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 Posted: Tue Jul 18, 2023 7:24 pm
It was time. Hopeite had been thinking... well... agonizing was more the right word. She'd been working with contacts on the other side to get her affairs in order, closing out accounts with enough time between them so as not to arouse the suspicion of the Negaverse, and packing up her life as she readied herself for the actual event. And up until that week, these tasks had been enough to distract her from the reality of her decision. She'd been moving too fast, working too hard living, essentially, three lives at the same time. Been trying to keep up her role as a Lieutenant, maintain her live as a civilian, and set up a place for herself to land when she finally... well... She hadn't been able to slow down and think in the last month. And if that was her design then that was no one business but her own.
Of course the problem with that was that now, on the night it was all supposed to happen, the whole month of stress and questions and worry and anxiety caught up with her. Everything she'd been frightened of was suddenly just on the edges of her peripherals. Shadows moved like sentient beings, taking the shape of officers waiting to pull her back into the darkness. And of course, rationally, she knew that she was that important. She knew that she was one soldier among many and the forces from which she was escaping would never even notice her absence... the fear remained.
And then, of course, there was the issue of what she cradled in her arms. The jar of souls, glittering like gems as they clicked against the glass. Something that she'd packed away a few nights after she'd met Camelot and only just pulled from the back of her closet just before she left. She clutched it closer to her core, despite the way the weight of it made her sick. What else could she do with it? Leave it in her apartment to be forgotten and then found by someone who wouldn't know what they were? Did she bury them? Burn them? No option truly settled correctly in her heart.
She approached Camelot with two hopes. That what she asked of him alongside her purification wasn't too much, and that he knew what to do with them in the first place.
"H-hey, Lance," she called softly, curling her arms protectively and perhaps even trying to hide it until the last possible second.
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Posted: Tue Jul 18, 2023 7:44 pm
Camelot was generally a patient man, but even he was prone to nerves. He wondered if something had happened between the last time he spoke to Hopeite and now, and if he would ever really know even if it had. It was the risk anyone in the Negaverse took, though, especially when they were considering leaving.
Some were slower to come to their decisions, but Camelot used that patience of his to his benefit. Painite, for example, had still not made up her mind, though he could tell she was leaning more toward it than away these days. She was, for example, just a phone call away if he needed her help. Carlisle had once been a half-youma Captain, and now served as Camelot's right hand. He, too, was in the wings at all times. In fact, sometimes it was hard to get rid of him.
When he felt the aura approaching him, he breathed a sigh and turned to see a familiar face moving toward him. He offered her a warm smile, lifting a hand in greeting. "I was getting a bit worried about... what are those?"
His eyes fell on the jar, and of course he knew exactly what they were. He looked a little anxious, but the look quickly vanished and was replaced by one of sad understanding. He could only imagine what had led to their collection, and ultimately decided it was not his place to know. At least he could still do something for them, if given the chance.
For now, he shifted his gaze to the Negaverse soldier herself, her anxiety clear on her face.
"Are you doing okay?" It was a silly question, maybe, but one that was often not asked enough. Sometimes, a person just wanted to say no, and that little truth was in itself a small relief. He was there to help, after all.
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Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2023 4:03 pm
He'd seen them. Or course he'd seen them. Her last, most egregious sin. Perhaps, if Hopeite was a more psychologically aware woman, she'd recognize it for what it was. Her last ditch attempt to convince Camelot that she was beyond saving. Hopeite was holding them in front of her like the last reason she could fathom that would make her unworthy of saving. She flinched when he asked what they were, her mouth working to form words that refused to unstick themselves from her teeth. And then his expression changed, but not the way Hopeite expected. She had braced for him to send her away. To yell at her. To scorn her and curse her. But Camelot, it would seem, was forever a man of mystery and of intrigue. Instead his face got soft and... almost sweet? Something that Hopeite was not expecting to see in the slightest. But she breathed deeply as she landed softly against it none the less. She released her grip on the jar just slightly and bit her lips together. "No," she whispered. "No I'm not." Which was... it was nice to say. Nice to say it and know that Camelot wouldn't coo and fuss over her, wouldn't smother her with useless platitudes and sickeningly sweet looks. He wouldn't cluck at her and tell it "you'll be alright" or try and tell her that he knew what she was going through. "But I'm starting to think that it's okay... that I'm not okay..." She nodded, as though coming to a decision in that moment. "But I am..." her voice stuck in her throat, like her physical body was trying not to let her take this last step. "I'm ready. And... and I brought these," she gestured to her hands. "Because I didn't know what to do with them. I'm kinda hoping that you do."
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2023 2:28 pm
Camelot nodded his head slowly, holding his hands out for the jar.
"I do," he said, when she said she hoped he knew what to do with them. A jar of starseeds she had gathered, presumably personally. There was little chance any of them still had their last words available, but he could at the very least give them a shield and a boost of speed as he sent them toward the Space Cauldron.
"I can send them to their final resting place, where a new journey will begin. They will be safe from Chaos, and though we cannot do much but mourn the lives they lost, I can tell you there will be a new hope for them, and for you. Here, let me show you."
He waited. There was something very important in this next step. He wanted her to hand him the jar, not reaching to guide her or to gesture any further. He simply waited, expression soft and understanding, with a wealth of infinite patience that came from many long years of experience. She might not have believed it, but this was not even the worst he had seen. As lost as she felt, he saw light in her, and he knew her destiny was only just beginning to become clear.
These first steps would be the most difficult, but she was already half way there. She had come to him, after all, and he knew she meant it when she said she was ready. He just needed to make sure she knew she meant it, too.
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Posted: Thu May 30, 2024 10:29 am
Hopeite let out a breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding. Part of her kind of wanted Camelot to condemn her for her collection. Tell her that she was too far gone with this, scream at her for wasting his time, snatch the jar, and chase her off. At least then she'd have a good excuse to chicken out. At least then it wouldn't be chickening out at all. She'd be chased out. But no. That's not what happened. Whatever Camelot thought of Hopeite's collection of sins he kept to himself. Kept it off his face. He held out his hands and Hopeite knew that she had to take the last step. Her sorrow spilled over cheeks as she nodded back. Her shame. Her guilt. She passed the jar off to the knight, the weight on her shoulder easing ever so slightly. Somehow, some way, she knew that it would keep easing, bit by bit, until the vice grip around her chest allowed her to breath again. And, at the same time, she knew that, like the half-life of a drug, it would never truly be gone. Barely visible, negligible, even, but always there. And Hopeite was okay with that. Somehow. "I'm ready," she choked, her voice far too weak for her own liking. She could only hope that Camelot didn't take the tremor in her voice for doubt. "Is it going to hurt?"
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