fearlessly | batb part two: electric boogaloo

batb part two: electric boogaloo

[ alisaie is not afraid of the woods.

truthfully, alisaie is not afraid of much at all - not the things that most are afraid of, at least. she does not fear the dark, or wolves, or bandits. she does not fear loud storms or knives in the dark of faerie tale monsters stalking haunted forests. what she fears is being along. grieving. losing those she loves.

and that is why she is here. alisaie has ridden tirelessly through the night, driving baptiste hard over the hard, wintry earth, her breath frozen in her lungs, the frigid wind stinging her cheeks and ears and eyes. alphinaud is her entire world. he is all that she has, all of her family that remains, and the thought of living her life without him, moving forward alone..

she would rather not move forward at all.

and so she will find him, regardless of he consequence, heedless of the potential danger, for without him, she has no life at all.

baptiste remembers the way, and though she can feel the tension and fear in the body of the horse beneath her, still they press on, hooves slamming hard into the earth, empty branches pulling at her hair, whipping over their heads. the forest seems to go on and on, deeper and deeper into darkness and mist, until at long, long last the space opens up, and a dark castle looms ahead, its twisted spires climbing into the gray sky, its gloomy edifice frowning down as she approaches the wrought iron gates choked with decayed vines.

alisaie is not afraid of much, yet still the sight of it sends a chill down her spine.

what is this place? she's heard of no such estate as this - a castle, so close to the village? how have there been no stories? no history? she has ridden less than a day to find her brother, not far from home at all, and yet.. there is nothing in their books about this great castle, no tall tales, nothing at all. it is a phantom. still, somehow it feels familiar to her.. like a memory of a dream's dream.

exhaling a shudder, alisaie slides from baptiste's back, leading him to an icy, overgrown brook for a drink, looping the reins over a strong, bare branch before at last she approaches the castle. it's silent, sinister, but she.. she has no choice. if this is where alphinaud is, then she must press forward. the rusted gates groan, splitting the silence, and alisaie approaches the great doors, the old rotten oak swinging beneath her weight as she slips carefully into the great, dark foyer. ]

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[ He feels it, deep within the magic that shrouds his soul, when she enters that forbidden sanctum, that one place in the castle that he explicitly forbade her from entering, but for a moment, he thinks it must be something else that has unsettled him. Maybe he's just unwell, or a servant has wandered in there, in an attempt to make themselves useful by cleaning up the space. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to stop them from doing so.

But...no, this presence is different. New to that space. The shape of her footsteps in the dust is different. She has broken his rule, his trust, and—

And he must get there, as soon as he can, he must stop her, oh gods he must stop her, before things go terribly, terribly wrong.

With terrifying haste, Prompto ascends his way through the castle to the west wing, leaping his way up flights of stairs and charging down hallways, his being alight with panic and fury both. How...how could she? He'd begun to trust her, he'd begun to consider letting her go, believing her word good, if she promised not to speak of this place. He'd begun to think, beyond all hope, that maybe, just maybe, the servants were right, and she...she could be the one they thought she was. He knew then that even hoping for it was foolish, and now, now —

He knows he was right to think so.

Charging up the last flight to the wing, he surges through the doorway to the sanctum, just as she sets down the glass, exposing the wildflower, his wildflower. The one that contains a promise, the only hope he has left in this bleak, dreary world. This reckless, foolish girl.

He lets the heavy pounding of his footfalls announce himself, a sound or feral, grinding steel in his throat as he rushes towards her, pulling back the glass to replace it over the flower and clutch protectively to it. ]

How — how dare you — you have no idea what you could have done —

[ Panic abates now, with the flower secured, but the fury remains. The rage, the feeling of every thin and impossible hope he had let build up in the back of his mind crashing down in this moment of betrayal.

How could she...? ]

Get out.

[ He barks, low in his throat, his eyes smoldering with anger. It's all been a mistake. A terrible mistake. He never should have left her make her bargain, never should have let himself become so vulnerable, he never should have let her brother leave, he should have thrown both twins into the dungeon and let them rot there until the end of their days.

Then, louder, a furious roar: ]

Get out! GET OUT!

