Unrealized Parallels

Log Info

• Title: Unrealized Parallels
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Venom
• Place: Fernwood Pub
• Time: September 4th, 2021
• Summary:

Late night at the Fernwood, Aryia is taking some notes at the bar, with Venom coming in and taking a seat. Pleasantries are exchanged before Venom asks Aryia about an earlier situation at the tailor. The Faux Pas that Venom committed. Aryia carefully explains that holding someone's chin and lifting it, to a Charn-born, is akin to saying 'I am above you.' Venom profusely apologies and Aryia waves it off, knowing Venom meant no harm, and presented an alternative. Aryia tells her that should she ever want to talk about anything, anything at all, to feel free. They then relocate to Aryia's room, for the comfort of Venom to speak freely.

Within, Venom removes her veils and masks, the two nibbling on food as they conversed. Aryia starts off with asking about what Venom was supposed to observe in her past. Venom explains. And explains. And.. explains. With only light proddings from Aryia, Venom eventually talks about those that were close to her, as well as one person. She feared her maker for 'damaging' their work, and the punishment that followed suit. All the while, both were holding each other tight, reassuring the other as old, buried scars were brought to light. And eventually, how Venom ended up in Alexandria. After some encouraging words given by Aryia, Venom says naught but a little, and that's all it took for Aryia to burst into tears. Venom stays over for the night, and the two scarred people with too many unworked emotions to bear, just talk. Talk until rest claims them.

Fernwood, Nighttime. 

A chilly wind had driven most people indoors, an odd weather compared to that of the recent hot days. None were prepared for it, driving most indoors to seek shelter. The afternoon waned into evening, which waxed into twilight, most patrons at the establishment turning in for the night, either in rooms, or on the tables they sat at, surrounded by empty mugs.

Nighttime, however, was the *peak* period for nocturnal creatures, and a scarred mul'neissa was one of them. Aryia, dressed in her new silvery vest and slacks, had entered the establishment, grabbed a corner at the bar next to the wall, and got herself a drink to pair with her journal that she had been scribbling in. Very much awake, and quite pensive.

Perhaps troubled by something that's been prickling the back of her head since the tailor's shop, and more prepared for a chilly evening than most, a shrouded figure pushes in through the doors to the common room, beyond.

The spectacle draws a few eyes, even though her entrance isn't dramatic in any particular way. It's probably the silhouette.

Walking with relative softness considering the heavy tread of her boots, the shrouded figure sidesteps one of the serving girls to approach the sharp dressed Mul. Drawing up to the bar a bit over from her friend, she tap-taps against the bartop with two of her fingers pressed together and prepares to meet any response with a wave.

Aryia glances up at the tap, her thinking it was the bartender asking if she wanted another drink, her shaking her head and waving it off. She does a double take before sitting up ramrod straight and giving a light, if embarrassed, smile.

She waves and pats the stool next to her.

Venom bows her head and steps around the intervening stool and slips up onto the offered stool. She gives a little bow of the head and starts to sign, "Hello, how are you?"

The veiled head shifts angles several times, probably a once-over of Aryia's new threads and, "The new clothes working well?" <handspeech>

The mute mul'neissa places her pen into the spine of her journal and shuts it, her swiveling to face the veiled enigma. Her smile smooths out, a hand gesturing, "For once, great. Yourself?"

She looks down to her silvery vest, a hand brushing off nothing as she looks back up with a slightly wider smile. "Yes, they are. I really like them. A bit more of a pain than the dress to deal with, but I think I wouldn't feel as bad getting caught off guard in this. That tailor said it was meant to be a bit resistant to tearing so... we'll see sometime." <Handspeech>

A nod, and her hands frame a quick, "Glad to hear it."

Venom's veil shifts slightly as she gives a look to Aryia's vest as her hand moves along it's surface and lifts to level her gaze(presumably) with her friend's.

Her hands lift under the veil, unfastening something or other, letting some of the leatherwork beneath hand freely behind the veils. The task complete, she begins signing again, "The cloth seems sturdy enough and it fits you very well." <handspeech>

"The tailor was indeed good," she motions, letting Venom inspect the somewhat glossy fabric. She rolls her shoulders slightly, tilting her head up to match their gaze. A brow raises as a few leather pieces hang loose. "Thank you."

