Cenn_icon.gif Mac_icon.gif

Scene Title Ma Ghilana Mir Din'an (Guide Me Into Death)
Synopsis After seeing a new file, Cenn goes to seek out Rylan's family. Things get emotional.
Location Mage Wing
Date 12 August Dragon 9:31
Watch For Warning: Talk of suicide
Logger Cenn

The new files had come in for the week, little synopsis of any new members of the Circle or Order who had come to Kirkwall, new patrol shifts, training instructions… It was all fairly standard. As Cenn had sat drinking his morning tea, he'd gone over them with the same placid interest he always did. Until jumped out at him like it was a viper. A Dalish Clan name that he knew all too well. A little further digging, that age… That date of birth… Cenn had been up and out of his chair faster than he could think. Already halfway down the hall when he'd realized that he had no idea how to even begin. Besides, maybe it was just coincidence. And yet, here the Templar was, in simple linen, the clothes that would normally go under his armor. Down to the room it says Macenaya has been assigned to. Staring at the closed door, fidgeting. His hand comes up to pull the pendant he wears out from under his shirt, wrapping around the ironbark halla like it'll give him strength he does not have.

If he had stopped, spoke to a guard, to someone he might realize what wait in the other side of the door. The somewhat broken girl that sat on the floor in the corner behind the bed, her knees pulled up, hood pulled low as the large black Raven tried to nuzzle into the folds and against her cheek. The weeks of darkness after the attack, to wake up to find herself being moved, the first time since her capture, there was a fragile brittleness to Mac, like dry leaves ready to crumble and blow away at the first sign of a storm.

It's a long minute that Cenn stands by that door. He doesn't know what kind of person is on the other side. He doesn't know what she'll think of him. Or what he has to tell her, but he can't bring himself to not come here. Slowly his hand comes to the door, palm flat, as though he might feel some sign of something on the other side. Of course, he does not. It's a moment after that, and after a deep, steadying breath, that the Templar knocks. It's soft, quiet, and brief. The kind not meant to startle.

Startle no but the sound does have Macenaya pulling her arms tighter around herself. Head tucking down further into the hood and against her knees as if perhaps if she is quiet who ever is knocking will go away. Quiet, she can do quiet, it is something she is well versed in, even if the sound of her heart against her ribs is no doubt loud enough to echo through the building. Not that Mor finds that at all acceptable, his black head peeking up at the knock, it only take a moment for the bird to drift from girl to door, his hard beak repeating the knocks back perfectly. If perhaps not as high on the frame.

Cenn blinks at the returned knocks. Looks down at the parchment in his hand, confirms he's at the right room. That was… Odd. Hand falling away from the pendant, leaving it to hang loose, Cenn opens the door slowly. It's gentle and quiet, but he's curious about why the knocks are returned. "Macenaya?" He says softly, a little surprised when he isn't met with the sight of someone just at the door. That pronunciation is better than most humans might guess on a first try.

The opening of the door is met with a fluttering a black feathers as Mor launches himself back by the huddled girl, landing on the edge of the bed to offer a caw to the Templar as he steps inside. A few hippity hop steps and the bird lands on the pile of robes that is Macenaya, as the girl flinches at the sound of her name, managing something of a nod but not looking up at all.

There is a rage then, that starts in the pit of his stomach, though he keeps it from his countenance. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says softly, and closes the door behind him. Putting his back to the door, the Templar sits down, as far from her in the room as he can manage. He's trying to look her over, but in the low light, and under her hood, it's difficult. If she was related to Rylan and someone had hurt her… "My name is Cenn d'Argent, and I think I may have known a member of your Clan. A man named Rylan?"