[ the thunder of his footfalls betrays his coming, he's hardly subtle, and alisaie is leaping back from the enchanted flower immediately, and pressing back into the wall.

he has always been intimidating, large and hulking and terribly strong, but this is something else entirely - this is raw, unbridled fury, his voice a terrifying roar that grips her spine with icy fingers and pulls. she has always thought him powerful, but she has never been.. afraid of him, not like this. alisaie is capable and strong, but in this moment she can't help but feel that he could snap her in two without so much as a struggle, like he will lash out at any moment and snap her neck, or dash her head from her shoulders. ]

B-but I --

[ she starts, stammering, until he roars like a great beast, she sound of it making the walls shudder and the glass tremble. get out! with a sharp gasp she turns, dashing from the room and away, away, away as fast as her feet will carry her. ]

[ The thing is, if she tried to fight him, if he drew her rapier and faced him, he would not fight back. He might even welcome it, if she were to cut him down, and leave him as a heap of scrap on the ground, but even then, would he cease to be? How can he think to escape from a fate that was his own making, that cost those he loved the most everything?

And instead of fighting back, she does just what he demands - she leaves. She runs, her expression tight with fear, a look he has never seen her wear before. Not like this.

And as she flees, regret sweeps over him like a cold, icy chill, penetrating even his metal frame, and all at once, the fight bleeds from him. What...what has he done? She's gone, she does, and in the middle of the winter, no less. By telling her to leave, he's as good as sentenced to her to death.

It doesn't matter that she betrayed his trust. He can't let her die out there. He has to find her--

As quick as he is able, he flies after her, out of the doors of the castle. ]

Edited 2019-09-22 02:00 (UTC)

[ she does not think of it as escape, or freedom. not now. not yet. mayhaps if she makes it to town, to a safe hearth, she might feel that way - but right now it only feels like fleeing, like fear. she had not been afraid of him when they met because she had needed to stay strong for her brother, to stand tall, to defend him. she had not been afraid of him after, because she had not needed to be, he was not threatening or forceful. he was large and strong, sure, but he did not threaten her or chase her down. she had not been afraid.

but this was a fury in him that she had never seen before. she is not escaping, she is running, with scarce time enough to pull her cloak from its peg in the wall before she's dashing through the doors and out into the winter chill, leaving the servants stunned and dismayed in her wake.

of course it is unwise to set out into this bitter weather in the dark of night, but emotion drives her, fear snapping at her heels, the sound of his terrifying howls ringing in her ears as she cuts into the deep snow and through it, on and on as fast as her legs will carry her, until the trees bending in close in over her head.

alisaie does not know how much time has passed when at last she begins to slow, begins to feel the chill set into her body, the numbness in her legs. the winter storm is brutal and ceaseless, and the further she travels, the more it seems to squeeze in around her, worsening, growing more and more violent until she can hardly see her hand before her face for the whipping blizzard of snow. she cannot hope to tame it, not now, not while it is so strong and she is so weak, for there is nothing normal and natural about this storm - it is connected to him, to the castle, to the same magic that shines from that flower, that holds this entire place in thrall. it does not want to let her go. it will not allow her to pass. it hides the path from her until she finds herself circling around hopelessly, helplessly, until her fingers and feet and ears are numb from the cold, her lips blue and her body shivering violently, until she tires, and slows, and at last stops, beaten down by the weather and the chill.

the snow is soft when she lands on it, pillowing her fall, and it feels almost.. warm, now. almost comfortable. the cold has dug into her core so deeply that she can no longer feel the pain of its icy touch, overcome instead by a gentle warmth, a tiredness that beckons her. she must close her eyes, even if only for a moment, for her body is worn out, her legs unresponsive. she will.. rest here, just for a few minutes, until she regains her strength.. ]

[ He has to find her.

The storm beyond the castle walls had been no small threat before, but now it has grown into something more, something that feeds off his pain and anger, and even now that he seems to find her it does not abate. His heart is still a storm, muddled in turmoil, and he still has so much to figure out. There's so much that he needs to figure out that he's neglected to for years. But right now, what's most important important is that he regrets what he did, and he has to find her or the storm will kill her. And that's what keeps him moving.