Her head tilts ever so faintly to the side. "Did you redeem your free dress?" she asks, one corner of her lips pulling up in a hint of a smirk. <Handspeech>

Venom gives a little shrug, then starts to frame her reply, one hand flipping and circling around the splay and flex of the other, "I decided to make another poncho. It will take some time, because he has to treat it so it works like this one."

There is a dip of her chin, and the silhouette of the loosened portions of her unermask renders her profile inhuman. She considers something for a few moments, then, "V will buy a dress of her own, soon. When there are no others around." <handspeech>

Aryia smooths her hair back as she watches the hands move around, her smile turning genuine as her suggestions were taken. "xgI think it would work well," she motions back, her reaching out to ruffle the poncho Venom already had on.

She taps her chin, considering the psudeo-eldritch being's plan. "Understandable. I think V will look nice in it." She glances off to the side towards her empty cup before asking with a cupped motion to her lips, "Want anything to drink?"<Handspeech>

Venom turns slightly toward Aryia at her question, the straps and miscelanae beneath the veil wagging and twisting some, and she nods.

Her hands lifts to flag down the bartender's attention, then she points at Aryia's cup, then holds up two fingers. There is a slight camber of her head, perhaps more thought, then she pats, well, what's probably her belly area.

Considering what the mul'neissa tended to go through, it didn't take much for two cups to be supplied. A sweet mead, one that the mul had finished a bit ago and didn't mind having another. She glances down at the pat, gives a thumbs up, and motions for something to eat (by pointing at various things behind the bar, then her mouth. Hell, she'd been here enough that they end up getting the gist of it.)

She turns back to Venom, her posing a question, "Been keeping busy? Or... more work like last time?" Her referencing the dead end mapping job. <Handspeech>

The veiled human gives a halfhearted gesture of so-so, then starts to elaborate, "More odd jobs and listening."

She freezes, hand hovering in place for a few seconds, then starts anew, "I've been wondering about something. In the shop." Here, her phrasing stops completely. <handspeech>

The demeanor change was picked up on, Aryia having figured out that stuttered signs and half formed words we're Venom's tick. She slides forward on her stool some, getting a bit closer. "What is it?" the mul asks, brows pinched a bit in concern. There was a number of things such a question posed. Like who was Daed and why was he buying things for them? Why was Aya acting so strange? And... well... <Handspeech>

The veiled hand pivots some, then twists in the other direction a moment before returning to facing Aryia before her signs renew, "You were strange for a moment, there..."

After a moment, probably to parse the sequence of gestures, she resumes, "I think I..." hesitating again, then, "made a mistake, but I don't understand what."

The well dressed, scarred mul'neissa blinks. Blinks again. Then her mouth makes a little 'o' in realization. Aryia sighs deeply, her rubbing her neck and picking up her drink to fill her hands. Just to abate her twitches. She sips, and sets it aside.

A steeling breath. "I trust you, which is why I didn't say anything," she prefaces, looking back up at Venom. "To put it simply, doing this..."

She pretends to grab something beside her with her thumb and a hooked forefinger, then lift it up and give an appraising look. Aryia glances back to Venom, her gesturing slowly, "is a Charnese act of superiority. You do that when buying slaves. Looking them over, so to speak." <Handspeech>

Aryia gave the explanation smoothly, as if all too familiar with it.

The initial response is somewhat troubling, as Aryia's expressions shift, and she makes many of the same motions she had the moment in question. There is a slight shift in the shrouded figure's posture, though there is the feeling her eyes are locked upon Aryia as she finally deigns to form her reply.

The answer is straightforward enough on it's face, though the connotations are beyond what she had somewhat conservatively expected. There is, behind the veils and dangling masks a little hint of voice catching with her breath before her head bows deep.

Several heartbeats pass

Several more...

Her hands come together falteringly and frame a slow, "I'm so sorry." <handspeech>

Aryia shifts a bit during the silence, heart sinking some as she could almost feel Venom's guilt build like a rapidly rising tide. She bites her cheek, wanting to help stem it some. A scarred hand reaches out, lightly resting on Venom's knee. She wiggles a hand in front of where her friend was bowing so she could see. "Hey."

A careful, slow breath. "You're okay. It's fine."

