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[The Handmaid had finally achieved her only goal after millenia--she'd finished her job ane been released from her contract, and the Condesce had killed her. She'd thought it would be a relief. She hadn't been expecting an afterlife, but even nothing would have been better than serving Lord English.

Unfortunately, nothing had changed. In fact, she didn't even know she was dead. Her life just replayed over and over and over again, and she still longed for death. She listened to Doc Scratch ramble on about the other ancestors, repeating himself until she had the stories memorized and they became mind numbing. Of course, when she didn't listen carefully enough, or Doc Scratch just thought she wasn't, he would punish her. His favorite trick was teleporting her onto the Condesce's ship until the lack of air made her pass out. Unfortunately, immortality didn't mean that she was immune to the adverse affects of his punishments, just that she couldn't die from them.

Lord English was much less elegant, and much harder to please. If he wanted her unconscious, he would simply slam her against a wall and choke her until her head swam and her lungs screamed and her only thought was of air. He wasn't nearly as picky about leaving marks, either, but after centuries of such treatment, she'd learned that allowing it and fighting back as little as possible often made him relent more quickly.

But the worst was when she was trapped in Doc Scratch's mansion, when Lord English had no use for her at the moment. She would pace, impatient, listening to the little puppet ramble on and on and critique her manners and patronize her endlessly. Unlike in her childhood, she no longer shows her rage so openly--there's no point. But in the mansion, all alone, with Lord English and Doc Scratch both off doing something assuredly stupid, she paces the rooms and daydreams about ripping the entire place apart.]

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[There was a time in the beginning where he had done similar to her, lived through the low points of his life over and over and over. Maybe it was because he only got a few decades out of it and there was less to see. Maybe he was just that awfully stubborn, but he had broken away from it eventually. And he had drifted for a long time, confused and learning this strange little world he'd been set down in. He learned how to make himself look young again, even if he couldn't take the age out of his bones. It was good enough, for a time. Still, he had been terrifically alone, awfully so, and eventually he had decided to walk, let this afterlife of his show him its seams. Maybe he could break out. Maybe he could finally fade]

[And then he had come across the mansion and...]

[The green door looms before him now, and he does not hesitate to push it open and step inside, wandering through the terrible, familiar hallways. He has been here so many times before. The first time it had been... shocking, horrifying. He had seen his matesprit so young and hurt so badly and even when he had tried to intervene, he could do nothing. They played on like he did not even exist, and even when he'd caught her alone, she didn't say anything to him, didn't see him]

[And so he had settled back and watched. For a long time, he fought for her attention, tried to beat the puppet and his master to death, tried to follow them to find out what they wanted with her. But they always disappeared when they left her sight. Of course. Because this isn't actually real. It has been his afterlife for so damn long, he forgets it's a dream sometimes. And it gets so easy to forget every time he sees her hurt, and he wants to help but he can't]

[He can't... He has seen her whole long, awful life play out, at least twice. Maybe more. Time and memory are funny here, so he's never sure. But she never remembers him]

[Still, he keeps trying. He drifts away sometimes, lets himself forget and fall away to something happier. The slow moments between training when his old moirail told him stories, or the first time he flew. But he always comes back, and so he is here, walking through the hallways until he finds her. Pacing and alone and...]

[He doesn't say anything. He does not have the energy to greet her today. But he still settles into one of the big, cushy green chairs and watches her, wondering what has got her worked up today, in this little snapshot of a memory...]

[Sometimes, things seem just the tiniest bit off. She'll be pacing the foyer of the mansion and feel as though someone is watching her, or see a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Of course, no one is ever there, but it always leaves her jumpy and defensive.

And sometimes, of course, she thinks of the Summoner, though it's always in snatches and never for long. Doc Scratch and Lord English have conditioned her so well that sometimes she thinks maybe, just maybe, they can read her thoughts. Of course it's ridiculous--if that were true, she would never have been able to have a matesprit at all, and in any case, he's long since dead. The only thing they would be able to do is punish her, and she's so used to it at this point that it doesn't scare her anymore, just exhausts her.

