deercountry | Witches can be right, giants can be good... [CLOSED]

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Witches can be right, giants can be good... [CLOSED]

Who: Ariadne and Varian
What: Some unfortunate memory sharing
When: Forward dated to December 8
Where: Casa Disaster #25 Raccoon Alley - Cassandra District

Content Warnings: Backstory trauma, but will update as needed.

Ariadne's exploration of holidays in the multiverse had led her to an inevitable conclusion: People loved Christmas. And while she might forever call it the "fat-man holiday," in her head, she figured it was best to start following cultural norms and expectations. It was similar enough to the way the Elves celebrated New Years that she understood the basics, anyway: Singing, eating, offerings, family, and presents.

The 'presents' part was the easiest. After all, people loved getting presents. And she loved giving them.

Maybe she wasn't the best at making them. As they said, though, it was the thought that counted.

A cliche she actually understood.

Varian and Fern inevitably ended up on the list of people she wanted to visit. She decided there was nothing more important for the two of them than some of the soil around her orchard, soil which might hold scientific answers (which would please Varian) and keep Fern alive through the winter (which would please both of them). She found a large, hollowed-out antler that seemed festive--a bright blue ribbon around it helped--and filled it up with soil from her trees, before heading out to Cassandra to pay them a visit. There was a slight bounce in her step, despite the cold. And when she arrived at their front door, she gave a jaunty, little knock.

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Seeing Aridane's smile drop makes something wrench in his chest. Shards of amber start to grow out from under the floor at her feet and he has to remind himself they're not there. Not really. It's all in his head. It's something he has to remind himself more and more in the last few days.

"Oh."

He blinks at the antler, surprised.

"Th...thanks, that's uh- that's really pretty, he reaches out to take it. "He loves stuff like this."

"It's soil from my orchard," she said quickly. She knew that he wasn't well. He knew that she knew he wasn't well. And she knew that he knew that she knew he wasn't well. Which made them knowledgeable people, to be sure. But it also made them--she was sure--both a little uncomfortable.

Well. It was hardly the first or last time for either of them, she supposed.

She took a step into the doorway, still holding the antler. "Is this a bad time, Varian? I could come back but..."

But knowing Trench, there might not be a good time. Or at least not a predictable one.

"Oh! That's amazing, thank you. I can...I can definitely use more of that, for...for my research."

Which admittedly has fallen down the wayside, he's been distracted. He's been piling too much on his work plate again, and now the corruption is chewing at his mind and he's barely been able to focus on anything at all. Guilt churns at him and he manages to force a smile, stepping back to let her in.

"No, no it's fine. It's...it's good to see you. Come on in."

She had a fraction of a second to weigh out whether or not the invitation was genuine. But she decided, in that faction of a second, that it didn't matter. Varian wasn't doing well. Which was all the more reason to be there for him. And if he didn't want to talk about his troubles? Well, maybe her presence would help all the same.

So with the slightest bow of her head, she stepped over the threshold and into the the house.

It was...well, everything she'd been expecting, really. Having gotten to know Varian and Fern over the last few months, the house felt very...them.

Ariadne gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Having friends around helped, he found. He was still trying to avoid people, kidding himself that they were better off without having to worry about him falling apart around them. But even he couldn't ignore that allowing his friends to get close did ease the worse of the corruption raging in his head.

The house is exceptionally them. A chaotic little space made all the more chaotic with each new resident adding their own personal flair to the building. He liked it, it was a pleasant space.

"So...uh. How are the trees handling the snow? Is it causing them any problems?"

He's just going to talk around the elephant in the room like a pro.

Avoiding a problem was an easy conversational trick for humanoids. Ariadne sometimes lay awake at night, puzzling over why that was. The best she could come up with was that they couldn't smell things the way Alastrians could. If a scent wasn't obvious, it was easier to ignore.

Just a guess. But it was the one she'd settled upon.

Fortunately, she had enough training among humanoids to understand how they spoke. Even if it made no sense to her. And if Varian wanted to start out with that nasty thing they called 'smalltalk,' she supposed it was only polite to oblige him with it.

For now.

