chrisisofaith | IC Contact

The funny thing about dreams is how they tend to meld things together. You can be in a place you've never seen before and be absolutely certain it's a very specific tavern from the town you grew up in. Which is why this bar with the almost uncomfortably low ceilings and roaring fire pit may strike Chris as the Swallow's Charm despite it sharing very little in common.

Or does it?

There's familiar rug and wood in the entry, the scent of salt air and foundry that can never quite be erased, devans and plush velvet chairs litter more intimate alcoves in lit by glass covered sconces. They're old, getting threadbare, but still in good enough repair to be comfortable - or maybe they're comfortable because of their familiarity.

Familiar too is the figure that sits on a stool at the bar - dark wood and hewn stone depending on the angle - who towers over the other patrons by more than a foot in some cases. He leans back merrily, elbows on the bartop with his back to the same and ale in one hand. In this way, Amnos Stonehewer, Guardian of the North, Knight-Commander of the Forces of Deismyr and Custodian to the Crown sits and enjoys the general bustle of those around him.

His expression, while still generally amiable, breaks into clear joy at Chris' appearance.

"Finally done with all that paperwork and come to relax with us common folk, have we?"

Edited 2022-12-23 18:03 (UTC)

It's the Charm...mostly. Enough. Enough that it's certain in his mind and the faceless shapes of patrons don't register to him more than the towering shape of his best friend leaning back against the bar like he is. Like Chris is just in from a long day holding his hand uncomfortably so he doesn't smear ink across the papers he scratches decrees and agreements and missives into.

He's not, though, can't be. The Charm isn't in Duplicity. Amnos isn't in Duplicity. And for right now, that doesn't matter even a bit.

Something unkindly lodges in Chris' throat and his eyes sting in a way that isn't fair and he doesn't feel his twenty-seven years when he takes long strides across the room to clamp his arms around the broad form of his general like some clinging child. He can't dream. He shouldn't be able to dream. This should be alarming. The thoughts don't do more than pass by, though, not in favor of burying his face into the other man's shoulder.

"You're not real." It comes out thin, but thick with tightly clamped down emotion.

"You've been at a desk too long." Amnos sets his mostly empty tankard behind him and holds Chris, one large hand cradling the back of his head and the other arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. "I assure you, the rest of the world still exists."

He's quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Letting Chris take it as he will. Only Amnos has not always been good at just letting subtext be. The Dwarf in him, maybe. "We're all still here. Even you. Even if you can't get back to us right now."

That weight of a familiar hold keeping him together loosens the lump in his throat...but the wrong way and even as the words hit his ears, he knows he can't stop how his face heats and tears blossom under tightly closed lashes. That's not what he wanted to hear. Or is it? His heart pangs in his own uncertainty and guilt and, gods, on some level it must be Amnos, right? To hear what he needs to, even if it's not what he wants or what's easy.

"I don't know if that's better or worse...at least -if I'm dead, it's done and over." If he's not... His breath shudders and he hates how crying makes him feel, but he can't stop. "I don't know what to do. I know I'll come back if I have the choice...but I-" The words lodge and he grits his teeth through it. But if he doesn't, if he never did, he'd never have this, his family. Yet he can taste the crushing weight at the edges, the chains on his wrists in exchange for love and acceptance and support when Duplicity in all it's horrors holds people who love and support and accept him and only him. It's not a fair choice and, on some level, he's scared to ever have to make it because- "I don't know that I want to."

"You're not dead." It's simple, a statement of fact. Immutable, but delivered with a stalwart gentleness. He shifts a little, letting Chris hide against him. He knows how much his friend hates to cry, much less let anyone see him like that.

"But if you don't want to come back, then don't." Again, simple. "You've built a life for yourself, with other people. Something away from everything. I figured it out when I was there; I need roots, a strong foundation, and having that removed from me was terrible. You? You need to be able to fly. You thrive that way."

There's a brief tightness in Amnos' posture before he moves to detach Chris from his front in order to look at him. "I've told you before and I still mean it. You can always change your mind. Do what's best for you and everyone will just have to understand."

He breathes out a sigh that quakes through him. Of course he's not. Maybe he should be, but they never would have listened to him, would they? They probably brought him back from that final step, even if Ra'ah had made his wishes known; something Chris equally wasn't sure of. It was a weight off of him that he would wake later and doubt once more, but for now it seemed sure.

Which left the rest. A terrifying string of words he couldn't begin to process, but trying to at least evens out his breathing and stops the tears from coming, even if the evidence of them still stains his eyes and face when Amnos pulls him back to look at him. He hears him, it's likely clear in his face he hears the words and considers them, but they're too much. Just like before, in Ilinivur, with the others all looking at him with the weight of their pity and understanding and an offer to simply turn their backs on the whole affair. Raise Rhyt, leave some money in Thentia and Phlan for the people of Melvaunt they now supported...and just go somewhere else. Like it was so easy.

