I remembered... I dreamed, that I remembered... everything that happened. After I was removed from the timeline, in the Void at the End of Time. The things that Sylvie remembered in the keep with the ghosts. [ He tangles his fingers with hers and breathes for a moment, trying to organize his feelings and thoughts into some semblance of sense that can be shared with another. ] She was right, I... I broke my word to her. I was scared, I... was certain it would go to hell quickly, and I don't think I was wrong.
There's a war coming. But. I'm here, and that war will be only in my dreams. [ If this night's experiences are anything to go by. ] She sent me away, to keep me safe, but that didn't work. [ A sigh. ]
I didn't... remember this place. Or anything about it, it was as if being in Thedas... [ Hadn't happened at all, which isn't something he wants to say aloud. ] It was me, but it wasn't me. A variant of a variant.
[ Hard for Loki to understand, harder to speak, harder still for Alexandrie to put together for herself. Words like puzzle pieces, flashing portions of thoughts that only he has the whole of. Her brow furrows in the darkness as she tries to put it together, wants to be able to put it together, and finds herself as able at it as a child attempting to build a castle with dry sand. As frustrated as that same child by her inability.
She is clever, she is quick, there is so little in the world that she can't snare in the steel trap of her mind. This is how she has lived. Survived. Clawed to thriving. Survived again. She wants to know, she wants to make him not alone.
But more than that, she wants to know because Sylvie will know. Because Sylvie will share this. Already shares this. Somewhere there is a world where Alexandrie does not exist, and Sylvie does, and on top of all the things she and Loki already share they will dream of this world and wake up with new memories of lives that Alexandrie can never ever share, and if she cannot even understand how it fitsβ
Breathe, Alexandrie.
An odd sudden clarity as Loki struggles. Clarity that cuts through her little spiral and makes room for her to feel his fingers twined with hers.
He does not need you to understand right now. He needs to be held while he understands; to know himself loved.
And so she does that instead. Her body relaxes again as she stops trying to puzzle along with him and instead draws their tangled fingers to her so she can rest her lips against them and nod slowly. Shifts a little so she can free the arm beneath her enough to cup her other hand around them too. ]
[ He shifts his body fully towards her a moment after, having said nothing else, just breathing into the dark. He doesn't know how to explain how unsettled he feels by the knowing that he is not the person who woke up in this world; that somewhere exists a version of himself that did not, could not, experience Thedas and its various small miracles.
It seems strange and unfair that he should be allowed to love and be loved in a way that feels certain in the midst of a war, while some other version of him experiences a war without any sort of certainty. Torn away from Sylvie by his own decisions, amongst unfamiliar persons wearing familiar faces, likely behind enemy lines.
At least he knew some of that already.
Loki closes his eyes and keeps breathing. Holds those memories in one hand. In the other are the memories he's gained since arriving in Thedas. Alexandrie in the carriage, the first time he gazed upon the view of Kirkwall from the lift, Astarion in Wycome, the fireworks during the tourney. Abby's face reflected in the water outside of Antiva City.
He snorts a soft laugh. ]
Gods. What a terrible life to be living. Should I be glad I'm only aware of it in dreams?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's a war coming. But. I'm here, and that war will be only in my dreams. [ If this night's experiences are anything to go by. ] She sent me away, to keep me safe, but that didn't work. [ A sigh. ]
I didn't... remember this place. Or anything about it, it was as if being in Thedas... [ Hadn't happened at all, which isn't something he wants to say aloud. ] It was me, but it wasn't me. A variant of a variant.
no subject
She is clever, she is quick, there is so little in the world that she can't snare in the steel trap of her mind. This is how she has lived. Survived. Clawed to thriving. Survived again. She wants to know, she wants to make him not alone.
But more than that, she wants to know because Sylvie will know. Because Sylvie will share this. Already shares this. Somewhere there is a world where Alexandrie does not exist, and Sylvie does, and on top of all the things she and Loki already share they will dream of this world and wake up with new memories of lives that Alexandrie can never ever share, and if she cannot even understand how it fitsβ
Breathe, Alexandrie.
An odd sudden clarity as Loki struggles. Clarity that cuts through her little spiral and makes room for her to feel his fingers twined with hers.
He does not need you to understand right now. He needs to be held while he understands; to know himself loved.
And so she does that instead. Her body relaxes again as she stops trying to puzzle along with him and instead draws their tangled fingers to her so she can rest her lips against them and nod slowly. Shifts a little so she can free the arm beneath her enough to cup her other hand around them too. ]
no subject
It seems strange and unfair that he should be allowed to love and be loved in a way that feels certain in the midst of a war, while some other version of him experiences a war without any sort of certainty. Torn away from Sylvie by his own decisions, amongst unfamiliar persons wearing familiar faces, likely behind enemy lines.
At least he knew some of that already.
Loki closes his eyes and keeps breathing. Holds those memories in one hand. In the other are the memories he's gained since arriving in Thedas. Alexandrie in the carriage, the first time he gazed upon the view of Kirkwall from the lift, Astarion in Wycome, the fireworks during the tourney. Abby's face reflected in the water outside of Antiva City.
He snorts a soft laugh. ]
Gods. What a terrible life to be living. Should I be glad I'm only aware of it in dreams?