"They're strong. I think it's the same sort of magic that allowed them to survive everything in Deerington. To look at them, you wouldn't even think they knew it was snowing."

She had it right on the money. It was all about the smells. All the smells all the time. Or not as the case may be. He's going to stupidly cling onto the awful, pointless smalltalk, because that was easier than talking about literally everything else going on in his life right now.

"I guess that makes sense. I'm glad. That's... that's probably gonna come in really handy if this snow gets any worse. Especially if food shortages get real bad."

“I hope.”

Words that summed up pretty much everything about Ariadne. Hope. That was her.

Sadly, hope did not mix well with smalltalk.

“Although my primary hope is helping to sustain Fern, at least.”

Hope. That was definitely where they had plenty of differences. Hope was something Varian struggled with at the best of times. It was one of the things he lost in his fall from grace and never quite regained again.

"Yeah, me too," he smiles, genuine behind the worry because he really is glad to have someone else so solidly in Fern's corner. "I really don't want him struggling in the winter- it doesn't help we don't know how bad it'll get here. If...if it'll be about the same as the dream or different."

There weren't enough probabilities for Ariadne to even guess. She could only shake her head. And do the hope thing, at least to herself. "I guess we'll find out, one way or another."

Just a matter of time.

She moved off to one side, awkwardly holding the antler, unsure what to do with herself or it. All she really wanted to do was ask Varian what was going on with his skin.

...did he know?

Surely, he must have noticed.

That seemed like a hard thing to miss. But Fern did say he sometimes got very distracted, buried in his work.

Even Varian, bad at social cues as he can be, can sense the awkwardness. For a brief moment, he considers just...shifting the conversation onwards onto something, anything else. But he knows that would be doing a disservice to his friend. He lets out a slow, unsteady breath, picking at the rocky skin of his cheek.

"I think it's corruption," he answers the unspoken question. "I...I'm not sure how to fix it. I'm trying to figure it out."

That's a lie. He knows how to fix it, he's read plenty of books on it. But taking care of himself seems near impossible right now.

"Corruption."

She breathed an odd sigh of relief when he told her. Now the problem had a name. And any problem with a name could be solved.

That's how she figured, anyway.

"Oh, Varian," she said, surging forward and wrapping her arms around him, to give him the biggest hug that her tiny body could possibly produce. Which was surprisingly enormous. Ariadne was a serious hugger.

That's what Varian has trying to focus on. The fact it has a name. It has books about it in the library. Even if he's struggling to treat it, he knows what it is. The hug takes him by surprise, and he hesitates for a moment before returning it.

"Uh...thanks," he clears his throat, a little awkwardly. "I'll...I'll be okay. I...I think."

No guarantee on that one. He doesn't know if he can, but he's trying to be reassuring, trying to ease her worry.

There was something special about people who--when hurting--were putting any portion of their energy into reassuring the people around them. And it seemed that Varian was just that sort.

It made her want to hug the stuffing out of him.

But she didn't. Humans were strange about their personal space, and after a moment, she backed away. Although not without getting the antler she was holding caught up in his hair.

"Oh! Oops!"

Varian's pretty good at putting other people's needs before his own. He's made it a goddamn masterpiece, especially as the years went on. A good solid combo of self-loathing and wanting to be seen better than the person he was has put paid to him putting himself first ever.

"Oh um! Lemmie get that."

He doesn't know what the antlers do yet- so he thinks nothing about reaching out to hold it the same time as her- to try and get the thing out of his hair. The second he does though, the room pitches and changes. Suddenly, they're not in the Disaster House, they're in a dark, stone-walled building. Alchemical apparatus line the room, as do strange, black rocks jutting into the building at various angles. Varian blinks around, confused, before where he is settles in.

"Oh no. Oh no, not this again."

It's not a case of where, really, but when. A much younger Varian can be seen, mixing some yellow concoction into a flask- he's talking to Ruddiger, perched on his workbench watching him quietly.

"Never give up, Ruddiger. So, our last formula didn't deliver quite the reaction we hoped. So what? The important thing is that we got a reaction."

He grabs his flask, moving towards the black rocks. The present Varian looking like his whole world is about to come crashing down around him. He doesn't even look at his friend- his eyes are laser-focused on the door to the lab- like he's waiting for something. Someone.

