sound accusatory, she could not get too emotional. "But Zeylla... That's abuse." Said Bellen, but Vremea was fueling her every word. "Your lusus is abusing you. I don't know what for, but she's both restricting and and abusing you, and not just physically." A beat passed, Bellen stood up. "I am bringing you food. How long has it been since you've eaten something filling?" Bellen was sure she had something, and with that last thought she began to shuffle toward the fridge. "What do you like to eat? I'm sure I have something...!"

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla stiffened at Bellen's statements; even though she knew, deep down, that they were true, she couldn't stand by her Lusus being spoken ill of. She fidgeted in the seat she had taken, but held back her remarks. She had to settle herself- she had come to Bellen to talk, to show, because she had wanted advice, and now she couldn't bite back just because what she wanted was painful to hear.

But neither could she turn her back on her life. It was her cornerstone, what had made her. To leave it behind, to question it to it's full extent and condemn it was beyond her. Leechmom was everything she had, she would always be there. So her face remained tight, and the moment stretched on, until Bellen stood up and changed the subject to food. Zeylla's stomach growled loudly at the mention of something filling, and her face softened slightly, and she nodded with just a tad of enthusiasm. "I'll eat anything right about now," she replied, and her belly grumbled again in agreement. Food was a definite thing she would enjoy, and as Bellen looked through her fridge, Zeylla found herself drawn back to their previous, non-food related conversation, and said,

"I can't change it, Bellen, and I can't leave. So what do I do?"  

[quite uneventful]

Bellen smiled a little softly, heading over to the fridge and checking if there was anything that seemed appetizing. She didn't eat meat or milk, so it was a little hard to find something a normal, growing troll like Zeylla might enjoy, but maybe she would-- Aha. "There's some leftover eggplant lasagna here. I made it a bit ago, but it has no meat. And the cheese is a bit, ah, soy. Would you like some?" She was already pulling it out, reaching for the knife and cutting a piece large enough for two trolls. At her question, Bellen stopped moving, sighing. She pushed the piece in the microwave and popped it shut, then pressed the button. She then turned around, crossing her arms. She honestly did not know what to tell her. If she wasn't willing to change her situation and her lusus continued as violent and terrible as before, than there was little Vremea could advise.

"Why can't you leave?" She asked a little softly, eyes focused on the ground before looking up at the blueblood. "Why can't you change it? By placing limits on yourself in such a way, you lead yourself to a life where you yourself cannot enjoy it. You are bending to the will of someone who wants you for their own selfish desires. They claim it's for your own good, and harm you so they can feel power. I am sorry, I know it is very rude of me to butt in, but it frustrates me to know you are going through such suffering and I myself cannot do anything about it." She wished she could bring her to the swamp. But she couldn't risk that. They couldn't risk being found out for one troll that they didn't know. "You can always do something to change your situation. The question is: Are you willing to?"

The soft beep of the microwave rung out through the room, and Bellen's shoulders sunk. She realized now she sounded very... controversial. She hoped Zeylla wouldn't connect anything. Shuffling around the tiny kitchen, Bellen quickly grabbed a the things she needed and returned to Zeylla, setting up the food, a foldable table, a knife and a fork. Bellen sighed. "I just want to help you. But I cannot help you if you do not help yourself." She wished she could take all her friend's troubles and take care of them herself. Unfortunately, life wasn't so simple.

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla could feel her walls rising, frustration bubbling inside of her. Why was Bellen even questioning why? Wasn't it obvious, this was her life. Without it who would she be? Just some under-socialized, cold empty shell with nothing to push her onward. Nothing to make her think, 'at least someone needs me'. Because yes, while Bellen was right, Leechmom did use her, but she also needed Zeylla. And while she was far from being an emotionally dependent troll, she could admit that it was nice to be needed. To have purpose.

Zeylla stared at the food before her, and her stomach grumbled again. Bellen had worried about what she had to offer, but the meal before her looked several times better then the scarcely garnished and plainn janeee meals she made in her own hive. At least Bellen had easy access to grocery stores, Zeylla's main diet consisted of things found in the fronds. So before responding to Bellen, she took a moment to shovel several heaping bits of the lasagna into her mouth with vigor and delight. She gave a small groan of happiness as she ate, eyes fluttering closed, finally realizing how hungry she had really been. She took another bite, and with a bit of struggle, set down her fork (the knife wasn't even touched, she had been barbaric with that lasagna) and after a moment, sighed.

"I can't leave...." she said again, hands clenching, "I want to..." she felt sick saying it, but she couldn't take back the truth, could she? "But I can't just leave her....she can't care for herself...." it was true, while large and impressive in strength, Leechmom's hide was soft and fragile, easily cut and bruised, and her mind was obviously in shambles. Left alone, she would surely just wither away in dark, lost and gone mad. Zeylla's eyes flickered up to Bellens after she spoke, then back down at her plate. She picked up her fork and took another bite of her food; the situation may be dark, but her stomach was not deterred by sad conversation.

"She needs me," and I want to be needed.