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「Catharsis」Interlude: Zevael |
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Sometimes, Zevael wondered what made him go through with his prolonged interaction with the mermaid Yeulveren.
Their reunion could not have been a more foreboding sign, after all. They met in the midst of a battle on opposing sides, where he would have killed her and vice versa if they truly had to. She had said as much, expressing her willingness to follow through with her actions regardless of however much she might have regretted it later. Her duty came first, she implied with her words, and though she would try to find alternative solutions, she would stop at nothing to complete her task.
Given that she had stabbed him, healing blade be damned, the Chimera had the distinct feeling that she had not been lying.
Honestly, he blamed her mother. The damned mermaid matriarch had piqued his curiosity by hinting at a relationship between him and her daughter that seemed to transcend time and space. No, not hinted--she had all but slammed the knowledge in his face. And as a fugitive Chimera, he was a lonely being. Dangling the idea that he could have something so important with another in just about every lifetime they were in, despite the obstacles, was a cruel and effective way of catching his interest.
He had the distinct feeling that she knew it, too, and had gladly exploited it. For all her words of protecting her daughter, he could feel it in his very bones that she wanted to see where their supposed relationship would lead in this life--and if she would get the chance to kill him as she had threatened.
Truly. Damn that mermaid.
ƸӜƷ
"Your hair is black," Yeulveren observed with an airy tone when they'd met some several weeks later, after the battle between the coastal fae and the Northern Sahagin. She had taken some time in between to take care of clan business, which had included various ceremonies to honor their fallen, as one of her siblings--her youngest brother, he would be told later, named Rikyou--had deigned to inform him.
Zevael made a noncommittal noise in response, though his cobalt eyes stared resolutely ahead through his bangs. They were a darker red than they had been weeks prior, and he could see the strands that framed his face in the corners of his eyes, so dark in comparison to their once bright red hue.
"So you do mature."
Briefly, the Chimera glanced her way before looking forward again to avoid being captured by her gaze. It was not usual for him to hold any gaze--due to most people avoiding his eyes for fear of evoking the curse of the hellhound--but he found out early on that hers tended to try to swallow him whole. It was unnerving to say the least, for he knew it was not something so innocent or simple as attraction that drew him to her. It was a siren's call, bestial and deadly, that threatened to overwhelm him during those sparse seconds of eye contact.
He wondered if that was what the other versions of himself had been lured into, and how much of their relationships with the mermaid's counterparts was real--and what was fake.
"Gradually," he said after a long pause when she did not continue speaking. "My body is organic, but Chimera were created from magic. We do not age as others are expected to." In addition, many monsters tended to have some form of longevity, which passed down with their blood.
Yeulveren hummed. "But maturity is something that is not simply limited to the physical sense. It is mental as well."
Zevael nodded. "Correct."
Her hand reached out, deceptively delicate, to grasp a strand of the hair hanging down his back.
He allowed it.
"What do you suppose triggered this?" she asked, fingers gently rubbing the dark hair between them.
Vaguely, he wondered what her calm expression meant, or if it were a mask to hide something else.
Instead of asking, he replied, "I suppose I had made a decision for myself."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow quirked. He watched as her clear oceanic eyes allowed her amusement to show through. "A decision about what, if I may ask?"
Zevael shrugged. "Something important."
If she were disappointed by the lack of information, she did not show it. He was glad. He did not know if he could explain it himself.
ƸӜƷ
"I don't like you."
The expression was straightforward and clear, yet Zevael could not help but be perplexed by it. Blinking, he turned his attention towards the white-haired male standing some several feet away from him, his expressive blue-green eyes narrowed in suspicion. That look brought back a sense of familiarity, and the Chimera relaxed somewhat under it.
"Why is that?" he questioned, curious.
The merman--Idradel, if he remembered correctly--clenched his fists. He appeared to be the more outwardly responsive of the twins, which Zevael took some measure of comfort in. He could deal with the emotional ones, mostly by countering it with the composure instilled within him by his training. It was when he was put up against a mask even colder and smoother than his own that he started to flounder. Even if the mask did not seem so cold at first.
"I don't like judging by race," Idradel began, "but Chimeras are something else entirely."
Of course, Zevael agreed silently. They are monsters, after all.