There wasn't another thing he could have said, not a threat or even a promise to set her free that would have brought her to look up at him, let alone answer him. Nothing except that. "Rylan? Here?" Her voice soft and pure like cool water over scorched skin, even so there is a catch to the name, an ache of desperation. Mac is on her before realizing that she even moved, pressed back into the corner where she had been huddle in. The sudden movement startling Mor and with a flutter of ebony feathers sending him into flight, to find a perch on the high window ledge, black eyes watching them both. Not that her standing is much more helpful to Cenn than her curled in a ball. What he can see is that she is small, not only fragile but simply small of frame. So much so that the robes she has on are much too big, hanging from shoulders like shackles and chains. The hood still in place falls low over her face leaving only a small pale chin and a few strands of silvery white hair falling into view. "Where is he? Is he okay? Please can I see him?" the last said with an edge of pure raw pain, the kind of pain that no amount of healing or time can fix.

The pain in her voice, in her posture, the suddenness of her movement, it cuts at Cenn's heart like a blade finely honed. The Templar swallows hard, his hand coming once more to the halla pendant around his neck. The carving style is distinct, unmistakable for Rylan's. Cenn shakes his head slowly, looking down. "He… Is not here. Never was." Cenn says quietly, apology thick in his tone, "I knew him at my last Circle, in Kinloch." His voice catches in his throat, and he forces himself to look up at her again, eyes fixing on her pale hair. There's no mistaking that hair, and with her date of birth… "I did not know he had a twin…" He says softly, always having been a smart man. But he can't bear to tell her, yet, the thing that sits on his shoulders now.

That brief moment of hope of life seems to simply disappear. Not so much like a flame snuffed too fast, for not even the whisper of smoke lingers, it is simply gone as she sinks back into her corner, Mor letting out a soft cooing caw from above before he drops to the side of the bed. Choosing to ignore the comment about them being twins. "But you saw him?" Comes that soft voice, her head lifting, the hood still in place surrounding a pale face, with her crystal blue eyes and silvery hair. She may be female and a good deal smaller than Rylan but if there had been any doubt.

"I did." Cenn says softly, still so very apologetically, "I…" His voice catches again. "I loved him." He shouldn't be saying anything to this effect. In fact, he shouldn't even be thinking it. And yet, here he is. "There was a rebellion in Kinloch." He says, quiet, but in the silence of the room it is enough to carry. "Demons, blood magic, a lot of people died… I… He… He died." He says, looking up again at her, having the respect to look at her when he says it.

If he had hit her, the sheer physical reaction to his words would not have been any more harsh. Her breath leaving her body in a strangled gasp, the girl seemed to age ten year there before his eyes.. but that was brief, the despair so fleeting in the wake of what came next.

Blue eyes snapped to his face, then down to the necklace that he held. "You lie." pure, hate.. anger… pain.. somehow she was around the bed, robes flying around her, the hood falling back so that silver bright hair wild as if a storm had come through the room. "What was he? You favorite torture subject! Your play thing! " hand snatching for the necklace."What did you take that away from him!" hissing at him as the tears seared her cheeks. "Did you see my name and decide that this would be fun! IS THIS FUN TO YOU?!!"

Pains him though it does, Cenn does not move. He lets the pendant go when she reaches for it. He does not rise, and he does not flinch, though tears sting at his eyes before he can stop them. "By your Gods and my Maker, I swear to you it was nothing of the sort." He says calmly, "I failed him. I tried, desperately, to get to him, when they closed the doors. I was too late. Ir abelas…" Cenn slips into the elven tongue, perhaps to make a point, as he shakes his head, "If you think I am lying, then strike me down. If you would not use your magic, there is a knife in my belt. I will not stop you. My keys are in my pocket, they are yours. Fly fast enough and you may find freedom. If you think that I would lie to you about the man who was my heart, then… Ma ghilana mir din'an." He'd been a quick study of the language under Rylan's tutelage.

The pendent is ripped free, that she has the strength for, her fragile hand gripping it so tightly that blood wells within her palm. Each word, every thing he says like another fist to her small frame, breath gone.. blood seeming to have stopped running as pale as she was, ashen now as wide burned out eyes stare.. "You lie" comes the almost silent so little breath able to come behind the words before the girl simply crumbles. A broken doll at his feet.

