[PRP] Phantom Pain (Sarcel & Zeylla)

[Melancholies]

 

[Melancholies]

Sarcel was a troll who, despite what she'd want you to believe, was locked in the past. It was hard not to fall into the same self destructive cycles that she was used to; brooding, dwelling, stewing on all the thoughts and actions and events that happened that she had no control over (or did have control over). They were things she wish she could have done different. They were really stupid what-if's and she hated herself for getting worked up over them.

So she worked. And worked. And worked. Her position in the military gave her plenty to do, and when she wasn't dallying with the Crown she was working on one of her many side projects. It wasn't until the wee hours of the day that she let these thoughts come back and plague her—and they came no matter how exhausted, how battered she was. Feeding into them would only make them worse, she always told herself.

Except, maybe it was time to hit those demons head on. Maybe it was time she do something to try and lay her frantic idiosyncrasies to rest. Maybe it would turn out to be the worse decision of her life. Worst comes to worst? She just has another thing on the long laundry list to beat herself up over.

She spent hours in the office looking through old documents, trudging through ancient (or what felt like) ancient reports. Information about the Mother Grub crisis, about the trolls listed and directly involved in the descent into the caverns. Names, that's what she was looking for, names and symbols.

Zeylla ******** Crypsi.

Enough to make her stomach twist even after all these sweeps. She could see the face perfectly; see Zeylla standing against the top of the cliff with the spray of the waterfall cascading in the air. A fine mist. An eerie fog. One punch; one jump.

Everything inevitably came back to Four Fronds, somehow. She stared at those purple-petaled trees with a different sort of expression; this wasn't fondness or exhilaration or fear. Maybe it was fear. She sucked in a deep breath.

Sarcel was also a troll who, despite what she'd want you to believe, remained a massive coward. Was it bravery she possessed now, or something more dauntless, more reckless? The doubts ate away at her chest like a parasite. She forced herself forward because it was all she could do. Tenacity; that was something she'd carry with her till the day she died. No matter the pain or the fear or the fatigue, she couldn't lay down and give up. She wished she could sometimes.

The tree was massive, but hidden deep in the dense depths of the forest. Sarcel was a troll on a goddamn mission. She didn't knock with her knuckles. She banged the door with a curled up fist.

stringency

I HOPETHIS IS OK i got introspective...

 

[artificial bones]

Melancholies

you're the best e v e introspection for the win

One starts to get a little stir crazy after so long cooped up. And it had been a while now. Leechmom was on a roll, fanatical and wild with fear and paranoia rampant. In every corner was a danger lurking, and every escape Zeylla made into the world, a chance for a predator to find her lusus. Even thinking of leaving would send Leechmom into a fit, questioning Zeylla's loyalty. And the blueblood just wanted to scream 'I'M ALWAYS HERE, I HAVE NO LIFE EXCEPT YOU,' but she didn't. She held her tongue and stayed, like the good troll she was. She wanted to say, 'See what I do for you,' but she didn't, she just brought her lusus the blood she needed and confined herself to books and the dark interior of her hive.

Part of her wanted to just leave, to take a week and some beetles and visit the city, get away from the fear and the anxiety that her lusus had become so fond of as of late. But that was against rules, against ritual. But a little part knew that soon she would have to go, have to get out before she lost her mind.

She was deep in the tunnels when she heard the echoing knock. It was loud even from far off, and drummed in the halls just enough to put Zeylla in a state of annoyance even more so than she already was. The book in her hand, a dry and old war biography, snapped shut and she pushed herself from the ground with a irritated sigh.

Who could it be? She didn't get visitors, she had no trolls known well enough to invite them over. Not that she would want visitors any ways! But all the same, as Zeylla walked down the paths leading to her door, she couldn't help but feel relieved because now here was something to break up the monotony of the last few days.

The pounding was much louder as she got closer, and her irritation peaked to a new high. Maybe a visitor wasn't so great, she thought as she snapped, "I'M COMING! BE PATIENT." Not that the knocking stopped, not until she opened the door.

And saw someone she had not seen in a long while. How...interesting. Memories came flashing back, from that ridiculously loud troll, Sempur, to the moment at the waterfall and all the while there had been Sarcel, quiet little Sarcel, but also a troll with fire deep in her eyes, at one time hidden but not so much now. She wanted to ask, 'What are you doing here?', but it came out simply as, "What?" in possibly the most despondent, aloof manner possible. Just because her interest was peaked did not mean she had to give the other blueblood the pleasure of knowing that.