"You were created for war and, though I sympathize, your existence will always be associated with that... People will always see you and think of war." The merman's gaze had drifted down steadily as he spoke, but flicked back up again to stare straight at him. "People think that being the clan heiress is a wonderful thing, but they don't know the half of it. My sister has given up so much in order to be a worthy leader. More than half of the time, she's not really smiling."
The last part was almost acidic from the dark anger that simmered beneath the words. Zevael wondered what it must be like, to know someone so closely that you simply know when they are not being genuine.
"With your reputation and her personality... I don't want to see her sacrifice even more for your sake." Idradel's expression turned despairing at that, and the Chimera could not help but find it morbidly interesting. Was that what his sister looked like when she was faced with something hopeless? "For anything, really."
"...I see," Zevael replied. For what else could he say?
Idradel shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. "I'm grateful that you helped her when no one else could. But even so, I can't help but wish that you both had never found each other in the first place."
ƸӜƷ
The target was in sight.
Zevael, calm as you please, casually cracked his knuckles. With his hair darkened, even with his ears he was not nearly as noticeable as he had been when his hair was fully red. It made blending into the crowds much easier, and it often took most people a second or even third glance to pin his name to him. This tended to make his jobs much easier. Even the ones where he was called precisely for his infamy, for there was nothing more sadistically amusing than seeing someone blanch at the realization of his identity.
At this time, his job was a simple extermination. Public, because his client wanted to send a message.
Standing as the other man neared, Zevael began walking. These jobs never failed to leave a bad taste in his mouth, but there was nothing else that he could do. His fame while serving the army of the Herzgil empire would always haunt him--the few times he had tried to get a more innocuous job only to be turned away due to fear or hatred had proved that. Besides, he tried reasoning with himself, tainting his hands even further with these requests was so minor in comparison to the atrocities he had pulled as the Hellhound.
As he neared his target, he planted himself firmly in his path and waited.
Predictably, the man stopped abruptly from his brisk pace, lips already curling back in a sneer to tell him off for getting in the way.
With a flash of his claws, Zevael tore out the man's throat. He barely batted an eye when the blood splattered out, gurgling as the man died in the middle of a surprised exclamation. The crowds that had been milling around them scattered, erupting into chaos.
Zevael's ears flicked, and he turned to stare at a figure emerging from the shadows of an alley. He remained still, simply watching.
The figure retreated.
Later, after collecting his pay and ambling along down a familiar street in another city, Zevael would find Yeulveren--or she would find him, he couldn't tell which--and she would fuss over him in her playful way.
"You reek of blood," she'd say, voice light and soothing. He could fall asleep to just the sound of her voice and he wondered if that was deliberate.
"Are you a shark?" he'd ask in return.
"Idradel says he thinks I am, partly," she'd hum. Then, she would tug at his hand--the one that ripped the man's throat out--and examine the sharp claws resting on his fingers. And then she'd frown, brushing them with a featherlight touch of her own, and say, "You should take better care of yourself."
And it would scare him, the way that he was already so comfortable with her to let her do such a thing so casually, like they'd known each other forever. But that fear would be nothing in comparison to the terror that would accompany the revelation that he was already considering her enough of a friend to take care of him when he failed to do so himself.
Then he would wonder if Idradel were right, if the universe were right, in wanting to keep them apart. And that, perhaps, he should end everything before it even had the chance to truly begin.
ƸӜƷ
"Do you ever regret it?" Yeulveren asked one night as they sat beneath a starry sky, on top of a building in the middle of a concrete jungle.
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
She gave a bubbly laugh. "You didn't even ask about what!"
"I regret many things," he told her gravely.
Still amused, she propped up her chin on her hand. "So you regret meeting me?"
It was a trap and he knew it, but still he answered anyways. "Yes."
The change of expression in her face, from happy amusement to disappointment, was too smooth to be real. "Truly?"
He nodded. "Yes," he told her again. Then, purposefully turning away from her, he added, "And no."
In a way, he almost wished she would get angry when he was being obtuse and vague rather than find it entertaining. If she had, perhaps he could be justified in his want to stay around her because then she would be even just slightly normal instead of adding even more strangeness into his life.