And how could he make that decision with the shadows of the Pit lingering over him? When he has to hold his breath near the end of every month to see if he'll forget himself for a week. He built a life here, but how could he claim it was any different? He was still stuck, still shackled in other ways, wasn't the metal just a different color?

Besides- "No. I can't. That's too selfish, even for me. The people relying on me here will go home too, they'll make the same choice and there'll be no one to stay for besides...and you all need stability. I can offer that, I can't- I can't turn away from where I'm needed just because I'm-" Happier? More himself. He shakes his head. "Don't tell me that, Amnos, it's not true for me as it is for you."

"All I've ever done is tell you the truth." He doesn't let go of Chris entirely, but he does put him a bit away with his hands on Chris' shoulders so he can look at him. "If you can't, it's because you've decided your better option is to go home. But you know, home is always here, even if you're away from it for some time. There's nothing that says you can't travel, and nothing will."

Amnos puts a hand up between them to stop Chris from arguing right away. "Ruler or not. Why do you always look at life in terms of who's relying on you?"

Which may seem hypocritical coming from someone who takes it upon himself to care for everyone he chooses as family. He protects and provides for more than just his wife and children, but this is something about Chris that Amnos has always wondered over; how he seems to define himself by who relies on him and not at all on his own desires.

He's half way to forming a response, mouth already open to do so, when Amnos raises his hand and asks a question Chris can't answer. Can't or won't? The line seems thin there.

"Now's not time to be asking that, it doesn't matter, but if you're trying to spin it as some selfless thing I've got in my head, I assure you it's likely not. I still have desires and follow them, how many times have I simply gone off to do a thing without saying much to the rest of you simply because I believed to know best? I can give every assurance I've been well indulged in my time here." He pulls back further to straighten up, a hand coming up to clear his face.

"I know you're not selfless." Blunt, to the point, as has always been his way, but certainly not derogatory. If anything he appreciates that Chris generally looks after himself in a way that Amnos doesn't have to worry over. Generally. "Selfless is useless, it peters out or dies young. You have to have a sense of self to get anywhere."

He waves his hand dismissively, then meets Chris' eyes again. "What you do is bend under responsibility. If you want something done the way you want, then do it yourself, I understand that but don't pretend its not for you."

The worst part is he does not say this unkindly. It's absolutely bringing to the fore things that Amnos knows Chris does not want to face and yet he does it anyway. Because they need to have this talk, because while Chris is very good at pushing things in closets and sweeping under rugs, that doesn't mean the mess is actually gone.

"You need to be needed or else you don't know what direction to go."

Of everything his gut and mouth want to argue against or even address further, none of it sticks well enough compared to the words 'bend under responsibility,' that has him bristling the most. He lifts his chin, irritation turning cool but sharp in his voice. "What, exactly, makes you think I bend under responsibility? I've risen to face it all but once and that once cost us someone irreplaceable, I'll not do it again, nor suffer anyone saying I would, not even you."

It's a cold needle prick steel under skin, his bite went outward, but he reserved plenty for himself. They got Rhyt back, but time would crumble the mountains before he stopped believing the truth inherent in the fall of Melvaunt: it should have been him.

"That's not what I meant." Amnos' expression creases a bit between the eyebrows, his common having gotten away from him in a very rare note of reminder that dwarven is his first language. "What I mean is if there is an option to choose responsibility, to take it and put it on your back, you always do that over what will make you happy. Every time."

He moves to put his hand at the nape of Chris' neck, knowing the weight of it may be rebuked but wanting to do it anyway. Wanting that touch to convey that his pointing out this observation is a testament to how well they know each other, and how he worries for his friend and his charge.

"Chris, it's alright to be happy. And it's alright to let things be."

The Dwarvish word meaning 'to bend or bow' with a note of deference, not ridicule runs through his mind for Amnos' explanation, but he leaves it be. He still meant what he said.

What would make him happy...

The hand on his neck isn't rebuked, but he's stock still under it even as his eyes fall from Amnos' face. He could read him too easily...and on some level he missed it. On another...he never wanted this conversation. How could he go back on what he'd already decided? They were in too deep and fear had crippled the chances to leave. What would he even find out there, past the edges of his region, the unknown and ineffective? Jon had been right, even if he could Gate his way to one of his friend's worlds, what good would he be there? If he left the Moonsea as it is now, would what they'd done really be enough or would it simply unravel? What would have been the point in everything they'd gone through if it all fell apart? Would it?

