Liam Kincaid (
firstofitskind) wrote2020-08-19 08:26 am
The Beach, Wednesday Evening After Sunset
Liam was not brooding. Sure, he hadn't slept particularly well last night, but it wasn't as if that was a particularly unusual occurrence in the Kincaid-Price household. Just because this particular rocky outcropping was the spot he tended to gravitate towards whenever he had something on his mind, that didn't mean anything. He was just enjoying an evening cup of tea outside in the salt air. And occasionally throwing a rock into the ocean to see how far it'd go. You know, normal not-brooding stuff.
[ooc: expecting some memory-sharing frens!]
[ooc: expecting some memory-sharing frens!]

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"Want company?" she greeted him.
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That was a stretch. It was warm enough, but also kind of overcast. Not that that mattered as much once the sun had set, but still.
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It was easier, now, with Verity back, but he still sometimes found the space a little too- confined, for his liking. Hence not-brooding outdoors!
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Her apartment was ridiculously large and she spent long periods of time on a ship.
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"And what's the point of living near the ocean if you can't enjoy the beach, right?" Liam said. But he was frowning now, unable to shake a feeling of creeping dread that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
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So she asked, "What's wrong?"
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Liam stormed into the Lair, a white-hot rage burning behind his eyes as the scenes of Volunteer raids on Resistance cells that had been all over the news earlier replayed on an endless loop in his mind. "You gave them everything!" he shouted, as soon as he spotted Augur. "You even made a simulation of me to bait the trap. Why?"
"My past finally caught up with me." Augur's voice, flat and emotionless, only served to fuel Liam's anger.
"What does your past have to do with what happened here today?"
"I had an old partner, Max Pratt. He and I were hacking into federal mainframes for some serious money. The IRS backtracked the trail to me, I gave them Max, and walked."
"You think. I care. About an old debt?" Liam screamed, grabbing Augur by the arms and shaking him to emphasize his words. "People are dead!" He let go, flinging the other man towards the couch. "Volunteers were waiting, I couldn't even warn them," his voice was breaking now, almost a sob.
"I did it to save your life. If it were just me, I'd let him do it, but he said he was going to kill you!" Augur said desperately, but Liam wasn't buying it.
"My life? That's an idle threat. You caved in, that's what happened." As if Liam's single, solitary existence held a candle to the dozens the Volunteers had snuffed out during the raids earlier today.
"He's an amoralist, he doesn't make idle threats," Augur tried to argue as he picked himself up from the couch.
"Why would an amoralist squeeze you for a Resistance code?"
"Max is... strictly for hire," Augur explained, moving back over towards Liam. "Somebody paid him millions to get me to regenerate the trapdoor code. He made me create your sim-" He reached out towards Liam, but Liam cut him off, grabbing the other man's wrists and pushing his arms down as the burning anger of a few moments ago replaced by something colder, sharper as he realized who was truly to blame here.
"People were killed," he said flatly. "Because they trusted me." Because he'd made the mistake of trusting Augur, someone who'd only ever fallen in with the Resistance because of the money. More fool him, honestly.
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But this also felt different. It didn't feel like finding an answer to a question she hasn't asked yet. It felt like intruding.
And yet she didn't know what to do with it. It was like this morning, not so much being a witness to what was happening as much as a part of it.
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"You betrayed me. Smart money. Not very smart to use it, though. I took it out of Max Pratt's pocket," Liam said mockingly as he strode into the Embassy, waving the easily-traceable bill in Da'an's face.
"Yes. If I'd known it was already in use, I would not have paid him with it." Da'an's voice, carefully even. Honestly, it only served to make Liam more infuriated. He stalked right up to Da'an, until he was inches from the Taelon's face, and continued to speak.
"Betrayed by your own technology, you'd have to call that ironic. Do Taelons understand irony Da'an? I guess not, that requires blood in your veins and a soul. I oughta kill you, but then I'd be like you." A deep breath, and he stalked a few paces away. "You hired an amoralist to kill me?"
"Not you. Never you. I had compelling reasons to hire him, it entails the survival of my species but I cannot explain further."
"Oh, I was waiting for that," Liam said mockingly. "The great Taelon mystery. Amazing how it's always there when you need it."
"Please-" Da'an tried to interject, but Liam cut him off.
"We trusted you with our lives, Da'an." More accurately, Liam had trusted him. And it had gotten people killed. There it was, for the second time in as many days: trusting people was a bad idea.
"I understand, but I must re-establish Zo'or's trust."
"So you hired Max to get you the Resistance codes," he realized.
"Yes. I had to make an unequivocal demonstration of my loyalty." That that demonstration had resulted in dozens of deaths, Liam very nearly among them, barely seemed to phase the Taelon.
"Demonstration? He almost killed me tonight!"
"There are some things you do not know, Liam. There are powers always guarding you, because you are indispensable to our survival."
