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spiritmoony · 3 years

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The Loyalists, Enneagram Type Six

Positives: committed, security-oriented, engaging, responsible, reliable, hard-working, responsible, trustworthy, excellent "troubleshooters," foresee problems, foster cooperation, internally stable, self-reliant, courageously championing themselves and others, dutiful

Negatives: anxious, suspicious, defensive, evasive, complaining while stressed, cautious, indecisive, reactive, defiant, rebellious, problems with self-doubt and suspicion, fearful, pessimistic

Basic Fear: being without support and guidance

Basic Desire: security and support

Enneagram Six with a Five-Wing: "The Defender"

Enneagram Six with a Seven-Wing: "The Buddy"

Key Motivations: security, support by others, certitude, reassurance, test attitudes of others toward them, fight against anxiety and insecurity

Direction of Disintegration (stress): suddenly competitive and arrogant at Three

Direction of Integration (growth): more relaxed and optimistic, like healthy Nine

Of all the personality types, Sixes are the most loyal to their friends and to their beliefs. They will “go down with the ship” and hang on to relationships of all kinds far longer than most. Sixes are also loyal to ideas, systems, and beliefs—even to the belief that all ideas or authorities should be questioned or defied. Their beliefs may be rebellious and anti-authoritarian, even revolutionary. In any case, they will typically fight for their beliefs more fiercely than they will fight for themselves, and they will defend their community or family more tenaciously than they will defend themselves.

They are so loyal because they do not want to be abandoned and left without support—their Basic Fear. Thus, the central issue for type Six is a failure of self-confidence. Sixes come to believe that they do not possess the internal resources to handle life’s challenges and vagaries alone, and so increasingly rely on structures, allies, beliefs, and supports outside themselves for guidance to survive. If suitable structures do not exist, they will help create and maintain them.

Sixes have the most trouble contacting their own inner guidance. As a result, they do not have confidence in their own minds and judgments.

This does not mean that they do not think. On the contrary, they think—and worry—a lot! They also tend to fear making important decisions, although at the same time, they resist having anyone else make decisions for them. They want to avoid being controlled, but are also afraid of taking responsibility in a way that might put them “in the line of fire.” (The old Japanese adage that says, “The blade of grass that grows too high gets chopped off” relates to this idea.)

If Sixes feel that they have sufficient back up, they can move forward with some degree of confidence. But if that crumbles, they become anxious and self-doubting, reawakening their Basic Fear. (“I’m on my own! What am I going to do now?”) A good question for Sixes might therefore be: “When will I know that I have enough security?” Or, to get right to the heart of it, “What is security?” Without Essential inner guidance and the deep sense of support that it brings, Sixes are constantly struggling to find firm ground.

Sixes attempt to build a network of trust over a background of unsteadiness and fear. They are often filled with a nameless anxiety and then try to find or create reasons why. Wanting to feel that there is something solid and clear-cut in their lives, they can become attached to explanations or positions that seem to explain their situation. Because “belief” (trust, faith, convictions, positions) is difficult for Sixes to achieve, and because it is so important to their sense of stability, once they establish a trustworthy belief, they do not easily question it, nor do they want others to do so. The same is true for individuals in a Six’s life: once Sixes feel they can trust someone, they go to great lengths to maintain connections with the person who acts as a sounding board, a mentor, or a regulator for the Six’s emotional reactions and behavior. They therefore do everything in their power to keep their affiliations going. (“If I don’t trust myself, then I have to find something in this world I can trust.”)

"About nearly every decision would involve a council of my friends. Please make up my mind for me! Recently, I’ve narrowed my authorities to just one or two trusted friends, and on occasion, I’ve actually made up my own mind!"

Until they can get in touch with their own inner guidance, Sixes are like a ping-pong ball that is constantly shuttling back and forth between whatever influence is hitting the hardest in any given moment. Because of this reactivity, no matter what we say about Sixes, the opposite is often also as true. They are both strong and weak, fearful and courageous, trusting and distrusting, defenders and provokers, sweet and sour, aggressive and passive, bullies and weaklings, on the defensive and on the offensive, thinkers and doers, group people and soloists, believers and doubters, cooperative and obstructionistic, tender and mean, generous and petty—and on and on. It is the contradictory picture that is the characteristic “fingerprint” of Sixes, the fact that they are a bundle of opposites.