ƸӜƷ
The second time Zevael ever saw Yeulveren in "battle mode", as he'd heard her siblings call it, was about a month after they'd met again.
It was in the middle of the streets (something he would later ponder was the universe's way of being ironic) and they had been talking of nothing in particular, simply moving along with the crowd, when she would pause, turn her head, and seem to listen for something. As his sense of hearing was even greater than her own sensitive ears, he knew it was not like that, but rather something she was feeling against the sensors of her magic.
She snapped out of it soon enough, resuming their walk with a smile. But something changed, and if he had not been so attuned to battle and analyzing others for tells he possibly would not have noticed it. The way her gait changed, from something leisurely and casual to sinuous and smooth. Not that her usual movements were not normally calculated, but there was a distinct difference between that and what he saw that moment.
Without a word, he let himself fall a half-step behind her own pace. He kept up the airs that he was walking beside her, but the slight lag was his way of letting her know that she could lead. She took the position easily--he had to remind himself sometimes that she was expected to take over an entire clan someday--gracefully guiding them through the city and to wherever he assumed her target was.
They crossed a street, and another. He heard it before he saw it, the strange and absolute silence of the next street in comparison to the hustle and bustle occurring behind them. They turned the corner.
And separated, flinging themselves away from one another as a streak of what appeared to be lightning shot out from the distance to strike the spot where they had been standing.
In midair, Zevael saw that the street was completely empty, which was strange considering they were in the commercial district of the city. But when he landed and looked inside the buildings, he saw several people lying on the floor behind the tinted glass and he could only hope they were merely unconscious and not dead.
"You," their attacker called, and Zevael turned his head to spot a young woman perched on top of a sign across the street. Long black hair with pale skin, dressed in tight clothing meant to accentuate her curves. Her ears were pointed like Yeulveren's and he could feel enough of a similarity between their magic matrices to identity her as a mermaid. "You are the Hellhound, are you not?"
He did not answer. He had no need to.
The opposing mermaid nodded. "It's unfortunate for you to get caught up in this, for I have nothing against you personally, but no matter. Sit down and we'll get this over with as soon as possible."
It was as if gravity suddenly turned up around him, pressuring him to sit. He held his ground, trying to stay standing and resist. He was forced to his knees, and whatever it was pushing him down seemed to be satisfied with that for it lessened, but did not let up enough to allow him to move.
The mermaid jumped down from her perch, clapping as she approached. "I'm amazed you can resist, though perhaps I shouldn't be if you regularly hang around the Rullae heiress." The title came out like a hiss as she shot a glare in Yeulveren's direction. Said female was walking steadily towards them, looking calm and focused. Zevael could feel the icy sting of her magic even from the distance between them. He wondered, for a moment, why she had not approached earlier, but there was a tear in her clothing and a tip of her long hair smelled burnt, so he assumed she had received an attack following the first.
"It's not nice to ignore a lady when she's speaking to you," the mermaid before him cooed as she hooked a finger under his chin to direct his gaze back up to her. He gazed dully into her eyes, unimpressed. She clicked her tongue. "Mortals are so foolish. They make such grand proclamations about the strength of their warriors and yet you fall so easily. It's a pity, really. You're a beautiful creature and I would not mind taking you for myself... but you are in my way and I can't have that, now can I?"
She sounded genuinely regretful. It made his skin crawl.
Summoning up his inner fire, he willed it to heat his skin. She jumped back several paces with a hiss, holding up the hand that had been touching his chin, stroking it as she'd admired him. He felt a grim pleasure when he saw that the pale skin of her fingers were now growing steadily redder. She shrieked when she looked down and saw it, too. He supposed she was the type of mermaid to be very invested in her looks. "You stupid dog!"
And then several things happened.
The dark-haired mermaid released another lightning bolt his way in her anger right as Yeulveren let loose a spear of ice. And just before the lightning bolt reached him, it crashed and fizzled out against an invisible shield.
A barrier, he realized as more spells were flung about.
Yeulveren ran close to him. "Get up," she ordered and he found himself on his feet in seconds. "Are you all right?"
"Affirmative," he replied automatically. Then, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Apparently thanks to you."
"Reflex," she said. She shot him a look over her shoulder, something he considered risky considering she was in the middle of battle. Judging by the smile that formed at the indignant screech of the other mermaid, she knew it, too. "Leave this to me, yes?"