Though his body may be made of metal, that does not mean the cold doesn't hurt him, too. It won't kill him, but it works its way into his joints, freezing and cracking his gears, be still he presses on into the storm. It doesn't seek to make him lost as it did her, and the path to her is clear before him, but that does not mean it is easy. All it means is that he must press on in spite of the pain in his arms and legs, of the way he creaks and cracks with every movement. If she dies out here, and it was because of him...

No, he can't let it end that way. For the first time in a long, long time, he has the drive to press onward, if only because the alternative is too terrible to comprehend.

And then, just when it seems like he can go no further, like he must have missed her somewhere along the way -- there. In a snowdirft near the bank if the river, he spots her collapsed form. Oh, gods, is he too late already...? ]

Alisaie!

[ He hurries over to her, pulling the cloak off his steel frame and wrapping her up in it as he lifts her into his arms, clutching her close. He may not be able to offer her any warmth, but at least he can get her back to the castle and next to the fire quickly. Please; gods, don't let it be too late... ]

I'll get you out of here, p-please just...hold on.

[ And then, heedless of the strain on his body, he makes haste back to the castle, cradling her close, pleading her to stay with him in a voice gone gentle and desperate. ]

[ she does not stir when he finds her, she does not hear the call of his voice, or feel it when she lifts her from the snowbank, though she does recall the sound of his voice as he walks.. it calls to her, speaking her name gently, coaxing her attention, the only thing of substance in the inky blackness. she's so very tired, but it disturbs her, keeps her from her slumber, for she cannot ignore this voice when it sounds so desperate, so sad..

somewhere near the castle she stirs, but only just, murmuring something softly on her breath, her frozen fingers curling against the plate of his chest, but then she is still again.

alisaie does not know how much time has passed when she finally begins to rouse, to see the firelight behind her closed eyelids. it feels like waking from a deep, deep dream, her body feels heavy, her limbs like lead, and there is a piercing cold that sinks right into her bones - but everything around her is soft, and warm, and yielding.

a low sound moves in her throat, rough and hoarse, and she shifts against the mattress, pain in her legs and feet and hands like needles being driven into her skin. her eyelids flicker again, and slowly begin to lift, her bleary eyes searching the room around her. ]

[ For a time, he isn't sure if she's going to pull through. She was out there for long enough, exposed to the harsh elements, claimed by snow and ice when he found her, and for all the haste with which he made towards the castle, he doesn't know if it was enough. He wasn't sure if he would make it, for while his body is make of sterner stuff than her own, it was already rusted and in disrepair to begin with.

The storm does him no favors, and by the time they reach the castle, his joints have become exceedingly painful, some popping loose and breaking entirely. He limps on his leg as he takes her inside, the staff ready to help him in assisting her, in stripping off her cold and wet clothes and fitting her into a nightdress. While Prompto lets the servants handle the more...delicate parts of that, he is watching over her the rest of the time, checking for injuries and tending to her. It may have been a long time since he was human, since he had the occasion to treat a living creature of any infirmity, but he still helps animals in the forest from time to time, and when he was human, carrying for others had come to him naturally.

It still does. Why was he so eager to forget that?

The time while Alisaie sleeps and recovers gives him a lot of time alone with his thoughts, and while that experience isn't exactly one unfamiliar to him, it gives him more than enough time to reflect, if uncomfortably. His actions had put Alisaie into this condition. He was the one who made her afraid enough to run, the one whose emotions whipped up the storm into a frenzy. Even if he brought her back to safety, he can hardly expect her to be grateful to him. No...after this, he must set her free. He must let her go be free. It doesn't matter what happens to him. It isn't fair of him to steal his life away from her like this, no matter what it might end up costing.

He needs to make things right. As much as he can.

At last, Alisaie begins to stir, and no sooner is Prompto at her side, though a moment later, he takes a step back, thinking better of crowding her too much. The last she saw him, he was enraged and screaming at her to leave. His is probably the last face she wants to see right now.

And she will be able to see his face, because even if he has replaced his robe, his hood is pulled down. He no longer clings to the notion of hiding from her. ]

You're awake! Oh, thank the gods...d-don't move too much, okay? It's gonna be sore...you're gonna be sore.

