2020-08-31 - Matching Scars

Darkness

When Byron's eyes open, he is not greeted by a blinding light or oppressed by some infernal heat. The waters, they descended into the depths of the pool at the very end, didn't they? He even remembers seeing a glimpse of a bone white crow at the terrace rail again, though after that, he's not quite sure. What is clear, is what transpired in the dream, though despite that, this, too, comes with conflicting thoughts and memories.

The palm of his hand ached and he stirs from his rest to examine it in the dark, his eyes slowly adjusting to note that he was in his bedroom. It was shortly after 1am. The stone. The stone had burned his hand, but not only that, the stone gave him back his name, his identity. Quickly, he turns to look check if Lilith were still beside him, knowing full well that she was had the same encounter in the desert too, where she was his captor and...

"Lil?"

Lilith awakes with gasping start almost the very moment that Byron says her name. It's unclear if that's response or coincidence, but it sits her bolt upright with jerk to try and catch her breath properly. Hopefully, Byron hasn't turned too much to hover over where she is in the dark. The brunette is disoriented, overwhelmed with emotion, and seized with confusion and pain. She's scared of the dark suddenly, her eyes haven't adjusted to the room and glow of the clock, but she heard Byron and he's right... there.

Breathe. Close your eyes and do a hard reset. And when you open your eyes, look at my hand.

The woman hears herself calmly and firmly speaking to Byron when he had a hard awakening from Something Terrible not too long ago, how was she so calm then? Her hand is throbbing, but that's not what she wants to see about initially, no. Immediately, she starts to feel for the engagement diamond ring on her finger with desperation, feels the cool facets of the stone... stone.

Stones. Her stone. Her name. Her identity. Her memories. Her emotions. Her stone looked splashed with blood, didn't it? Didn't it?

Light. She needs light, she needs to make sure Byron's voice isn't a trick, she needs to see his eyes, she needs to make sure the ring is a diamond, not a bloodstone she was so tightly gripping in her fist-balled palm. After closing her eyes hard to try and do that reset, she measures out her breathing for a few heartbeats, then whispers urgently, "Byron? Light. Turn on the light."

Thank God. Lilith was here. She was as panicked as he felt; some of that was part disorientation, but a good majority of it can be blamed on the turmoil of memories and emotions that swept through them by the end of the...Dream. He doesn't realize it right away, but his throat was no longer coarse and dry. In the beginning, there was confusion, but the longer he had the chance to ponder on what they'd just been through, the more that he starts to remember.

"It's me. I'm here."

Lights. It was dark, though his eyes was nearly fully adjusted. But to oblige to Lilith's request, he lifts one of his hands up, and Lilith may smell that thick ozone stench before she can see the crackle of electricity surrounding her lover's hand. It's enough to light the room up for now. This was his immediately response, bringing her comfort by bringing her light. Watching the woman's reaction, Byron's face is alight with the glow of these sparks, but after a moment, he leans back towards the nightstand to grab the remote, letting it slowly undim to fill the entire room with light. And just like that, his electric charge goes out.

The once glowing hand reaches to touch gently at her chin, lifting it so that their eyes meet directly, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Maybe asking for a light so quick and desperately was a mistake. Trying to soothe Lilith, Byron is quite quick to comply. It's not harsh light, but Lilith doesn't sense him exerting and it startles her. It reminds her of the lightning flash that arced into the water around that dead bone tree, the place with all the stones calling to them, she remembers vaguely the slithering, electrified feeling up her arm when it was wet from an attempt to take her stone while bewitched.

No. That's him. Thunder and lightning like Zeus himself. Did he really wipe the magic off of the stones?

Breath. Lights. Him. Hand.

The gentle sparking and light of electricity at Byron's hand dims out and the bedroom lighting gently increases when he has the remote. While the woman still needs a moment to adjust with her eyes blinking fast, he can see she looks sunburned with vaguely chapped lips and messy bed hair. Her gaze is also a bit vulnerably wild, but overall, she starts to orient pretty quick once the light is on and she can see the man. Immediately, she puts her ring hand out to press against the side of his face while meeting gaze for gaze with scrutinizing intensity for a flash of time.

That's all it takes, she knows from the second their eyes meet and she sees the flash of ring in the light with hand's motion... this is home, this is-- OW. This is ow. As Lilith's palm presses at the bristles on his face, the tender new seared mark there she's unwitting of stings even more. Suddenly, she pulls it away as if he's still charged and shocked her, but she looks at her palm with confusion on instinct thereafter.