There is a sound of keening pain as the pendant is ripped free. He can't quell it fast enough. It breaks him, what resolve he'd welled up for this, and he leans forward, hands on his knees, tears falling before he can stop them. Shoulders shaking, he tries a deep breath, but it won't come properly. "Macenaya, if I had known he had a sister, I would have written…" He says, voice thick and desperate, "Maker's breath, if I could bring him back. If I could do anything at all to bring him back… If you need anything at all, you need only ask me." His voice is broken and shaking with tears he can't stop, "There is… A Keeper here, who is going to be performing a funeral for him, because one has not been available until now. He wanted to use the pendant, as we do not have his body. But if you wish keep it…" His voice catches terribly at that thought, it's the last thing he has and it stings terribly to think of it leaving it, "You are of course welcome to it, and to the ceremony."

So here is the thing about the darkness, it's not just this sudden veil that swallows her whole, sometimes it is a rising tide, beating against her as it gets deeper and deeper, until there just isn't anywhere to go. At those times, it is possible, just a little that she can fight, can hold her own until the waters subside again.. and then there are times like this. It is times like that that Macenaya doesn't know that she wants to fight, that she cares if she drowns in the black waves of despair. Nothing more than a crumbled mass at his feet, her whole body seems to shake under the robes. Every breath burning pain until she is simply trying not to breath. She can hear him.. this man that says he loves. Who pledges he sorrow … who didn't save her brother. Part of her even believes his pain, knows that she is not the only one suffering, that there was someone else that loved. Even so, it's not as the strong as the desire to let go.

But there is a third, Mor.. the Raven watches down as the two lay so close and yet completely apart in their pain. The bird letting out a small caw before winging down to land by the bloody hand, hopping steps to burrow into all that silver hair.

Cenn waits, then. He falls quiet. He'd been dealing with this loss for a year, and this is fresh dealt to her. So he sits, and the tears come because he can't stop them, but beyond that he does not push. Perhaps it is not the best decision, to stay, but Rylan had always hated being alone… There's part of him that thinks perhaps Mac would be the same. Besides, if she's going to rail, better for her to do so on someone who will not hurt her in return. That and Hope twists in his mind, feeling her pain and trying to reach out.

It's not a short wait, not something that just happens.. the bird nuzzles in, almost nesting there against her, and the girl struggles.. there are times when she goes so still, that it is possible to believe she has passed to join her brother, other moments breaths gasping as if fighting for air in raising waters.. but perhaps the most disturbing is the soft words.. bits and snatches of elven as she talks to Ry, pleads with him not to leave her alone in this world. Shadows that fall from the small window, lengthen, shift.. move around the room until finally there is something of movement that does not resemble a struggle but instead a slow rising to the surface as she starts to move, whimpering with stiff muscles from laying on the cold floor.

Not knowing her well, Cenn does not dare touch or move her. He just sits, waits, doesn't fight or push. The soft words hurt him, but he stays silent. He knows those quieting pleadings all too well. He's recited them himself a thousand times. As it seems she is rising from her sorrow, Cenn takes a deep breath. Quells much of the emotions he had let himself feel while he was waiting for her to come back, and just waits.

Making it to the point that she is able to sit is an herculean task for the girl but it happens, slowly, until she is at least upright. With that hair falling in tangles around her face, she doesn't look up at him. That is something she learned well, to keep her eyes turned away. " You are still here." said almost as soft as the pleas earlier.

"Yes, I am. I will go if you bid me, but he… Always told me he didn't like to be alone. I wasn't sure if…" Cenn says softly, also looking down, swallowing hard. He's trying so hard to keep himself together. It's working, sort of.

Accepting that for what it was, the girl nods, looking down at her hand. "We never were, not until your people." answered softly as slowly she opens the stiff fingers, dried blood having fussed the necklace to her skin so that as she opens her hand blood runs fresh again. "But in the end he was… just like I will be."

"He wasn't." Cenn says, "Maybe in body, but not truly." There's a soft, desperate quality to those words. "You never should have been taken from your Clan, neither of you. You people needed you. What happened was wrong. I…" Blue eyes stare down at the pendant, at her hand, he swallows hard again. "Platitudes feel like ash in my mouth and I will not speak them. I know there is nothing… Nothing that I could ever do that could equate to him by even the smallest margin but if there is anything…" He takes another breath, he can't keep talking, this is all just entirely too much and he is shaking.