She gave Sarcel a quick one over, and added casually, "You look....different, now," and not just physically, there was a gleam in the other trolls eye. Something had changed.  

[Melancholies]

For all the agonizing Sarcel had done over this eventual confrontation, she had never actually stopped to think of what she'd say. This wasn't a troll she was on good terms with; 'hi hellos were completely out of the question. She didn't hear Zeylla yell over her incessant pounding (she did, but didn't want to acknowledge it), and when the door opened she found herself somewhat lost.

"And you really don't." She responded, her voice soft and without a stutter. Despite the differences of the sweeps, Zeylla was still the same image that she had left in her mind; same messy hair, same cold regarding stare, same imposing horns. If she thought back hard enough, she could hear the roar of the waves, the rush of wind and the silence as she sunk to the bottom of the pool. "It's... been a while." She sucked in a breath and exhaled it wearily.

"This is trite..." Her gaze wanted so badly to fall to the floor, but she kept it glued on Zeylla regardless, "But how've you been fairing?"

stringency

 

[artificial bones]

The smallest of smiles curled onto Zeylla's face. Just small enough to lift the edges of her mouth ever so slightly, but a smile all the same. The lost look in Sarcel's eye, momentarily, was so reminiscent of their trip in the cave. So the old Sarcel was still there, just hidden, changed ever so slightly by the sweeps.

"And you really don't."
It was a true statement, Zeylla had changed little, where as Sarcel had proven she had changed from her look to her body language to the simple fact that that stutter was completely gone. Sarcel had been changing her life, where as she had spent most of her time hiding away, dodging the troubles of Alternia and preferring to hunt and care for her lusus. Little had changed for the greyblood, and she might say she was happy about that, but Sarcel's remark sent a sting through her body. Had she really not changed at all?

"It's...been a while."
Yes it had. Zeylla nodded, and as she did so she could feel the air on her back and the impact of the water. She could feel the rawness of her throat from yelling and the soft pulse of a long gone bruise on her jaw. As if it had just happened yesterday. She touched her jaw gently as Sarcel asked how she was, and Zeylla raised a brow.

A simple visit? Was that all this was? No long forgotten revenge? The greyblood shrugged inwardly, it was better anyway. She was in no mood for violence today, and with Leechmom so close, the idea of getting into a fight and possibly spilling blood was even more unthinkable than usual.

"I'm...fine," was she? Seeing Sarcel reminded Zeylla of how little she had progressed, and a part of her was jealous. She didn't want to be Sarcel, but she wanted that growth, that strengthening of character that the other troll obviously possessed. The curl of a smile faded from her lips, "a little....hive-fever but nothing I can't....deal with....And...you? " she finished awkwardly. She just couldn't get over the fact that Sarcel was here. It was so strange, like talking a walk in the past. She wanted to ask more than trivial questions. she wanted to know why Sarcel was here, she wanted to be informed and understand this strange situation. This throw back to history. So she asked, because she was going to get an answer. A good one too hopefully.

"Why are you here?"

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Why was she here?

"As military appointed officer..." she took a deep breath, "It's my business to periodically asses the situations of trolls that were affiliated with military business at any point in time." It really wasn't because it wasn't like she had been there sooner or any other time; she knew she was bullshitting, and it was ovious, and she knew that Zeylla could probably tell this much too, or maybe that was just her deep rooted anxiety speaking.

She shook her head. "And to talk." Because she was tired of dwelling over useless, stupid, pointless asinine s**t. Admitting this made her look a little defeated, but she still managed to hold herself upright with purpose. What made a coward? Knowing when to say enough was enough, or having the foolishness to persevere despite it all?

The fact was she was walking two different lives at the same time. Parallel tandems; one side had a face that people still recognized as once incompetent, the other was seen by new friends—the ones that thought she really was a brave, fierce leader. Around trolls in the former category, it was hard to be completely steeled.

"Which I'm assuming you're willing, since you haven't decked me in the face yet." A wry smile graced her face. Smiles of any variety were awkwardly worn on Sarcel.

stringency

 

[artificial bones]

All she could do was raise a brow to Sarcel's weak excuse(and the fact that she was military now, how surprising). This was the first time in sweeps anyone had come by, and the first to say it was a military check up. But she didn't say anything and let it slide, because the blueblood had gone on to admit it was also to talk. Which was obviously the real reason to be here.

