[OPEN] i am shell and i am bone

[coerthantorment]

WHO: Brainwashed Estinien and YOU
WHAT: Having been dissipated during the Innocence's execution, Estinien returns very much changed.
WHERE: The Citadel, Achamoth
WHEN: Early Sekiseri
WARNINGS: Torture, abuse, brainwashing, public humiliation. The forecast for Estinien is extremely miserable and depressing at the moment.

I➔ Of the Abyss

He had been born into this world empty, with a body misshapen and unfit for survival. There had been no reason for it, no meaning to existing... he'd simply been formed, drawn from the abyss in the service of another. It was only at that master's touch that he was provided with a means and purpose to act. Only at their call that he had regained hazy memories of hatred and torment and remembered that there was something out there to blame for what he was.

His was a miserable existence, after all. Since the moment he had been pulled from his chrysalis, utterly helpless and blind, wracked with spiritual pain, he'd known that much. At first, living had been nothing but aimless suffering. With nothing inside of him besides a sense of devastating loss that he had no means to understand, he had eagerly latched on to whatever was given to him. To know that he had some use to his keepers, the ones that had gifted back his sight, gifted him the legs to stand on and hands to touch... he'd do whatever they wanted with the strength they had afforded him. Even if they saw him as a wretched creature worthy primarily of disgust, it didn't matter. Not when the alternative was unending, meaningless pain.

He's been told he'll have an opportunity to strike back against the forces that reduced him to this state, that destroyed whatever he was before. He had no memory of it. He's the spectral remains of something that once lived, and now there is only vengeance to look forward to. He'd like to hurt someone else, he thinks. To drag the enemies that he touched closer to himself, to what he had been made into. To make them experience it for as long as he can.

It's in that state of mind that he is first let loose into the Citadel, craving to inflict pain, but having been taught that no one within the tower's walls was to be harmed or struggled against. Instead, the people of the Citadel, the Aions in particular, were his objective superiors. His presence there was a mercy to him, and he was to accept whatever he was given by the others, whether it be torment or aid. His role was to act in their service, by whatever means his feeble mind could manage.

Any Kenoma who come upon him may recognize Estinien Wyrmblood, but only in some aspects of his form. To those with the Sight, he is attuned to the Kenoma and of the Firebrand. Physically, he is a mess. His torso and head still reflect the snow white of the Innocence, though with crimson, draconic eyes. The one on his left side is severely scarred, its sclera darkened with void. Each limb is similarly blackened, looking less like a natural extension of his body and more like foreign flesh that has been grafted on, scaled and clawed and monstrous.

His gait is unnatural, as if not quite accustomed to the idea of walking, as if his limbs are confusing to him. He's dressed in nothing but what appears as a rag-like loincloth, his long white hair unkempt and hanging in ragged chunks. Restraining him is a thick collar and muzzle. Around his darkened, greyed-out shard a sigil is carved - one that might be familiar to some. It's the very same mark of disfavour that Emet-Selch had briefly worn, all those months ago.

There is no recognition in his eyes.

II➔ Walking in Shame

While the Regent's mark on his chest has caused many of the Citadel's inhabitants to give him a wide berth, that hasn't been enough for some of them. Either having heard the rumours of who and what he is, or having seen him themself in the sky of Achamoth, some are unable to contain their spite for him. Though he's been made to heel already, a few of the Citadel's non-Aion residents may be seen heaping additional scorn on him, spitting cruel words and accusations that he has no context for.

Sometimes the abuse turns physical. You may witness Achamite soldiers berating him in the halls, shoving, tripping, or manhandling him. For his part, he has little reaction, taking whatever he is given as rightful and purposeful. At some point, a gaggle of Citadel neophytes assigned to cleaning duty dump a bucket of dirty wash water over him. Others hurl rocks.

[Feel free to invent other scenarios with Citadel NPCs if you want, I'm open.]

III➔ In the End

When he isn't aimlessly wandering the Citadel, he is caged for the night. While that first day Dionys is there to lock him up, from that point on she visits only intermittently to let him in and out, and much of his time is spent alone. His prison is something more befitting of a zoo animal, kept to a distant corner of the Citadel, nearby the tables where the mounts are kept. There are guards on patrol nearby, but Kenoma will be allowed to pass through, provided they don't do anything suspect.

There is nothing in way of comfort or adornment to its interior, just bars and a cold floor to pass out against. He lays still most of the time, nothing to devote his thoughts to, nowhere else to be. He almost looks forward to when one of his keepers return... anything for a moment of respite and meaning. It's possible that the one visiting him now has been given permission to unlock him for some purpose. He is unlikely to complain.