She points at Venom, grazes a thumb under the veiled woman's chin, and taps the side of her hooded head with all her fingers. "You didn't know." <Handspeech>

Venom's hand reaches out to curl over the one at her knee, though it still takes another couple of seconds to start to reply with the other, "He stopped doing that when we were still small, we knew how to stand by then."

Her hand flexes at the fingers in sequence, then slowly slides along the edge of the bartop as if wiping itself clean before she continues, "We saw fond humans do that, too. I hadn't...." a hesitation, "cnsidered the Charn angle at the time. I was careless." <handspeech>

He? Aryia tilts her head to the side, holding onto the hand with a light squeeze. She blinks. Oh. Him. Shit. That asshole. Though, the only thing that showed her comprehension was a barely audible, "Oh."

The mute shadow elf shakes her head. "No," three fingers clamp together. "You didn't know. You can't be careless if you didn't know."

A beat. "Fond humans. Sil. Lucht, most do. It's just specifically a Charn thing when one does exactly this." She repeats the motion off to the side, though her arm slowly lowers, Aryia's hand resting on the bartop. A nail scratches against the grain. "Are... you...." Cold feet, question salvaged into something else. "Just don't lift the chin, and you should be fine." <Handspeech>

Venom shakes her head slightly, but lifts her hands to reply with them both, "I won't do that again."

She lets that settle in for the moment, then finally manages to look her friend in the face again, "Was.... your dinner nice?" she inquires, perhaps a diversion to let them both regroup. <handspeech>

Aryia's face falls just a hint, feeling like that wasn't enough reassurance. She gained an idea, her rugged throat bobbing. She picks up Venom's gloved hand held in hers, pulls it towards her face, and lightly cups it against her scarred cheek. She smiles a tiny bit, pulling her hand away to leave Venom's there. "You can do that instead."

She glances to the plate now placed between them, bread and cheese, untouched. When did that get there? "... I... haven't eaten yet," she motions slowly, face dusted red at the thought of skipping a meal. All wrapped up in the tense moment. <Handspeech>

Venom's head lists a touch as her hand is guided to her friend's cheek, and there is the faintest shiver in the limb for a moment, but the touch lingers freely.

Well, until Aryia's attention is drawn to the bar and it's surprise bounty when it hastily withdraws to allow her to eat.

Perhaps not to get bit.

She takes a slow breath, then reaches out for a little bit of cheese before signing a, "Thank you." <handspeech>

Aryia breaks the bread in half before tearing off a morsel for herself. She holds the piece up in front of her, just barely shielding a small smile. "You're very welcome," she motions with her free hand, it rubbing the side of her face for the briefest of moments.

A few morsels, a few sips of liquid courage, a bite or two of cheese. "You know, if you want to ask me anything, anything at all," she starts, looking up at Venom, past the oily cloth right to where she knew the dark eyes were. "You can ask. I promise you won't upset me. I know... a lot of my past is hard to talk about. But I trust you." <Handspeech>

Venom there is a nod, some shifting of her features behind the veils, perhaps even a smile before the shrouded woman nods.

She brings the cheese up under the cloth, past the twisting leather and makes it's deposit before she starts with her hands free to sign, "LIkewise. I trust you, but I..." here she falters a moment, considering proprieties, or phrasing, or whatever else factors within that obscured head of hers, then, "Feel more comfortable talking about some things when we're alone." <handspeech>

Aryia glances to the platter, to her journal, her bag, then her drink. Yeah, she could carry all of that if need be. "Then let's be alone," she gestures, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the stairs. "I have a room."

She blinks.

"To talk." <Handspeech>

Venom's head cocks a touch at her hesitation, the blink, holding the pose for a second or three, then she nods, slipping down off the stool to take up her cup and, to be helpful yet, the platter as well. The shrouded one glances behind herself, edging back out of the way so her friend can take point with a more manageable share of burdens.

Aryia scoops up her journal, sliding it into her bag and taking up drink. She gives a thankful nod at the help, her offering a smile. A strap is shouldered as Aryia holds up a finger, her reaching forward to fasten one of the leather clasps for Venom to make sure her guise wouldn't be ruined from an errant breeze from the front door.

Satisfied, she leads on, up the stairs and down a few door. It's keyed opened, and she slips inside.