Her final comment, along with that wry smile, caused a small laugh to barely pass Zeylla's lips. But still it did, and there was a soft 'ha' as she shook her head and stepped back out of the doorway. "That was a long time ago," she may not be the nicest of trolls but Zeylla had never been fond of grudges, especially when not exposed consistently to a troll she had a problem with. What had happened with Sarcel was history. And company was something Zeylla craved today, "Come inside, if you want," she added as she turned to walk down the dimly lit halls of her hive. There were many rooms here, but few had anything in them.

Assuming Sarcel was following, she moved quickly down the halls until she came to a room with a little more light and some simple chairs and a table. It was very obvious Zeylla lived a plain and simple life, from the lack of decoration to the simplicity of the furniture, but unlike many trolls Zeylla didn't care much what her home looked like, as long as it was clean and quiet.

"So, let's talk," she said as they entered the room and she settled into one of the rickety wooden chairs. She was curious, what was it Sarcel wanted to talk about. About the past? Hopefully it was nothing to emotional because, honestly, Zeylla may be down for some company, but not that kind of company.

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

If anything, that was actually something Sarcel could relate to. Her lusus was strict and her own hive reflected it much the same (not that she would know Zeylla's motives), but the minimalist interior of Zeylla's dwelling still reminded her of her own.

And then here they were, at the point to actually talk, and all the things Sarcel wanted to say vanished. Truth was... talking was still something that came hard to her. Her anxiety was always brewing beneath the surface, the only difference came in that she didn't show it. Her face was a mask--a weapon in that regard--and she used it like a shield. She sat down on one of the chairs, her eyes watching the floor as she settled in, the chair groaning its age.

"Well, it's just..." Maybe she was a bit of a masochist, with how she chased the past despite the thorns, "There are... many trolls in my life that were once there, and then suddenly... are not. It's weird, but when I saw your name in the databases, I felt like I had to act on it." Her hands were turning over in her lap, slowly like it wasn't a nervous habit but repetitive enough that it obviously was. "I guess that's for the better, though. Do you remember him?" She looked up at Zeylla, "You know..."

Even now, saying his name--something she was never allowed prior--was hard. It felt like bile in her mouth.

"Livora?"

The dead only die when their bodies rot and their names rot away from the words of mouth.

"I mean, I can't say for certain, but he's all but vanished. I like to think he wasted away up there on that mountain." Sad, but true, "I thought you might like to know. It wasn't like you two got along very well, so..." She laughed again, but it was more or less a weak attempt at breaking the ice, "Anyway, I don't really want to talk about him, but there's really no one else I know that really knew how he was." It was sad. There were so many trolls that Sarcel felt like she could have really been friends with, if not for him.

stringency

AFTER FIVE LONG YEARS

 

[artificial bones]

Zeylla leaned back, almost casually if not for the sharpness of her eyes and the way she crossed her arms over her chest. Even before she began to speak, Zeylla could see the signs of what was to come. The way Sarcel stared at the floor like she was counting the worn out rings in the wood, wood chewed away by beasts that were now long gone. Just like whatever was inside Sarcel was burrowing and clawing and digging its way out, her anxiety rising as she began to speak. Zeylla did not look into her eyes as she worked herself through her words, preferring to watch the way the blueblood worried her hands. It made listening to her a lot easier if she didn't have to pretend like she was less then apathetic about it all. She was trying to be polite, but it mostly still came across as rude.

Then she brought him up. Zeylla glanced up, eyes meeting Sarcels as she asked her if she remembered him. The way she said his name like it was acidic and burning, it made Zeylla both uncomfortable and confused. The Sarcel she had met all the sweeps ago had seemed like a timid tag along, Sempur Livora's little sidekick, trying so much to get his approval, even when he refused to give it to her. She had never seemed to give up. And now, to hear her say his name like she was spitting out bloody glass- expelling it like it was painful and unwanted was...interesting. Confusing, but interesting none the less.

She listened to the rest of what Sarcel had to say without looking away. She watched the way the blueblood held herself together when obviously this was a painful topic, and while she was right that Zeylla had not been fond of Sempur, she would not tell Sarcel how little she truly cared about the vile blueblood. He had pushed her beyond her comfort zone, and she cared little if he was dead or dying or just hiding. She preferred to not think about things that did nothing for her. Why would she bother thinking of a troll that only brought bad situations and expected more then he offered?

And yet, hadn't that been Sarcel? Hadn't she been the troll who followed him around, even if she was(she had to have been) aware that no good would come of it? It was so interesting to think that she and Sarcel could have similar feelings of...dislike? Disgust? And yet Zeylla had pushed the feelings away, easily going back to her routine, whereas Sarcel had had her life interrupted, and had to figure out a new path and start a new life as a different version of herself. And still, she couldn't not think about it. It was amazing, but also useless.

