[Y - 32nd] Revelations

[Charity Valentin]

Yaris 32nd, 2718
VIENDA | MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST

Feel.

Charity shook her head, allowing the taller blond to finish undressing her with a strange sense of disconnection, as though her brain couldn’t connect the dots. It wasn’t a lie, of course he wouldn’t lie to her, but it didn’t mean that her father wouldn’t. She didn’t want to listen, but he pleaded on waivering feet, and with a soft sound of concern the blonde reached for him even as the Seventen helped her finish undressing. It was a strange act, but right now, the blonde needed something normal to let her mind recover. There was a knifes edge between insanity and sanity, and right now the pianist was teetering on the edge, just needing an extra shove to fall the wrong way. The bath, the mundane normality of it all, kept her balancing.

As she stepped into the hot water, Charity sank down to sit, tugging the tie from her hair and hugging her knees as the platinum tresses floated gently around her shoulders. Her violet eyes watched Rhys as he undressed and moved to join her, eyebrow arching slightly.

“Gale Saunders? You mean the ersehole that could have literally been your double? You saved him?” Her ears heard the her and the them, but she brushed it aside as a slip of the tongue. A mistake of words in the confusing and heavy conversation they now both seemed to be unwilling participants in. Rhys continued his story, jumping to Gale’s rescuing of himself in a confusing twist, but Charity listened. He had pleaded she listen and she had promised.

Gale revealed they knew me, that they were my sister, that their human mother—my human mother—had been Ol' Theo's household help.

Her head lifted off her knees slowly, brow drawing deeply and mouth moving without sound at first. Sister…Gale was a woman? She’d kissed a woman, who had convinced Rhys that she was his sister. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, hearing him continue and fighting to listen. Fighting to understand.

“No, no, no Rhys stop. STOP!” Charity said suddenly, plunging her hands into the water and sitting up straighter, anger flaring not at Rhys but at the woman that had deceived so many.

“It doesn’t make clocking sense. It makes no clocking sense. Gale is, he’s—she’s—a liar. She’s lied to the world about her gender, what makes you think she’s not lying about this?” The troubled, confused, hurt man continued and the petite blonde allowed his hands to brush hers under the water, not drawing away from his touch. Her heart ached at the sound of his voice. Even if she didn’t believe Gales lies, Rhys did. And that’s all that should clocking matter. Guilt burned in her chest, he’d let her fall into his lap and tried so hard to pick up all her shattered pieces, it was time for her to do the same.

Elmonton?

Charity’s vision blurred slightly as tears stung her eyes. He was leaving her? No, Alioe, he couldn’t be. Her hands curled into his for a moment, mind racing and heart fluttering. The taller man pulled her hand towards him, pressing it to his chest, and whilst he panicked about everything that could very well fall to pieces over this possible news, the galdor processed. He was absolutely right. No one could find out. No one. He wouldn’t just loose his career and his status, there was a good chance he would be arrested.

Or worse. If Damen found out, Charity had no doubt in her mind he would call for the man to be hanged by the neck until dead. It wasn’t common, but it happened. It definitely happened.

She watched him slip under the water, his questions left unanswered whilst the battered pale creature let herself think. It was insane, the entire thing was utterly insane. A wick in galdori clothing. A man who was really a woman. A whole life lived as a lie, that even the occupant themselves wasn't aware was a lie.

And where are you going to be in all of this Charity Ann D’Arthe? When the pieces fall, where will you be?

Rhys burst through the surface finally, rivulets of water running from his strawberry blonde locks and down his face, hiding what may have been more tears. She looked at him, hearing his words of self doubt and fear, and took a leap off the knifes edge.

Into insanity.

Shifting across the heated water, Charity climbed into his lap, her delicate hands holding his face tenderly as her eyes held his own.

“Of course you are Rhys. You’re the same boy I would fawn over at the cafeteria, the same boy who showed me the world from a very different point of view. You’re the same man that fought for everything he cared about again and again, the same man that saw the frighted teenager lost under all the dirt and ugliness of adulthood.” Moving with care, the petite creature wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close and closing her eyes as she held him.

“You are still Rhys Valentin, my Rhys Valentin, and I love you. It doesn't matter what happens, wick or galdor or gods-be-damned human for all I care. You are the same inside and out, do you hear me? You are still you.” Drawing back, she offered a small smile, brushing his dripping hair from his face.