[OOC: Estinien has been 'trained' to go along with whatever the Kenoma subject him to (besides outright killing him) and he can be freely taken anywhere in the Citadel. For the most part he's been wandering around common areas. I've been told that Kenoma won't get in trouble for interacting with him/feeding him/dressing him as long as they aren't excessively compassionate about it. The Kenoma can also specifically request his use for whatever tasks they might need done, though he will be incompetent at anything that isn't straightforward.

To clarify what "excessively compassionate" means: it's really just not doing stuff that portrays what the Regent did to him as wrong or acting like he deserves better. Part of the humiliation is him having to rely on what Kenoma give him, so they may deign to help him, it would just be bad look to do it from a place of moral objection that would undermine the Regent's decisions.]

Comments

[galdorleod]

Howl steps away from the bars, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at the moon with clear exasperation. He hates this. Hates. There's no satisfaction to be had, seeing Estinien like this. Again: what is the point? What is the point?

"I told you to stop!" Howl blurts out, his anger getting the better of him. But even now, the anger is not directed at the broken man curled up on the ground inside the cage. Not really. He's still looking up at the black sky above, talking more to the stars, or even to himself, than to Estinien.

"If he doesn't even remember what he did, then what is this for...? This isn't... us helping him understand. This..."

He trails off as he talks to himself. The image of Barnaby's Shard pops into his head. The freshly bored hole, embedded behind its smooth outer surface, like an air bubble in resin. That didn't feel right either — in the same way this doesn't, except this is a hundred times more harrowing.

Howl pauses, going silent during a moment of deep thought. Then he moves his hand to his chest. A faint glimmer of light appears — the reflection of the moon off of Howl's Shard, as he removes it from his chest.

The wizard steps back up to the cage door again. He slides his hand between the bars, his Shard floating serenely above his palm.

"Get up," he mutters flatly. "Come here. Show me see your Shard, I want to see it."

Howl seems to have no hesitation holding his own Shard out at the same time. From what he knows, Estinien will not dare try to attack it... and even if he did, Howl is not feeling like he particularly cares whether he dies tonight.

[coerthantorment]

He flinches as Howl blurts that out at him. Maybe this was all worse than he'd even realized. If the Kenoma had tried to stop him even before he was torn apart by the Pleroma... he doesn't know why Howl would care about him now. Not when he was just the dregs left behind by a fool that had damned himself to suffering and oblivion.

As Howl speaks, he only finds himself growing more confused. He's almost relieved when Howl demands he come forward, giving him specific orders that he can oblige. It's easier to deal with than worries over an uncertain history he doesn't remember.

He feels strange, seeing Howl's shard exposed like this. It feels like something he's seen before, something that causes a twinge of sorrow and regret. It's like he's seen this shard held out in the same way, in a moment when Howl was even more upset than he is now...

He hasn't removed his own shard before - only had it taken by other people. Yet, upon seeing Howl do so, he immediately understands the principle. Clutching at his chest, he tenderly removes the orb of crystal. It doesn't float gracefully like Howl's. Instead he can only hold it out, clutched between blackened claws.

The differences might be obvious, with a closer look. While the same gray as Howl's in the interior, it is completely lacking it's sheen of colour. What's worse, it looks like it's been scorched black in places, like the soot left behind by a fire.

It's remarkably dull looking for the embodiment of a person's soul. It's no more lively than ashes.

[galdorleod]

The Shard is in shockingly poor condition. Howl is no expert in souls or Shards, but he is pretty sure that those scorch marks should not be there. To a certain extent, Estinien's vastly changed physical form can be rationalized — he'd underwent other changes by the time of their fight months ago, and Howl himself is standing here with a substantially altered appearance following a dissipation — but dull, expended appearance of his soul itself?

"Horrible," Howl spits, unable to keep his thoughts to himself for the second time. The concern on his face is apparent and he makes no effort to hide his reaction from the broken man. There is no one else here to witness him talking to the Citadel's new pariah, and it's not like the pariah is going to tattle on him.

"Did they tell you what that is?" he asks, indicating towards the charred Shard with his other hand. There's still some tension in his voice, but he speaks to Estinien as one would when trying their hardest to maintain their composure with a frustrating child. "You know that you have to protect it, right? What would happen if it breaks? How it works, if your body were to die?"

[coerthantorment]

He doesn't really know the specifics, but he knows that it's something central to his being. Something precious that had hurt so badly when being held in the Regent's hand that it was completely intolerable. That it had only been somewhat less horrifying to have held by Dionus.

