Quicklog: Raven and Czcibor, Festung Vergessen

[evilbeej]

How many months has a shadow haunted the halls of Festung Vergessen? 'Several' would be putting it mildly. All this time, Raven has kept largely to the room Konrad placed her in. It's been an exceptionally rare site to see the woman out in the halls at all, let alone /beyond/ the halls in the garden courtyard. Yet today she is there, kneeling on the ground with mud on the soles of her bare feet and her pretty white dress fanned about her while she gently works in the soil with the plants. Her wings have healed from the mangling they received in the small coffin. Settled lightly against her back, they only twitch just faintly now and again while she works.

"Raven!" This would be a startled and pleased tin soldier; he's not in very hedgey clothes, it's the very-nearly-bell-sleeves button-down, waistcoat, and slim-fitting trousers business. For some reason he's got his sword belt on anyway. What he's *carrying* smells very distinctly like dinner, though it's wrapped in foil and paper. Right now he's coming down the steps, yes, from the direction of the room Raven'd been staying in. Apparently he looked there first. "You're out! I brought you zapiekanka z ziemniakow-- wash your hands, it'll get cold. Also a bottle of cola."

Raven starts at the sound of Czcibor's voice, but she doesn't bolt for the nearest rabit hole. She turns around to peer at him, then offers a faint smile. "Okay," she replies, wiping her hands on the grass before standing up. "What's ... Zapie...that?" she makes her way towards the nearest washbasin.

"It's essentially condensed win," explains Czcibor cheerfully, setting the package down on the steps and digging around in it for the plastic utensils, then starting to unwrap. It looks vaguely like quiche, but doesn't smell like quiche. "There's-- ah-- potatoes, onions, carrots, beetroot, sausage, more potato, and cheese, and bacon and mushrooms..." He waves a hand around. "I didn't make it, I can't cook. But there's a restaurant I found that makes it." And then out comes the cola. And paper plates! "Polish takeaway." No, he doesn't ask how she's feeling. As ever, he's aggressively pretending she's fine.

Raven rinses off her hands quietly in the water, then shakes them dry and wipes the little excess on the legs of her (yes it's white) dress. She pads towards the steps and lowers herself to a seat next to the metal man, quiet as she waits to eat the food he's offered. She eats in silence. She thinks in silence, staring towards the path that leads to the large gates that lead out of the fortress. Half-way through her meal is when she finally breaks that silence to quietly ask, "What's real?"

Unfortunately, Czcibor has a mouth full of zapie-what when Raven asks her question. This means he spends a tense and uncomfortable fifteen seconds coughing with his hand over his mouth before he can actually answer it. But his free hand is up in the universal gesture for 'just a sec', so clearly he'll live. Finally, wincing, he says somewhat scratchily, "Well, Coca-Cola still professes it's the Real Thing. So that bottle of Coke? Real."

The coughing fit does little to dissuade Raven from staring at the doors to the hall. "Is it?" she asks quietly, before turning her eyes to the bottle. "How can I be sure it wasn't just something plucked from a dream, spun out into substance and made ... 'real'."

"People've been asking that kind of question for centuries," the toy soldier says reasonably, coughing once more and then thumping his chest. He rubs at his eyes and then picks up his plate again, setting it on his knees. "You get into some crazy philosophical rat's nests that way. Of course no one can *actually* answer it, forever, provably, because everyone's got their own eyes, and each set of eyes sees something slightly different. Sometimes very different, and those are the people that generally get labelled crazy." He drinks some of his own cola, then, and clearly feels better. "What I do is make sure other people can see what I'm seeing. Corroborative evidence. You gotta start trusting somewhere, though, or you never get anything done. So it's a good idea to go with other people being real as a given."

The answer mollifies the sybil for a time, and she resumes eating, staring at the gates in silence. It's a silence not meant to last, for she breaks it again some minutes later to say, "There are all these people ... people I talk with Konrad about but that I don't really ... /remember/. I think they're important. I dream that they're important. But I don't know if I dreamed of them or if they're real."

There's the sound of metal scraping against stone as Czcibor braces his hand against the step to shift his position, and he stretches his legs out, down across the steps. This makes for holding his plate in one hand and holding his fork with the other. "Well," he says after a moment, thoughtfully, "Konrad's offering you corroboration. That's one count. You can ask me about them, and I'll be able to tell you whether or not they're real, too. You could also come outside and talk with them, and that'd be pretty good evidence they're real, I think. If someone says something that surprises you, then it's probably not from in your head."

