aionlogs | [open] post-imprisonment log

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liem talbott: champion

[open] post-imprisonment log

WHO: Liem & you!
WHAT: Liem is released from the naughty-Kenoma dungeons
WHERE: The Citadel, possibly Achamoth proper
WHEN: After his release on Firaseri 6th
WARNINGS: References to Liem’s imprisonment, including brainwashing, torture, & self-harm

I. The Wounded Option

[Liem is released from the Citadel’s dungeons without fanfare, staggering from his audience with the Regent back to his own rooms and sequestering himself there to recover from the most immediate after-effects of Dionys’s ministrations—or to at least attempt to. Rest is out of the question; the stings and aches throbbing through him would make sleep a struggle even if he could close his eyes without being transported immediately back into Dionys’s clutches. His mind feels like a sieve, his thoughts slipping away from him like water and leaving him only with the jagged edges of the past ten days. The best he can do is nurse his filthy and abused body while he tries to piece his mind back together.

He spends a lot of time alone over the ensuing days, but the observant or well-informed may have noted his return from the occasional servant delivering food or medicine to his room, or from hearing the sounds of activity within it. The sounds of running water are especially obvious, should one happen to walk past while he’s washing.

But of course, he has to tend to his injuries all over again once he’s stripped off the bandages and washed away the salve. Some of them are easier to reach than others, especially given the lingering pain involved in moving around too much. After bandaging his arms and tending the half-healed cuts and bruises on his chest, a short hiss punctuates his attempts to minister the lashes on his back.

Any knock on his door is meet with a brief silence, followed by the door cracking open and Liem’s dark, tired eyes peering out from it.]

Can I help you?

II. The Insomnia Option

[It doesn’t take all that long for restlessness to lure Liem out from the confines of his rooms. The walls start to creep in on him after just a couple days; the quiet starts to become oppressive. It’s too much like his cell in the depths of the Citadel, and it’s too much like his cell in the cathedral back home. Leaving the barren stone and cold, empty bed behind, he ventures out into the Citadel at large, seeking something to keep him occupied.

a. The middle of the night is a strange time to find anyone in the kitchens, but that’s where Liem is right now, smelling of oranges and cinnamon, his sleeves folded back to the elbows and his head bent over a small pie filled with some kind of soft white cheese. Flour dusts the bruises and half-healed bites on his wrists and forearms as he carefully lays a lattice of dough strips over the top, lifting his eyes from his work only briefly as he hears someone come in.

b. Regardless of how sleepless his nights (and his days) have been, or how residual aches from his injuries still plague his waking hours, Liem still turns to training as something that can occupy him even while he’s only operating at 50% at best. Target practice is something he could do even in his sleep, so the deep shadows beneath his eyes and the lethargy in his movements don’t stop him from finding a target to practise with in the pre-dawn hours when most of the Citadel is still dreaming. Stress and exhaustion have made him jumpy, though; the sound of approaching footsteps filters into his awareness slowly, and then in a rush all at once as he whirls to point his crossbow at whoever just walked in.

c. During the day, Liem mostly keeps out of the way in parts of the Citadel that don’t see much use. There’s a spare room near the top of a tower that stays empty for hours at a time, and it’s here that he can be found curled up on a window seat, gazing out of the narrow window while he scratches at a notebook with a stick of charcoal. Or at least, that’s what he’s been spending much of the afternoon doing, if the formless doodles and patterns scrawled across the pages are any indication. Liem himself isn’t available for comment, leaned as he is against the cool stone wall in the grip of a shallow and uneasy sleep.]

III. Wildcard

[Liem can be found around the Citadel or, later on, even out in Achamoth itself. His inbox is also open for post-imprisonment communion! Feel free to hit me up on plurk at Sporelett or DM me on discord if you want to hash out something else.]

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[Paul doesn't seem troubled by Liem being...somewhat terse right now; it's to be expected, after everything he's likely been through over the past several days. It's been hard not to hear of those kept in the Citadel's dungeons; it's been a matter of asking the right people, and noting those that are gone. He can't account for some of them, but that doesn't exactly surprise him either; he supposes he'll have to see about those at some later date.

For now, here is Liem, and here is Paul, and Paul's words aren't clipped but they aren't quite as easygoing as usual.]

I don't know if I'm permitted to assist you. But I'm offering at least some degree of healing to you anyway, should you want it.

[When Liem sees Paul standing out in the hallway, the door opens just the barest fraction more, revealing a shoulder and arm that have been hastily and temporarily clothed to affect some level of normalcy. A strong herbal scent drifts through the gap, originating from somewhere on his person.

The expression on his face is more haunted than suspicious, but he doesn’t make any immediate move to invite Paul inside when he makes his offer. He simply frowns, turning over what he just said in his mind. He hasn’t seen Paul since he was in Venera weeks ago, and something about his manner now, after everything that happened, is setting him on edge.]

I believe the Regent wants me to be well, [he says finally.] They told me to recover, in readiness for a battle with the Pleroma.

But if your healing is magical in nature, I don’t think I can accept

It is, but that doesn't make me incapable of doing things without it.