The oval marking on her palm where the stone was is gradually fading some, but it's still red and angry and hurts. She's noticing her skin is burning all over too with tight tingle and sting, then she realizes with eyes sweeping Byron... he's reddened from sun exposure too, "Do you... have this?"

Good. Byron felt relieved when it seems like she was coming too. He could see the recognition in her eyes, feel her gentle touch against cheek. This allowed him to breathe. Lilith was here, sound of mind and bo-- He watches as she retracts her hand from his face, to stare down at her burned palm. It made his own palm tingle now, the same hand that he had sparked with electricity, that it almost felt like this was just the afterburn of being shocked by a jolt of his own doing.

Turning his palm over to allow her to see, yes, he had a red marking similar to her own. He remembers his stone now. How it looked. The way it resembled a starry night. "I do. It was the stones, when we picked them up. They burned into our hand and.." There's a crease in his brow, "And melted into our palms. I think." Knowing full well how it stings, he asks, "Does it hurt? Are you hurt?" Followed by, "What do you remember happening?"

Automatically, Lilith starts to nod along with the things Byron is saying, her blue eyes fixated on his palm now. She answers his questions too , in sync, yes it hurts, no she's not hurt (she thinks, she's not honestly sure, but it's the thing you say just because). She doesn't like the mark on her palm, it hurts, but more importantly, she hates seeing Byron's hand marred and his skin burning after he's had the misery of burning when...

Abruptly, Lilith pulls in a breath and focuses, not answering verbally right away, swallowing thickly as she assesses Byron inside and out. She seems a bit confused by what she sees, but not because it's odd or bad, she just senses damaged nerves and some seared flesh at the palm area. Then again, she's still pulling air a little quickly and blinks out of her hyperfocus view of him with a few quick bats of dark lashes, "I-- I remember a lot. But I think..." Her head shakes a couple of small, drifting times, "I don't think I was myself. I mean, I was, but..." Frustrated, she tries to explain again, because OBVIOUSLY neither of them were themselves at the moment.

Her voice drops this time into murmur just above a whisper, "You kept disappearing. You were gone and I thought I was alone a couple of times. I almost... went to the water and... I let him pull me... I couldn't help it. That part feels like a dream within a dream. I don't know what was happening."

Lilith sighs and seems to be more witting more and more now that she started talking, no matter how many little dangling ends or false starts she has while trying to explain and make sense of it all aloud, "... then you came back. Everything happened real fast after that. It was scary. But you did something. Did you really wipe the magic off of the stones?"

Reaching out for Lilith's wrist, Byron rubs a gentle thumb around the marked portion of her skin, trying not to touch the burn itself. Hers was very much like the one he had, matching the markings on the three fox riders.

He remembers seeing the thing with the glowing head. The harpy. He remembers hearing... Byron tries to ignore the fact that his father showed up in this Dream, but isn't that what these things do? And wasn't his father's name on the beak of a crow at some point. Vivian's as well. He remembers the panic felt once he was safely hidden on seeing Lilith leaning forward to reach into the waters, but what did he do to it exactly?

All of this goes through his mind, though he listens as she speaks. And then there's something, perhaps he feels the physical invasion of him. Is that true? But there's something and he knows that Lilith is scanning him for injuries and, perhaps, other abnormalities that he may not realize was in him. He doesn't bring this up. There was no need.

Then she brings up that he'd disappeared twice. One of those moments is far clearer in his mind than the other. "The Dream. The Dream was playing tricks on my mind and... and I felt that I was in danger, so I cast an illusion spell in an attempt to move unseen. I was still there, just." Was he proud about running away like that? Byron Thorne was a survivor, even though he never ran away from home when he should have. "Then I saw you reaching into the water and I was confused, but at that moment, my head was clearing and I knew I had to stop you."

Lifting her hand up, he presses a kiss against the injury, his eyes closed. The next question has him wondering. "I wanted to shut down the Eye's power so that it could no longer influence us. Deceive us. So that's what I did, I tried to overwhelm the pool itself and it seems to have worked. We were no longer being influenced by the Eye and we saw those stones for what they were." All of this is said with his lips hovering above her palm. He back slowly straightens and he looks on her. "I don't know if I actually believed that it made those stones safe, but we got out."

Lilith watches Byron with her hand, so careful with the seared marking on her palm that matches his own. She wants to take his, and take that burn from his skin too, even though it's no worse than falling asleep in the sun (painful, but...). In fact, she really has to control herself not to just... do it, as if she's trying to wipe away any trace of the ordeal they just went through in that desert-dry and deceitful Dream. It's a gut instinct and reflex that she tucks back with sheer force, focusing instead on what Byron is explaining. It's fascinating enough to keep her attention, thankfully.

