herr_bookman: (sleepy)
herr_bookman ([personal profile] herr_bookman) wrote2014-11-24 04:11 pm

OOM: A Ritual Repeated

After Autor's dramatic reentry into the bar, he hid from everyone in his room, wrapped up in a cocoon of denial. Pride goes before a fall, and Autor had indeed fallen, though he refused to acknowledge it.

He thinks in if only statements. If only the oak tree had talked to him. If only he were chosen, and not Fakir. If only he'd been born with Drosselmeyer's blood. If only he'd never been born.

It's not that he wanted to die, necessarily, just that he didn't want to be there right now. He was overwhelmed, and clearly couldn't handle everything coming his way at the moment. Autor tried not to dwell on his desire to run away, tried to focus on what he could do. What he should do.

He also thinks in what ifs. What if the Bookmen are wrong? he thinks desperately, pacing. Fakir can't be the only Spinner. I worked too hard for this. What if the whole thing's just a nightmare? He snorts at the ridiculous notion, glaring at the floor. But what if... I did the rituals wrong? And I could still prove myself?

Well, he could test that. Autor drinks a glass of water, and washes his face. He digs his toes into the wood, facing the door, and prepares to clear his mind.

Three days later, he's still standing there.
sunbaked_baker: (Cold ashes)

[personal profile] sunbaked_baker 2015-02-05 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
Sunshine cries herself out, until her sobs subside into quiet, exhausted misery. In the near-silent room, she listens to Autor's gentle breathing as the last of her tears stick to her wet eyelashes and blur her vision.

('I'm so sorry.')

Very slowly and gently, Rae shifts Autor so she can stand, lifting him in her arms. The boy doesn't eat enough even when he hasn't starved himself for three days; even in her emotionally exhausted state, he is easy to carry over to the bed.

('I'm sorry. I didn't know.')

Almost mechanically, she takes off his shoes and loosens his collar, then covers him with a blanket so he won't get cold as he sleeps. The tea tray lies forgotten and cold by the bedside. Rae settles in the chair, though she isn't sure why she doesn't just leave. Some part of her says she should keep watch, but another, nastier part says, 'Against what? Haven't I already done enough damage? Perhaps someone should keep watch against me.' She stays, anyway. Even if some of this damage is her fault, she will not abandon him now.

('Please forgive me.')

For a long time, the only sound in the room is the quiet, sleep-steady breathing from the boy in the bed. If Rae sleeps, she doesn't remember it. She leaves at first light, unable to stand it any longer.