The biggest problem for Sixes is that they try to build safety in the environment without resolving their own emotional insecurities. When they learn to face their anxieties, however, Sixes understand that although the world is always changing and is, by nature uncertain, they can be serene and courageous in any circumstance. And they can attain the greatest gift of all, a sense of peace with themselves despite the uncertainties of life.

Levels of Development

Healthy:

Level 1 (At Their Best): self-affirming, trusting of self and others, independent yet symbiotically interdependent, cooperative, belief in self, courage, positive thinking, leadership, rich self-expression

Level 2: able to elicit strong emotional responses from others, very appealing, endearing, lovable, affectionate, trust, bonding with others, forming permanent relationships and alliances

Level 3: dedicated to individuals and movements they deeply believe in, community builder, responsible, reliable, trustworthy, hard-working, persevering, sacrificing for others, create stability and security in their world, bring a cooperative spirit

Average:

Level 4: investing their time/energy into whatever they believe will be safe/stable, organizing, structuring, look to alliances and authorities for security and continuity, constantly vigilant, anticipating problems

Level 5: resist having more demands made on them, react against others passive-aggressively, evasive, indecisive, cautious, procrastinating, ambivalent, highly reactive, anxious, negative, giving contradictory "mixed signals," internal confusion, react unpredictably

Level 6: compensate for insecurities by being sarcastic and belligerent, blaming others for their problems, taking a tough stance toward "outsiders," highly reactive and defensive, dividing people into friends and enemies, looking for threats to their own security, authoritarian while fearful of authority, highly suspicious, conspiratorial, fear-instilling to silence their own fears

Unhealthy:

Level 7: fearing they ruined their security, panicky, volatile, self-disparaging, acute inferiority feelings, see themselves as defenseless, seek out a stronger authority or belief to resolve all problems, highly divisive, disparaging, berating others

Level 8: feeling persecuted, others are "out to get them," lash-out, act irrationally, fanaticism, violence

Level 9: hysterical, seeking to escape punishment, self-destructive, suicidal, alcoholism, drug overdoses, self-abasing behavior, corresponds to the Passive-Aggressive and Paranoid personality disorders

Addictions: rigidity in diet causes nutritional imbalances, working excessively, caffeine and amphetamines for stamina, alcohol and depressants to deaden anxiety, higher susceptibility to alcoholism than many types

Personal Growth Recommendations

Be more present to your anxiety, explore it, and come to terms with it. Work creatively with your tensions without turning to excessive amounts of alcohol (or other drugs) to allay them. In fact, if you are present and breathing fully, anxiety can be energizing, a kind of tonic that can help make you more productive and aware of what you are doing.

You tend to get edgy and testy when you are upset or angry, and can even turn on others and blame them for things you have done or brought on yourself. Be aware of your pessimism: it causes you dark moods and negative thought patterns that you tend to project on reality. When you succumb to this self-doubt, you can become your own worst enemy and may harm yourself more than anyone else does.

Tend to overreact when they are under stress and feeling anxious. Identify what makes you overreact. Realize that almost none of the things you have feared so much has actually come true. Even if things are as bad as you think, your fearful thoughts weaken you and your ability to change things for the better. You cannot always manage external events, but you can manage your own thoughts.

Become more trusting. There are doubtless several people in your life you can turn to who care about you and who are trustworthy. If not, go out of your way to find someone trustworthy, and allow yourself to get close to that person. This will mean risking rejection and stirring up some of your deepest fears, but the risk is worth taking. You have a gift for getting people to like you, but you are unsure of yourself and may be afraid of making a commitment to them. Therefore, come down clearly on one side or the other of the fence in your relationships. Let people know how you feel about them.

Others probably think better of you than you realize, and few people are really out to get you. In fact, your fears tell you more about your attitudes toward others than they indicate about others' attitudes toward you.

#long post #Enneagram six

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taexual · 5 years

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HOLIC - 20 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: some fluff + angst

words: 4.5k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Getting out of the apartment was refreshing. You realized how much you needed that almost immediately after you set one foot inside of Mark’s bar, your friends chattering excitedly next to you. The thrilling chaos inside – there were a lot more people here tonight than when you’ve been here last – seemed to ease the restless gears of anxiety inside of your mind, and, for once, you felt yourself smile even before the first drops of alcohol reached your lips.