Byron might have been a little pissy about her healing him while she's left in pain and marked up, she would be if the tables were turned. In this particular case, fair is either suffering or getting healed together, not piecemeal to watch one another's discomfort while coping with the deeper issue. After slowly blinking a few spaced out times, Lilith waits for the man to finish, her eyes flitting between his own eyes and what he's doing with her captive, marked palm, "I didn't know you could do those things. Even explained, I'm not sure I understand entirely, but... some of the things I think I do are like that too."

There's a somewhat thick silence then, as if Lilith is dreading what she's about to ask because... there's probably no answer.

"Do you feel right? Did we do the right thing? How do we tell?"

"I honestly, had no idea if it would work. But why wouldn't it? I could trick the mind into believing that I was nothing but salt and dust." Byron keeps his hand on Lilith's, more focused on holding onto her wrist as to not agitate her wound, though his thumb continues to softly caress at her skin. "The same goes for whatever it is I did to the pool. I needed to shut down the power it had over us and I /think/ that it worked in the end."

Of course, even before Lilith asks the dreaded question, Byron's memories are sparked with glimpses of everything that happened to them while asleep. He believes he knows the reason why he hid the first time and that was due to his distrust of Lilith. She was his captor. His murdere--" No, he tries to shut all of that out of his mind, no matter how much it bothers him. Or due to the fact that it does.

Do you feel right?
Did we do the right thing?

Did Byron feel right? He knew who he was, but that came with conflicting memories and emotions, though much of that seems to be stashed away and only feels like annoying gnawing at his mind. "I feel... I'm not sure how we're supposed to feel after having our names stolen from us. Stolen." He adds angry emphasis there. "I feel like myself, so that's a start. But even I have no idea whether we did the right thing? Though I don't know what the alternatives would've been." There's a brief pause, his dark gaze searching her features now, "How about you? Do you feel right? "

"It... makes sense as much as things can make sense in those moments, yes. If I wasn't so rattled and on fire at the moment, I might have stars in my eyes for how amazing and clever that was." Lilith speaks truth, though she's saying it and watching Byron more and more with her hand, so doting, so loving even in the aftermath of a storm. While she's doing that, she feels her guts twist with residual sensations of guilt or betrayal she shouldn't have, she knows she didn't kill him, there was no Bryan, they were tricked and bewitched into thinking the worst and reacted accordingly, there's no blame in that for either of them.

Lilith has her Name and has her Truth, but the deceit wasn't fully washed away. She hears herself screaming while standing over Byron's bloody body in a mess of an unfocused room.

"Why!! Why did you make me do it!? Goddamnit, Byron, why?! Wake up. Please wake up."

Lilith blinks a couple of times, but otherwise is very still while watching the man with her hand. He's asking her the same-- do you feel right? Does the woman feel right? She doesn't feel wrong, she feels safe and at home, the ring is on her finger, the cat is on the bedroom couch by the dressing area and closet, curled in a ball. Byron has those brows pulled in the way they're supposed to look when he's thinking and/or agitated, concern never leaving his features despite it. It's almost broody, in a subtle way, and if they weren't in such dire circumstances when he has that look and tone in his voice, she'd find it irresistible.

Actually, maybe she still does find it hard to resist. She doesn't know if she's right, but the scales tip that way enough for her to answer with quiet surety for his sake, her own paranoia and uncertain wonderings aside. Leaning in slowly, Lilith puts her nose tip in to lightly nuzzle and brush with back and forth against Byron's before drawing back again to look at his face in close quarters. Tactile affection like this from the woman feels right, it's an assurance of its own to go with her claim, "Everything seems fine. I don't feel wrong. Just shaken, I think."

If something is nagging her, if that scream in her mind echoes again, it's not something Lilith is witting about. Surely, it's just trauma and will be fine given a little time. Taking the time to ruminate aloud while it's still somewhat fresh, the brunette then asks thoughtfully, "Why did you ask about the crone? And why do you think that place seemed... a weird state of dead and alive?"

"What if we couldn't find our stones again once the magic was gone?" Byron asks, because there was a huge possibility of that happening. Shaking his head slowly, there's this scornful smile at this lips, "After what I did, I doubt the entity was going to tell us which stones were ours if we didn't remember. I didn't realize how much I could've screwed things up." The smile transitions into this look of displeasure. He wants to say something, because there were conflicting memories in his mind, but it might just worry her. Hopefully, it went away, but he couldn't help but be concerned.