Seconds later, a giant, stocky man opens the door, and while his entrance spooks the younger Varian into dumping the contents of his flask onto the rocks, the older one is staring, rapt. Like this is the most important person who could ever exist. Which, to Varian, he kind of is.

"...Dad."

It all happened so quickly. Ariadne supposed this was probably what it felt like to lose your sense of balance. Or what it felt like to tumble in the sea. For one, terrifying moment, she didn't know up from down. Until she suddenly did again and found herself in an unfamiliar room.

Immediately, she turned to Ariadne, the first of many questions on her lips. But then he said it.

Not this again.

And she knew. Somehow, she just understood. Blame it on Deerington. It was probably safe to say that her experiences there had actually taught her a thing or two. So it was little bewildering and more curious, when she turned to the other side of the room and saw the younger Varian there. "Are these...something you created?" she asked, taking a few cautious steps toward the nearest black rock, only to retreat when the younger man walked over to do...something to it.

Then Varian's father burst into the scene and Ariadne whipped around, unaccustomed to someone arriving without a tell-tale scent to alert her.

"No. No, I didn't," the older Varian says, distantly, his eyes still on the man. "They...they're a long story."

The bear of a man steps into the room, looking tired, stressed.

"Son, I just want to..." he trails off as he sees the chemical mess the younger Varian is trying to hide behind his back- the yellow stuff bubbling away on the sheer face of the rock spike. "Varian, I told you to stay away from those rocks."

Anger is slipping into his tone immediately, and the younger Varian stammers an explanation as the older one doesn't rip his eyes off from the man, not for an instant.

"Y-yeah, yeah, okay I-I know what you said but Da-"

"But then there should be no misunderstanding!" the man leads the younger Varian away from the rocks, his voice rising frustration, anger and a hint of fear prevalent in his voice. "Now listen to me-"

The older Varian tenses, like he's sensing something bad coming- the younger one shoves at the man, angry himself now.

"No! No, you listen to me, Dad," he points towards the one window in the place. "Our village is DYING. You think running away from the problem is gonna fix it? No! These rocks aren't going away."

Finally, the older Varian turns his attention back to the rock- the chemical on it is bubbling away more and more. Finally, he glances in Airadne's direction, his brow furrowed.

"...I thought I was doing something good, something that could make a difference. I...I was wrong."

Edited 2021-12-17 20:24 (UTC)

It wasn't hard to sense Varian's--both Varians'--tension. Ariadne couldn't do anything for the younger one but she walked back to the older, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Small gestures could say more than words. With this one, she tried to convey a lot, though:

I'm sure it wasn't so bad.

I know your intentions are always good.

Nothing I see here is going to change my mind about you.

Also...

Parents are hard to deal with.

That last point, at least, Ariadne was absolutely sure about. Something in the dynamic between the two immediately reminded her of the way that she and her mother used to fight. Like cats.

"It's just the forces of Trench messing with our memories," she said softly. "Don't be afraid."

He appreciates her gesture a lot, even if his shoulder is tense under her hand, like a coiled spring. He's scared, he's so scared. As memories go, this isn't the worst- but if it goes beyond this? If she sees more? What will she think of him? He's always so very afraid of people learning about his past. About seeing who he used to be.

"...I hate it when this happens. I'm not-" he sucks in a breath. "Things are gonna get really bad."

And right on cue- there are Quirin and the younger Varian fighting, like cats. Two stubborn people who love each other but have lost the ability to communicate that. Quirin exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I know, Varian, but there is more to them than you can possibly imagine."

He moves away, removing his glove- staring at a strange mark on his hand- a moon with three diagonal lines coming off it. The younger Varian doesn't see this, but the older one does, his hand moving onto his own hand- where his Deerington tattoo used to be. The younger Varian keeps arguing. He doesn't see the crystal behind him growing bigger and bigger.

"Then why won't you tell me? Dad? I- I just- I deserve to know."

"I'm sorry, Son. You are not ready."