But she's getting that odd sensation again, like someone is watching her glare at Doc Scratch's little collection of inscrutable knick knacks, and though she feels ridiculous doing it, she peers at the armchair in the corner of the room. It's as though someone is there, someone she can't quite see.]

Edited 2012-02-17 10:56 (UTC)

[...it is strange to be recognized!! It happens every now and then, and it has always made his throat close, hope catching in his chest. He rarely lets it stay for long...]

[This time it feels different though. More significant. He looks back for a long moment, before... shifting forward carefully. Not standing. Not yet. It has been much too long for him to think it will be that easy, but... he wants... so much for her to look at him and recognize him again]

Coleta...?

[And this time, she actually hears her name, and she's so surprised she takes a step back. It isn't as though he suddenly appeared, more like he had always been there and she was just now made aware of him. She blinks, staring at him in complete confusion for one silent moment. There is no way he can be here. He's dead. And even if he weren't, there is no way he can be in this mansion. He can't time travel. It must be some sort of trick, some sort of odd game Doc Scratch is playing, but... No. They don't know about his significance to her, and even if they did, this isn't their style.

The possibility that he's actually here makes her her heart ache and her hands clench, and she takes the tiniest step toward him, her voice quiet and heartbreakingly hopeful.]

Summoner...?

[Oh. Oh god. Fuck. It has been so long. So long. His lifetime a dozen times over, and he is suddenly, acutely aware of how absolutely broken open, and empty it has been the moment she says his title. His hands tighten against the armrest of the chair, but he still doesn't move to stand. He cannot be this hopeful. He cannot want this too much because if... when she fades back into the dream, he will hurt all the worse for it]

[His voice is... also quiet... and flat for how hard he's restraining himself from getting up and going to her right now]

Yes, I'm. I'm here. [Can you see him finally?]

[This is some sort of dream. It has to be. There is no conceivable way he can be alive, here. She stares at him wide-eyed for a moment before finally crossing the last of the space between them and reaching out a trembling hand to touch his cheek.

Oh. He's solid and real and actually there, and she lets out a shaky breath that she didn't even know she'd been holding. She doesn't understand what's happening at all, and so she simply stares at him, utterly confused.]

[Ahhhh, bows his head forward, closing his eyes and reaching up to press her hand against his face. Oh he missed her he missed her and his own breath is shaky and small. He doesn't want her to ever forget him again, and yet there is such a huge, resigned part of him that expects it. Any second now the puppet will return and she'll be drawn away again]

[He's having trouble finding his voice. Sorry Coleta, he can't answer your questions right now]

[When he lifts his hand she flinches instinctively. It's been so long since she's had any sort of affectionate physical contact that, even though he's never, ever hurt her, she still half expects it. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself against the panic tightening her throat. She has never been so happy to see someone in her long, long life, but...]

What are you doing here?

[It's not safe. Even if this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, if anyone finds him here...]

[The fact that she flinches when he touches her is fucking heartbreaking. More then anything he's seen here, he can't even stand the thought that she might flinch away from him. Presses her hand a little closer before letting go and looking up to her. And he is... young! Younger then she remembers, by a number of sweeps. This is not him on the verge of death the way he was when she saw him last. Not at all, and he looks... deeply concerned for her, one hand hovering like he wants to reach up to her but can't quite make himself do it]

Trying to wake you up.

[He is young, the way she prefers to remember him, but what he's saying makes no sense. Part of her is still convinced she's hallucinating. Maybe she's finally snapped and gone completely insane. She doesn't pull her hand away, though, because his cheek is solid under her fingertips, and more than anything else she wants to believe this isn't a trick.]

...What are you talking about?

You...

[Nnnnnoooooo, he doesn't want to have to say this to her. He almost can't make himself do it, the way his throat closes for a long, long moment. But then he finally does reach up and slip a hand around her neck, trying to draw her down to him]

You're dead, Coleta. You've finally... [Hnnngh] This is a dream.

[She tenses for a second, then allows him to pull her downward as she lets that statement sink in.]