[ But gods, he can't say how much of an immense relief it is to see her with her eyes open again. ]

[ the room is tilting, and even without moving alisaie feels dizzy and off-balance, bleary from sleeping.. how long? how long has it been since she ran from this place? it only takes her a few moments to put it together, to remember how it came together, how she flew from these halls with fear, how she plunged into the dark forest. the storm.. the cold..

he approaches quickly, and her gaze flickers toward his face, but there is no fear in her eyes, only a quiet sort of puzzled wonder. she's still a bit dazed, but.. ]

You..

[ she murmurs, her voice cracked and dry, and though he asks her not to move she lifts one hand nevertheless. it feels heavy, painful with pins and needles, but she brushes her knuckles to his smooth faceplate almost thoughtlessly. ]

I heard your voice..

[ It isn't the first time she has reached out to touch him, but it is no less surprising when it happens this time, even moreso considering the state that he's put her in. Maybe that's just it — she's still disoriented from being unconscious for so long, and as she comes around she hasn't yet remembered why she is here, or what happened just before she fled the castle.

And yet...the feeling is so welcome, after watching over her for days on end while she recovered her strength, keeping vigil. She seemed so small when he picked her up out of that snowdrift, and he'd been so afraid he might lose her, despite his efforts. Yet feeling the warmth of her fingers against his cool plate is the most soothing thing in the world, and for just a moment, his eyes flutter shut as he leans into her touch. It's been so long since he's been touched by a warm, living hand...

But then he remembers himself, what he is, and he straightens again, sputtering as he finds his words. ]

I-I...you heard me? I wasn't...you were so still, I was afraid...

[ But she had clung to him, and that gave him hope, a reason to keep moving. ]

[ she is disoriented, it's true, she might not have reached out so brazenly were she in full control of her thoughts, but it nevertheless felt natural. she isn't afraid. she can't be, not now when he is speaking so gentle, when he seems so genuinely afraid, worried, when he raced out to save her from that storm. it may have been his temper that drove her into it to begin with, and she has not forgotten that, but still he could have left her to die. he could have allowed her to freeze in the snow and been rid of her at last.

why had he rescued her? he only ever seems to be bothered by her at best, she is a nuisance, an intrusion.. she can't help but be surprised that he had thought to rescue her at all. ]

It will take more than that.. to kill me.

[ she says softly, one corner of her mouth curling into a smirk.

without a doubt, the storm would have taken her. the cold would have swallowed her. but she remembers his voice, she remembers how he called her, how he pleaded with her, how she had been able to follow it, to hold onto it. alisaie exhales, and closes her eyes. ]

It's so bloody cold..

[ He huffs a soft laugh, head dipping down in relief at hearing a bit of her usual self in her words. Perhaps they don't know each other all that well, but Prompto has become accustomed to her, he has grown used to her presence, learned her mannerisms, her personality. Were she too deeply pained, she probably wouldn't be joking like that.

Even so, when she mentions the cold, he tugs the blankets up over her thoughtlessly, pulling over yet another one to drape over her. ]

I know. Hold on, I-I...

[ He turns back towards the fire where a pot of soup has been boiling (don't worry, he had help from the servants in making it) as well as a kettle of hot tea. Pouring both out in a bowl and cup to serve her, he turns back to her at last, a tray set over his knees. ]

When you're ready...

[ it's almost.. funny, to watch him fuss like this, pulling blankets over her and fussing toward the hearth for food, then fussing it right back to her. he's so large and intimidating and sinister in appearance, but she has seen his softer sides, seen how he can be frightened, and almost meek, and right now he looks.. almost silly, with that tray in his lap, the teacup almost minuscule in his enormous rusted hands.

she might laugh, if she had the energy.

but it takes what strength she has just to sit up a little, and beckon with her hands for the tray. her limbs and joints feel terribly sore and stiff, but the more she moves them the more the life floods back into them, the seized muscles and tendons beginning to loosen, the blood flowing. ]

I'll take it.

[ It's not easy to watch her move, knowing keenly that she continues to suffer because of him, but he will just have to learn to live with his guilt, his regrets. No matter how small he might feel after everything that's happened, he cannot allow for her to go uncared for, and even if the servants would watch over her, it's not the same. He...wants to do this for her. He needs to do it.

