inbox

[noburden]

video | audio | text | action

Comments

[noburden]

She liked it when she had him to share and explore it with.

"Sometimes. I didn't think I would be spending my days here with Dion, but it is what it is, isn't it?"

She keeps her eyes on Torgal.

[rosarianoath]

It is what it is. He pauses, torn with guilt, and then says: “I think we need to talk. Not here or now, but… when you’re ready.”

[noburden]

The last time they needed to talk he ripped her heart from her chest. There's a clear memory of that in her eyes when she looks to him.

"I can't imagine we have anything left to talk about."

[rosarianoath]

His own heart twists.

“I just wanted to take a step back, not sever ties completely,” he says, cautiously. “I think that leaves plenty, but if that’s how you feel... I’ve earned your disgust.”

[noburden]

"What did you imagine that looking like, Clive? Like the years before, walking on eggshells around our feelings?"

Moments stolen and swept under a carpet because there was so much bigger than them and their relationship. His devotion was always pulled in too many ways for one man.

Jill shakes her head.

"I can't accept that. I don't know how to not... love you, and I hate that you've made me ashamed of it. Made me question if it's too much."

All she's wanted is to be by his side.

[rosarianoath]

“I never once considered our hesitation to make love or say the word a matter of our feelings a mistake,” he replies, a little rumble of disagreement on his voice, but there’s no lack of concern there, either. “I thought we were doing the best we could.”

He’d been grateful for every moment with her. Grateful that he’d been an inch short with his blade, grateful that he could look at her across a campfire. He still is. Had she seen that as inadequate, some extended deprivation? Had he always failed her as a partner?

There’s a growing pit in his stomach, and for a moment he looks at her, on the cusp of saying something else. But the questions continue: Is he worthless to her if he isn’t her lover? Better off dead to her than not with her? Was that why she was fine with him leaving the first time?

Clive finally just says:

“I don’t want to talk about this here.”

Did you despise me after I left for Origin, too?

[noburden]

"Then are we talking about this now, somewhere else?"

She's quietly irritated enough, and Torgal's ears flick downwards in response. Jill doesn't want to go anywhere with Clive. She doesn't want to talk to him. And yet here she is, not walking away when she should.

[rosarianoath]

“You don’t think we have anything to talk about,” he points out. “Should I upset you more by saying yes?”

[noburden]

"And you seem to think we do. Perhaps this time you simply run your blade through me and save me the agony," she spits out, and it's so ugly she momentarily looks unsure, surprised she let the words out.

She's already upset.

[rosarianoath]

His expression is nothing short of horrified, and for a beat he doesn't reply, staring at her. Hurt. All he can say is:

"How could you say that?"

[noburden]

She hates that she feels a sense of gratification at the look on his face, and then she hates how ugly she's being.

But she can't stop. The venom at least lessens in her tone.

"You really don't understand what you've done, do you?"

[rosarianoath]

"No," he says. It doesn't feel less venomous, but maybe that's the sting continuing. "I knew you'd be hurt. I knew you'd be angry. I never took that lightly."

Torgal whines.

Defensively:

"I did not imagine you'd hate me for it, or that living like a common man and his wife mattered more to you than being in each other's lives."

[noburden]

This isn't her hating him. Not at all. It's hurt, by him, and she stares at him in disbelief. He always finds things to say that dig the knife deeper.

"I love you more than anything. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg you to not go to Origin, but how could I put that burden on you? That guilt? And now, I only see my love is a burden still."

[rosarianoath]

"You were never a burden to me because I love you!" he shoots back, struggling to keep the tone of his voice under control. He finds himself taking a half-step towards her, as if proximity could convince her of his sincerity. "Every day I wish we could have all died together, if the world was to be lost no matter what I did!"

[noburden]

The tone as her standing straighter, but the words shatter her heart. Torgal's cries are leagues away as she stares at Clive, the image of him blurring.

How easily the anger washes away under sorrow for him. As much as she wants to take him in her arms and give him comfort, she can't.

"Clive..." What can she say? She doesn't know. She doesn't know what he wants to hear--or that he even knows himself.

[rosarianoath]

Her eyes well with tears and he thinks he can't bear to watch her cry and not be able to do anything about it. She won't want him to because he's the cause of it all. They're his failures. It's his inability to shoulder the burdens.

He shakes his head, almost like a shudder, and he looks away.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you, I'll take my leave."

[noburden]

It's an out she should take, but foolishly, she doesn't.

"You had asked me once where I saw us, once it was all over. Really, I didn't have an answer for you. I just knew that... if you were there, and I was free to love you--maybe as a wife, one day--it would be enough. I had thought that here, we... we could have a taste of that. How am I supposed to be here with you and not want such a thing? How am I meant to watch you..."

She trails off. She saw him at the ball. Saw enough.

[rosarianoath]

He knows. The shame swells up again, threatens to drown him. Everything tells him to walk away. But she wants an answer, so he gives her one.

"In another lifetime, after I vanquished Ultima, you'd be my wife," he says, daring to look at her for the last word only. "But even though this place is the only place left to us... I cannot live happily after dooming us all."

He lets out a long exhale. He doesn't want to cry here, but the weight in his chest persists.

"You must know that I tried."

[noburden]

He may not want to cry here, but Jill is losing the battle with her own tears. She hastily wipes at her eyes before any can fall down her cheeks.

"Of course I do," she says, and that makes it all the more tragic. Her breath hitches.

"I pray you find your happiness, Clive. Truly, I do."

She means the words, but she can't look at him when she says them.

[rosarianoath]

He nods, and he reaches to her suddenly like he might want her hand, and then withdraws again, ashamed to feel any relief at all, ashamed for what he's done to her. He takes a step back.

"And I hope for yours," he says, voice thick, but he swallows it down. "Well. I'll see you when it's time to pick up Torgal."

[noburden]

Jill also takes a step back. When she looks down at Torgal, she feels something tug at her heart.

"Do you--perhaps you take him for tonight," she says. "Bring him to the park tomorrow and I'll start fresh."

With Torgal. And it'll give her some time alone to sort through the swirl of emotions in her chest.

[rosarianoath]

He hesitates, but he nods. He does want his dog, even if only for a night.

"Alright," he says. He does not even care that he is about to have the worst sleep of his life. "You'll get some rest this way, too."

[noburden]

She nods in return. There. They're civil.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," she says, and then leans down to scratch Torgal's ears, the poor wolf confused as ever. "Tomorrow, boy. Be good."

She would prefer to be alone tonight.

[rosarianoath]

"Thank you," he says, and he takes Torgal's leash with a deep, steadying breath. He gives her one last look, long and lingering. "Tomorrow. Come on, Torgal."

[noburden]

By sunrise of the next day, Jill has barely slept. So much for handing Torgal off to grant her some peace. She spends the night with aching knees and stinging palms, tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking of Clive in the silence of her apartment. She thinks of the pain in his voice. The hurt in his eyes.

In her weakest moments, she almost messages him.

Come back to the apartment.
I miss you. We need one another.
Please, come back to me.

As she heads to their agreed meeting spot with puffy eyes and dark circles under them, she's glad she never hit send.