...That makes no sense.

[Actually, it does in a sort of odd way that she doesn't want to think about.]

[Lets his fingers kind of knead at her neck. Shh shh, don't tense up on him, please... And he... sighs, breathes unhappily for having to explain this to her somehow]

It does. I know it's hard. It was hard when I had to do it. But this isn't real. This mansion. You've-- [Little distressed sound, as he thinks back on... all the things he's seen here. All the ways he's seen her hurt. He almost loses his voice again, but...] It's a memory. You're reliving it. Have been... reliving it for... so long. [Please believe him...]

[He's never lied to her before, of course. Maybe he's mistaken. There's no way she died only to relive her whole pathetic life over and over and over again. If that were the case, what was the point of going along with Lord English at all?

But of course, the evidence to the contrary is overwhelming. Things have seemed just slightly off before, and he's here, as young as when she first met him somehow.

She lets out another shaky breath, letting her hand fall to tangle in his shirt.]

...How is that possible?

[Pulls her down just that little bit further to press his forehead to hers, letting his eyes shut for a moment. God he's missed her. He wants to leave with her. As soon as possible. Now. She doesn't deserve to be in this awful place anymore]

I don't know. But it's the truth. [...] You can leave whenever you want, Coleta.

[She's missed him too, so, so much, and when he rests his forehead against her heart aches with a sudden rush of affection. She slips her arms around him shyly, closing her eyes as she struggles to make sense of what he's telling her.

It's true. A lot of things haven't been right. It does feel as though she's replaying events over and over again rather than experiencing them for the first time, and really, it's the only explanation for why he's here right now. And she has heard Doc Scratch mention offhand some sort of place the deceased go after their dreamselves are gone, but she's always assumed that was for Sgrub players only.

She bites her lip, pulling her head away from his just enough to meet his eyes. Her voice is quiet, hopeful but a little frightened, too.]

Show me.

[...there are actually no words to describe the sudden brilliant happiness in his eyes at that. He smiles so relieved, he practically glows with it, as he slowly moves to stand and take her hand, leaning in to kiss her just briefly]

Of course. [He will take her anywhere to be honest, but first he'll start with away from this god damn mansion, drawing her to him and leading them towards the door]

[She's so surprised at that that she doesn't even have time to kiss him back before he moves away. She blinks up at him as they head towards the door. There's no way this can be so easy. No way.]

[IT IS THAT EASY. In fact he makes a point of not just... changing the setting the way they can here, instead letting them walk quite purposefully through the empty corridors and out the door. As easy as that. His voice is soft, and desperately fond]

You can go anywhere you want now, Coleta. You need only believe it. [Where would you like to be, my dear?]

[Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Actually, her happiest memories all take place on Alternia, with him. She presses against his side as they walk, tightening her grip on his hand. She had no idea it was possible to miss one person so much.]

What do I do?

Think of the place. Believe you are there. It's uh... hard the first, few times, but you can do it.

[Reassuring smile!!! Although it becomes teasing pretty quickly as he remembers]

Uh... maybe you ought, to tell me where it is, also? So that we do not... lose each other again. [Squeezes her hand and the reassuring-ness is back! He is not going to think about how long it's been nor how hard his heart would break if they were separated again. The important thing here is her finally gaining her own freedom]

[She hesitates, leaning against him a bit uncertainly. It's so, so hard to remember, and he'll be disappointed in her if she can't do it, won't she?]

Do you remember that... Field by the river you used to camp in?

[It's vague--she can picture it in her mind, but can't put a name to it.]

[...oh god. He's suddenly reminded of how long ago that was. It's sort of awful to realize he's been dead for that long!!! So yes, it takes him a good long time to think back that far and remember. Once he hooks onto the right memory though, he's pretty sure he knows what she means]

Yes. I think so.

Can we go there?

[She says it with the air of someone not quite believing she'll ever get what she wants.]

Dunno. Can we?

[Teasing!!! It's obvious he believes in her completely and absolutely, but he has also set this out as a challenge. It's important to him that she does this on her own...!]