Scooting closer, he lifts the tray into her waiting hands, watching her carefully. ]

Don't worry, I had help with the food.

[ And then, once he has the tray securely in her grip and he can sit back, his large hands knit anxiously in his lap, his gaze turning down. ]

Alisaie, I...I'm sorry.

[ That only begins to cover it, but he can't go on any longer without apologizing for what happened. ]

[ she has to be careful with the tray, as her fingers feel thick and stiff, but she manages the tray nonetheless, setting it into her lap, and lifting the teacup into her hands. it feels wonderfully warm.. at first she does not sip it, only cradles it between her palms to soak up the warmth for several seconds before she drinks at last. the tea glides down her dry throat, hot and soothing and perfect.

and then he is apologizing.

alisaie can hardly believe her ears. when she looks up from the teacup again there is clear surprise writ across her featured, but she knows she was not mistaken - the words aside, she can see the apology in the shape of his shoulders and the way his hands knit, how he holds his body, how he looks down, and away from her.

carefully, alisaie lowers the teacup into its saucer again. ]

I.. overreacted.

[ he might have spurred her with his ferocity, but she chose to run away, out into the winter snow, into a storm she had no hope of surviving. it was reckless, and stubborn, and foolish. ]

[ It's hard for him to find fault with her reaction when he was the one who caused it. He has never...lost his temper in that magnitude before, and he has rarely been so afraid. Someday, maybe Prompto would have become comfortable enough with her to tell her the truth, to bring her into the west wing and explain why he'd asked her to never go in, but for better or for worse, she's been there now, and regardless of whether or not she broken his one rule, his reaction was inexcusable.

Slowly, he shakes his head, looking back up at her with lonely, baleful eyes. ]

No...I did. I...was afraid, and worried, about what you might do if you found what was in there. But that doesn't excuse how I acted, and...I'm sorry. For putting you in danger.

[ For making her fear him.

His gaze falls back down to his hands, silent for a long moment as he sorts through the thoughts in his head. ]

I...I wasn't always...like this. But it...it's been...a long time since I wasn't.

[ he's talking, talking more than she is used to, saying more than he has ever said before - not in quantity, but in quality, in subject matter. the knight has never spoken about his past, not a single word, and even though what he is saying now is nebulous, it is nevertheless a great step forward for him to say it all. her surprise at his candor is muted, but writ on her expression nevertheless. ]

Like.. this?

[ she asks, gently, her cold fingers still wrapped around the warm teacup. ]

.. angry, you mean?

[ or.. or everything? all that he is? ]

...All of it.

[ He answers quietly, in a tone gone self-conscious and withdrawn. This isn't easy, even if it's overdue, even if he owes her some kind of explanation, after what she saw and the way he chased her off. And while he might not have the courage to tell her everything, he can at least try to start talking about himself a little bit. Not only for her sake, but also for his own. It's been such a long, long time since he's connected with another person in any meaningful way. ]

The castle, the servants, and...myself.

[ Aside from the physical changes, he used to be a very different person, too. Not one so bitter and pessimistic and afraid, one that valued his life in the time that he spent around others rather than hiding from them. But time has changed him, warped him, made him into something different. Something he doesn't like. ]

[ she has wanted him to talk about this from the moment she arrived, she has been terribly, painfully curious - who wouldn't be? this place is.. outstanding, incredible, she has never seen this sort of magic in her life, how could she not want to know everything about what happened here, to this castle, to these people?

but he looks so.. sad. so drained, and quiet, and afraid. though the last time they saw one another was when he was driving her away, alisaie cannot bring herself to be angry about it, not now, not after she has grown to know him so slowly and closely, and though she yearns to know the truth, she does not want to know it at his expense.

she says nothing, because she does not want to push him into talking only to please her, or because he feels obligated - but she loosens one hand from her teacup, and reaches to gently curl her fingers beneath his own, prying one hand away from the other, her thumb running gently over the back of his wrist. ]

[ If he was surprised at how she had touched his face when she first stirred, it doesn't come close to how surprised he is that she takes his hand now, now that she has come to her senses. He draws in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes flitting to his hand in her own. Her hands are...so small compared with hers, but when she draws her thumb over his wrist, she seems stronger than he could ever possibly be.