"If I'm so damn indispensable," Liam spat, "why not let me in on the great mystery?" Back over to Da'an, leaning to whisper in his ear "I'd've died to save you, Da'an." Hell, he’d loved Da'an, with all that he'd had, and the Taelon had thought nothing of taking advantage of that love to further his own agenda.
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She couldn't even tell you if it was part of whatever was happening, or if she was feeling it this strongly just because of what she already could do.
Either way, not a fan.
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So she hadn't yet realized anything was amiss, but the memories had been somewhat more persistent than usual and she was thinking that it sounded like a good idea, getting away from here for a few days. But really, since her ability to leave was dependent on the Stormlord's whims, that just meant she was reduced to wandering the beach, watching the horizon for any signs of lightning.
Running away always had been a go-to option for her when it came to trying to escape a problem situation, and it would have been nice to be able to do it now, she thought.
Thinking about running away bled into ... images. Memories, really, of the endless expanse of mud and marshes in southern Xhorhas that made up the Iothia Moorland.
Of Zuala, of home, and that was a memory that made her mouth taste like faint, lingering sweetness mixed with ash when she remembered -- like she always did, like she couldn't help even if she wanted to -- the moment everything that meant home to her had been ripped away.
She wasn't aware of Liam's presence yet, or she would have tried to stop the soft choked noise that escaped her. Tried to.
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So it was more visceral somehow, the sickening twisting feeling in her gut at the moment that. her brief recollection of Zuala and their secret wedding, and of how happy they'd been together, dissolved sharply into the realization that they'd been discovered.
The Skyspear declaring, in front of the whole Dolorav tribe, that the punishment for their disobedience was death.
Zuala's face just before Yasha ran, terrified and angry and too much of a fucking coward to even witness her wife's final moments before her execution.
Stumbling blindly through the badlands, delirious from lack of food or water or even much sleep, until ...
Until ...
She didn't remember what happened after that. Mercifully, perhaps.
Without realizing it, she'd pitched forward onto her hands and knees in the sand, suddenly exhausted. Or was that the hunger and dehydration she was feeling? She didn't know any more.
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Which was a mistake, and looking back, Liam was absolutely going to blame whatever weird shit the island was up to for the fact that he did that without thinking about the possible consequences.
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Still, she was locked in her own head now, that memory sequence just looping through her brain and just a little more heightened and intense every time, so he was probably going to get the full brunt of that.
So no, she wouldn't be answering his question, but given the hand on her shoulder that was probably plenty of an answer in itself, huh?
... wasn't the first time Yasha had been so susceptible to something fucking with her head, and it sure as hell wouldn't be anywhere near the last.
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Because now he was there in Yasha's memory, reliving that pain and grief as if it had been his own.
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All she'd wanted was to be happy. To have one bright spot in the middle of all the death and constant violence that was life out here in the Moorlands. And Zuala ... Zuala, so fierce in battle and yet so unrestrained and wholehearted in the way she loved (despite any traitorous thoughts that anyone might bear a resemblance to that) had been the single brightest spot in her life.
She was cleaning a freshly hunted fox in the familiar swampy landscape of the Iothia Moorland, oddly comforted by the muted colors and clouded sky.
"Yasha!"
She looked up at the sound of the familiar voice to see Zuala breaking away from the rest of the hunting party, smiling despite the mud that spattered her face and clothing. Despite the tangled hair that fell into her face, those brown eyes were full of a warmth that was only for her, Yasha knew.
"That's a hearty fox for one," Zuala said, her voice low and amused. And mildly suggestive, too: "Care to share it?"
Yasha could hardly breathe for a second at the affection that flooded her chest. She took a breath to respond --
A flash of lightning.
The feeling like something was being physically ripped away from her as she ran, knowing what was happening. What she was leaving behind.
A vision of Zuala outlined by the lightning, fleshless bone and empty eye sockets, then darkness.
The wings weren't out now, but the memory happened to remind Liam of seeing Yasha at Molly's grave, if he remembered hearing her whisper "It happened again," it would be understandable. The grief was so similar as to be indistinguishable.
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Which made the thought of seeing her body lifeless and empty so much harder to bear. So of course he ran. What else was there to do?
Back in the real world, Liam was the one making a sound of distress now, a kind of half-sob as that imagined vision of Zuala came to him.
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Yasha's voice was pretty soft in general, but it was barely more than a whisper now.
"I've never --" The feeling of complete, drained exhaustion was new. Sometimes when she came out of a battle rage she felt a little bit like this, physically, but given that she went blank when she did, feeling drained emotionally as well as physically was a combination she didn't like at all. "I'm sorry. I -- are you all right?"
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Emotionally? Hah.
"I... think so," he said, though the shakiness in his voice probably belied the fact that it was only true from a certain perspective. "Are you?"
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Somehow, in the course of reliving that memory, he'd gone from kneeling by Yasha to practically cradling her, an arm around her shoulders as she lay propped up on his knees.
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