words unspoken | ENDWALKER SPOILERS

[sunseeker]

It's the dead of the night, and M'ahina can't help but feel a certain restlessness. It seems the major problems are behind them, and though she knows something will eventually come up—it always does—this feels a degree more final than it normally does. Mayhap it's because they've all elected to travel different roads, a discussion to which she wasn't able to contribute much. She's never been the most politically savvy, and to add a voice of sentimentality to more well-reasoned arguments would do them all an injustice. And she's finding that the thought of continuing to adventure at her leisure is … easier? More comforting? Than she ever dared to dream.

Yet she cannot deny there's a certain weight there. A sort of wondering that, even with all the threads of their adventures neatly tied, perhaps they trimmed the excess off a little too neatly? That... maybe there are things left unsaid, and better to say them now than to be let them be forgotten with new distractions. She's not used to heeding such thoughts—normally she would discard them with nary a second thought. But this time, she allows herself the distraction, and swings her feet over her bed. They lead her to Thancred's room, and, despite the hour, she gives a purposeful knock.

She'll call it returning a favor.

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[funbreaker]

It's a strange thought, even he'll admit, that this may be the last time that he takes his rest in the Rising Stones for quite a while. Granted, he's one of the Scions who's least often here due to the nature of his work, which regularly took him far beyond enemy lines on long reconnaissance missions. Yet he'd always known this to be a place he could return, and while that will remain the case, it won't be quite the same.

Still, the Scions melting back into the shadows is ultimately a decision that suits him rather well. He doubts he'll be able to slip back into some other persona quite so easily these days, now that his face has become so known, but the whole point is to never be seen in the first place, isn't it?

Such thoughts have him laying up in bed despite the fact that he should have allowed his eyes to fall shut some time ago, and yet clearly there's someone who expected he would still be awake. The knock is one he believes he recognizes, and he's up and out of the bed in a flash. It wouldn't matter what time of night, he would always open his door to her. It's an interesting reversal of when he visited her room what feels like an age ago, though in truth it wasn't all that long.

(Each day seems to weigh heavier than the last. It's no matter.)

"M'ahina," he greets with a nod. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

[sunseeker]

Ah, so Thancred is still awake. That... would make backing out on her sudden whim just a mote more difficult, unless she decides to blurt out some excuse and curse herself for overthinking. In the past, that's likely what would have happened, but now she... Well. She would not call herself a dishonest person, but she does have a rather bad habit of shifting conversations away from herself, or letting personal questions hang until the next opportune interruption saves her.

"Well..." She begins awkwardly. The habitual excuse does rise up in her, it seems. "I've a bit of insomnia, and I thought the company might help." Which is not a lie as such, but not entirely what she's here for. What she's here for is the time they haven't had to let things sink in, and the feeling is... confusing, almost, but at least she's aware of it. It's a step forward, though it is hard for her phrase. She shifts somewhat, peering up at him, and amends, "And... It occurs to me that I never got to thank you."

There. That's much closer to what she's thinking. She can spit it out if she tries.

[funbreaker]

Thancred might wonder how it is that she could struggle to sleep after going through such an exhausting endeavor — she'd looked half-dead laid out in the Ragnarok — but he suffers from the affliction himself. He knows all too well it doesn't matter how tired you might be, there are times when sleep refuses to come all the same. It likely means that there's something weighing on her mind, sometime she needs to talk through before she can be at ease.

If he can help with that, he would be happy to do so. It's the least he could do, given everything that he owes her, and yet when she spits out the thanks he still is astonished.

"Thank me?" He tilts his head to one side before backing up a pace or two, as he senses that this may be a more involved conversation. Hopefully she won't refuse to come in. "You're the one who ultimately saved us from almost certain doom. I was merely doing my part."

As they all had. Why she's decided to single him out, he can't quite piece together. It could be she's simply making the rounds, that she intends to speak to each of them in turn. T'would be a very M'ahina thing to do.

[sunseeker]

"... You never were one to give yourself enough credit," M'ahina quips ruefully. Always overextending himself. Always trying to prove something. She bites her lip in thought for a moment, and ultimate accepts the quiet invitation inside. This... could indeed prove a longer conversation than a doorway calls for.