The first feature of Aryia's rented room that stands out is that it's dark. Completely, absolutely, vacant of any sort of light source, like an inky void. A pair of shimmering milky eyes appear in the midst of it all, them squinting in an amused manner before they vanish. There's a click, and a lantern drives away the inky black to a low light. A number of interest points line the room. A stack of scribbled pages fill a desk, a few empty inkwells stacked nearly off to the side. The curtain was nailed shut to the wall, blocking out any of the full moon outside. An open wardrobe present, thee green dress from before, a corset, a skirt, and a number of Aryia's casual wear present. Aside from those few things, there wasn't much else. Not that she needed much else.

She places her drink on the desk, her gesturing for Venom to sit anywhere she pleased as she herself took a seat on the bed.

Venom blinks behind the veils as the hand rises up under her guise to help secure the inner layer for her, sealing her slight smile away. There is a nod as the hand withdraws and the shrouded one follows the Mul' upstairs.

Once at the threshold, her head pans slightly, as it had during the trip up and even along the hallway, perhaps a habitual scan of her environment.

The darkness briefly gives her a moment of consternation as she tries to figure out where she's going to put everything when Aryia decides there will be light anew. Instead, her hands set her burdens on the desk as Aryia does, then spends a few moments divesting herself of her shrouds, folding the oilcloth poncho, though she keeps the veils and undermask in hand. The poncho flops to the floor behind her feet, one tucked behind the other, and she crouches down before rocking back to smoothly settle on the impromptu cushion.

Her dark eyes sweep the room corner to corner, colors tinted by lanternlight alone, rather than the subtle hue shifting meshes of her veils and she lets a small, casual smile spread across her lips, "Nice place." she starts.

Aryia waits for Venom to get herself comfortable. Door shut, nary a single soul here aside from the two of them. She unknowingly smiles as now twice seen visage is bared to her once more. Though falters a hint at Venom's choice of seating. A hand is halfway raised towards the desk chair, but stops midway.

Her long ears twitch at the voice. "... th-nks," Aryia softly hisses back, her returning the smile. She thinks for a moment before shrugging, picking up the platter from the desk, and sliding to the floor cross legged across from Venom.

Quiet. "I think this is better than downstairs," she gestures, setting the food between them. <Handspech>

Venom nods and brushes her hair back from her face before she shrugs out of her pack as well, letting it settle against the floor as well. She watches Aryia settle in, brow arching just a little, but, she reaches for a small piece of cheese and nods, "We can be ourselves." she agrees.

She takes a bite of cheese, sighing with some small satisfaction at the flavor, and starts to sign with her emmpty had while she chews, "Is there something you want to ask?" <handspeech>

Aryia dips her chin deep in agreement. Yes, themselves. She unfolds her legs and turns some, back against the bed. She reaches up to grab her drink off the desk, her sipping on it as she watches the glove hand move. She drums her fingers against the metal handle. Tak tak tak. Tak tak tak. Tak tak tak.

"You..." how to word this. "You said something a bit ago. And a while back. You said you and your friends saw humans do that thing." She makes the cupping motion off to the side. "And... when you were V. You said 'mode'. Is... I... Sorry, I'm trying to figure out how to say this. I know what to say but not the.."

More drink, yes. Calm those nerves. Ah, yes. She snaps her fingers. "What were you supposed to... observe? Watch?" <Handspeech>

Venom swallows her bite of cheese asit's reduced to the proper consistency, while her eyes track the movement of Aryia's hand through it's retrieval of the cup, the start of beat.

The unveiled Acanian leans forward slightly as Aryia begins her query, remembering the statement, and the rest.

Her expression dims in increments, more thought of phrasing and, perhaps how far to chase the start of the thread for context's sake.

The snap.

The focus of the question.

She clicks her tongue and nods, lowering her eyes a moment to consider the subtle planes and valleys of her lingering morsel, the light playing in different radiance from spots dry, wet, cut, broken and sheered.

"We were... dispersed to bring him any potentially useful information from settlements that were considered viable threats, at first." she says with a little shrug, her eyes half-lidding in regret, or recollection, "He'd send small groups of us out under the command of one of the Others to absorb gossip, or steal what were considered vital items for his plans."