Mark proved himself to not just be a great bartender-turned-friend but also a charming guy in general, and you had first-row tickets to watch Kiera bond with him about every single thing that they talked about. She had been complaining about her crush on someone at work but all of that flew out of the window when she and Mark began an in-depth discussion about skiing – was there anything that Mark couldn’t do? – all while completely ignoring the rest of your friends.

“Did you bring us here to introduce Kiera to Mark?” May asked, sulking as she’d realized she was the only one out of your group of friends who didn’t have any guy problems. Clearly, she was starting to want some.

“No, I brought us here because this is the one place in the city where I can guarantee that none of the bartenders will be starting a conversation with you unless you do it first,” you replied knowingly. “Also, the drinks here are amazing, so don't look at me like that. I didn’t know they were going to click.”

“Does your roommate have any other friends?” May asked then and you started to laugh before your mind returned to the ambiguous conversation you and Jaebum had had earlier this morning.

“He does,” you said, suddenly bitter. “He was explicitly clear about how many friends he has, actually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hyojin interjected, curious about the change in your tone.

“Nothing,” you tried to dismiss it, not wanting to over-analyze everything you’ve already over-analyzed several times before tonight. “We had a confusing talk this morning after I told him I hung out with Mark on the night of—uh, last night.”

Both of them noticed your purposeful change of sentence structure as you avoided mentioning Jiho’s show. Your friends already knew what had gone down – they asked as soon as you texted them, inviting them to hang out – and they were five seconds away from beating Jiho up for not having clear intentions – even if you didn’t blame him for the misunderstanding; if anything, you thought you were the one who deserved a beating for being so desperate to assume that Jiho was into you romantically, instead of seeing you as a networking opportunity.

“Maybe he was jealous,” Hyojin guessed, a small smirk on her lips as she said this.

“Who?” Mark’s voice suddenly interrupted your conversation, cutting you off before you could even open your mouth to reply. “Are you talking about Jaebum?”

“Of course, we are,” you said, sighing. “He’s the source of all my headaches.”

Mark chuckled, nodding understandingly. “If it’s any consolation, Jaebum had given me plenty of headaches since I first met him.”

“Jaebum was jealous that she was with you last night,” Hyojin updated him, patting your shoulder after she saw the look you gave her.

Mark raised his eyebrows as you groaned, pushing your friend’s hand off of yourself.

“He wasn’t jealous because of that,” you disagreed. “He just got this weird reaction when I told him I was here. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll never figure him out anyway. He’s been reacting irrationally to almost anything I’ve told him, that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“Yeah, he does that. And I’m sure he has his reasons for behaving in weird ways,” Mark said, an apologetic smile on his face. “I take it, you asked him what was up, and he changed the topic?”

It was really nice to hear him say this because this meant you weren’t the only one dealing with – and getting confused by – Jaebum, although sometimes it did feel like you were the only person who could not figure him out while everyone else had no problems with him. You knew that wasn’t the case, though. You knew how well Jaebum hid his real emotions from everyone and yet it was still so easy to forget about all of that each time he shut you out.

“That’s exactly what happened,” you said. “I think he said he was confused about something.”

“Maybe he’s still mad about you because of all that happened with Suji?” Kiera tried to help but you only frowned. You’ve decided to ignore everything that lead back to Suji, just like you were hoping to ignore everything in relation to Jiho. You simply couldn’t focus on so many problems at the same time without your head exploding.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “We were fine for a couple of days after we made up, and then… we weren’t. Or, maybe we still are and he’s—okay, I don’t know. He left me this note when he went out last night, telling me not to wait for him as if he wanted to avoid having to talk to me. But then he gave me the impression as though he was almost willing to alter his plans to hang out with me because of—”

“Oh, but that’s good!” Hyojin suddenly cut you off, nearly dropping her drink in excitement. “He wants to spend time with you!”

“No. He feels like he has to spend time with me,” you said. “He was almost relieved when I said I was going to go out with my own friends and he realized he wouldn’t have to be stuck with me. Maybe he’s sick of my shit and the act I pulled with Suji just made it worse.”

