[Salem's third death. So she will lose more of her memory. Ozpin says she won't be the same person, and it makes sense. How could anyone be the same in the absence of their memories? She lapses into silence as well to consider the implications of it all.
Her eyebrows raise in surprise when he offers to share the story of how this all started. She hasn't even considered trying to bring it up again since the night of the party. She regrets pushing for it in the first place, but it felt important at the time. After speaking to Salem, and seeing what she is capable of first hand, it feels less important now.]
You don't have to tell me, if it's too painful, Ozpin. But if you want to tell me about it, I'm listening.
[ If it's too painful. He exhales a breath that is almost a laugh, so soft she might not notice were he not right there over her shoulder. She does not know the half of it. It has always been too painful, and always shall be.
He cannot help but think of Qrow, and Oscar. They would say that is why he should tell it. He may not agree in so many words, but in this instance... in this place...
She will hear it from someone, at this rate. It would best be him. He is silent only a moment, and when he speaks again, it is in the distant tones of a storyteller. ]
You know that I am far older than I look, Willow. And that I once did not look like this at all. Salem, on the other hand... she has changed in a different way, over the lifetimes.
Upon Remnant, there is a story we still tell, about a girl kept trapped in a tower. It was her father's wish, you see. He regarded her as one more of his treasures.
[ Through it, Tippetarius walks on, the sound of his hooves a steady rhythm behind the story. ]
A young man— a naive young warrior— came to rescue her from that fate. He stormed the tower, and side by side, they used their magic to strike down her father and all his armies. They won the battle, and the girl and warrior went freely to adventure through the lands beyond.
[She listens quietly as he starts to tell the tale. It starts off sounding similar to the sorts of fairy tales she's familiar with from home, and her first instinct is to think it might be a parable. The thought is dismissed easily, though - he told her he would tell her how this all started. No doubt it will all be clear by the time he's done.
Brave, yes. But foolish, too. He thought himself invincible, and that he would always stand at the girl's side.
He was wrong.
[ The smile in her voice is painful to him, and Oz is silent another beat before he continues. ]
He died unexpectedly, of a sudden illness. The young woman was left alone once again. She had the freedom she'd always desired, but with his loss, she again felt trapped. She went to petition the gods for his resurrection... a feat never before accomplished in their world.
[ The mist billows around them as they go. Nothing has yet emerged from it, and he can only hope that the air of coming danger does not crystallize too soon. ]
The two gods walked the world, in those days. A god of light, and a god of darkness. She chose to speak to the god of light.
[There's a certain feeling of invulnerability that generally comes with youth - Willow lost her delusions of invincibility a long time ago, but it doesn't surprise her that the warrior did not see his fate coming. Especially not from an illness; not being young, and strong, and healthy.
Ozpin carries on to tell her about the girl going to the gods for help and the story is so painfully familiar she can't help stiffening. It's instinctive to want to curl her fingers into the elk's soft fur, but it's his soul she has her hands on. Instead, she takes a deep breath that immediately dissolves into coughing, and she brings her arm up to cover her mouth.
She can't imagine going to the gods for help is going to end well - Osiris only agreed to bring Buffy back because her death was supernatural in origin. Tara, who died a completely natural death, was denied, and Willow still misses her desperately.
Salem killed her - part of her thinks she shouldn't feel sympathy for her murderer, but it's impossible not to. She knows all too well how such sudden, raw grief can make you feel claustrophobic, and trapped - like it's pressing down on you from all sides, and all you want to do is find some way to escape it. To demand that the universe take it back, and let you have a do over. Or perhaps to, somehow, some way, fix it. She knows now that the only way out is through, and that even then, you can never completely leave it behind. You can't run from something that lives inside your own heart, and most of the time, there's no way to go back. When there is, it's never a good idea.
She is suddenly unsure she wants the rest of the story, but at the same time, she wants to understand.
[ Willow stiffens, then falls to a coughing spell; he assumes this is what caused her shoulders to tense against him. Ozpin falls silent to let it pass. They are nearing the mansion, now, if his flimsy landmarks hold true. Even with his enchanted glasses, it is difficult to make out much through the fog. ]
He did. In this world, light and dark existed as balancing forces. So did life and death, he argued.
She turned instead to his younger brother, the less favored of the two. The god of darkness was merely pleased to have a worshipper. She claimed loyalty to him, and spoke his praises above those of his elder brother...
[ They reach the gate, and Tipp sidles up to it so that Ozpin may see to the latch. Once they are on the other side, and moving steadily up the drive to the front door, he continues. ]
But the god of light grew angry. The two brothers fought, and blamed her for inciting the feud.