Aryia's appetite seems to have been abandoned as the still glimmering eyes' sole focus was upon Venom and her answer. She leans to the side till she was laying on her side, head propped up on a hand. The mute woman squints a bit, head tilting to the side.

"At first?," she asks with a single digit held out, pulling that hanging thread. <Handspeech>

Venom nods, and she exhales a low sigh through her nose, "Once his products were proved to be properly functioning, we were given more wide ranging tasks. Smaller units, with more autonomy."

She takes another bite of cheese and works on it, this time more slowly as she starts to take over the explanation in sign, "Carrying missives to other agents he had in play. I've been deployed to Rune, Myrrdion, and Dran for this."

Her shoulders shift slightly and she continues without looking up, "Eliminating people he considered pivotal, or no longer trustworthy."

Swallowing, she begins to speak anew, "That happened more and more often as we got older. We'd work in pairs, then. Me and Slip" there's a certain muddled light in her eyes at the word, the name(?), "... most often."

It all sounded like a piece of well oiled artifice. Aryia sips on her drink as Venom speaks and gestures, her doing her best to place herself in the once-veiled woman's shoes. That was a lot of work. She bottomed out the drink. When she got older? Hell, was she offing people as a kid? She frowns into her cup. She herself was no stranger to being used like a tool at that age.

The slight shift in Venom's demeanor was easy to pick up on. She sits upright and slides over, a scarred hand reaching out to rest on a knee once more. "T-ll m- m-r- -b-ut Sl-p?" she audibly requests, the whispery noise so, so quiet.

Venom looks at her hands for a moment, closing them into fists for a moment, then slowly relaxes them and leaves them folded on her lap.

What can she say to respond to the question?

At first, nothing, but the question prompts her mind to draw on context, on experience, and there is a weak, troubled smile at her lips as the lantern light finds new luster in the corner of her eyes.

"He was..." she swallows, "made earlier, but not a lot... we think." This comes with a shrug, then, "Tsuran structure... four inches taller than me and..." She pauses, head turning ever so slightly, then, "Fast on his feet, quick hands... gentle..."

"...gentle hands."

Aryia tilts her head, not really able to read Venom's face that well. The silence that pervaded made her think that perhaps that was a bad question to ask. But truly, were there any good questions? Between them, they could probably litter a whole dungeon with traps with just the scars of their past.

Then, an answer.

Her visage shifts from a soft, supportive smile. To a pensive one, trying to imagine them.

A lead ball rested in her gut at the quiet admittance. And her face pulled down into a somber sorrow. To be honest, Aryia did not exactly have too much experience with such things, relationships. But she knew enough over the decades to get by.

And it was only then that Aryia caught the offending glimmer. For all her awkwardness, her uncertainty and her bumbling, she shoves it all aside as she sits up on her knees. Shuffles forward. And carefully wraps Venom in a white sleeved hug.

Sadly, they probably could between them.

Her head still floundering in memory, Venom misses the array of expressions that take turns shading Aryia's face.

The fingers of her right hand curl slightly as it slowly lifts toward her chest, the corners of her mouth falling as the glittle in her left eye swells and starts to crawl down her cheek.

It's at that moment that the gentle arms enfold her, and there is something conditioned, beaten, and honed within her distracted mind that momentarily tightens the sinews of her frame for all the span of the clench and release of a heart before the gesture; compassionate and concerned reaches something deeper, yet.

thmp-thump... and the young Acanian melts into it, burying her face in her friend's shoulder in tense silence.

Despite being a near full head smaller than the human, Aryia is built like a solid brick. And more importantly, a pillar for such a thick emotion in the air. She holds on through the rigidity, it was something she expected, as she would have reacted the same.

A scarred, rugged hand rests on the back of Venom's head as she's pulls the Acanian in tighter. Her head shifts slightly, a long ear tickling the side of the others face as:-

There's a sound. A very faint. Needle-dropping-against-the-ground faint sound. Only heard due to how deathly quiet it is, and close its source is.

"It's okay. I'm here."

Some reactions are deeper than training, nature before nurture, and it's amongst those that Venom's reaction ultimately draws on. Warm... protected... cared for, the young soul shakily enwraps the smaller woman, her rock, in her arms.

In time, the Mul'niessa, her friend, will feel the tiny spots of dampness when they finally soak through the fine weave of her attire, herded from eyes clenched shut with the reassurance Aryia affords, despite the physical difficulties involved.