“Okay,” May said, shaking her head. “I love you but now you’re just imagining things.”

Your friends gave her agreeing looks but you insisted, “I’m not, I swear. He’s—”

“Okay, no offense,” Mark was the one who cut in this time. “But, seriously, you might be overthinking. I don’t think it’d make much sense for Jaebum to not want to spend time with you. Or to... hate you. Or whatever.”

You raised your eyes to meet his from across the bar.

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, you live together,” he began to explain. “Second of all, he said he forgave you for seeing Suji, didn’t he? Jaebum is great at a lot of things – being a dick is one of them – but he’s not too good at hiding his real feelings. He tries, of course, but you can always tell that something’s wrong with him. You said you were fine with each other, so that means his forgiveness was genuine. Otherwise, you would have noticed that something was up as soon as you two made up. Don’t doubt him so much. And, finally, he told you everything about his ex, didn’t he? I’m sure you and I are the only people who know about this, and that has to mean something.”

You really haven’t thought much about Jaebum’s reasons for telling you the truth about Suji – you figured it was just because he didn’t want you to text her. But, then again, if that was the case, he could have still found a way to be secretive about it. He could have said that she was a psychopath because she wouldn’t let him break up with her, but instead of that, he told you about nearly every single thing that went wrong in their relationship.

“Actually,” Kiera added, looking a little awkward. She must have been scared of making you feel uncomfortable with her next words. “Maybe the reason why Jaebum is being weird all of a sudden – if he really is and you’re not just overreacting – is because he feels weird. Because now you know so much about Suji. Because he’s told you so much about her. And, by the way, I hope to God she’s not a serial killer that you’re covering for – although I wouldn’t put it past her from what I’ve seen – since you haven’t really told us that much about her.”

“Sorry. It’s not right for me to talk about her,” you apologized quickly. “I already interfered in Jaebum’s relationship too much.”

“You didn’t interfere,” Kiera disagreed and then reconsidered, “okay, you did, but it wasn’t in this extremely invasive way, you know what I mean? You didn’t put a knife to his throat and force him to spill the truth. He decided to tell you everything himself for whatever reason that might be. And, yeah, I think he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that you suddenly know so much about him.”

You considered it – and momentarily admitted to yourself that this indeed made some sense in an otherwise senseless world inside of your apartment – but before you had a chance to say anything, Mark spoke up.

“That could be the case,” he agreed and earned a grateful smile from Kiera – which could actually be the very reason why he took her side. “Jaebum isn’t the kind of person who opens up to random strangers, he—”

“Are you calling me out here?” you cut him off, remembering how you came here looking for Jaebum and ended up pouring your heart out to Mark instead.

Mark seemed to remember this instance as well because he smiled before shaking his head.

“No. And you and I aren’t strangers anyway,” he said. “Jaebum is one of my closest friends and he’s sort of involved with you – and I actually like you – so that basically makes us friends.”

“Sort of involved” was not how you would have described your relationship with your roommate but you didn’t have time to object before your friends started to snicker wildly, nodding along to everything Mark had said.

“You know, actually, they’re a lot like each other,” Hyojin said. “When she moved in with him and found out that he’s actually a guy, she didn’t tell that to any of us – and only mentioned it to May when she got her drunk – because she was afraid we’d tease her for thinking Jaebum was a girl.”

“And I was right, that’s exactly what you’re doing,” you pointed out.

“But even when we found out, you barely talked about him to us,” Kiera added, completely ignoring everything you’ve just said but giving you a quick smile, so you’d know all of her teasing was in good nature. “You pushed us away. The two of you really have that in common!”

“Do I also give him headaches, then? Since we’re so similar,” you asked then, knowing that there was no way you’d be able to change the topic now, since your friends looked far too excited to poke fun at you. “Because he certainly gives them to me.”

“I’m sure headaches isn’t the only thing you give him,” Kiera replied a little quieter, giving you a quick wink.

Mark, who heard this, raised his eyebrows, surprised by the sudden suggestive comment, but he refrained from commenting on it.

“Seriously?” you asked your friend, shaking your head. “You’re going to turn my complaining into a joke about—nevermind. You can’t take me seriously tonight, clearly.”