It was not another order, but he obliged anyways. He had seen her fight, had fought against her, in the battle between the coastal faeries and Northern Sahagin. To get to observe her now would be an experience indeed.
He wondered if humans felt the way he did, small and insignificant, when he watched them clash. He had gone up against numerous supernatural creatures before during his travels, but the majority of his fighting had been done in the war, against humans. Technologically advanced humans, but humans nonetheless. His fellows had all been Chimeras and no other country or empire had the means or knowledge to recreate them--successfully, that is.
It was a novel feeling.
Spell after spell was cast with barely a chant, he noticed. Just the building of magical energy before it was released in an explosive elemental burst. Even with the dark-haired mermaid enraged, her fury lended her movements grace to match the elegant and calculated steps of Yeulveren.
It chafed at his pride to know that he still had so much further to go to improve, to reach the levels that other mystic races have achieved over centuries of hard work.
The battle ended before he could contemplate much more. The dark-haired mermaid was knocked off her balance when a lance of ice tore cleanly through her side, taking a sizable chunk of flesh with it. She screamed as she fell, only to silence when Yeulveren followed through, thoroughly freezing her to the ground. Immobile and defeated, she breathed harshly, and in her expression Zevael could see the same fear of death that once graced his own opponents' eyes just before the final blow.
He refused to look away when Yeulveren dealt it, slicing off the other mermaid's head without a word.
With her back to him, he wondered what her expression looked like, and if it were a mask as well.
ƸӜƷ
"So I see you've kept your word," a familiar voice drawled as Zevael wandered further away from the seaside city that held Yeulveren's surface home.
He stiffened the moment it reached his ears, turning to come face to face with the mermaid matriarch and, arguably, the instigator of all his more recent troubles. He tried not to glare, but he had the distinct feeling that he failed.
Peralei gave no hint as to whether he did or not, smiling. "So you've met my daughter and befriended her, stirring the fates into action. Do you not fear what is to come?"
"If I feared something like that," he replied, "I would have been fearing my whole life."
"Smart answer," she murmured. Then, shrugging, she brushed her way past him. "Do take care, Hellhound. It would be unfortunate if anything happened to you. My daughter is already attached enough to cry over your death, and I would very much like to not have to deal with Death for a few moments to beat your soul silly for being so stupid as to get yourself killed so soon."
The Chimera resisted the urge to ask her if she could even do that. Instead, he turned after her and called, "Wait."
Peralei paused and looked over her shoulder, a slender eyebrow raised in question.
"I just want to ask..." He paused, trying to form the right words in his mind. "Why?"
Here, Peralei turned fully. She seemed amused, and Zevael could see Yeulveren in the way one corner of her lips lifted to convey it. "Beg pardon? You'll have to be more specific than that, little doggy."
A little indignant, but unwilling to rise to the bait, he sighed. "Why... Why is it that she and I can't..."
Why were they not allowed to be together?
Why did the universe try to rip them apart each time they found each other?
Why would it be better if they had never met?
Various forms of the question floated into his mind, but he could not find the will to voice them.
Peralei's gaze softened. When she spoke, her voice took on a motherly tone that washed over him in soothing waves. "Because you are an abomination not meant to exist, and she is a child of divine blood."
Zevael frowned openly, but remained silent when she held up a hand.
"I told you before, did I not? The gods will always allow you to meet for one reason or another, but you are not meant to stay together. That was what was written by the fates. To meet once--and never again." She gave a wry smile. "According to my Honored Grandmother, the very first of your other selves did not agree with that, and so tried to defy your destined parting. Though it ultimately ended in failure, it caused a ripple in space-time, leading to your situation today."
It was a better answer, but not a complete one. "But why?"
He was treated to the rare sight of the mermaid matriarch sighing. Her head drooped, arms coming up to fold across her chest. He was stunned at how very normal the gestures made her look.
When she lifted her head back up, she was gazing at the sky in a distant manner. "Have you ever heard of the idea of a life symbol?"
Confused at the topic change and determined to receive his answer, he started, "Tell me why--"
"I'm getting there," Peralei interrupted. She quirked a brow at him. "So, have you?"
Wary, he shook his head.