Raven almost seems cold to his words. As if she isn't listening at all, so little does she turn to hang on his words. But she does listen, and she does think about it. Another few moments pass before she responds, "Sometimes, when you are not here, I wonder if you're real or just something I dreamed." She sets her plate aside, then says, "Konrad is real. I'm sure of it, and that he loves me so very much. I don't ... deserve that. But I have it. But you're the only other person I am certain I have ever seen, and sometimes I forget that I have seen you."

"If you were dreaming me, I think Charlotte would have got into my trousers by now," Kowal mutters, slouching somewhat. He pushes food around on his plate, frowning. "We dated, y'know. For about five minutes, but we did. And then Jeder got her half-convinced that my asking her wasn't real, that the Lamia made me do it. In essence, that I wasn't real, that I was just dancing on strings. And there's a guy-- the one who helped me find the book. The Pomology. He figured out what I am-- and then he *saw*. And he asked. And I said I was just a guy. And he said no, I'm a /tin soldier/." There's a pause, and the Pole puts the plate down next to him and draws his legs up, crossing his arms over his knees and looking out across the hall. "Like I'm not real. It's kind of aggravating. I mean, I'm not taking it personally. You sleep in here all the time, it's gonna make your head break. But it's -still- aggravating. I promise you, you didn't dream tricking me into a kiss in the hallway before you married Maier. Gaertner *still* rags me about that."

She doesn't even have the good grace to look ashamed. Instead, she just stares at the gate. "What if it's me that's not real?" she asks quietly. "Charlotte ... that's one of the people I keep thinking I know. All my dreams of her are frustrating and yet ... I love her in those dreams. Konrad brought me a poem. He said she wrote it about us. I thought he had made her up ... that /he/ was Charlotte, but only in my dreams."

"Er," says the metal man, clearly taken aback. He looks at Raven, still propping his arms on his knees, but he's got one eyebrow up. "Nnnno. No. Konrad and Charlotte are definitely not the same person. For one thing, I would not have kissed Konrad." He coughs again, but this time it's more along the lines of 'ahem' than 'I choke now'. And then he reaches over to prod Raven gently in the arm, if she'll let his hand anywhere near her. "You're real. Even if you haven't finished your dinner."

The touch draws Raven's eyes, very slowly, towards her own flesh. She stares at the spot he touched as if it were an entirely novel sensation, then slowly looks up to the metal man. She studies him--truly observes him--for the first time today. For a moment, she seems at a loss. /Then/, she leans towards towards him, seeking to press her lips against his.

The lead soldier is... kind of more concerned about Raven getting grease from the zapie-what on her white dress, actually, than with actually registering the fact that she's Leaning With Intent. "Look out, your--" Oh. Blank metal eyes widen, and Kowal is at a loss-- and after a second, puts his hands on Raven's shoulders and pushes very gently. Just enough pressure exerted to break the kiss. "You're pledged to my pledgemate," he says quietly, seriously. "What do you need from me?"

The kiss isn't a hungry kiss, at least. It's just a gentle, soft touch of lips to lips. And when Czcibor pushes her away, Raven does not protest or fight. She just leans away and studies him for a long moment, then sighs and reaches down to worriedly twist at the knotted puzzle ring on her left hand. "Reality," she tells him quietly. "I had to know ..." she trails off, then closes her eyes and tilts her head towards the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use you. I just ... needed to touch someone besides Konrad. I'll go back up to my room now," she promises, even as she starts to stand back up.

Okay, -that's- where Czcibor reaches to catch at her hand. "Don't go back. *Anything* I can do to help that breaks no other promises--" he starts, quickly and worriedly. "Raven. Ravka. I will do. We need you back. Whole. Maier gives you everything he can, he's pouring his love out to fill in the missing pieces. But no one can only rely on one other person for everything. It's not fair to that person, and it doesn't *work*. You need him, yes. But you need more than him. Charlotte has oceans of love to give you. *I* have. Even Zephirine is asking after you. The freehold feels your absence keenly-- and your friends hurt while you hurt. So don't apologise."