She finds herself a seat and pours herself a cup of water from a pitcher on the table--mayhap it will help. She continues, "I was only half-conscious, but... I saw what you did." On the ship. She's certain she doesn't need to explain further; there's no reason to relive that in painful detail. And yet...

"I promised I'd help keep you on the right path, but then you left me behind." She's thinking out loud more than anything; these are not the thoughts she's used to revealing to others, and she regrets it at almost as soon it slips out of her mouth. It sounds dangerously as though she blames him for his sacrifice, and she cannot deny it hurt, but that's not her intention. "You're... the one that showed me the way." ...Because she couldn't ever let what he did--what any of them did--be in vain.

It's a bit disjointed, and it still doesn't cover half the thoughts in her head. Part of her wants to apologize and turn away; yet another wants to continue to lay everything at his feet to do with what he will. But she is aware on some level that neither would be fair, so she pulls in a breath and looks away, hoping Thancred can understand what she's trying to say. She's not certain she does, in truth, only that it needs to be said.

[funbreaker]

Thancred could say the same for M'ahina (she doesn't give herself enough credit), but he doubts it would do much good if he simply threw all of her words back in her face. He'd only meant to point out that all the others had done the same, each one of them willing to lay down their lives if it meant that she could make it to Meteion and save not just their world, but countless others.

With a sigh he joins her at the table, pouring himself some water as well. He takes a long drink as he considers her words, noting that they're coming out only with some effort on M'ahina's part and not wishing to show them anything but respect. He's aware that he did the exact thing that he warned her about, but now that it's all said and done, he can't say that he regrets it.

"It was reckless," he admits. "The exact sort of thing I said I might do. In truth, I did not even pause to think. In that moment, it was more an act of instinct than anything else. I... I do remember wishing with all my heart that you would all be able to make it through. To go that far, to the end of all things, only to be snuffed out before we even started..."

He pauses and shakes his head, staring down at the table rather than anywhere near her face. "I couldn't allow that. I'm just glad it all paid off, and if I was the one to lead the charge, well, I'll gladly take that honor."

Finally he does meet her gaze with a wry smile as he takes another sip of his drink. "There, I took some credit. Happy?"

[sunseeker]

She's quiet for a while, listening as carefully as she can. She owes that, she thinks, after everything that's happened, even if this conversation was wrought on an impulse. One that feels selfish for reasons she can't well explain. It's something she'll have to tuck away for now, to muse on if she happens to feel up for it later. (She probably will not).

"Well...." Her heart feels heavy, like digging at old scabs, but she does manage a genuine smile. "Not entirely. I suppose what I really wanted to say, in some roundabout fashion, is... You did the right thing. I'm so proud of you. But also.... Please don't do that to me again? I'm not certain I could bear it."

She swallows. Her smile remains in place, though her throat feels a bit tighter. It isn't difficult for her to tell someone they did good, or that they're a friend, but to admit there was pain is a measure different for her. She's no stranger to loss by now, and she has always done her best to weather it and not complain about her lot, but watching her friends slowly vanish was different this time. It was by and far the hardest thing she's had to walk through, and though she is still hopeful, still thankful, the brunt of it still seems to have worked its way in after the fact.

"I... needed to say it, this time." Since she never has, not once, and it's overdue.

[funbreaker]

It's a strange thing to hear someone else, especially someone like M'ahina who he can still recall as the being green and new to the world beyond the Shroud, say that she's proud of him. Thancred's of the thought that he's now reached the part of his life where he's the one doling out that sort of praise, to the likes of Ryne and so on. If that makes him old, well, he has to comes to terms with that as well.

As he'd expressed before, he didn't truly expect to live this long. It's an odd feeling, and maybe that's reason enough to accept what M'ahina is saying. He's made it this far.

"I'm hopeful we won't again have to fight against despair given form as it literally attempts to end all life as we know it," he responds with a wry smirk. In other words, he shouldn't ever have cause to do that to her again. It may not be quite the promise that she's looking for, but Thancred isn't certain he can give that.