[It feels very much like a child's trick - when one parent has already said no, so you ask the other one instead, hoping for an answer you'll like more. Willow understands the need to try, but it's not hard to see that this second attempt is also going to go badly, even before Ozpin tells her about the fight between the two gods. Her sympathy still lies with the poor young woman, desperately trying to save her lost love.
They pass through the gates, and she is suddenly reminded of her first visit here back in December, chased by the white walkers that cornered her. She can even almost imagine seeing the burnt out tower she had been curious about, but never actually asked about, in through the mist. There's still the chance that something might come at them on the grounds, but she doubts it will. With the gates shut behind them, it feels safe.
Her focus is back on the story again, and she winces as he explains where the two brothers decided blame ought to be placed for their fight. It's never going to be a good thing to have gods unite against you. Facing one, she knows, would be bad enough.]
[ They reach the front door, and this time Ozpin has to dismount in order to open it. Tipp remains still and steady beneath Willow. The double doors are grand and wide, easily tall enough to allow Tipp's curving antlers, and he bows his head as he carries her into the foyer.
There is a brief silence as Ozpin shuts the door behind them, the last of the mist swirling about his hands in clinging curls. Then the door is latched, and they are alone in the dim and empty foyer. He is still deeply aware of Willow's every shift of weight against Tipp's bare flanks, the exact pressure of her fingers tightened nervously in his fur. ]
[Of course they cursed her. Osiris may have been furious when Willow called upon him to bring Tara back, refusing to interfere in a natural death, but at least he did not curse her.
She didn't exactly give him the chance to.
Tipp carries her inside, and she ducks her head as they pass through the doorframe. She watches quietly as Ozpin sees to the door, and she straightens in surprise when he reveals the curse was never ending life. She understands the implication immediately - that the woman would never again be reunited with the warrior. It seems a particularly cruel punishment for someone who just wanted a second chance at a love cut tragically short.
She leans forward to dismount and lets Ozpin help her down from Tipp's back. She feels herself sway unsteadily at first, and keeps a hand braced on the elk's shoulder until the moment passes.]
Thank-you. Both of you.
So they cursed her with life for wanting to bring someone she loved back from death?
[ He steps forward to offer her his arm, and Tipp moves away to let them take the lead down the hall towards her room. ]
They did.
[ His voice remains low as they walk, though the rest of the house is silent around them. ]
For failing to respect the balance of life and death, they said, she would walk the world endlessly and learn the pain of a life without end. Immortality is not much of a blessing, I'm afraid. Not for long.
[Willow takes his arm and lets him lead the way to the bedroom, as he continues the tale.
She supposes it does sound like the sort of lesson a god would inflict on someone - you asked for this harmful thing for someone else, so here, you have it instead so you can figure out why it was wrong to ask.
She thinks about Angel, and Mayor Wilkins who pointed out that immortality is no fun when the people you love are mortal, and you have to watch them age and die while you remain unchanged, and she nods in understanding.]
Yeah, that makes sense. That's harsh, though. She wasn't asking for the warrior to be immortal, was she? Just for a second chance. That's kind of a normal part of grief, taken to an extreme.
[ He says it low, in a murmur, as he lets them into the room that will be hers. It is quiet, peaceful, neatly made up. He is a steady arm for her to lean upon as she settles onto the bed.
The story is not over, of course. Not by half. But they are no longer in the quiet safety— odd though it feels to call it such— of the mist. Reality is reimposing itself, and practicality with it. Tippetarius still stands at the door, regal and silent. Ozpin's expression is so very tired.
He is quiet a long moment. Then: ]
Allow me to fetch you something clean to wear. Glynda's wardrobe should do, and we will find something better-fitting in the morning.
[Willow settles onto the edge of the bed quietly, and lets go of his arm. She's more exhausted than she thought she was when they were out in the mist, where there was a chance of being attacked by Maul, or who knows what creatures could have been lurking in the shadows, and it's tempting to want to curl up under the blankets just as she is.
Still, she wants to hear the rest of the story.
Ozpin offers to get her something clean to wear and she nods, and rubs her eyes to try to encourage a bit more alertness. A chance to clean up a bit and get changed should help her stay awake a bit longer, she thinks, and she'll likely sleep better for it.]
Thanks. You're sure Glynda won't mind you raiding her wardrobe?
[ He would offer her something of his, as he once did to Winter, when she first stayed here. But he knows Glynda: the moment he tells her that one of their charges is suffering, no degree of strict practicality will cover how fiercely she cares.
With Willow on the bed, he rises and steps away, back towards the bright-antlered elk at his back. ]
I will return in a moment, then. Is there anything else I should fetch?
