R U [ I ] N E D

The Augmentative Benefits of Drinking Manabe Blood: A Debate of Pros & Cons

After getting sick in the bushes outside the tent— and desperately hoping that no one heard him getting sick in the bushes outside the tent— Callan took a much needed reprieve by heading toward the edge of camp. It was hard for him to comprehend what Nim thought this experiment would accomplish. What was their aim? Proving their parents' wild untested theory? Pushing Cal to his limits? Stirring up underlying drama within the group? Something else altogether? He didn't know the Manabe, whose mind seemed to work in unusual ways to begin with; he wasn't going to be able to rationalize it. But would he go through with it? He stopped where the trees surrounding the compound began to grow denser and squatted down to rest his head in his hands. It wasn't like he had the time to thoroughly consider every option he had. They were on a deadline, after all, and he could only stay so long. It was a limited time opportunity to repair the disconnect that his stolen memories had created between him and his shifted form. Would he ever get a chance like this again?

He heard the rustling of the bushes, like the nature surrounding them had no choice but to acknowledge her presence, well before she deigned to speak to the shifter directly. "You look like you're on the verge of passing out... again. Should I take you back to the medic?"

Cal drew his head from its half-hearted hiding place at Soleil's familiar voice, sheepishly wondering how to begin filling her in on what she'd missed. That was why his stomach was doing somersaults and a slick sheen of sweat made his forehead glisten, after all. While he considered his options, he turned the question back on her. "What about you? You fled like the embers of your rage were going to catch the rest of us like kindling to the flame if you stayed."

"Maybe they would have." Sol shook her head and crouched down to sit beside Cal. He got a better look at her face in close quarters, that deep frown that she reserved for any remembrance of Ferndale's ruin marring her usually warm, gentle expression. "Would you have stayed if you were me? I know it's not the Manabe's fault, having Mirigocian roots, but the more similarities I saw to the brutes that ravaged my hometown... the more it stirred up those helpless memories and my selfish, vengeful desires. It wouldn't have been fair to lash out, so I needed to get a hold of myself, and I couldn't do that there."

Would he have stayed? Callan didn't really know how to answer that. He let out a slow breath, raking a hand back through his hair. He had his own traumas, so he understood that much. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to face his father— no, the Grand Commander— after getting his memories back. Knowing what that man had done willingly to him and to Sachi, the role he pretended to play just to keep himself from having to go back to square one in searching for the Runeholders with a new set of children being chosen, he wasn't sure he could. No reasoning, noble or otherwise, could soften the betrayal. The anger burned inside him just like Sol's did for the destruction of her beloved home. His was fresh, but Soliel had years for her resentment to grow. "I can't say what I would've done in your position," he said finally, "but I don't blame you. You took yourself out of a difficult situation because it was the best thing for you in that moment."

The sorceress laughed, but it was a pitiful sound that shifted into a whimper no sooner than it had left her lips, and then the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help it. I don't know that I'll ever get over it." She rubbed her eyes with her palms only for more teardrops to counteract her efforts. The floodgates were open, and Sol couldn't will them to stop. 

"Please don't apologize for feeling. Honestly, I'd be more worried if you could brush off what you lost like it was nothing." Her bias was misplaced, but she knew that. She made a choice that kept her from targeting an innocent party. If that wasn't a noble decision rooted from her compassionate heart, Callan didn't know what was. She didn't need to beat herself up for the influence that her enduring heartbreak over Ferndale still had on her. She'd acted in the best interest of everyone involved, herself included. "No one expects you to pretend it's okay. You'll always carry your home with you, but maybe one day, you'll be able to channel that energy into something better for the others like you, the people who survived that tragedy." Like Reighn and Rina, and so many others who knew the same scars that she wore on her heart because they wore the same reminder in their own. His words were soft, as if a delicate touch could piece the girl beside him back together as she was falling apart. "You did well. You did nothing wrong." And if she couldn't accept that, he'd tell her again.