The fact is, he would still take a bullet for her with no questions asked, and he's not convinced that's an impulse he can stem, regardless of how much she might wish for it.

After a pause, he lifts his water glass. "Shall we drink to that?" Surely alcohol would be better for the occasion, but he doesn't expect her to have any on-hand.

[sunseeker]

"Hm," she murmurs, her tone noncommittal. Hopeful indeed. She could almost begin to wonder how many times she must lose her friends--this was not the first time, after all. But though it is not the answer she would hope to hear, she cannot force one, and simply letting that out into the open is ... a surprising weight off her shoulders. She could almost wonder why she doesn't voice her feelings more often.

She lifts her glass, and downs more of her cup--empty by now, the way she's been drinking it, so it's probably just as well that they don't have real drinks. Surely the last thing she needs to become yet more emotional, or to numb herself to what she wished to say. She sets her cup down, soothed enough by the coolness of the water, and affixes him with a genuine smile.

"Thank you, though. For... listening. I appreciate it."

In the middle of the night, as she struggles with coherency, no less. It may not be as grand of a gesture as their prior subject matter, but it is the mark of a true friend. Something of which has come to mean a great deal to her, and something she has now learned (several times over) that she cannot afford to squander.

[funbreaker]

Thancred is also quick to down his cup of water, finishing it off in three generous gulps. He sets down the empty glass and nods firmly to M'ahina.

"You don't need to thank me, you know. This is what friends do for each other, is it not?" It should go without saying that he (and truly, any other Scion) would be there to hear M'ahina out at any time, and the opposite was certainly also true. While it isn't that often that Thancred wears his heart on his sleeve, he has with M'ahina. He still recalls his discussion with her, Estinien, and Urianger back at The Great Work as he reflected on how he could almost understand Fandaniel's despair, how it had hollowed him out and left him to want nothing more than the end of all things.

Of course, they could not allow that, and Thancred appreciates now more than ever what life has to offer. He lives not just for himself, but for Ryne. There's a comfort in knowing he'd been able to keep her safe, even while so far away.

Silence stretches between them for a few moments before Thancred breaks thought it. "It's always an odd feeling, though, isn't it? When the crisis is over and you're left to sort out what comes next." He's already made his own plans clear, but M'ahina doesn't seem to have made her mind up thus far. He can't help but be curious.

[sunseeker]

"Mmm," she agrees somewhat solemnly. "I had never been one for planning or obligations, but after a while, disaster after disaster, they all but seemed to design themselves."

And it could feel almost suffocating to her, who simply wanted move where the wind took her, and yet what was she to say to the burden on her shoulders? No? To look away, and have another pick up those pieces? Such a thing seemed ... unforgivable to her, much as she yearned to step away from it at times.

"I confess the freedom seems almost daunting now," she admits, "but I'm a bit eager to return to doing as I please and shedding some of those pesky responsibilities." A jest of course; she had learned to embrace them in her own way, as time went on. But the result is the same, that her plan is to have no plans, at least for a little while. "That was why I became an adventurer, after all."

Freedom. Of course, the full story was much more complicated than that, but that was gist of it.

[funbreaker]

It's been a long time since Thancred felt as if he was without those pesky obligations that M'ahina speaks of, he'll admit. Ever since he was taken on a ship to Old Sharlayan, it feels as if there's been something he needed to dedicate himself to wholeheartedly. Then he was inducted into the Circle of Knowing, and then the Scions...

As M'ahina says, everything had snowballed from one crisis to another after that, and while they'd all done what they could to take a break here or there, this is the first time in a long time that it feels like they might actually be able to catch their breath.

The cynical part of him says that it won't be long before some other threat presents itself, but he swallows down those words. They'll do no good now.

"It's what you deserve. A chance to simply go where you please, do what you please..." He leans forward, resting both arms on the table, and smiles at her. "And you are more than welcome to accompany myself and Urianger for a time, if you wish." He winks at her, but there's also no pressure. M'ahina should get the chance to do what she wants for once, but he does what her to know that option is open.