A shudder, more profound than before, ripples along the human's form, a sniff, and her next breath draws in a quavering note as it catches twice in the doing.

The gods only know of how many times Aryia was in such a position, vying to feed nature caused by turmoil. And as her her new threads grew damp, her hold only grew tighter. Through her friend, the small mul'neissa saw herself. Young, alone, afraid on those streets. She did not have this.

The embrace grew firm, and stalwart, hand running through the black hair. They were too young for this shit.

Again, that nearly silenced voice whispers back through shaking. "I-It... I-It's okay."

Her gaze grew watery.

It's a few, quavering breaths before the human sets forth an actual, choked note. Her arms tense, gloved fingers curling desperately into the dark flesh of her friend.

A sniff, and a strangled whimper, "I... d-don't... I don't know...!" she moans into the fine cloth sheathing Aryia's shoulder.

Aryia was not expecting the... intensity of her normally stoic friend's sobbing. She was all but pulled closer, the embrace deep. She herself was trying to not sniffle, despite the tears that were now rolling down her scarred, grey cheeks. She waits another moment for the whimpering to quiet down, another deathly faint sentence muttered straight into Venom's ear.

"W... What don't y-you know?" the wind says.

Venom shakes her head slightly and, "Whe-where..." A choked swallow, "Where... he...!"

The human's veneer peeled away in stages so, there are things under the effected demeanor, perhaps even she hadnn't realized she herself wasn't ready to look at.

"Why... why didn't they......?"

Why didn't they check?

Why didn't they notice?

Aryia blinked, lashes clearing away the mist. It was okay to cry, to vent, but the mute woman herself had certainly been prone to an escalating sense of hysteria. She pulls away- just a smidge-, to be directly face to face with the human. The hand in the black silk slid forward, cupping a cheek to get her to look at shimmering eyes.

"Shhh...." she calms, thumb brushing at the other's cheek. For only a brief, brief moment, her hand pulls back to gesture, "Tell me what happened." Only for it to return back its attempt at calming strokes. <Handspeech>

Venom's cheek is wet, it's apparance will come to fruition through the silk in time.

Her deathgrip softened, as Aryia draw's back, the hand's guidance is almost all that brings the woman's eyes up toward hers, anguish and perhaps the question of worth as a creature part of a unit finds itself suddenly abandoned.

She sniffs, and her body slightly atremble at first.

Her eyes finally drop to the mute's signing and she seems to partially deflate, then... a few breaths later, she sighs.

"Of us all," she starts, a forced calm packed down over the tremulous emotions at play as she tries to force herself into her regimented habit, "I worked most...with Slip." the name causes a brief flutter in that regard, "We synched well."

She looks down at her hands as they finally withdraw completely from her friend and they start to sign, "We scouted many towns, and we noticed male and female pairings..."

A pause, and she glances downward and off to a side as she perhaps tries to form the rest, "Fondness. Friendship. More." A swallow, and, "We sometimes had to watch... then... we got curious." <handspeech>

Aryia still holds the embrace with her other arm, eyes softly watching Venom. As the human speaks, the elf picks up the cuff of her sleeve and gently brushes away the wetness on Venom's face. Only when Venom starts signing does Aryia pull back some. But still she was right there, the space between them nary a foot. There, should the normally veiled one need something to latch onto.

The pugilist watches the gloved hands dance, twist, and tell the story. And her expression grows somber. "You fooled around," she interprets and emptily chuckles, shaking her head to reset the tone. "I take it you... felt more than just fondness and friendship with him. Or it was all of those and more?" <Handspeech>

Venom blinks and cants her head, brow knitting as she tries to parse the phrasing, "We had the right equipment." she answers.

There must have been something, for the color that took her cheeks, and she shrugs, "I..." she says out loud, before she seems somewhat surprised by the lapse.

She renews her sign,"We... did it wrong the first time. Then... later, we tried again, and it felt good."

There's a fidget, a nervy swallow and the brief pass of the very tip of her tongue to moisten her lips.

"In time, I... started to have trouble. I needed to eat more." <hanspeech>

Something touches her eyes, dark but pervasive, like a scar in her mind, then, "He noticed. My body was... out of condition."

