Senkha & Oliver: May 2

Macglynn says: So. Y'talk ter that druid?

Senkha says: Not yet. She's supposed to stop down here, though I've no real way of contacting her. I just worry that Lius is right... that my leg's destroyed.

Macglynn taps the comm now set in his ear. "Ah could call, whenever y'want."

Senkha rolls a shoulder. "It's late tonight, but maybe tomorrow... I'd like to get this taken care of. And speaking of taking care of things." She glances at Oliver's tabard.

Macglynn looks at her, guilty. "-Yeah. Ah took care 'a things. Ah'm sorry."

Senkha says: I figured you'd join up sooner rather than later. I just... well. I wish I could be there with you.

Macglynn says: Soon. Y'will be soon.

Senkha glances at Oliver sideways and gives him a slight, sad smile. "I don't know if Stehl wants me in the unit, love, no matter what we want."

Macglynn sighs, his armor clanking lightly as his shoulders drop. "Seems no matter whut we do things jus' ain't meant ta go yer way, hm."

Senkha links her fingers with Oliver's, squeezing his hand gently. "You know, I started to think about things, and if that's the case... well, I just have to make the best of it, don't I?"

Macglynn says: Y'have any thoughts? Fer whut y'may do on th' off-chance y'ain't gunna make it back out in combat?

Senkha says: I honestly don't know. I'm afraid of that prospect... I just can't imagine living the rest of my life like this.
To Macglynn: Or the rest of my unlife.

Macglynn blinks at you.

Senkha blinks as well, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Sorry."

Macglynn looks down at the floor, brows pressing together as that damn grub crawls its way out from under the chair. He ignores it, though. "Y'think that a lot."

Winston makes happy ghoul noises outside the door. There's also a thud.

Senkha says: ...it feels kind of inevitable, you know? Especially since we started back with the-- what was that thud?

Macglynn looks up at her worriedly. "Back with th' whut?" The thud is followed by an irritated "bleargh!" and the squawking of several chickens.

Senkha shrugs slightly. "With the necromancy. I don't know... it's kind of a blessing, in a way. All these bad things have their silver linings."

Macglynn says: Maybe so. Don't lahk it jus' th' same, though. Don't really gotta explain why.

Senkha says: I know why. I don't really look -forward- to it... but, well. Having more than a few years with you...
Senkha's cheeks flush slightly at this.

Macglynn shakes his head, looking up at her after a moment. "Y'don't care at all about th' cost, do you."

Senkha glances sideways at Oliver and sighs. "I care. You can't be from Lordaeron and honestly -not- care. I... Light, it's just... I don't know. It-- nnn."
To Macglynn: --it'd be worth it. Oh Light, smokescreen, husband can't see how crazy she is.

Macglynn reaches over to her and takes her by the upper arms, and with an uncharacteristic worry says, "-Tell me what yer thinking-." Outside, the squawking stops, as well as the angry ghoul noises.

Senkha blinks, stunned at the sudden display of uncharacteristic worry. Her smokescreen falls away before she can stop it: It'd be worth it to be with you forever, just the two of us, we'd never be alone again, either of us, together fore-- and then the smokescreen is up again and Senkha shakes her head, muttering something about being insane.

Macglynn lets her go, leaning back in his chair again. "Ah don't know if it's me whut poisoned yer mind, or if y'always been this way. Ah may not even be m'self in ferever, Senkha. An' neither may you."

Senkha says: Light, I -know- that, I just wish I had more -time-. I hate that everyone I love is essentially immortal.

Macglynn glances over at her, but doesn't say anything. Not about that, at least. What can he say to that? He does eventually give a groan of frustration and look away again, saying, "Few years won't be worth it."

Senkha shakes her head, dropping her hands into her lap and pressing her lips together. "That's why I don't really want undeath specifically. I just want... more years. Even just ten more."

Macglynn says: Y'ain't gunna fahnd that with nekermancy.

Senkha says: ...do you want it?

Senkha looks up at Oliver, regarding him seriously.

Macglynn says: No.
Macglynn whispers: Oliver is a lying liar that lies and he knows it.

Senkha says: The truth.

Macglynn says: No.

Senkha just sort of stares at Oliver, frowning slightly.
Senkha says: Look, just because you want it doesn't mean that I'm going to ask you to kill and raise me right here or that we'll both start thinking it's right and moral.
Senkha says: People want things that aren't right and moral all the time, but that doesn't mean we want them any less.