If you don't want magic, we don't have to use it.

[He can think of a few reasons why one wouldn't; it's likely none of them are correct. But regardless, the offer remains there, unchanged.]

[Liem considers this in silence for another long moment before finally pulling the door the rest of the way open, revealing a tidy bedroom that is still almost exactly in the same state as it was when he first moved in three months ago. Bandages and salves lie about on the surface of a small table, near which a chair stands pulled-out for use.

Now fully visible, Liem eyes Paul from the doorway, clad only in slim black pants and a hastily-donned, untucked shirt of the same colour. He stands aside, gesturing for Paul to enter.]

I do have need of another pair of hands. Mine don’t quite suffice to reach my back, in my current state.

Of course, that's fine.

[He seems a little strange, still, but he will enter upon the implicit invitation to enter. His gaze takes in the room, just taking note of the major points that fall immediately within his line of sight; he doesn't seem to be judging so much as just making mental notes.]

Asking you how you are is pointless and I know it. I'm going to ask anyway.

[Liem shuts the door behind Paul as he steps inside, exhaling a small, sharp breath that could be likened to a laugh by the very charitable.]

I am as well as you might expect.

[His body hurts just about everywhere, especially around his still-healing wounds. He is simultaneously jittery and drop-dead exhausted; thinking about either Dionys or the Regent makes his brain want to buzz right out of his ears. And putting food into his body after so many days of eating nothing at all has made him feel completely vile.

He walks back over to the table, glancing down at the medicine and bandages laid out on it before beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. He continues quietly.]

I’ll be… well, not fine, perhaps, but functional, given a few days’ rest.

[Paul keeps his distance for now; closing it can wait until they've gotten the preliminary awkwardness out of the way, and until Paul knows what sort of wounds he's looking at. He expects them to be severe, but he can't say he knows how he expects himself to respond to something like that.

But still, he's here because he offered. Because he likes Liem, and because he doesn't care to leave him without any sort of aid right now.]

I don't doubt either one of those things.

[Both that he's really not doing well right now, and that he'll get himself together over the next few days.]

I'm not here to be weird about it, and say that it's a good thing that you went through all of that. I'm...sorry, for whatever was done.

[Liem only has to undo a few quickly fastened buttons to pull his shirt open and slide it, stiffly, from his shoulders. It eases down in halting, ginger movements, revealing a bloodless stretch of back marked with livid injuries the same deep black as his eyes. Most obvious are the long, shallow lashes scoring the length of his back, although there is also a half-healed stab wound visible along his ribs on one side.

Quietly, he pulls the shirt the rest of the way off and lays it, loosely folded, over part of the table. He keeps his head bowed, his gaze on the dark wood.]

No, it’s all right. I brought it on myself.

[After all, he’d accused the Regent of being unwilling to discipline those in his care. He can’t begrudge what happened to him in that quiet, isolated part of the Citadel, not when he’s the one who forced their hand.]

[He doesn't have a strong reaction to the lashes, which he imagines can only be a good thing given the circumstances. They're shocking but they'll heal, and that's the important part of all this; he can't say he knows how he feels about the impressive pallor the whole thing has going on, but maybe it's not his job to feel any sort of way about it.]

It isn't really my place to decide whether you deserved it or not. It is to decide whether or not I choose to offer sympathy.

[So, at the very least, there's that. He'll actually approach, then; just looking everything over before moving to retrieve the salve Liem's apparently been using.]

Either way, if the Regent wants you to be well I can definitely facilitate that much.

[Liem rests his hands on the table as Paul draws nearer to retrieve the salve. Bandages binding his arms from wrist to elbow indicate injuries he's already tended, helping to explain the strong medicinal smell that already fills the room. He closes his eyes, breathing in an attempt to force some of the tension from his shoulders.]

And either way, I appreciate it.

[He quite intentionally hasn't so much as spoken to another aion since he was released, but so far Paul has been… not comforting exactly, but fairly unthreatening. And surprisingly understanding, as well. Liem is trying to focus on that.]

I know I haven't given you, or anyone else here, cause to value my integrity, but I intend to atone for what I've done, as much as I'm able.

[He pauses for the briefest of moments at that; when he speaks again, there's a more genuine warmth to his tone.]

And who am I to tell you that that isn't good enough?

[Opening the salve then, getting some of it on his hands as he speaks. Hoping he'll warm it slightly before contact is made; knowing why hoping that is pointless.]

I never turn away those who intend to atone. Even if they fail, even if their initial transgressions were so great that they find themselves sliding back into them. As long as they intend to atone, I can forgive, for the grace of God is upon them.

[The initial contact is gentle, light; he doesn't want to draw out more pain than is truly necessary.]

I can't intercede on your behalf to the Regent, unfortunately. But I'm not holding this against you.

[Fortunately Liem still has his back to Paul, because when he speaks again, a deep, lonely ache sinks its teeth into him and makes his face crumple despite his best efforts. His hands clutch a little tighter at the table's polished surface, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the slow rhythm of his breathing.