There's a tinge of amusement that flicks across her eyes. "Everyone has the right equipment," she motions back, a light smile crossing her face for the moment as Venom recounts fumbling around. A knowing, empathetic smile that probably expressed that she had been down such troubles before.

Though, she blinks. Oh. Oh no.

Aryia wasn't the most educated of them all, but she was smart enough to connect many dots, very quickly, leant to her only by the course of surviving for many, many decades.

"V... V-n-m..." she whispers softly, the shimmering eyes starting to regain their wetness, making them twinkle. A hand searches for and gently holds onto a gloved one. But she doesn't make any motion of stopping her friend from speaking.

Venom's eyes still have that dark, almost haunted look, though there is an ember of something else as well, "I was... alone." she starts, but breaks off again, seemingly reminded of something by the sound of her own voice.

SHe switches to the handspeech again, her seized hand curling into the other, a tremor in the grip, in stray wisps of her bangs even if not enough to catch in the motion of her speaking hand, "Morbid" a new name, one that fans the flames of fear and hate in equal measure, "demanded to know what I did to his work. If I..."

The hand stills a moment, something at the fingertips, then the flex and twist start anew, "defied him. Compromised my usefulness. He...." The grip on Aryia's hand tightens, and her eyes close, "I don't know when he stopped... I woke later. The Others kept anyone from helping me. He wouldn't use his machines. He left me to repair myself. Left me as... a lesson for us all." <handspeeech>

Aryia's eyes trembled ever so faintly in their sockets. She could read between the lines. Almost feel everything that must have transpired during such a dark moment in her friend's life. She does mouth the new name. It must have been His name. She knew not the true fear, but just as much of the hate for them was already starting to broil.

"V... V... V-n... V-n-m..." she mutters yet again, holding onto the hand in hers tightly. The shadow elf could not help but shake her head, making some of the tears building on her cheeks fling off to the side. "Th-t f-ck-ng p-c- -f sh-t..." A morbid, somber silence. "I take it... that revolt happened soon after," she motions, the hand ending up cupping the one she was already holding. <Handspeech>

Venom seems somewhat disarmed when Aryia starts to speak so, and in tears to boot. She... shrinks slightly into herself, but her hand reaches out for the dark, glistening cheek, cupping gently. She brushes at the moistened trail with her thumb, "Aryia...." she utters in a half strangled note, "...don't.. don't cry.... not for me...."

There is a glance to the hands before her own is folded within them. She swallows, and nods, "Weeks..."

She looks at her hand, starting to form another word, but stops, and keeps speaking aloud, in more subsumed volume, "He'd driven off the Others like him. Suspicion and spite... he started to see... plots, everywhere."

Aryia sinks her face into the touch, despite small rivulets of tears already building and falling, staining the glove. She too had a nature that was starved, after all. "I will cry for my friend," she motions, though augments the last sign by prodding Venom on the sternum. She sniffles, listening carefully.

Seeing as her voice was locked in comfort, she leans forward until her head was over Venom's shoulder, lips next to their ear. <Handspeech>

"It sounded as if He went mad..."

Venom closes her eyes and shrugs slightly, ever so slightly so as not to hurt her friend as her arms move to encircle her.

She is silent for several beats of her heart, not sure if she should argue the finer points. That her history troubles Aryia so is... distressing, but.. also.... she doesn't fully grasp 'the also', but it's kind of.... nice.

"Maybe... I.. don't know how long it was, but... I was the only one who woke... of those left behind."

It took no further prompting as Aryia too wrapped Venom in a tight hug. She nods into her friend's shoulder, the hand in the black silk returning to rest against the human's head.

She shifts again, some black hair catching on the elf's ear.

Again the wind. An errant breeze. "... and then you came here..." Left out was the recognition of Venom's lover having not made it. But it went unspoken.

Aryia holds the hug for a long while, either until Venom releases her, or until she herself pulls away ever so slightly. A finger taps below the other's eyes, then points to her lips before returning back.

"Thank you. For telling me all that."

She gives a watery smile.

Venom nods weakly under the hand, though her embrace is firm, but not crushing. More wetness spreads along the finely clad shoulder before the hugs soften and the women part enough to look each other in the eye, and she answers a soft, uncertain, "You're welcome. I... didn't want.... I didn't mean to..."