Macglynn says: There's wantin' somethin' fer yerself, an' then there's wantin' somethin' fer th' sake 'a somebody else. Sometahms these things conflict.

Senkha says: ...you'd want it for yourself.

Macglynn says: -- Ah didn't mean it that way.
Macglynn whispers: Liar. -Liar-.

Senkha sighs and kisses Oliver's hand gently. "I'm sorry we brought it up. I'm sorry. This isn't something we should talk about because it's not... I mean it doesn't make you happy."

Macglynn gives a quiet, conceding laugh. "Y'called yerself insane. Ah'd not say Ah'm too far off from that m'self."

Senkha says: ...show me.

Macglynn takes his hand back, giving it a quick wave. "Would rather not."

Senkha shakes her head again, once more as if clearing fog. "Light, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I don't know where that came from."

Macglynn says: Yes y'do.

Senkha says: Where did it come from, then?

Macglynn says: Where else'd it come from but you?

Senkha says: Well I know that. Just... I don't know. I don't know why I'm sitting here wanting to see your insanity.

Macglynn leans back in his chair again. He looks blankly ahead, eventually lifting his hands to gesture around as he talks. "There's me an' there's whut th' Skurge made me. Sort'a don't matter whut's whut, 'cause in th' end it's all me." His hands come together, as if mimicking strangling. "Ah want t' watch yer lahf slip outta you by my own hands. Ah wanna claim yer soul fer me, make y'inta somethin' ain't no better'n that slobberin' thing outsahd. But it wouldn' matter. B'cause yuh'd belong t'me, no queshuns."
Macglynn keeps talking, over her. "But it ain't pleasant. Th' satisfaction 'a watchin' somethin's flesh melt away by yer own power as y'force its will t'yer own at th' same tahm."

Senkha closes her eyes and looks away, less out of discomfort at his statements and more out of her own shame. "Don't you know that I already do belong to you?" she asks in a low voice. "I know it's not pleasant. It's not something I sit here and daydream for hours about how pleasant it'd be, not the way I remember... things." She flushes. "I know it's what the Scourge made of you that wants it. I know that you... the you that belongs to -me-... is horrified at it. I'm sorry."

Macglynn smiles weakly. "It's a thing Ah live with fer ev'rythin', Senkha, an' Ah know it don't surprahs y'none. Ah kin't keep m'thoughts hid all day, Ah fergit. Yuh've said y'belong ta me. Ah dunno whut that means in a sense other'n th' way yuh'd say fer a mahndless damn pet. It's sick 'a me ta think 'a you that way."

Senkha still isn't looking at Oliver, though her voice is thoughtful. "I don't mean it that way. Not like that. I just mean... I don't know how to explain it. I'm yours as much as you're mine, I guess. I trust you with my mind and my body."

Macglynn says: Y'really shouldn't.
Macglynn says: But Ah'm glad y'do.

Senkha says: Do you?

Macglynn says: Trust you?

Senkha says: Yes.

Macglynn smiles again. "Well. Considerin' whut yer capable 'a an' th' freedom Ah give you, Ah'd hope so."

Senkha finally looks back at Oliver and smiles at him. "I wouldn't try to control you. It's not something I want, and I hate doing it when I have to. But... I'm glad you trust me."

Macglynn says: Ah dun' think yuh'd put up with all th' shit y'has if y'meant wrong.

Senkha reaches over and kisses Oliver lightly on the cheek. "Speaking of trust... do you want to practice some more?"

Macglynn says: ... S'pose there ain't a point in not.

Senkha grins and squeezes Oliver's hand. "I trust you," she repeats.

Macglynn says: A'rite. See ha' much Ah trust m'self here, heh.
Macglynn doesn't sound like he trusts himself.

Senkha squeezes Oliver's hand again. "The only way to start trusting yourself more is to work at it. You're getting much better."

Macglynn nods. "Yeah. Know that." He closes his eyes, still not looking completely thrilled, but she'd instantly feel a shift. Everything looks the same, except the insects crawling about are gone, and the ghoul outside is silent.

Senkha shivers at the change, not used to not being the one to bring it on. She looks over at Oliver hopefully, still holding his hand. "Not bad at all," she comments, looking around.