Scooting in close, so that he can wrap her up in the comforter, as the AC, like usual, was running high, keeping the room chilled, he asks, "Do you want me to get some ice? We might stop by at Roen's shop for an aloe plants. Otherwise, we hit the pharmacy for meds." With his arms around her form, he can easily see the palm of his hand and the marking there. He wonders if the brand or the pain will ever go away.

She's asking about the crone.

"I encountered the crone in a Dream once. In a Dream where I saw the world through the eyes of one of those bone white crows." The one that Lilith had killed. "The crow flew into an old woman's house and she knew who I was, though could not understand me at all. I was just a passenger on this crow, I could see and hear, like I was trapped without a voice." It's been so long, but some of the grandmother's words still lingered, "She said that... the name bearers would keep coming until their progenitor is dealt with. And she told me, that if I wished for her help.." There's this silence as he tries to remember, "She said that there are those who can help me seek the old woman out and she showed me several stones with runes carved into them." If anything, he's more annoyed at himself right now, "I've been holding this information for so long, though out of everyone, I think... Isabella would know best. Well, depending on what sort of runes these were, but she's the researcher."

As for the weird state of that place, Byron shakes his head, this time with without the bitterness there. "I'm not sure. I need to jog my memory and see if any of the runes or anything that the woman said might help solve this puzzle."

Lilith recalls some of this, but she couldn't make the relevance connect to the Dream they just had at the time, nor here in the aftermath under the AC venting. Which... is making her pretty chilly at the moment, despite the burn over the surface of her skin, especially when she moves. Sunburns can leave you feeling cold on the inside while you radiate all that heat outward. The comforter feels soft and cool against her skin, doing double duty of warding her from the blowing vent. The woman normally would like the room like this, but being bundled up is nice.

It also keeps her from looking at her hand while Byron is talking and she's listening. All the while, though, the back of her mind is on the oval seared mark she can see on his. When Byron says he needs to jog his memory, she takes in a breath as if she's about to ask how he plans on going about it, then she speaks slow with realization, "... we still have the feather." At least he might know what to expect this time if that's the plan, makes her quietly fret a little less about something rubbing off on him with residue reading.

Puffing air over her lips, Lilith answers on his pain relief suggestions after some delay, all cozied in against him and blanket. Now that she's settled, there's no real need to be anything but dead weight, the calm of bed and strong arms gradually doing accidental magic of its own, "I don't want ice at the moment, no. I think an aloe plant is a good idea and it wouldn't hurt for him to take a look at me and maybe we can... take care of our hands while we're there."

The woman can't help but tilt her head a little to look more directly at Byron then, mouth unable to stay sober or straight there for a few heartbeats, "People will think it's marital ritualistic scarring. Branded rings, the ultimate form of possession."

There's a pause, then quiet suggestion of her own, "I think we're owed at least three bottle swigs each, though. Still got thirst relief in your nightstand?"

Byron didn't feel much like getting up out of bed too to trek out into the kitchen in the nude (unless he threw something on) to get them some ice. He could bear the pain, but he would do it if Lilith wanted him to. It's also strange that he barely remembers getting undressed to go to bed ever since he saw the crow at the terrace. Or maybe that was part of the Dream as well, he's uncertain. So seeing that Lilith has no need for the ice, he's more than happy to lounge more comfortably back, to pull her up against him with his arms wrapped tightly around her blanketed form.

His mind does go back to the feather and if need be, he could get a refresher from it but... that wasn't like a normal reading. "I... You know when I read things, I catch a glimpse into a person's life? Yes, I caught a glimpse into the bird's life, but I'm not sure that that was it was. The old woman broke into the read or, by reading the feather, I ventured into a Dream or part of the Veil? I'm not quite sure. She communicated with me, knew I was there observing. It was like no other read that I'd ever done. And I'm not sure that it can be replicated, but she put this pain in my head that throbs some times, to help me remember."

After more thought into this, his brows lift right before he leans forward to rest his chin against Lilith's blanketed shoulder, "And I'll tell you, it was a lot to remember."

The dark-haired man studies his palm again, now that he's leaning in closer, when Lilith talks about marital ritualistic scarring. "I think we could come up with something better than this." It's spoken, not so much in a deadpan way, because there is emotion in his voice, as if he's holding a casual conversation, though what he says is quite the joke. At least to him.

Turning his head to nuzzle in a kiss against Lilith's cheek, she can feel his grip loosening somewhat, "I always keep booze on hand." Peeling himself away from her, for this brief moment, he pulls open the drawer, grabbing the bottle of whiskey there, resting next to a bottle of water and his revolver. It's not a full-sized bottle of whiskey, around half the size, but it's mostly full. While he's at it, he uses the remote to dim the lights; not to leave them in utter darkness, but to set a more comforting sleep mood rather than having the whole room lit up.