Standing, take everything.. every little bit of her will but somehow she manages to do it with a no small amount of grace. The robes are still to large, she looks like a child playing dress-up but still the Mage manages to take herself to the small table with pitcher and basin. While she washes the necklace within her hand. "I don't remember if you told me your name." the necklace set aside, ties a work thread bare cloth around her hand before picking it back up and turning to face him.

Cenn pulls himself to his feet then, though he does not approach her. Inches above six feet, he is not a dainty thing like she is, but with how he's turned in on himself, he may as well be. "Knight Lieutenant Cenn d'Argent." He answers, though the answer feels hollow, as though it doesn't matter much to him who he is right now. His eyes track that necklace as she cleans it, a token that has stayed with him from the moment he learned that Rylan was dead. The one thing he'd clung to when the pain had been too sharp. The only thing that soothed it even a little bit, and he's loathe to part with it. There is no one else in this world who could ask for it to whom he would give it up.

Her eyes track him, lifting with him as he stands. Not meeting his gaze, but still for a moment there it is.. the pride of a young Dalish Keeper. With her small chin set, even if it meant that her teeth might crack under the pressure her jaw was clenched. That necklace held in the finger tips of her bound hand. "Knight Lieutenant.. of course you are, you have to be a Templar to be standing in my cell." for all the pride, there is a quiver in her voice that tells how much effort it is taking to stand there in front of him. "And what would you have of me, Knight Lieutenant Cenn d'Argent? Absolution or that death you asked for?"

Cenn shakes his head. "I am not here to ask anything of you." He says softly, "Only to offer what I can. I do not ask for death, I offer it if you deem that I should find it. I do not ask for absolution, and I do not expect it. I wish to help you, but if I may not do so, then… That is…" Cenn sighs, "In my most selfish desires, I would want that pendant back, because I did, and do, love him and it is all the solace that I have, but I would not dare demand, or even ask, it." Back to the door still, his eyes train still on the wooden halla, not being able to look at her.

"I am not sure that is true. I think perhaps you wanted my pain.. because perhaps my pain would make your's more bearable." her fingers rolling the necklace between them as she spoke. "Otherwise, you knew I would never see him again. That I knew it, you could have never told me. Let me keep hoping, let the small chance be the reason that I have had to live." Her hand extending then, the necklace hanging from her fingers. "I don't need your pain, I have enough of my own."

"Maker, no." Cenn says, shaking his head, "You deserved the truth. He deserved for his family to know. I… This does not ease my suffering, to see you do so…" There is little way to express how true that is, how the Spirit who resides in him twists unbearably at the pain Macenaya is feeling right before her - his - eyes. This does nothing to aid him, it was simply what he believed to be right. Never the less, he steps toward her slowly, taking the pendant with a soft hand. "Thank you for this. It is more than I deserve, and more than you need give." Returning to his place by the door. "I will not haunt you, if you wish to be free of me."

"I deserved?" Macenaya's eyes actually jump up, meeting his fully, the anger and pain that dwells there causing a storm in the seas of crystal blue. "I deserved to be with my brother. I deserved to stand and die at his side. To stand with my people. To not be locked away and held prisoner because your people are afraid of what is right and natural." her voice rising a little with each point, small hands dropping to her sides, so that the over long sleeved engulf her clenched fists. "I deserve to be treated with respect and to expect the right to my mind and body and not to have them used at someone else's whim." tears that had not fallen yet, at first slow trails down her cheeks but as the damns break.. they drip from her small chin, soaking her face and robes.

"Yes, you are right. On every point." Cenn says, shaking his head, sounding ashamed but not disingenuous. "But I cannot offer you all of those things. I can offer you respect, I may, in time, be able to help you attain freedom, but I could not give you your brother. This was not a truth that was mine to keep from you."