Macglynn's nerve is reflected in his breath. Here, he is alive, and the signs of stress can actually show. "A'rite. So, tell me whut t' do. 'Cause Ah guess yer teachin' me."
Macglynn keeps mumbling, "Well, Ah know whut t' do an' ha' t' do it, but more whut we should be doin' practicin', y'know."

Senkha pauses thoughtfully, sitting back in the chair. "Hm. Well, you know how to look at memories and feelings. And you know how to create them, too, but we don't usually get to practice that without a loss of control. Why don't we practice that?"

Macglynn says: Create fake memories?

Senkha blinks, looking surprised at this suggestion. "...I've never tried that before myself, but I know that's something that happened in the Scourge. Maybe you could try that, though, but try it towards the -good- this time."

Macglynn blinks when she does. "Ah thought that's whut y'meant. Ah ain't sure there's a way t' plant anythin' in somebody's head an' really be fer th' good. It's still fake."

Senkha nods. "It is still fake, but... well, maybe that could give some insight on how to heal memories, you know? Ones that were damaged or twisted?" She doesn't say, in case there's another Patrick Morgan, but the thought hangs in the air just the same.

Macglynn 's mouth opens slightly, almost in protest, but he closes it after a second thought. "That... ain't a bad ahdea." He readies himself, closing his eyes in concentration. "Ah'm sorry if this hurts."

Senkha nods, closing her eyes as well and squeezing his hand. Once again, she repeats, "I trust you." --memories are pretty bad, not much you can do to fuck them up, I'll be okay.

The bond between them is opened, and in a momentarily painful rush, his memories become hers. All of them. As memories tend to work, though, she's not inundated with them until he searches for them himself, but they're there. He recalls the night in Lordaeron, the cage in which his old enemy and mouthy girlfriend were held. Standing there, in the cage, in his thoughts, at insanity's edge as he labored to weave back together everything he did. "You r'member them yerself- ta undo 'em, y'have ta see 'em. Y'jus' gotta give 'em-" He breaks off, his own thoughts drifting back to the original act of tearing them apart. They stray significantly- Patrick Morgan, and hundreds of nameless crusaders. Memories, thousands of them- back to Lordaeron. Back to Lordaeron. Back to the cage. You remember them yourself and you can have them back. That's why only I could do it.

Senkha gasps sharply, her grip on Oliver's hand becoming vicelike at the rush of memories. It's quite literally more information than she's ever had to process at once before, and even once she's adjusted somewhat, she's still pale and shaking, almost nauseous with the sheer volume of it. The cage in Lordaeron. She remembers it, too, remembers that moment but now from two perspectives, both of them just barely this side of sane. Remember them yourself. It draws her back to the night she found him in Corin's Crossing, tearing apart the city, wanting to die because he'd almost killed her, his hand vicelike around her throat, her daggers ineffective at stopping him. How would that change, she wonders? How would you change this one?

Macglynn 's head lowers and he brings his arms up around it. She can't see for the vivid memories, but he's shaking. "Happened. Ain't s'posed t' change it."

Senkha is shaking as well, though she doesn't seem to realize it. She's not entirely aware of what she's asking or talking about from the overload, but she still asks, "Don't change it, then. What would be different if you did? But don't change it."

Macglynn manages a smile, bringing his head up. He even laughs. "Th' whole thing? Th' past itself? That whole afternoon'd not 'a happened, that's whut." The memory shifts back to Azshara, him taking her hand and helping her down from the bench on the cliff. They ride away, away from the shoreline, their evening instead uneventful.

"But if it hadn't happened..." Senkha fast-forwards. The week itself isn't boring because Wym goes insane, but Senkha's still far more dependent than she ought to be on Oliver. When he disappears, she's a madwoman, unable to focus even on finding him simply lost to despair and entirely hopeless, unable to do a thing for herself. "It -had- to happen. The past happened for a reason. Good things happened because of bad choices."

Macglynn says: Yer th' one askin' me ta change it, not me.

Senkha laughs. "True. I -am- the crazier one, after all. I think... I think we've done enough with memories for the day." She's still reeling from the amount of Oliver memories in her mind now. "Let's try sensations."

Macglynn withdraws completely, giving her a break from that mess. Nobody her age should have to deal with all the memories of somebody his age, even subconsciously. "A'rite then," he says. "Though y'should know by na' Ah ain't too bad with that a'ready." He grins.