[ The story dissipates ever further between them. ]
[She appreciates them both - especially now when it seems like things can't get much worse, and she can't help but smile a little as Ozpin reassures her Glynda won't mind loaning out something for her to wear at least for the night. She is not used to other people looking after her like this.]
Okay. Thank her for me too?
[Willow clears her throat. She'd rather get back to the rest of the story sooner - both because she wants to hear how the rest of it goes, and because she can't imagine stopping in the middle like this makes it any easier on him. Especially when he seemed so determined outside to share it with her.]
[ He steps away, out into the hallway past Tippetarius. As he goes, the elk murmurs to him: It is good of you to try. It will get easier with each telling.
It will not, Ozpin murmurs back, under his breath, as he goes to the stairs. It never has.
The elk can say nothing to that. He is left at the foot of the stairs as Ozpin ascends into the darkness. When he returns with a nightshirt and a glass of water, Willow has already fallen asleep in her clothing, and the dream guide has gone. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Her eyebrows raise in surprise when he offers to share the story of how this all started. She hasn't even considered trying to bring it up again since the night of the party. She regrets pushing for it in the first place, but it felt important at the time. After speaking to Salem, and seeing what she is capable of first hand, it feels less important now.]
You don't have to tell me, if it's too painful, Ozpin. But if you want to tell me about it, I'm listening.
no subject
He cannot help but think of Qrow, and Oscar. They would say that is why he should tell it. He may not agree in so many words, but in this instance... in this place...
She will hear it from someone, at this rate. It would best be him. He is silent only a moment, and when he speaks again, it is in the distant tones of a storyteller. ]
You know that I am far older than I look, Willow. And that I once did not look like this at all. Salem, on the other hand... she has changed in a different way, over the lifetimes.
Upon Remnant, there is a story we still tell, about a girl kept trapped in a tower. It was her father's wish, you see. He regarded her as one more of his treasures.
[ Through it, Tippetarius walks on, the sound of his hooves a steady rhythm behind the story. ]
A young man— a naive young warrior— came to rescue her from that fate. He stormed the tower, and side by side, they used their magic to strike down her father and all his armies. They won the battle, and the girl and warrior went freely to adventure through the lands beyond.
They fell in love.
no subject
She smiles a little.]
The warrior sounds very brave.
no subject
He was wrong.
[ The smile in her voice is painful to him, and Oz is silent another beat before he continues. ]
He died unexpectedly, of a sudden illness. The young woman was left alone once again. She had the freedom she'd always desired, but with his loss, she again felt trapped. She went to petition the gods for his resurrection... a feat never before accomplished in their world.
[ The mist billows around them as they go. Nothing has yet emerged from it, and he can only hope that the air of coming danger does not crystallize too soon. ]
The two gods walked the world, in those days. A god of light, and a god of darkness. She chose to speak to the god of light.
no subject
Ozpin carries on to tell her about the girl going to the gods for help and the story is so painfully familiar she can't help stiffening. It's instinctive to want to curl her fingers into the elk's soft fur, but it's his soul she has her hands on. Instead, she takes a deep breath that immediately dissolves into coughing, and she brings her arm up to cover her mouth.
She can't imagine going to the gods for help is going to end well - Osiris only agreed to bring Buffy back because her death was supernatural in origin. Tara, who died a completely natural death, was denied, and Willow still misses her desperately.
Salem killed her - part of her thinks she shouldn't feel sympathy for her murderer, but it's impossible not to. She knows all too well how such sudden, raw grief can make you feel claustrophobic, and trapped - like it's pressing down on you from all sides, and all you want to do is find some way to escape it. To demand that the universe take it back, and let you have a do over. Or perhaps to, somehow, some way, fix it. She knows now that the only way out is through, and that even then, you can never completely leave it behind. You can't run from something that lives inside your own heart, and most of the time, there's no way to go back. When there is, it's never a good idea.
She is suddenly unsure she wants the rest of the story, but at the same time, she wants to understand.
The only way out is through.]
I'm guessing the god refused?
no subject
He did. In this world, light and dark existed as balancing forces. So did life and death, he argued.
She turned instead to his younger brother, the less favored of the two. The god of darkness was merely pleased to have a worshipper. She claimed loyalty to him, and spoke his praises above those of his elder brother...