He pulls it back towards himself, a bit jarred to have someone tell him that this mysterious expression of himself was overtly horrible to look at. He guesses he shouldn't be surprised, given how horrible everything else about him is. He averts his gaze, accepting the shame for what it is. He doesn't know what the source of Howl's anger is.

"No..." he says after a moment, drawing it back towards his chest. His understanding of the object was sheer mysticism. "Just... that it hurts..."

They didn't tell him that so much as show him that, but...

[galdorleod]

Of course. Why tell him what he needs to know for self-preservation after torturing him so mercilessly? The goal had been to tear him down into nothing. Yes, doubtlessly the Regent chose to keep him around to eke out whatever use he could still have, but that doesn't mean they care about Estinien.

Well — Howl cares. The wizard might not understand the boundaries of his feelings, what exactly they mean, what to call them... but he simply can't agree with what's been done to him. This can't be what the Kenoma has to offer to the Pleroma. It will only make them fight back harder and fiercer. If they are foolish enough to raid the city to save two people, why not one? Is it really any more insane than what they've already tried — and succeeded? Could they not regroup, strengthen their numbers with even more dragons, and come back even fiercer?

It's dangerous and foolish for him to care about what's been done to his former foe. Had they met again before this happened, Howl is sure they would have tried to kill each other. But Howl is not gifted with wisdom. He can't ignore his demanding whims, dangerous and foolish as they may be.

"It's called a Shard," he begins, his tone softening ever so slightly. "It's the manifestation of your soul. And it means you're still an Aion. Just like me, and Dionys, and the rest of us."

Finally, Howl pulls his hand out from between the bars and puts his Shard back. He quickly pulls his cowl tightly around his neck again, to keep it and his embarrassing feathers out of the cold air.

"If your body gets injured too severely, you'll die, but your Shard will be left behind. It will regenerate if given enough time, and you'll be reborn anew, in a fresh body. You'll only die in the strictest sense if the Shard itself is destroyed. There's no coming back from that."

He watches Estinien, gauging how much he understood all that. The rumors said that he'd been reduced to a simpleton, but this conversation has already thrown that into doubt. Is it that his mind has been damaged, or that no one is bothering to help fix it?

cw: suicidal ideation

[coerthantorment]

He certainly feels like a simpleton, even if that's not strictly the case. It feels like everyone else is operating on a level above him, referring to information and experiences he can't possibly relate to. He'd feel stupid, if he had enough ego to think about it. Whatever world the people here are living in, he's explicitly not part of it.

Which is why it's so strange to have someone point out his shard and tell him that they are the same, that he's the same as Dionys and the others. It feels unbelievable to think. If he was anything like them, he wouldn't be in a cage. He wouldn't be suffering like this. If he's been like them before, he isn't anymore. Some version of himself he doesn't remember ruined that for him, and now he's the one left living with the consequences.

He sinks back down onto the ground, still staring at the shard in his hands. This is the closest he's been able to observe it. It does look terrible, compared to the sight of Howl's. It looks used up and stained. Hearing that breaking it would end him for good makes his claws tighten, thinking that if he could just smash it to pieces now, maybe he wouldn't have to live like this anymore...

But he can't. Not just because the idea of harming his shard sends an instinctive revulsion through him, but because he doesn't trust that it would work. Who is to say that those shattered pieces wouldn't carry his broken consciousness forever?

"It's already ruined," he says. It's already been destroyed beyond repair. He's already been destroyed. He doesn't know why it's so important to Howl to tell him how to keep his soul safe when it's like this.

[galdorleod]

Howl clicks his tongue as his frustration rears its head again. But, after a deep breath, he rubs his forehead and stuffs it back down. He is upset enough as it is. There's no point directing that upset at the fragile, broken victim trapped in the cage before him.

"Yes, maybe it is. It looks quite bad."

Howl leans his forehead against the cage's bars as he watches Estinien study his Shard with newfound understanding. What a pathetic sight — but so oddly familiar too. He remembers the early years of his contract with Calcifer, when he started to realize the ramifications of what he'd done. How he'd damned himself to be like that forever, dysfunctional, altered beyond repair, and how it would never go away. But at a certain point, he had to... not get over it, but learn to stop wallowing in it. Push it down when he had to, and just keep going. Because what other option did he have?

"You better not be thinking about what I think you are," Howl says warily. "If the Regent wanted you dead, they would have killed you. You're not allowed to die. I won't let you, not any more than you let me."

Howl pauses. Ah... Estinien doesn't remember that, does he. For some reason, this one fact instantly makes him more angry than anything else has so far. He can't help but scoff a bitter laugh.

"What a miserable role I've been given to play," he mutters to himself.