She finished dejectedly as if she was okay with not talking about it, but Zeylla could tell that was a lie. Still, she stood up and moved towards a small alcove off of the room they were in. She had small storage spots all around that she stored foodthings, books, candles and other odds and ends so that she didn't have to take long walks to find certain things she needed at all times of the night. She considered just shrugging it off and letting Sarcel just mope in silence while she poured out some cold tea she had sitting in the small pantry like room. As she brought back two mismatched cups and the small pitcher of tea, she once again contemplated not bringing it back up and having uncomfortable silence until Sarcel left.

And still, she couldn't stop herself from speaking, "Drink some tea, it's cold but not bad," she took a sip, as if that was all she had to say, before speaking again, just as the silence got tense, "Do you still...do you still seek his approval? He's gone, right? And yet here you are, still thinking about him...isn't it tiring? Wouldn't it be better to let it go...to...stop thinking about it?" it seemed so simple to Zeylla. If she didn't like something, she just pretended it wasn't there. Push those thoughts into a little box she could kick under her metaphorical bed. Yet there was something in the way the blueblood spoke that made her feel like she needed to do...something. and perhaps she would benefit from it. A troll in the military could come in handy if for any strange reason she needed help. She wasn't against milking the situation for all it had.

"Does it...does it still hurt then? This wound or whatever it is that he left you with? I see this mask you've put up, it had me fooled for a moment, but you're still..aching. Still trying to heal something gangrenous that should just be cut out and left behind a long time ago," she maybe was prying to much, looking into this all too deeply, and perhaps being a bit callous but Zeylla had never been good or all that interested in being a polite conversationalist. She wanted to get to the meat of the issue, not chew on the fat.

"He was not a troll to look up to, and why you choose to let him plague your thoughts still is beyond my...understanding," as smooth as sandpaper, Zeylla finished curtly before adding, like a casual afterthought, "I assume you came here to have someone affirm that he was wrong, and yet you were also wrong for having believed in him."


She wasn't sure what to say after that, having already said more than she usually did. So Zeylla shrugged and took another sip of the tea she had set up.

"Do try the tea though. I find a good cup to be soothing for the mind."  

[Melancholies]

What Zeylla had to ask hurt. Sarcel didn't like to open herself up. She thought it would be better to wear the mask--and it probably was--but there were still trolls from her past that knew what she once was, what still lay hidden beneath the delicately woven facade. When Zeylla offered the tea, it snapped her out of her thoughts with such urgency that she felt embarrassed for letting herself get buried underneath them.

"No, I don't." She admitted, "His approval means nothing to me. I don't... I'm not sure if approval was even what I was after." Well, it was in part, but it wasn't the whole picture. She took a sip of the tea. Cold, definitely not her favorite, and yet exactly what she needed in the moment. "I suppose I thought... maybe... I could fix whatever was wrong with him. We could have made each other greater." Sarcel didn't understand her emotions very well, and romance was an entirely other set of rules she didn't comprehend, but it was obvious even to her how deeply that pale crush had went.

"I think too... and maybe it's strange, but I don't think I'd ever want to forget." She moved her hands just so, watching as the tea swirled around the cup, "Because I was weak, and I'm still weak, but I'm not as weak as I was either. Holding onto the mistakes I've made helps push me forward, so history doesn't have to repeat itself." It was funny, how easily it came to admitting everything like this. Zeylla being as acerbic as she was almost helped. Sarcel was bad at hanging on details and worse still at speaking for herself. The directness was something she was used to. Sarcel had been many things, but a liar had never been one of them. Why would she try to dodge around questions when she'd been the one to bring up the topic?

"Besides, I know now that the only sort of approval I need is my own." She thought about Sir for a moment, the redblood that she had met so long ago, the very same one that tried to kill her as well. That's what happened when you relied too heavily on other trolls. They came down and crashed and tore you up and everything you ever stood for. Even now, telling all of this to Zeylla, Sarcel didn't expect much to come out of it. They could go their separate ways after this conversation and Sarcel would never think twice of it. She wasn't looking for Zeylla's pity or assurance. She wasn't really looking to be mocked either, but she would accept it. Sarcel Cincil had been--for lack of a better term--a real dumbass troll a few sweeps ago.

stringency

i love this rp ugly sobbing