Raven stops at the touch on her hand, a still statue at that simple contact. She listens, though, and does not pull away. "I can't go back out there, Czcibor," she quietly intones after only a moment of hesitation. There are tears in her eyes, now she's looking at him. "I can't ... I can't do it. I'm not strong enough. Every day in that dream ... reality ... /whatever/ it was. Every day is wrong. I wake up and find myself alone in a bed that should have Konrad beside me. Or I wake up and I'm in a box too small for my wings. I'm always terrified. I'm always alone. I can't go back there."

"We can *change things* for you. Make you a bed on the roof, under the stars," says the tin soldier earnestly, still lightly holding Raven's hand-- and he gets up, still holding it. Careful, smooth metal against skin. "If Maier beside you when you wake is what you need to come back to the real world, come back to reality where the people are, where the life is, where the air clean of faerie magic is-- he'll move! All the way. I know he will. If you need your friends around you, your friends you shall have, protecting you, insulating you. Out where your mind is safe, where your soul is safe."

Czcibor's words only feed the tears. But if they accomplish nothing else, his words are forcing her to truly experience this moment, rather than study it so casually as she has the rest of the conversation. "I have that, here," she protests. "I wake up, and he's here, or if he's not he comes soon enough. I'm safe. I'm happy. I'm /sane/." No she isn't. "I don't look over my shoulder, I don't worry about whether I'm going to get dragged off to some experiments. I don't want to leave. I can't go back."

"You're *not* safe here," Czcibor says heavily, taking her small hand in both of his. "If you're not looking over your shoulder, it's because you're forgetting that no matter how powerful our wards are, no matter how well-hidden this Fortress is, the Others are more powerful still. *Life is danger*, Sybil. Breathing is a gamble. And every breath is precious. Come breathe the real air, the air you were born of. You can come back, yes. You can. You can -always- come back. But don't fool yourself into thinking that this place is safer than the world. Its dangers are much more subtle. You *know* that. You've forgotten it. It's made you forget."

Still, the tears fall harder. Surely, she's blinded now by the floodwaters. But she still does not run. Quite the opposite, Raven sinks slowly to her knees, as if all the ability to hold herself up is fleeing. She sinks down, towards Czcibor. "I'm happy here," she repeats the words, no prettiness in her voice or face now. It's hard to be pretty when you're bawling. "I'm happy here," she repeats again as she leans against him.

For the second time in as many weeks, Czcibor's made someone he cares about cry. But no matter how wretched that makes him feel, it's immaterial to what's necessary for dealing with the reasons. As Raven sinks down, he follows, crouching for a second, then also kneeling-- and he puts his arms around her carefully, solid and metal and shielding more than embracing. "You're sleeping, sloneczka, you've fallen asleep in here. You need to wake up," he says softly. "Falling asleep in here is like falling asleep in the snow."

Raven just cries for a long time, hot wet tears streaming down her face, dripping all over poor Czcibor. Hopefully he won't rust. Eventually the wracking sobs become mewling sobs, then the mewling sobs become swallowing gulps, then the swallowing gulps sniffles. Finally, she squeezes Czcibor just a bit, then says, "I want to go back," she tells him. Back where? "Just ... let me sleep a little bit longer. I'm still tired. I don't ... I'm not ready."

And he lets her, Kowal lets her just cry. On him. Luckily, lead doesn't rust, and shirts can go to dry-cleaners, and the toy soldier's very good at being cried on. "Then come *really* sleep. In your house. Safe in your room, with your husband beside you and your sister close by," Czcibor responds, his voice the soul of reason and his presence rock solid. "If you wait until you're ready, you'll never be ready, you'll only grow more and more tired until you can't wake up again." He starts gently trying to get her to get up, to stand. "I'll stay with you until Maier comes. You won't be alone. I won't leave you alone."

"I ..." hesitance, but she leans against him still, even letting him pull her to her feet ... sort-of. "Did Konrad tell you?" she begs quietly. "Did he tell you what I saw?"

"He did," answers Czcibor, voice still gentle, but he's being rather inexorable about the whole 'it is time to get up now' thing. He'll let her lean as long and as much as she wants, but he'll pull her to her feet, he'll start walking with her, even as they're talking, one arm around her waist because he can't really do one arm around her shoulders. Welcome to Being Steamrolled 101. "I don't know what it means, but I never do."

Raven keeps clinging to Czcibor, her bare feet following the path he walks her towards without thought of flying away. "I can't be there," she tell shim quietly. "When it happens. I can't. But you have to be."