Maceyana just stands there, staring at him.. her lips parted as if there is something she wants to say but no where in her life does it seem that she has the experience to deal with this man in front of her. She needs something to fight, something the focus on and he isn't giving it to her. That confusion is what breaks the small hold she feels she has on her sanity as finally she just sits, there in the edge of the bed, the first sob ripping through her small form.

Cenn watches her for a moment. "If you want to rage against something…" Cenn says quietly, finally leaving the door and standing before her and just to the side, so he is not blocking her line to her door. "You may. Whether you think I deserve it or not. Just… If you rage against others here, it could be dangerous for you and I… I wouldn't want to see you hurt."

The flinch, the tensing of her body is subtle as he comes close though the sobs wracking at her small body may do a good deal to mask that. It's obvious that she is trying to stop the crying, to garner some control. So that as he cautions… offers… to take the brunt of her rage, all that manages to come out is a hiccuped. "I a…am already.. hurt."

"Bodily." Cenn specifies, "I do not mean to invalidate the pain you already have." He does catch that flinch, though, and does not approach any further than it. In fact, the Lieutenant drops to a knee, his elbow rested on his thigh. Not here to physically abuse her, the news he had to bear was more than enough pain than he had ever wished to cause her (which, mind you, the amount he had ever wished was less than none.)

"If you truly want to help me… you will take that blade you offered and set me free." The whisper was soft as she raised her gaze to find him.

For a minute Cenn stops dead. He stops breathing, stops thinking. Eventually, he blinks. "What sort of freedom is it you ask of me?" He says, somber and serious.

"From the day they took us, there was only one way we would ever be truly free again. One place we would not be followed." Looking back at him. "But you are a Templar.. you are them."

"I have taken none of the Dalish since I took my vows in the Order." Cenn says, "I think the practice deplorable. It does not change the symbol that I wear, or the burden that I carry. But I do not agree with how things are done and were it not…" He takes a deep breath then, "Were it not for the suffering of another, I would have left this Order a long time ago." He swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably. "I… I will not tell you that you cannot make this decision for yourself. And if it is truly what you ask of me, I will do it. But I do not want to. I do not know if… If he could ever forgive me, if I should be so lucky as to see him again when I die, if I were to end your life."

Tears slow this time, trace down the raw planes of her face as she bites deep into her bottom lip. "From the time of our birth..we were never further than one could hear the other. I could reach out my hand at any time in my life and find him. And then they took us.." a soft sniff as she shakes her head. "No that isn't right.. they took me… and he came to take me back."

Cenn listens, taking a deep breath. Rylan had always been vague about how he was taken, why. But he'd never fought, and now suddenly that made sense. There was a better chance of seeing his sister again if he had a good reputation, if he could be 'trusted' and she could be transferred when they were older. Or maybe, if he could find where she was and request a transfer himself. And if he kept quiet about her, maybe the Order would forget. All these secrets, and though they made sense, they stung at his heart and Cenn frowned, looking into his lap. "I do not know what that pain is like, but my heart aches that you must feel it." He says then, quietly.

"My brother is dead because I was impatient. And you ask me to decide if I want to live. Tell me Cenn d'Argent, would you? What in this life do I have a reason to live for?" hands lifting to rub at her face, to wipe away the tears as she sniffed. "You say you loved him. I am him, he was me. But no, I will not make you kill me. Give me the means and I will do it myself."

There's another hard swallow. He's shaking now, trying hard to fight something that is, honestly, beyond his ken. "I…" He starts, "Macenaya, how much do you know about Spirits? I swear to you that this question is relevant to the answer you seek from me." He does not immediately offer her the blade. There is something in him that will not let him. Not yet. Not like this.

His question makes her pause, blinking up at him as she tries to sort out just what he had actually asked her. "Enough, I suppose… I do not know, why?" still huddled in on herself, arms wrapped tight around her body.

