To Deny Is To Invite Madness
90th of Ash, Year 123 of the Age of Steel
It was well past midnight. Which meant it was Laveriel’s birthday.
Valron sighed as he entered the crowded bar nestled somewhere in the darker corners of The Plaza of Jeweled Arches. The sign swinging lightly above the entrance said Divine Delights. Instead of celebrating the occasion as most people would do, he spotted the siltori perched on a stool at the bar, her back turned to him. Three empty bottles were arranged neatly beside her while another one was in her hand. Two men were standing beside her, eyes locked on her as they spoke. She was pointedly ignoring them, but it seemed like they had no interest in leaving her any time soon.
The crowd parted for him as he made his way to her. Valron couldn’t tell if she was too drunk to hear him approach or simply didn’t care. He took the opportunity to snatch the bottle from her hand. It was worryingly easy. The alcohol prevented her from reacting as fast as she normally would. “That’s enough.”
Veriel turned with a glare, wanting to see who had ruined her fun. “And who are you to-” She paused while she looked up at him, his face finally registering in her mind. Her scowl faded away. “Valron! You’re here!” The woman leaped off her stool with a surprising nimbleness, startling the two men as she purposefully kicked her chair right into them. She stumbled into him, her arms wrapping around his neck. The familiar scent of vanilla and lavender enveloped him, making him lean into her just a little bit closer.
The pathfinder steadied her, an arm slipping around her waist. It was clear enough to him what she meant to do. “What on earth are you doing here in the middle of the night? You should be at home.”
When Veriel looked up at him, her dazed smile paralyzed him for the briefest moment. The flush of alcohol was stark against her pale skin and her silvery eyes were soft, nowhere near as piercing as they usually were. Her night-black hair was slightly disheveled, sporting a silver pin he had gotten her at a random market in Satesoria years ago. “I was going to, really, but these people won’t leave me alone.”
At the mention of their presence, the two young men straightened. They were in their mid-twenties at most. “We were just checking on you,” one of them chimed. “It ain’t safe for a girl-”
“Can’t you make them leave?” she interrupted. The older dawnmartyr gave them a dirty look before turning back to bury her face in his chest.
Valron looked at them steadily as they seized him up, eyeing one another. Even without his magic, it was clear that they were gauging their chances if they decided to take him on. Still, he reached into their melodies. It was quick work. He quieted down the notes of violence, eased the envy, and snuffed out their lust for the woman in his arm. “Please forgive her, she tends to be a bit rude when intoxicated. Thank you for keeping an eye on her, I can take it from here now.”
Once the two men grumbled and waddled away, Veriel pulled away from him abruptly. Gone was the cloyingly sweet act of a clingy young woman. She started to reach for the bottle in his hand, but he lifted it just slightly above her grasp. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
The dark-haired elf pouted and reached out to get her drink back, but her hand veered too far to his left and she nearly fell right into him. “This is my birthday, you can’t stop me from drinking. Besides, I’m fine. I can sober up anytime I want to.”
On most days, that would be true. Valron knew the siltori would be able to draw her intoxication into her affliction, therefore nullifying the alcohol’s effect. However, he also knew that the only reason the siltori had this reached point was that she had no intention of sobering up. Veriel had always liked drinking, but she only went so far when she wanted to forget something - usually concerning Commander Shiryo. “You were barely fending off two men.”
Veriel shrugged, now twirling a strand of hair around her finger mindlessly. “What am I supposed to do? If I hit them first, I’ll get kicked out and I don’t want to get kicked out.” She looked up at him with innocent eyes. The woman was an absolute menace when drunk.
“You can’t even take a single step without falling over. You’re coming with me,” he stated firmly. Valron lowered himself, gesturing at her to go on his back so he could carry her. “Come on, you know you shouldn’t stay here.”
The elven woman didn’t immediately move. It was clear she was considering her options, of how successful she would be in refusing him. Her eyes blatantly flicked to where the exit was before returning to him. They both knew she was in no condition to outmaneuver him. Fortunately, without any more interference on his part, Veriel reluctantly climbed onto his back, arms around his neck. His arms slipped under her legs, steadying her position.
As he stood, the pathfinder surveyed the people surrounding them. Most of them had hastily looked away to avoid being caught staring. He reached out his aether, weaving through the surface of a dozen symphonies all at once. He sent out melodies of disinterest, letting it seep into each individual. It should be enough for most people to forget who exactly they saw tonight. It was unlikely that any of the people had recognized Veriel, but better to be safe than sorry.
Once they exited the building, cold night air greeted them. He could feel her shiver slightly and he felt guilty for not bringing some kind of cloak. Veriel was dressed in one of her usual dresses, certainly not enough to shield her from the wind. What was she thinking?
“If you want to drink yourself to death, at least do it in Dawnhold.” At least in their compound, she was easily recognized and no one in their right mind would dare lay a hand on the Wrath of Arcas. Here in the city, to everyone else, she was just a pretty girl who had drank a little too much. “Why are you even out here by yourself right now?”
“And let the dawnmartyrs see me like this? That’s dumb,” she muttered.
“Again, why are you out drinking by yourself in the middle of the night?” Truthfully, he could come up with a dozen reasons for her behavior. The encounter and the things they had learned last summer had sent Veriel into a spiral. She was hiding it well enough - whether it was for her own sake or because of the eyes that were now trained on her - but Valron knew better. He had watched her break before and he had been there as she picked up every last broken piece.
Veriel rested her head on his shoulder, keeping silent for a while. Just when he thought that she would never answer, she finally spoke, “The nightmares. They’re starting up again. Tonight was… bad.”
Of course. The moment she found out about Commander Shiryo’s fate, he should known better than anyone that her mind would terrorize her once more. Not to mention, the eve of her birthday probably worsened her survivor’s guilt. “Then you should have looked for me, not find a random bar in the dead of night.”
“It was easier to find the bar than you,” the siltori pointed out, her arms hugging him a little tighter. “Besides, you’ve been busy. I barely even see you anymore.”
She wasn’t wrong. Ever since what went down on the coronation day, everyone was on high alert. Valron had lost count of how many times he was sent outside the city to gather information regarding any movement from either Kalzasi, the Imperium, or Ecith. And with the nature of his missions, he couldn’t tell Veriel about it freely - even if she was the Wrath of Arcas. Though admittedly, he was trying to give her some space to work out everything that had happened - so he had been avoiding her.
“Still, you shouldn’t resort to drinking like this. You’re not some teenager, for Arcas’s sake.” He didn’t even bother hiding the exasperation from his voice. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel like he was the older one out of the two of them. “You’re not just a captain now, Veriel, and we’re not on the run anymore. A lot of people are looking up to you.”
“I’m not someone they should look up to,” Veriel grumbled. She muttered something he couldn’t quite catch in Silandris. It might be a curse or an apology - it was really hard to tell. “I’m doing my best, okay? It’s just… really hard.”
Valron sighed. She had been doing really well, all things considered. It was unfair of him to scold her the one time she broke down after spending two seasons holding herself together. Most people would never recover from what she had been through. Yet, here Veriel was, still living, still trying. “I know. I know you are.”