A tight feeling grasps at his chest, a squeezing where his heart would be if he had one, and while he cannot cry, he cannot even tear up, he still blinks his eyes quickly, his hand carefully and gently closing over her own. ]

I-I don't...I don't understand...how can y-you possibly be s-so...so kind to me?

[ After everything he's put her through? After everything she's suffered at his hand? ]

[ it's a.. good question, really. sometimes it is very easy to forget that he is her captor now, and she a prisoner, which is astounding, really, considering how long she had clung to the idea, how she had allowed it to fester within her, to keep her angry, to keep her strong. yet somehow in this moment.. she had forgotten it, despite how recently she had fled the castle, how desperate she had been to get away, and never return.

everything seems to have changed so slowly, and yet so quickly. ]

Because I.. can see your heart.

[ she says at last, after a few moments brooding silence, her heavy-lidded eyes still settled on his face, tired and tranquil. ]

I do not know what happened to you, or this place, but I do know that you take no pleasure in hurting others, I know what the others say about you, I know what I feel when I am with you.

[ she feels that he is kind, and sad, and lonely in a way he does not know how to heal - something alisaie can understand so very deeply. he has imprisoned her, but something in him has.. changed. warmed. a flicker within him that has only grown as she has gotten to know him. ]

I.. know how it can feel to be desperately lonely, even in a crowded room.

[ ...Whatever fortune brought her to his castle, he does not deserve her. He doesn't deserve her compassion or her empathy, after everything he's done, and yet she gives it freely, and while his artificial features have trouble capturing it, his expression crumples, his free hand lifting to catch his face, a dry, gasping sob caught in his throat.

He cannot begin to express with words just how deeply those words touch him, how much they mean, how welcome they are, after years and years and years beyond memory of loneliness, of keeping himself closed off. Perhaps at last...he can try to...let someone in.

What a terrifying and wonderful idea. He cannot help but think that this new bond forged between them is tenuous and ill-fated, that it cannot possibly last in the face of all he has to fix within himself, that he is damaged beyond repair. But despite his best efforts, she has glimpsed his true heart beneath the beast, and for her kindness, he owes her nothing less than to at least try.

And it can start right here, with her. With the strength of another buoying him up, lending him the strength to stand when his own legs won't carry him. ]

I...I don't know what to say...you should hate me. But you...

[ He looks down again at their joined hands, at her slim fingers within his thick, cold grasp. ]

You...make me want to hope again.

[ it makes her heart ache a little to see him crumple, but she knows that it is important, that it is a first step toward something greater, something better, an outlook for him that could be healthier and happier. she is not foolish enough to think that she alone can fix his problems, no one can truly "fix" another person, but she can help him, support him, and believe in him. he risked himself to save her life, he left his beloved castle walls to pluck her from the snow when he could have left her to die. she know how much that means, what a big step forward it is. with a little help, mayhaps he can step forward a little further every day.

gently, she weaves her fingers more tightly through his own. his hands are large and powerful and dangerous, but she has never felt more safe in her life. she knows now that no matter what, he will not hurt her.

but she's still so tired. warmed by the tea, she is able to settle against her pillows again, her eyelids dropping low. ]

You worry too much.

[ she murmurs through the curve of a smile, a quiet laugh in her throat to stand against the sob in his. ]

[ Maybe he does worry too much. It's hard not to, with what he's been through, with what time has made him, but...even if he was always a worrier, it didn't manifest quite like this. Maybe this is something he's supposed to learn from all this. Maybe this is how he can begin to grow again, step by step, until his heart can be free from fear and doubt.

His gaze settles on her as she leans back against the pillows, and a peace unlike anything he has known in ages settles over him like a warm blanket, eclipsing entirely the fear he had felt before. And...he smiles. It's weak and fleeting, but irrefutably there, the mark of the person he once was, and perhaps...the mark of the person he can become once again. ]

Mayhap I do. [ Gently, he squeezes her hand, mindful of the pressure he applies to her still-recovering fingers. ] Get some rest, Alisaie.

[ He will...continue to watch over her, as she does so, and marvel that maybe, just maybe, there is a way out of this pit of despair he has wallowed in for so very long. ]

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batb part two: electric boogaloo

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