"All right." It's not a deliberately soothing tone or anything, Czcibor's just accepting what Raven says at face value. "I'll do my best. Is this kind of a 'don't leave town' thing?" Toward the gates, yes. Outward toward the gates. The thorns in the courtyard have grown back thick and long and sharp in the edges where the Pole took his anger out on them; the path is clear. Konrad's taken her as far as the Forgotten, at least, as far as the cemetery. "Ohh, you're barefoot. I'll carry you when we get to the pavement. Unless you want to turn into a bird and stay with me that way."

Raven stumbles only once walking along the path, but her expression grows a little more strained with each step. "Wait," she breathes quietly. "Wait, where are we going?" she asks when the Arch comes into view. "Wait, you're ... you're forcing me to leave?" she asks worriedly. "I'm not ... not ready. Wait."

He immediately stops, lets his arm fall away from Raven's back-- but doesn't take his hand off her arm. The contact's maintained, but he's very carefully not holding her, not restraining her, not keeping her from moving away from him. "No, no," Czcibor says quickly. "I'm not forcing you. I *was* trying to trick you into leaving, but I'm not going to *make* you leave. -How- not ready are you? Can you be ready by getting your sandals? Or do you need an hour? Set a time limit."

Raven stares at that arch. Stares at it, then looks back at Czcibor, slack-jawed and wild-eyed. "I ..." she trails off, then shakes her head and takes a step back. "I ..." another trail off, then a swallow. "I need to rest. I can't go out there. I can't. It's not safe."

"Raven, listen," says Kowal, coming around to stand between her and the arch, reaching to catch her hands again with both of his. "Raven. Look at me." He'll say it one more time if she doesn't, before continuing whether she looks or not. His face is serious, intent. "You *have to leave today*. You can go back in. But you have to leave first to do that. I don't think you want to just delay it. I think you're using delaying tactics on me because you think I'll forget. You think you'll be able to keep putting it off so you'll never have to go back. But that doesn't *work*, sweetheart, I won't let it. Konrad doesn't want to say no to you. He's so afraid of losing you that he's refusing to notice he already is, day by day, minute by minute. I won't let him lose you. You have to leave." He tugs lightly at her hands. "Come on. I'll be with you every step. I'll protect you."

"Why?" Raven begs him, her eyes focused on him, but she's not moving to rejoin him. Her brows furrow in worry, and her wings unconsciously spread up into a defensive posture. "Why must I leave, Czcibor? I want to stay here. I'm happy here." She's not crying, now; she's barely speaking. Her words are bare whispers. And she's asked these questions already.

Czcibor shuts his eyes tightly for a second, ducking his head; when he looks up at Raven again, it's with a brittle-edged resolution. "Because it's killing everything that makes you who you are," he answers her evenly, voice not *quite* grating out the words. "And I *can't let that happen*." He takes a deep breath and pulls his shoulders back, standing as stiffly as if he were molded that way. "Will you allow me to carry you? I promise that you'll be as safe with me as you are in the Fortress. I *promise*."

Raven just stares at him for a long, long moment, then closes her mouth and swallows, heavily. A moment of hesitance. Another moment of hesitance, then she reaches up to wipe at her face. "Where are you going to make me go?" she asks him quietly.

"I'm guessing that of all the places in the world I could bring you, your house or our apartment would probably feel safest. Maybe the roof of your house. Or of our apartment building." The way Czcibor's talking, it's like he's listening to his own words through the echo of the gun someone's holding to his head. He can't taste the words, and his hands are tight fists at his sides until he pries his fingers apart; he still can't feel them. Numb. He's scared. "Raven. Please. The harder this looks like it's becoming for you, the harder it's getting for me. We need to go. As many concessions as you want. We don't have to get in a car. No enclosed spaces. I'll carry you, or shield you; you can walk if you prefer; you can turn into a bird and fly, or sit on my shoulder; however you like. But we *have to go*." He reaches for her hands again.

Raven swallows harshly once again, then takes a step towards Czcibor. She hesitates. She swallows again, then reaches up to wipe at her brow. "I have a house?" she quietly asks, then swallows again and takes one more step. "I ... I can walk," she tells him. "Is it far?"

"You have a lovely house," sighs Czcibor-- and it's all in relief. Hesitant as it is, she -is- coming back closer. "A lovely secret house. You share it with Charlotte, but she's missed you so much that she's been staying closer to her hollow. It's about an hour's walk from here. Konrad's and my flat is closer, but it's also smaller."