"Maybe it would help if you... tried to show me like you showed me the Addingtons? Then again, maybe not, and it's not necessary if you feel it seared into your head. Sometimes... things stick like that, even for me." Usually unpleasant things when it comes to Dreams and the Veil, but Lilith doesn't say that part. Instead, she makes a noise in her throat for the scarring comment, even though she is kind of secretly worried about looking like she touched a lava hot antique doorknob.

Maybe people will call them defensive wounds now since she supposedly murdered Byron. Really, it's getting to the point where she doesn't want to go to work or out to get coffee or shop anymore, but her stubborn will keeps up with that. She has at least disabled social media for the time being, for both the shop and herself, but occasionally, she's getting troll texts and calls from people, so nowhere is quite safe until whatever oddity either peters out or gets resolved. When Byron lays with her like this, though, she knows he's so alive, it helps remind her how ridiculous it all is.

"Hey babe..." Lilith starts as the man turns to get the bottle for them to nestle back in against her with. She turns her head against the blankets and pillows and opens her mouth like a baby bird that wants to get drunk, bidding him to pour a shot straight into her mouth so she doesn't have to sit up for her first. When wetted with booze, she hisses a little and dares to sound hopeful, "I think we did just fine, considering what all that was. And I think we're going to be just fine. We'll just keep a closer eye on each other until we know more."

With alcohol serving as edge-off and sleep aid, the woman watches Byron take his own drink, appreciative of the light level. Who knows what she'll imagine in the dark. There's better conversation topics to be had with drink and cuddle and rest, especially after a Dream.

"... what are we going to name the dog?"

Once the bottle is fetched and the nightstand drawer shut closed, Byron returns to a reclined position with Lilith drawn closely against him, feeling her resting on his chest. "I could. Yes." He definitely could show her all of those runes. It would be far easier to do that than draw it out. "Isabella might be able to help with the runes, but they are more pictures than writing, so it's not an ancient language. She also might have a feather of her own." If anything, he doesn't seem in the right mind frame to try and project those images tonight, even if he looks out at the far wall, his mind conjuring up those images.

Seeing her mouth open like some baby bird, gets a laugh out of Byron. "You're ridiculous, you know that, sweets?" He's careful to not spill too much into her mouth or else it might make her cough and gag, "But you know that I'll always oblige, because you asked... even if in not so many words." That last part is murmured. Once she gets a taste of the whiskey, he takes a swig from the bottle, himself, before leaning forward to press his whiskey-stained lips against her own. In this close proximity, his head hovering over hers, he smiles.

"Mmm... Blizzard. Winter. Ghost." He didn't really want to call it that! "Wraith." He laughs. God, he needs to figure out what to do with that car. Naming the dog after it would just confuse people. "We could name it Monte Carlo to remind us of our vacation." His words sound lulled, almost weary. He soon withdraws to rest his head back onto the pillow in quiet contemplation. He even yawns, "Whatever you want, hon. As long as it's nothing crazy."

"I am ridiculous. Considered having you feed me grapes and palm fan me too, if we had either." Lilith murmurs to Byron's mouth when he comes in for the kiss, and for a moment, she half-assumes this is going to happen now if he ever sees an enormous fan, simply for the giggles out of her. There's probably not a lot of enormous palm frond fans laying around, though. Then again, he could improvise. Why is she thinking of this?

It's a good sign, her mind wandering like this, it feels natural and right, maybe she's being paranoid. It's so easy to have that sentiment reaffirmed while the couple takes a moment to kiss whiskey off of each other's lips and breath, 'mm'ing into it after he names off some dog suggestions, "I assume that means Jack Frost and Marshmallow is off the table. I'll have to re-approach this thought process. That's good. It'll keep me occupied."

This time, Lilith does pull her head up to let Byron rest his head back while she's reaching to guide his hand with the bottle to her lips briefly for a swig. After drinking, she notes with afterthought planning, "I'll have to think of something amazing to cook so we can have a dinner party of coordinating minds soon." Then suddenly, she pulls in a breath, as if something just came her her off of one of those space documentaries she watches, "You know what the whitest and brightest star in the night sky is? It's the dog star... it's called Sirius."

Relaxing against Byron, Lilith actully seems to like that one, but she also mentions they just have to see the dog to know in the end, don't they? It doesn't stop her from occasionally murmuring the most ridiculous white dog names she occasionally comes up with while trying to blot out all the other thoughts in favor of rest.

Eventually, that happens. At least for a little while.