Aryia shakes her head, a hand reaching out to cup the other's damp face. "Do you feel a little better?" her free hand gestures, the smile staying. <Handspeech>.

Venom's eyes and lips tell a story of uncertainty at the question. She leans a little into the light touch, but the vaguely troubled furrow of her brows contradicts the slight smile at her lips. She swallows, then, "I.... I don't know... Kind of yes.... but no, too... I don't... I'm not making sense, am I....?"

Aryia gives a small sigh. Not one of annoyance or frustration, but one of empathy. And understanding. They weren't to different after all. "You are. I know how you feel. Confused, without guidance of your feelings. This... this pain, this sorrow and sadness. Do not be ashamed for showing me these emotions. We are not machines. We are people. You, are a person. And as... hard as it is for me to admit, I am too. People are complicated. They feel things without reason. And that's okay. If you want to cry, you cry. If you get mad, then be mad. If you're happy, be happy. These emotions don't make you broken. They make you, V."

She sniffles, wiping her nose on a fancy sleeve before smiling a bit wider now. "It's going to hurt, but you just started to figure who you are." <Handspeech>

Venom lowers her eyes, the slight shifts in her expression, perhaps trying to put everything shown the light of day, as it were, back into something resembling order, or, at least get them out of the main course of her mind. She smiles a little more, glimmers of gratitude overtaking the darker motes of her expression, though she is still struggling to figure out where she is. Not knowing fully what else to do, she leans in to give the dark elf, another like her, another hug and closes her eyes.

"You're.... a kind person..." she says softly into her ear, as the Mul had her, before, "... a good person."

Aryia closes her eyes and leans into the embrace wholeheartedly, nestling her face into the crook of Venom's neck.

The whispered words surprised her. She didn't know why, or what reason caused it. But those few words tumbled into a long, scarred ear. Rolled into her head, and dropped straight down and struck a chord along the way. In a prime example of her earlier soliloquy, Aryia gives a quiet gasp. A shudder. "I... I'm a... good... p... p...?" the wind all but stutters before the elf just, sort of... starts bawling. Hugging Venom tightly and staining her shoulder.

One could faintly hear through the breathy sounds, "N-No one's ever t-told me that before..!"

The reponse isn't quite what Venom expected. Well, the hug.... the hug is.

The hugging is nice, and it warms the troubled young woman's heart. The companionship and... empathy between the two. The belonging.

The gasp, though... that takes a little bit of the firmness from her embrace without slacking it... the shudder though, that loosens her arms enough for Morbid's broken blade to start to ease back to look to her friend's face.

That impulse is checked by the sudden, desperate ferver in Aryia's embrace and she can't but yield before the passion of it, and her arms tighten in turn. A hand moves in loose arcs along the Mul'niessa's back, rubbing at her in a way she'd seen when another was in such distress and she closes her eyes.

"Sss-ssomeone...." she starts, the unrealized parallels between them troubling her subconscious, threading in her soft tone, "just... had to look.... I'm.... sorry it... took so long..."

Aryia cries. And sobs. Never does she cross into hysteria, no, she's done that far too many a times in her past to know where that line is. But the muttered words made it quite hard. But over time, she calms. The hand on her back soothing, the embrace warm. And alone with her friend... safe.

She pulls away slowly, looking away to wipe off her snot and tear ridden face. After a few moments to calm herself down, Aryia asks with twisting gestures, "V..? Do... do you want to stay the night? So we can just... talk? I know humans like their sleep, I have an extra bed roll. I just... Maybe... I don't know..." And there she goes, waffling about again line Aryia does. <Handspeech >

Venom rides out the torrent with her, holding on and continuing to gently stroke her back in that same, gentle motion. Her eyes are wet, cheeks both agleam for the emotions let slip from them both, as Aryia draws back to ask her question.

Her arms slacken at the letter offered as name in her current 'mode'.

Her hands draw back to Aria's sides by the time the queries reach 'talk'.

A sniffle precedes a tiny smile as the talk of bedding down comes round.

'I just...' Her right hand withdraws entirely from her side.

'Maybe..' It begins to rise.

'I don't know.' A gloved hand alights like a shadow against the graceful angle of an elven cheek and the human unveiled answers with a more certain, fond smile at her lips:

"I do."