"The day your brother died, I did too." Cenn starts, voice heavy and something new… Afraid. "I died trying to get to your brother, and a Spirit of Hope had mercy on me. If you can call it that. She brought me back. And it is her influence that keeps me going. So asking me if I would… Is not a fair question. I do believe that the world has beauty. I believe that, if you keep breathing, that we could find a way to get you freedom. I think that, if you keep breathing, you will have so many beautiful, wonderful stories to tell him," His voice catches - Rylan always did love stories, "When you get to see him again. He doesn't have eyes and hands and ears here anymore. His time and his light and his knowing got cut to short but you - we - Might be able to bring some of what he should have had back to him when we see him again." Again, the Templar trembles, "I will leave you my blade, if you wish, but it will… I… It will pain me. It will pain the Spirit that is my life giver. And I think that the world… Will be a very much duller place. I knew his light, and it was the most beautiful thing that I have ever had the privilege to know. And I hope that I may get to see even just a glimmer of yours, if it is anything the same."

"I… I wish I could even believe a little bit of that….. " Macenaya trembles as she holds back the emotions that threaten again. "But all I see… is darkness.. cruelty and hate.. I don't see an end to it.. you say you want me to have my freedom… for what? This world has been poisoned to me.: her gaze lifting to him. "I am glad you have found something to believe in. But your lot in life and mine… they are not the same."

"No, they are not." Cenn says gently, shaking his head, "But my lot is not… I am not living. Not truly. I am on borrowed time. Time in the name of giving hope to others." He sighs, a faintly blue starting at the edges of him, and right around the whites of his eyes. Pretty, but otherworldly. "I know what a wonder he was." Cenn says, choking on tears he hadn't quite marked the beginnings of, "I… The pain is unbearable, and I know that. And I know I have no right to ask this of you, but… Give it one season? Wait through the Autumn? If come the Winter you have found nothing worth living for, I will grant you any method I am able, and take you wherever I am able that you would choose. I will see that your ashes are sent off in the ways of your People. I will not begrudge you, I will not judge you. Just… Please?"

Macenaya stares at him, her own tears running freely, so that it is impossible for her to take an easy breath. Watching his eyes, his face… seeing not only the strangeness but the pleading there, she turns her head away, eyes squeezing tightly shut. "I can't make promises to you… I have spells… periods where I can't fight any more and the pain swallows me whole. I can't find my way out of the darkness.. one day I don't think I will." she is quiet again, hands twisting together. "I will not ask for your blade until the first frost."

"When those times come, if you do not want to be alone, find me." Cenn says gently. "I will never impose myself on you without your invitation. This will be the only time I come to you uncalled. And should the first frost come and you wish my blade still, you will have it." A small pause, "Is there anything that makes your life more comfortable? A certain incense, a tea, a food? I will find it. I will pay own commission so it need not go on the Circle's books. You need not even answer now, just… Send me word." He's very serious about this whole thing, it seems. Then, though, his gaze rises, locking on pale skin, on snowy hair… His heart rises to his throat for the familiarity. A visage he hasn't seen in too long, so long. His chest tightens and aches, longing to reach out to her, though he dares not do so. The way his hand not holding the pendant balls into a fist, however, likely gives away that want.

"There is nothing that I need that can be brought with coin." comes the whisper, before she lifts her eyes back to him, only to find his there and for a moment she doesn't move or speak. "I am not going to ask you to stay away. You are going to have questions. When everything sinks in, you are going to realize that I know things about Ry, that you never have and you are going to want to know." his tension, the curl of his hand, Macenaya recognizes that longing for what it is but still turns her eyes away, her own wish for comfort overridden by the fear. There had not been a time since her capture that she knew physical contact to not come with more pain. "I have not been well, I should probably rest."

At that, Cenn is dumbstruck for a moment. His brow knits and his lips tremble and he blinks back tears of an entirely different kind. "I… Cannot thank you enough for even considering…" He starts, and swallows hard, nods. There aren't good enough words. Not in trade, not in Orlesian, not in the basic understanding of Elven that he had. "Of course. I hope you sleep well. And if anyone here gives you trouble, please, tell me. I will make sure it does not happen again." With that, he rises, putting effort into grace, and steps away. He lingers at the door for any parting word she may offer, and then he leaves her to her rest before he can do something stupid like ask to stay just for the ghost of the man he loved.

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