He turns to speak to his son and notices the crystals. With a loud "Varian, watch out!" he surges forward, pushing the younger Varian to the ground. He rolls on the ground, coming to a stop- looking up to watch his father getting captured in the crystal solution. It slowly starts to encase him, bit by bit. The older Varian watches, his face grim.

"...This was the start of my whole life being ruined."

Ever the optimist, Ariadne immediately wanted to point out that Varian's life couldn't possibly be ruined. Not when his life had someone as wonderful as Fern in it. True love could make up for so much.

But she didn't say it.

She just squeezed his shoulder a little tighter.

And ducked her head a little, but not enough to tear her eyes off of Varian's father, as the strange solution seemed to hold him, like quicksand.

"What is that stuff?"

He would agree with that at least. His life did get better (endlessly so once Fern came into it) but for a while there it was in tatters. It had to be rebuilt. He watches his younger self panic.

"...Amber. It's unbreakable. I- I didn't realise how impossible it was at the time."

His younger is moving close to his father, panic and pain evident on his face.

"Oh! Dad, DAD! H-hold on Dad, I- I'll get you out-"

He reaches out but Quirin stops him sharply and gruffly.

"NO! Stay back!"

The younger Varian does as he's told, wide-eyed, terrified. Quirin slumps, seemingly defeated as the amber grows more and more, swallowing more of him. The younger Varian can't take any more, turning and bolting to the door.

"I- I'm gonna go get help!" he races out despite Quirin's pleading of "No, Son- don't!"

The memory fades as soon as the younger Varian leaves the space. The older one staring at the place his father had been.

"I was stupid and stubborn. I should have listened and not messed with them."

Her heart ached for him. Literally, she could feel it pounding in her chest, against her ribcage. Like a bird trying to break out of a cave. When she leaned against him, she was afraid he might feel it.

But she wanted to stay close.

"I'm so sorry, Varian," she said. The probabilities that the scene ended well for his father seemed, slim. There were perfect possible futures, of course. There always were. But the memory had decided to stop there and she wasn't going to pry into how things turned out.

That was up to Varian.

"But," she said, her tone brightening a little. "I get that it's a sad memory. But it's also kind of a happy one. I mean...your dad was clearly trying to protect you. Loved you enough to put your safety first. He told you to stay back."

He doesn't seem to mind, he's deeply wrapped in his own grief, in the echoes of the memory. His shoulder sags at her comments. He can see what she's trying to do, but the self-loathing around this is pretty strong.

"I know, but that made it worse. He- he risked his life for me."

He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as the memory fades and they return to the Disaster House hallway.

"He...he got out. But a lot happened between this and...him finally getting out. It took a year."

"He got out!"

The perfect possible future! Even when the odds were against it! Ariadne wanted to shake Varian. To loop her elbow through his and spin around the room in delight. To dance!

He got out!

But Varian wasn't celebrating that. He seemed to be lost in...that year? She supposed so.

She tried to temper her enthusiasm. But she put both hands on his shoulder. "It's okay, Varian. A memory can't hurt you. It can only give you strength."

Varian would appreciate the tempered enthusiasm if he knew. He's glad his dad got out, of course, he is, more glad of that than anything in his entire life. But she would be right. That year was awful, a complete mess- and he's aware at this point it will likely dog him for the rest of his days. Still, he forces a tired smile.

"I don't know. They usually hurt me pretty good here," he exhales. "Usually just as I'm starting to find a way to move on from them, Deerington and now here just pulls them back up again."

"I understand," she said.

Well, only kind of. Somehow, she'd been lucky, when it came to all of the returns to memory. It had only happened to her once, and the memory itself hadn't really been a bad one. Ariadne had plenty of horrible, awful, haunting memories. But the one she'd shared?

...had been one of the better moments in her life.

"Moving on doesn't mean forgetting, though," she offered, trying as ever to put a positive spin on things. "I think it just means...learning from it."

"Well, I did plenty of that. Learning, I mean," he exhales slowly. "I...I kind of had to. Rapunzel needed help and I...I needed to make up for what I've done."

Because that memory, oh that was only the starting domino- the one that caused the cascade.

"I did redeem myself, I was forgiven for all the hurt I caused. But- but forgiving myself is a lot...harder. I've never really worked that one out."