He wasn't so important as all that, he was just a mortal man with borrowed power and a legacy handed to him. He was no different from anyone else, he just happened to be in a position to help. Shouldn't he use it? Thazt's what a good person would do.

"I am happy. I'm happier with you and the others, more'n I've been before. You all helped me to have a life at all, if shouldering a few things means I can make the lot of you happier for it, then I'll do that. I'll do what I'm meant for. You all deserve a home...and as much as I wish to be free of it, it's mine as well. Even here, even seeing and learning new things, I miss it." He shakes his head. "No, I'm just whining, Amnos, don't mind it. I won't abandon my place."

"All you're meant for is what you decide." He frowns, words still kind but with a stubbornness behind them and a protectiveness that comes through in the hand he has on Chris grasping just a little. Not enough to notice other than in an expression of protectiveness. "No one is put in the world with a predetermined path, Chris. You have to make it. Even if the Gods have plans, they're so often thwarted by mortals, so don't let either Gods or other mortals tell you what you're for."

At this, he kneels to look Chris in the eye. He almost never does, having once been chided that when he does it makes others feel that he's treating them like children, but in this case he needs to be on level, needs to make sure he's understood. So he kneels, not like a father taking a knee nor a vassal to his lord. Like a friend, seeing eye to eye.

"I never want you to shoulder anything for me that you're not perfectly willing to, and by Korth I never want to hear of you putting our happiness ahead of your own. If you're happy in Duplicity, then be happy there. You don't have to coddle us, or worry too much. Silver will keep us in line." He smiles then, warmly and hiding nothing. Amnos can be guarded when he feels he should, but in general if there is no reason to keep himself contained, then he wears his heart on his sleeve. "We miss you. We love you. We want you and you'll always be ours. But Chris, we don't need you to keep living. Don't make us into shackles."

He doesn't believe in 'fate' or the god's plans being anything other than vague intention...but it's the 'don't let mortals tell you what you're for' that twists uncomfortably. It's too sharp of a thought.

And then Amnos is kneeling down and he wants to flinch away, to look elsewhere but at those earnest green eyes that could nearly give Silver a run for his money. He wants to argue. He's not shouldering anything he's not willing to. He wants them to have a safe and happy home, he wants to help them build the lives they want and why shouldn't he when he certainly didn't know what else he might do. For all his ambitions to be Ardri, to unite the Northern Coast and maybe even the Moonsea as a whole one day, they weren't Chris' dreams, they were goals for them, his family. Those tiefling children who deserved to grow up in a land that would respect their name.

He doesn't say any of it. Doesn't argue. Because he doesn't want to even hear the suggestion that his strays-turned-family were shackles. That they might see themselves as such. That Chris might see them like that.
He didn't, but the implication hurt enough.

He flinches for his own thoughts, looks away, and then back as his hand comes up to rest on Amnos' shoulder. "I love you and want you all too. I don't want to have to choose. For now I don't have to but, if times comes, I'll make as best a decision as I can. That I'll at least promise."

The rest is too much for one night.

He takes a step closer and presses his forehead to Amnos' chest. "You know, you're probably not even real. I can't possibly be dreaming you right now...or maybe I am because it's impossible. Who knows."

Amnos' arms come up to encircle Chris readily when his forehead bonks softly against his pecs. "If you're hearing me, that makes me some kind of real, doesn't it?"

Not the best logic, but earnest at least. His palm rests against the back of Chris' neck while the other arm holds him close and tight in support. "Just live your life, Chris. How you want it. No one can ever ask more of anyone than that. Know that if there's a way where you don't have to choose, then that's what we'll work towards too. And if there isn't-"

He leans in then, closer to Chris' ear but not so close as to hit his friend in the face with his horns. Or maybe he is that close and the horns are just no obstacle in dreams. Things are getting a bit indistinct. "If you choose for yourself, then you made the right choice."

Amnos' words echo and hang in the face of Silver's earnest plea over four years ago now...how the people of Melvaunt needed him and Rhyt, how the power vacuum needed filling and the people needed an advocate. He'd wanted to leave then and hadn't in the face of that argument. In the face of this one...he felt sick. And unsure and it was such a silly thing to be overwhelmed with. His eyes sting.

"I hope so...I'm just- Im not-" He straightens up again, intent on saying something, anything more. Yet when he looks, his friend is nearly gone, a hue of bronze skin and bright emerald eyes and it fades along with the bar into white...which gives way to the black he's grown accustomed to. It's not until he wakes with tear tracks dried by his eyes that it occurs to him he didn't get a chance to say bye or that he missed him or any of the thousand things he should have said instead of selfishly focusing on his own guilt.

At least he has enough time in the twilight hour to put himself back together and bury the whole thing deep in his chest.

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Dream Event Dec '22

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