“And I am not going anywhere that you aren’t. I’m here for you Rhys, with you, and we’ll hold off the wolves together. You and I. We belong together Valentin, our whole lives we belonged together, and nothing is going to break us apart again. Not my father, and not yours.” Searching his face, looking into his crystalline gaze with genuine sincerity, the Captains daughter kissed him gently. A soft kiss of acceptance, and hope.

“Take me with you, to Elmonton. I want to be there with you, for you, every inch of this journey.” The blonde stroked his face again, humming a tentative laugh through her nose.

“Explains why you’ve always been so good at kicking the erse of all those pathetic school boys on the Lawn. Why use magic when you can just…” She pretended to punch his cheek with a ‘pow’ sound and a smile.

[Rhys Valentin]

"It'snot easy being human, let alone female. Not that I have a clue on either front, mind you. We have our first Headmistress in the history of galdorkind, but the expectations for our lower races are hardly accepting of things. My guess is it was for her protection, but Gale would never say that out loud." Rhys offered the response quietly as if somehow that would assuage Charity's obvious confusion. The anger in her voice was a reminder of the indignant feelings he should have been harboring toward the young smith, but he didn't. The young Valentin had never known family; his father had hardly been a loving man and the delicate pianist in front of him was truly the only person he'd ever cared about for most of his life.

He sighed, "Remember how we found each other again, months ago, Charity. It's no better for the lower races—fuck it—than it is for galdori in that respect. It's worse." He wasn't a galdor anymore, but his mind found it hard to speak of the only world he knew any other way. His bleary gaze held her violet ones firmly, "Gale could have shot me, too. Could have left me on the street another dead Seventen. But they didn't. I'm not even going to touch on what it means to have a firearm in Vienda. I can't deal with that. I haven't ... This is all very hard to process, but that's why I have to go talk to Theo. I need to know if it's all the truth—if my mother was human."

Rhys watched her attempt to wrestle with what he'd already been drowning in, the faded colors of bruises on her lovely face reminding him painfully that she'd already come to him with so much else overshadowing her life. This was a horrible place to be—crushed on both sides—but here they were, sitting together in his tub as if the rest of the world didn't exist. He could care less if it did, especially now, and yet there was too much to deal with to just ignore it.

Before the tall blond could even catch his breath from being under the water, hands raising to comb hair from his face with his fingers, the delicate pianist was moving toward him, closing the distance to crawl into his lap and press their bodies together. For a moment, he tensed as if preparing to pull away, as if he considered gently pushing her back, eyes widening in surprise before her fingers brushed over his face and her palms came to rest on his cheeks.

Her words were not the reply he'd prepared himself for: the past few days, he'd only considered the various scenarios of rejection, determined as he'd been to tell her the truth. Her acceptance hadn't been anything he'd planned on: how could she stand her ersehole father being right? How could she want anything to do with him now—

"Charity—" Rhys sobbed the beginning of an objection, a heavy desperation to shove her as far from himself in his helpless vulnerability as possible, but her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him instead. He tentatively raised his own, embracing her like the frightened animal he'd suddenly become, closing his eyes with the hot sting of her honest words as if they were a cauterizing iron, her love a fiery object scarring over wounds,

"—I love you, too. So much. For so long, but—"

Her fingers moved hair from his face and he was forced to meet her gaze again, blue eyes coming into sharp focus on her face, "—you shouldn't—you shouldn't be okay with this. I'm—what am I? I'm not a galdor. But I'm not a wick, not like we've been told—I—I'm sure I'm not the only one. How many other half-breed bastards have passed through Brunnhold's doors? This goes against everything—"

He cut himself off, unwilling to travel down the rabbit hole of what ifs and therefors. They were terrifying to wander through, and he'd already spent a handful of days in their suffocating dark caverns already. The petite blonde kissed him and he tilted his head to press their foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, choosing to focus on the familiar, comfortable mingling of their fields and sensation of her skin against his.

He had so much to say and all the words burned against the back of the young Valentin's teeth, words about belonging, about staying together, about losing everything. There was so much danger in it now, but as if it hadn't been dangerous before, given who her Captain of a father was. Everything felt that much more difficult, but in his confused, aching heart, even Rhys knew there was only one thing that could hold it all together, that could endure, and it was the two of them,

"—Elmonton's boring, but it's safer than here. For you. For a week or two. Maybe. Gods, you'll have to keep me from doing anything stupid, and we'll figure out what to do about your clocking father on the way." The young Valentin made a valiant attempt to tame the tears that still tried to join the warm water on his face. Much like the chaos of the riot itself, this was just more explosions to deal with. He settled against the tub, hands finding comfortable places on Charity's now familiar body.