Senkha is sitting back in her chair, still looking pale and shaky like she's just run a marathon or been thrown around in a tornado. "The illusion's important, too. I mean... nn. You know. Maybe... maybe that's enough pra- practice for tonight."

Macglynn says: - Yeah. Yeah, a'rite.
The dream disperses. Oliver looks annoyed with himself.

Senkha continues to shake and look entirely overwhelmed. "Don't-- hnn. Don't be like that. Not your fault. Asked for it. Glad you did it. Just... a lot at once. Maybe... maybe smaller doses next time."

Macglynn stares you down.
Macglynn says: Y'dun' look so good.

Senkha laughs, sitting back in the chair and lifting a shaking head to her forehead. "It's a lot to process. Remember how it felt when the zeal first took effect and you could feel and breathe again?"

Macglynn says: ... Apparently you do.

Senkha says: It's kind of like that, only with memories. It's not -bad-, it's just a -lot-. I think my mind just needs time to sort through them.

Macglynn says: ... Should fergit most 'a it, thankfully.

Senkha says: Mm. I'd recommend against doing that to Shepard.
Senkha exhales shakily and then smiles at Oliver. "Thank you for sharing that with me. It means a lot to me."

Macglynn says: Yeah. No problem. Owed it.

Senkha says: Please don't feel bad about this.

Macglynn says: No, no... y'asked fer it.

Senkha nods and presses her lips together before finally smiling. She squeezes Oliver's hand again, gently.

Macglynn says: Think Ah may head... out, though. Kin come with, if y'want.

Senkha looks over at Oliver, raising an eyebrow. "Hunting?" she asks.

Macglynn rises from his chair, his heel barely missing the grub as he steps forward. "Mhm."

Senkha nods and closes her eyes. Effortlessly, Oliver would notice her taking up residence in his body, not attempting to control it by any means. Just being part of him. It must be familiar by now.

It is familiar. Quite familiar, in fact. He rolls a shoulder to allow his body some movement with the extra mental baggage, and walks for the door. "Be back in, uh." He pauses. "Ain't sure."
Macglynn trudges out into the swampland, across the water's surface as it freezes under his feet. It's a good ten minutes before he reaches a pocket of demons, their population thinning from his efforts. "Hello," he smiles, drawing his blade. The demons look equally happy to engage.

Senkha doesn't attempt to control or even attempt to speak to Oliver, but he'd likely notice an added pleasure to each kill, something that doesn't come from the blade. The smoother his movements are, the happier the feeling.

Macglynn doesn't notice this, at least not consciously. But he has few conscious thoughts as he kills, more a creature of instinct now. The swings of his blade grow elaborate, and he begins to deliberately create patterns with his slashes.

The happiness is almost a childlike delight, not at all unlike the way one feels when using a Spirograph or making a splatter painting. There's no adult sense of "less is more," just a mindless, childish sense of more is more, and they must have more.

This really isn't good for the mindset he falls into, and it serves to urge his madness further. Bodies fall into even piles, flesh bursting with disease in pinpoint-specific places to create splatters in amusing patterns.

Senkha still doesn't try to control Oliver, but he'd begin to sense her desire to move in as elegant of patterns as those he's creating with the carnage. A dance, that's what it is, something that doesn't have to be gory but can be beautiful.

Unwittingly, he follows what she wants anyway. It's a dance, and she's leading, even if she's riding on his feet. To an onlooker, it wouldn't be beautiful. The patterns impressive, perhaps, but invisible for the gore. But it's beautiful to her, and so it is to him. His blade is most pleased.

Senkha has become mindless in his arms, simply enjoying the grace of movement and the way this feels. She doesn't even try to suggest anything emotionally anymore. She just enjoys the ride.

With the suggestions fading, his senses come back to just his own and his blade's. He keeps the dance alive for a few more minutes, another demon torn apart, before he calms.

Senkha remains relaxed, though there's a slight sense of guilt about her; she didn't mean to control him at all, overtly or by suggestion.

"It's a'rite," he says aloud. "When it's th' two 'a us, whut y'want jus' happens."

What you want matters, too... Still, he'd feel a sort of relaxation about his muscles, the way someone feels after a long massage.

Macglynn rolls a shoulder, and then grins. "Well, then, y'kin do whut Ah want by keepin' that up." Ah'm comin' home.