The red-haired matriarch nodded. "They say that every living being is born with a life symbol--a word divined at their birth to determine their ultimate fate. Yeulveren's is 'life'." Her gaze lowered to catch his. "And yours is 'destruction'."
ƸӜƷ
"You seem deep in thought," Yeulveren said as she approached him from behind. "Your ears hardly twitched even when I stomped my feet walking towards you~"
Zevael's eyes slanted her way, taking in her appearance. Everything, from her coloration to her teasing smile, was his opposite. Peralei's words from their last encounter echoed and swirled about in his head.
Yeulveren blinked when he stared at her, but did not reply. She lifted a hand to wave in front of his face in the human attempt to snap him out of it. "Are you all right?"
He snatched her wrist and held it still. "If I told you that I never wished to see you again, what would you do?"
She blinked again. "Are you breaking up with me?" A giggle escaped her when he sent her a dry look and released her hand. She let it fall to her side. "I'm sorry, I've just always wanted to say that. Let's see..." She linked her fingers behind her back as she thought, eyes subconsciously drifting to the sea before them. "I would ask why, I suppose."
"If I said it was because this was a mistake?"
"So you are breaking up with me." She held her hands up defensively when he pinned her with another look. "Sorry. Idradel was over recently so I suppose I can't help myself. At any rate, what brought this on? If you truly wish to part ways then I suppose I won't stop you. I still need to repay you for your help all those years ago, but if I can do that by avoiding your presence to give you peace of mind, then I shall do so."
Zevael breathed in the salty sea air, trying to clear his head. It worked, to a degree. It brought him no closer to forming the correct words, but it worked.
Eventually, he decided on saying, "I am a Chimera, a manmade experiment designed for war. You are a mermaid, born from the world in order to serve it." It was a mix of Idradel's and Peralei's words to him. The ones that have been stirring around inside his head for so short a time yet felt like years. "I am made for destruction. You are made for life. Why fight fate when it's clear that our very natures are meant to clash?"
Indeed, why? With every encounter, Zevael found himself doubting the words he had first told Yeulveren's mother. He had said they could try to not end up like their others, but for what reason? If it were truly easier for them to simply part ways and never meet again, why wouldn't they?
Yeulveren hummed, snapping him back to reality. He studied her expression closely and found her contemplative. "Perhaps we clash on one side of things, but on the other I would say we complement each other quite nicely, don't you think?"
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"You meant 'destruction' as a pretty word to cover 'death', didn't you? Well, don't life and death go hand in hand?"
"I would not think the gods would like to consider such a thing occurring," he pointed out dryly. Life and Death, as far as he knew, were opposites through and through. A balance to one another, perhaps, but not meant to go "together".
"Perhaps not, but gods are not all-knowing. They might like to think of themselves as such, but they are not. They make mistakes just like any other."
He stilled.
Yeulveren continued on, either not noticing or not caring enough to pause in making her point, "If anything I think Life and Death would make very good companions. Life would need something to prove that she is real, that she exists and is a part of the universe as any other and is not, in fact, just something for others to depend on and believe in--and nothing is more real than death, yes?" She smiled at him. He wished she wouldn't. "It is the same with Death, I believe. In the days where he finds himself in tears, lamenting his fate and wandering on the verge of despair, then perhaps she, perhaps life, could be his hope to continue on."
Zevael did not know if they were talking about Life and Death anymore or something else entirely.
No, that was wrong.
He knew, but he was unwilling to consciously acknowledge it.
ƸӜƷ
Sometimes, Zevael wondered what made him go through with his prolonged interaction with the mermaid Yeulveren.
It was not logical, and tended to bring him more grief than anything else in his life. The damning words spoken by her mother were of no help either, making him privy to things that he doubted should ever be known by any being. Living in one universe was complicated enough, after all. The idea of multiple lives across the span of a multiverse just made things unnecessarily convoluted.
But then, he would think back to Yeulveren's little spiel about how the companionship between Life and Death could be a wondrous thing, his mind unconsciously inserting themselves into each role. And he would curse himself even as he hoped.
It wasn't logical. But, at the base of things, what friendship between a Chimera and a mermaid was?
 Nymeia · Fri Sep 19, 2014 @ 12:11pm · 0 Comments |
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