Rhys smirked at her making light of their realization, expression becoming a grin at the light touch of her knuckles on his cheek, not entirely able to play along, "It explains a few things, yes, but also defies everything else—"

He laughed softly at the ridiculousness of it all, lips pressing against the delicate pianist's forehead in thought, fingers curling into pale skin. He kissed her without hesitance, lingering before he added in a quieter voice while the world spun and his ears rang, testament to his heritage and the limits he'd overstepped just to stay alive,

"—fitting that the one thing your father is right about after all these years is the most wrong thing possible." The tall blond hummed, a mix of coyness and pain mingling in the tone of his voice, talking of himself outside of galdor context still very raw and hurtful, still so very confusing, even in his attempt to be humorous, "How much more scandalous are things now, that a Seventen's only daughter is in love with such a creature as myself. I was always trouble, Charity, but this is far more than Brunnhold pranks and gossip. You're all I've got, you know—"

Well, perhaps he had one more, but he wasn't sure how to handle his sister just yet in his life.

"—all I've wanted. But we could lose everything just to keep each other. I'm willing to take that risk. Are you?"

[Charity Valentin]

Yaris 32nd, 2718
VIENDA | MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST

F​​ate.

​​The blonde pianist held him closer as the tall Seventen began to object, feeling his shift and the strange balance between wanting to be comforted and wanting to push her away. Their fields merged, intimate and embracing, and the woman sighed softly as his own arms finally moved to embrace her in return. She had known that feeling, that desire to be cared for and that need to hold back, unwillingness to drag another into your mess. But it was too late for either of them to stop it now. Rhys was already up to his elbows in her dirty laundry, and now she was wholeheartedly working to embrace his.
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​​As she swept his hair from his face, the gal—the wick—seemed to search her for answers, confused and afraid of what it all meant. Charity let him speak, kissing him gently and closing her eyes with another sigh as he leant his forehead against hers. Sitting naked, skin to skin in the heated water, as though it was normal and natural. It was far from normal and natural, but the familiarity of it all was grounding. It let the insanity she’d jumped into be manageable.
​​
​​ “Boring is good. Boring is quiet. I think we both need a place, not here, not Vienda. I don’t—“ Her brow furrowed, field wavering at the mention of her father, and as Rhys settled back and shifted his hands, the petite woman opened her eyes.
​​
​​ “—I don’t want to think about that yet.” She said softly, somewhat perked by the smallest hint of a smirk that her light teasing brought to his handsome face. When he kissed her back, Charity willingly welcomed it, craving anything that brought comfort in this most strange and harrowing time.
​​
​​ “Yes, yes you were.” The woman said with a soft laugh, agreeing whole heartedly that Rhys had indeed been trouble. He’d been the rebel, the rouge with the cheeky grin and quick tongue. But then, she’d been trouble too, just where no one else could see it.
​​
​​No one who wasn’t already part of the same trouble at least.
​​
​​ “I’ve got nothing left to lose Rhys. I can’t go home, I don’t have family to turn to, and I’m only a suggestion away from going into that dsoh hut to buy their bottle of Tonic to ease the cravings…” Letting her violet gaze roam his face, Charity lifted her hands again, water dripping from her fingertips as she brushed them through his hair. She loved his hair, she’d always loved his hair.
​​
​​She’d always loved all of him. Galdor or wick. She’d always loved him.
​​
​​Taking a breath, as though to provide him with some beautiful eloquent speech on how much she was more than willing to take the risk, the captains daughter closed it with a sigh and a smile to tilt his face to hers again. She didn’t speak, not with any more words at least, allowing them both to find comfort in the warmth of their bodies. As much as they both needed to find some semblance of relief.
​​
​​When the moment passed, Charity lay against his chest, listening to the thumping of his heartbeat the now lukewarm water just below her chin. Her eyes stared ahead, hand pressed against his slightly tanned skin.
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​​ “I am.” She said softly, finally giving words to her reply without fanfare or lengthy speeches.
​​
​​ “I am.”