[coerthantorment]

He startles, frightened by seemingly having his borderline treasonous thoughts read. Thinking about trying to die without permission seemed like a privilege he wasn't meant to have, and for a moment he thinks that he might about to be in trouble over it.

...Though Howl's full reaction ends up being a bit different than he's expecting.

I won't let you, not any more than you let me.

It's not something that's easy to make sense of. After all, usually one wants their enemies to die, rather than to demand they stay alive. He'd gotten the impression that he was a destroyer before. He killed, he hurt. What sort of interaction would have led to Howl making a statement like that?

Other Kenoma had been kind to him, but it seemed to be out of simple pity. They were magnanimous enough not to harm him when they had the opportunity to, and he was grateful. Howl though... the emotions behind it are harder to understand. He seems concerned, frustrated, invested - he cares about what has become of him, and has feelings about what he was before that go beyond wariness or disgust.

When the thought finally occurs to him, it feels like it might be enough to send him back to the ground.

"Did... you care for me?"

He feels like an idiot immediately after saying it, humiliated to have even thought such a thing, but he doesn't know how else to make sense of this. He still feels like whatever emotions Howl felt towards his previous incarnation would be misplaced, but there are there regardless.

[galdorleod]

The question makes Howl freeze. He stares at Estinien with an impenetrably neutral expression. Now, it's Howl's turn to feel like his thoughts have been read. No, not just that — somehow, this broken version of Estinien has managed to boil down and clarify the confused feelings turning over in his head.

The silence goes on for too long. Howl is trying to come up with an answer at the same time he's recovering from the question being posed in the first place. Somewhere in the courtyard, an owl hoots a series of low, foreboding notes.

Finally, Howl's eyes shift to the ground. There is no use lying. He'd only be lying to himself.

"If I didn't," he says, "I wouldn't be so upset to see you reduced to such a sorry state."

Saying it aloud makes the knot in the center of his heart start to unravel. It's a simple truth that starts to make every other contradictory feeling within him make sense. Creeping up behind it is something new, something vengeful and rebellious, but it's still in the background.

With a sigh, Howl leans his forehead against the bars again and closes his eyes.

"My name is Howl," he murmurs. "Others have probably told you already, but your name is Estinien. Or... it was, at least. I don't know what you'd call yourself now."

[coerthantorment]

No one had told him that, as it turns out.

The name is strange to hear. Something like that should be so familiar and natural that it seems mundane, but to him, it's more like a subtle itch that he can't quite figure out how to soothe. He falls quiet after it's spoken, trying desperately to find something with its sound. Estinien. The person he had once been.

It's apt to say that it doesn't seem to suit him now, at least. At the very least, it feels forbidden, like associating too closely with it would draw him closer to being that thing that the people here despised. The thing that destroyed itself, leaving him in this state, broken and alone. He hates that part of himself, on some level. 'Estinien' is the one responsible for the suffering he lives with now.

Howl cares for him, though. Or he did. This is an idea that he is both frightened and enticed by - there is a glint of fascination and desire in his otherwise dead eyes. To have someone care about him like a person, for them to care that he was like this now...

He feels like he has to back away from that thought before it gets too intense. After all, he gave up his right to that sort of thing when he became the creature he is now. It will only get him in trouble. If he breaks the pact he has with the Regent he has nothing...

"They didn't..." he says. He didn't have a name anymore, and anything other people called him didn't stick with him internally. "I'm not called anything..."

None of it was actually his. Not even 'Estinien'.

[galdorleod]

"That won't do," Howl says quietly. "I still need something to call you. The new, ruined you."

Keeping his eyes closed, Howl pauses to think. It really seems that the old Estinien is... gone. Sure, this person in the cage has his Shard, but — it's so damaged, does he really? Can he still be called the same person? Too many planks in this ship have been burnt away and replaced to still call it the same ship. Or at least that's how it seems at the moment.

Howl considers for a moment whether he ought to bestow a new name on him. Immediately, that doesn't feel right either. It's not like he would describe their relationship as "close," even if the broken man managed to make Howl admit to himself that he cared about him once. Howl feels that he has no special right to give Estinien a new name, not more or less than anyone else. And besides... if the dullard starts going around telling people he has a new name, questions will inevitably arise, and it will lead back to Howl. That can't happen.

"You'll have to give yourself a new name then. If anyone asks, tell them it's for the purpose of serving them better," Howl decides. He opens his eyes and, leaning against the bars, sinks down against them until he's sitting on the ground. His long shroud pools in his lap and splays out around him. "I'll help you think of one. How are you feeling right now, in this moment? What thoughts come to mind?"