[ They reach the gate, and Tipp sidles up to it so that Ozpin may see to the latch. Once they are on the other side, and moving steadily up the drive to the front door, he continues. ]
But the god of light grew angry. The two brothers fought, and blamed her for inciting the feud.
no subject
They pass through the gates, and she is suddenly reminded of her first visit here back in December, chased by the white walkers that cornered her. She can even almost imagine seeing the burnt out tower she had been curious about, but never actually asked about, in through the mist. There's still the chance that something might come at them on the grounds, but she doubts it will. With the gates shut behind them, it feels safe.
Her focus is back on the story again, and she winces as he explains where the two brothers decided blame ought to be placed for their fight. It's never going to be a good thing to have gods unite against you. Facing one, she knows, would be bad enough.]
So what happened?
no subject
[ They reach the front door, and this time Ozpin has to dismount in order to open it. Tipp remains still and steady beneath Willow. The double doors are grand and wide, easily tall enough to allow Tipp's curving antlers, and he bows his head as he carries her into the foyer.
There is a brief silence as Ozpin shuts the door behind them, the last of the mist swirling about his hands in clinging curls. Then the door is latched, and they are alone in the dim and empty foyer. He is still deeply aware of Willow's every shift of weight against Tipp's bare flanks, the exact pressure of her fingers tightened nervously in his fur. ]
They cursed her with an unending life.
no subject
She didn't exactly give him the chance to.
Tipp carries her inside, and she ducks her head as they pass through the doorframe. She watches quietly as Ozpin sees to the door, and she straightens in surprise when he reveals the curse was never ending life. She understands the implication immediately - that the woman would never again be reunited with the warrior. It seems a particularly cruel punishment for someone who just wanted a second chance at a love cut tragically short.
She leans forward to dismount and lets Ozpin help her down from Tipp's back. She feels herself sway unsteadily at first, and keeps a hand braced on the elk's shoulder until the moment passes.]
Thank-you. Both of you.
So they cursed her with life for wanting to bring someone she loved back from death?
no subject
They did.
[ His voice remains low as they walk, though the rest of the house is silent around them. ]
For failing to respect the balance of life and death, they said, she would walk the world endlessly and learn the pain of a life without end. Immortality is not much of a blessing, I'm afraid. Not for long.
no subject
She supposes it does sound like the sort of lesson a god would inflict on someone - you asked for this harmful thing for someone else, so here, you have it instead so you can figure out why it was wrong to ask.
She thinks about Angel, and Mayor Wilkins who pointed out that immortality is no fun when the people you love are mortal, and you have to watch them age and die while you remain unchanged, and she nods in understanding.]
Yeah, that makes sense. That's harsh, though. She wasn't asking for the warrior to be immortal, was she? Just for a second chance. That's kind of a normal part of grief, taken to an extreme.
no subject
[ He says it low, in a murmur, as he lets them into the room that will be hers. It is quiet, peaceful, neatly made up. He is a steady arm for her to lean upon as she settles onto the bed.
The story is not over, of course. Not by half. But they are no longer in the quiet safety— odd though it feels to call it such— of the mist. Reality is reimposing itself, and practicality with it. Tippetarius still stands at the door, regal and silent. Ozpin's expression is so very tired.
He is quiet a long moment. Then: ]
Allow me to fetch you something clean to wear. Glynda's wardrobe should do, and we will find something better-fitting in the morning.
no subject
Still, she wants to hear the rest of the story.
Ozpin offers to get her something clean to wear and she nods, and rubs her eyes to try to encourage a bit more alertness. A chance to clean up a bit and get changed should help her stay awake a bit longer, she thinks, and she'll likely sleep better for it.]
Thanks. You're sure Glynda won't mind you raiding her wardrobe?
no subject
[ He would offer her something of his, as he once did to Winter, when she first stayed here. But he knows Glynda: the moment he tells her that one of their charges is suffering, no degree of strict practicality will cover how fiercely she cares.
With Willow on the bed, he rises and steps away, back towards the bright-antlered elk at his back. ]
I will return in a moment, then. Is there anything else I should fetch?
[ The story dissipates ever further between them. ]
no subject
Okay. Thank her for me too?
[Willow clears her throat. She'd rather get back to the rest of the story sooner - both because she wants to hear how the rest of it goes, and because she can't imagine stopping in the middle like this makes it any easier on him. Especially when he seemed so determined outside to share it with her.]
Maybe just some water too, please?
no subject
[ He steps away, out into the hallway past Tippetarius. As he goes, the elk murmurs to him: It is good of you to try. It will get easier with each telling.
It will not, Ozpin murmurs back, under his breath, as he goes to the stairs. It never has.
The elk can say nothing to that. He is left at the foot of the stairs as Ozpin ascends into the darkness. When he returns with a nightshirt and a glass of water, Willow has already fallen asleep in her clothing, and the dream guide has gone. ]