He makes sure not to move his back when Paul touches him, even when the salve's initial contact stings at the raw flesh there.]

That's enough for you? Just the intention to make amends?

[He hasn't even begun to expiate his transgressions, nor earn any forgiveness from those he betrayed. And yet Paul is already prepared to give it to him.]

You still barely even know me.

That's true.

[If Paul notices any change, he's got enough basic decency left in him to not mention anything; he keeps his touch light for now, letting Liem acclimate to it before trying anything else.]

Would you want me to hold it against you? To be strict with you - to be angry with you? Because I think I could be within my rights to, if I really wanted to. Is that what you want from me?

[Liem doesn't answer right away when Paul asks his question. His eyes flicker open again, gazing down as though he's trying to stare right through the table, while he maintains a tense, almost desperate stillness. When he does speak, his voice is soft.]

I don't know the right answer to that question.

[Of course he doesn't want Paul to be angry at him. He's spent days, almost weeks really, with nothing but his own self-recrimination and Dionys's unflinching discipline. He is tired, exhausted in the face of that unceasing, pitiless scrutiny.

But he can't say that. He can't say that because his desire for reprieve has never before been enough to actually earn it. When he failed the people in his life, ultimately only his acceptance of their judgement earned him the peace that he wanted; it had been that way when he lived with his uncle, it had been that way with his own church back home, and it was the same in the Regent's dungeons.

So now, does he invite Paul's ire, or beg his forgiveness? It sounds like a trick question, and in the face of it, he finds that he can't say.]

[That gets a soft noise out of him.]

I guess that's fair. I don't know that there is one.

[More salve. Another brief couple of seconds to think. It slips on his hands, shining; it does something odd to his vision, and it takes him a moment for his eyes to catch up to his mind.

His touch is still gentle, but a bit firmer this time. ]

The way I see it, from where I'm standing, I'm not going to be mad at you for what you've done because you intend to atone for it. Even if you don't manage - even if you try and it's not good enough... You've already done better than most people in this world by acknowledging that you've done wrong by people, and that you intend to do better. I feel like that intention, even if you don't succeed, will go a long way toward ensuring that at least you won't do it again. It's...a good thing, in my eyes, and in the eyes of God.

[He goes quiet, for a brief moment, before shaking his head and continuing; rough though this topic may be, it feels necessary.]

Where I came from, it was my job to listen to the transgressions of the people, and to intercede for them before God, and to assist them in finding forgiveness. I have never held anything a petitioner has brought to me against them, I have never refused my own forgiveness of their sins, no matter what they may have done, and I don't intend to start now.

[Liem listens quietly, letting the cool slide of the salve draw some of the tautness from his back as the slight sting turns gradually to numbness. He doesn’t truly relax under the careful attention—his nerves are strung too tight for that, despite the gentleness of Paul’s hands or the thought put into his words. But some of the misery eases from his face, and from the line of his shoulders.]

You’ve never refused forgiveness? To anyone?

[Even to those who slide back into sin again and again, harming the people around them? Even those who have done wrongs for which they could never atone?]

Intention and desire are such flimsy, changeable things.

They are. I'm not going to deny that, either.

[He breathes in deep, trying to find words. To reset, in some way.]

But who am I to decide that they're not enough? Sometimes flimsy intentions are the best we have.

[In a way, Liem does understand where Paul is coming from. It costs nothing to offer forgiveness, and there is neither kindness nor justice in holding onto grudges that will only colour future judgements. On a personal level, he sees why he would choose not to hold Liem's betrayal against him.

But at the same time, he's done many things in his life that he simply accepted he'd need to carry with him forever—wrongs that couldn't be righted, and shouldn't be forgotten or forgiven. And he's always believed that this is the way it had to be. Sometimes life is unfair, isn't it? Sometimes there is no forgiveness.

And yet, just as his wanting could never earn him forgiveness back home, his doubt now can't stop Paul from giving it to him.]

If that's enough, then… I'll try not to disappoint you.

That's all I'm asking for, in the end.

[It seems to placate him, in the end; in all honesty, he isn't sure if this is going to get him scolded by the Regent or not. He can see where it might; he can see where it might not be deserving of reprimand at all. But if he's blunt, in the moment he doesn't care; this is what he's always done when someone has transgressed, and this is what his heart is telling him should be done now. Whether it does Liem any good in the end or not... Well, that has yet to be seen.]

I can help you with bandaging it as well, though I admit I've never been the best at it.

… Thank you.

[Liem doesn’t expect that showing him kindness right now would draw the Regent’s ire; it’s their servants, the other aions, who he’d expect might take umbrage at it. Still, although it might not end up costing Paul anything at all to show him kindness at the moment, when he’d first returned to his rooms, he hadn’t been expecting anyone to be willing to support him. So regardless of the personal cost to Paul, or lack thereof, he is still profoundly grateful. He reaches for a roll of bandages near one hand and slides it across the table, nearer to Paul’s reach.]

It doesn’t need to be the best; I appreciate the help all the same.

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[open] post-imprisonment log

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