[coerthantorment]

Slowly, the pressure in his head is building. It may seem like something simple and foundational to Howl, but the idea of claiming a new name, of trying to be anything beyond the outline left by absence... it's maddening to think about. Not just because he's been trained to think of himself as less than that, but also because it feels like the sort of defiance will only result in being hurt more.

He wants to be better. He wants to have purpose, and he wishes he could be accepted as part of the Kenoma's purpose, but he can't. He can't have any of those things. Why doesn't Howl understand?

"I can't," he says, and it serves as an answer to the question as well. His eyes have widened, desperation deep within them, and his shard clutched protectively to his chest. His voice shakes with tension.

"I can't have that. I'm not..."

He can only think of the pain, of how alone and how defenseless he'd been. He'd been reduced to a lifeform that was nothing but suffering, and even the ability to breathe, to move, is a gift that he's terrified to take for granted.

"Please... Don't make them send me back. Please..."

He'd thought he was below begging, but apparently not.

[galdorleod]

What a simple thing to send Estinien into an anxious fit. If Howl knew this topic would cause him so much distress, he wouldn't have brought it up. Unlike so many others, he isn't here to inflict even more misery on him. At his most selfish, he's here to satisfy his own emotional needs. At his kindest...

"I won't, I won't," he quickly says, chasing after Estinien's sudden panic with reassurance. "I'm not going to force you. Relax. If you don't want a name, then don't have one."

As he looks at the other man through the bars, he tries to calm the agitation that arose in his own chest. That was too much, it seems. He should leave. There's no point in pushing him further.

But... this isn't over. Howl isn't going to ignore him around the Citadel after tonight. He helped Barnaby readjust following his punishment, and he'll do the same for Estinien, in whatever capacity he's allowed to do.

Howl leans against the bars and continues to watch, waiting to see if Estinien will calm down on his own. The owl in the distance hoots woefully.

[coerthantorment]

His breath does begin to slow as Howl says that, though his eyes remain wide and startled, as if he himself doesn't fully comprehend the nature of his explosive reaction. Trauma would be the simple answer. Yet, he has been left ignorant enough by his circumstances that he has no grasp on that sort of thing.

He wished he could have a name. That he could earn it somehow in a way that the Regent would approve of. Maybe they'd even name him themself. As it is, choosing a name for himself would be treasonous. Trying to use his old name might be even worse.

As his panic fades his expression becomes more lost than terrified. He looks around the interior of his cage like he's seeing it for the first time, as if recognizing it for what it is with fresh eyes. He's trapped here. Trapped in so many ways.

Howl's reassuring tone is enough to draw him in, in the end. Even though the burst of panic is diminishing, sorrow has arrived to take its place. Part of him considers escaping to a back corner of the cage and curling up, trying to pretend like Howl was never here. The other side, though...

He slinks towards the bars where Howls rests, leaning against them from the other side, his arms curled around his knees. It isn't quite true contact with another person, but... Howl's claim to have cared for him once makes him brave enough to reach for this smallest shred of comfort.

[galdorleod]

At first, it seems the shift to quiet observation will reward them both. He can see the surge in fear start to leave Estinien, in both his expression and his body. While the continued existence of his Shard does indeed prove that he's still an Aion, it seems the definition of an Aion is much more flexible than Howl would have ever thought. They were told they were akin to demigods, by virtue of being born into this world with Shards, but... who would plausibly describe the soft-spoken, childlike simulacrum within the cage a "demigod"? Maybe he once was, but not anymore. The term is wholly inapplicable.

But the silence does more than calm him. To Howl's surprise, Estinien seems to look distinctly sorrowful for the first time — aware of his own sorrow, in a more active and conscious way than before. And then, before Howl can decide whether asking him for his thoughts will be worth either his time or Estinien's, he... moves. Now, they're practically leaning against each other, with only a few metal bars separating them. Howl can hear him breathing, smell the oils from his last bath on his skin, and even feel his body heat radiating out into the cool night air.

Howl says nothing. He stares at the large man on the other side of the bars, astonished. Is he this desperate for connection? To have his own humanity acknowledged? His body language suggests that he's trying to make himself look small, huddling so tightly inward, avoiding eye contact like a scared dog. But he would not have moved close to Howl if he wanted to be ignored.

And... Howl would not have come out here if he wanted to remain unknown to him, either.

Without making a sound, Howl turns his head, looking away at the same time he rests the side of his head against the bar, opposite to Estinien's. If he wants him to stay and sit with him, then he'll stay. He'll sit here all night if he wants. If it means he gets a chance at a full night's rest. There is certainly no shortage in thoughts swarming in Howl's head.