There were a number of people on Ariadne's team, back in Valeria, who didn't know how to forgive themselves. She watched the way they struggled. The way they wound themselves in circles. And the way they rejected any opportunity to be told that they were more than what they'd been.

So she didn't offer to help. She didn't tell him he was a good person. She didn't nag him to let go of the past.

She hugged him instead.

And whispered to him. "If you need to talk about it, I'm happy to listen."

That simple sentence really does mean the world to him. So many of his (well-meaning) friends have tried to tell him to move on. To look forward instead of back, unable to realise just how impossible that can be sometimes. What a gulf that can be to cross. It's much rarer for him to come across people who don't push that point home.

When the hug comes, he does return it, a little awkwardly as always, but it ishappy about my past."

It's only when Ariadne breaks away that she realizes she's still holding her antler full of dirt.

She gives it a quick, momentary glance. The fact that antlers could be involved is...not beyond the scope of believability. But it doesn't matter how it happened. Not really. More that it happened.

And that Varian hasn't headed for shelter, yet.

Ariadne gives him a smile. "Happy Christmas, I guess?"

Varian really isn't surprised the antlers are part of the memory issue. That seems to fall into the standard for how Deerington was, so why not here too. He looks at it with a soft should have expected that kind of sigh.

"Hah, happy Christmas to you, too," he doesn't touch the antler again, noooo thanks. "But yeah, I mean, there's little happy about my past, but I'm willing to talk about it...sometime."

"Sometime," she said, giving him a nod.

She set the antler down on the nearest table, backing away from it. Just to be overly cautious. It was probably something to do with them both touching it at the same time. Varian would figure it out.

He was good at that sort of thing.

He really did appreciate the caution. As much as he trusts her with his past at this point, he knows delving too deeply into it now would only make his corruption worse- he has enough sense for that at least. He eyes it on the table for a moment, before turning his attention to her.

"Um...are you okay, anyway? In...general. I mean. Not counting awful memories."

She opened her mouth. And then closed it again. She wanted to say that, of course, she was. There was little to complain about, she had shelter, food, and even a few basic pleasures.

But then there was Sam...

"I don't know," she admitted. "I want to be. But I am a little worried about a situation involving another Sleeper."

"Oh?"

It's not the oh of someone curious for gossip, but the oh of someone genuinely concerned for a friend. He shifts his feet awkwardly for a moment, not sure if he should pry or not.

"Do- do you wanna talk about it?"

"I'm not supposed to," she admitted. But in admitting that, she realized, she really did want to talk about it, quite a lot.

The whole thing was really weighing on her mind. Especially in light of the necklace that mysteriously turned up in her orchard.

She shook her head. "It's some sort of magical. Thing. I don't really understand. But he may or may not be missing his...soul?"

"Well, that's okay, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. If you need to get it off your chest."

Which clearly, she does. So he does his best to listen. This is...not really in his wheelhouse, but he'll try anyway.

"Oh, that's...not good. Did he lose it here or...home?"

Ariadne shrugged. "I don't know." It was possible Dean knew. And it was equally possible that Dean was grasping for an explanation, the same as the rest of them.

Anyway, she didn't entirely know which answer was better.

Which held out much hope. Hope that he would be...made whole.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

That's worrying. Where he lost it really does make a difference to if he can be helped here or not. It gave a clear path. He raises his shoulders in a shrug, offering a tired little smile.

"Hey, it's okay. You're my friend, and if it's bothering you, I'm more than happy to listen and...and see if I can help any."

That earned him another hug, like it or not.

Honestly, the fact that Ariadne now had friends she could hug was more of a balm than anything else. They were rare back home. But their numbers were beginning to get impressive here in Trench.

She pulled back, giving him a little smile. "Thank you, Varian."

He returns the hug, exhaling softly into it, glad for it as much as his mind is racing still. The people he'd met in both Deerington and Trench had been a pretty solid reason to stay here- and this is further proof of that. The hug was exceptionally comforting - she was good at them.

"Hey, you're welcome," he returns the smile. "Anytime."

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Witches can be right, giants can be good... [CLOSED]

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wow DW completely garbled and ate my tag -just gonna add it in here

Not cool, DW

so very rude

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