“I am taking you seriously!” Kiera defended herself. “What is it that frustrates you about living with Jaebum so much? Aside from the fighting, of course – which I personally think only happens because the two of you are basically the same person and you both refuse to let the other win.”

You ignored her last sentence and instead focused on the question she’d asked.

“I’m never calm enough to get inspired. Never. My mind is occupied with whatever’s happened the most recently and it’s always related to something that Jaebum has done or said,” you explained. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve edited any of the pictures I’ve taken? Let alone, how long it’s been since I’d actually gone out to take pictures? I can’t shut my mind off. I can’t focus on anything else. I’m afraid if I pick up my camera, it’ll just show pictures of what it’s like inside of my brain – and it’s a warzone in there – so I don’t. I don’t even touch it. My Canon now has more dust than my love life.”

“We’re really about to reach a new level of TMI here,” Mark said, grimacing and then looking around the bar before pointing at the other side of it. “I’ll be over there actually doing my job now.”

After giggling at his overly dramatic reaction, Kiera turned to look at you.

“Take pictures of Jaebum,” she suggested simply. “While you’re fighting… while you’re not. You live together, you can’t avoid thinking about him. So don’t. Think about him and use that to your advantage.”

You haven’t really thought about it like that and, now that you have, you couldn’t understand how this idea could have skipped your mind. When you first moved in with Jaebum, the aesthetically pleasing beauty of his face was all you could think about when you looked at him – taking pictures of him would have definitely been an exciting experience – but, as time went on, you must have gotten far too lost in the day-to-day arguments, and started to look at Jaebum as an annoyed roommate, instead of looking at him through the eyes of a photographer.

“You’re smiling,” Kiera noticed, distracting you from your thoughts. “That must mean you want to take pictures of him. And, also, you absolutely do like him.”

“My God,” you groaned. “I just thought it might be nice to photograph him, that’s all.”

“Do you think it’d be nice to photograph Mark?”

You blinked before turning your head towards the bartender who was serving drinks at the end of the bar. Obviously, Mark was attractive – you even wondered if that was a common feature in Jaebum’s circle; he seemed to surround himself with beautiful people – so you couldn’t see why not.

You shrugged your shoulders, never excluding anyone from your list of subjects to photograph, despite not getting explosive fireworks all over your stomach when you thought about the prospect of it. “Uh, sure.”

“You liar,” May joined in, grinning. “You’re not even smiling anymore.”

You groaned again – a bit excessive, but this was your attempt to hide your rapid heart rate – because you weren’t prepared to admit to them that there was a part of your heart that was beating for Jaebum.

You’d felt like you were soaring when he hugged you, or when he held you in his sleep. You felt like you’ve overdosed on psychedelics whenever he smirked when he was teasing you – no matter how much you pretended to hate it. Even when he was stubbornly dismissing every single thing you’ve told him just to prove his point, you realized, you still felt excited. Even if you couldn’t concentrate on anything else but him and it caused you immense discomfort – not to mention how pathetic it made you feel to be unable to stop your mind from conjuring up images of him – your stomach was still producing an abundance of butterflies just at the thought of him.

So, perhaps Jaebum had been right in the end, after all – it had absolutely taken you less than five days to develop feelings for him. Even if it took you over two weeks – and more than enough sleepless nights – to admit it to yourself.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, giving in because, really, there was no use fighting with them. Your friends could read you better than anyone. “I don’t think Jaebum is that bad anymore. When he’s not being weird and cryptic, at least.”

“Hm, not that bad,” Hyojin repeated, looking at the other girls as they nodded. “We’ll take it.”

“Hey, Mark!” Kiera hollered suddenly. “We got it! She totally has feelings for him and I’m halfway to my fifty bucks!”

You gasped, not having expected her to reach this conclusion, – and remember the pointless bet she’s made back when she’d just found out Jaebum was your roommate, – let alone scream it out loud. You heard Mark’s surprised yelp across the bar and, as you watched him sprint back to your group – at this point, he was a better friend than he was a bartender – you squeezed your eyes shut, resting your head on the bar top, face-down.

“Well, why does she look like she just found out he died?” Mark asked once he reached you and caught the sight of May rubbing your back affectionately.

“Because you’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you refused to lift your head from the bar top. “It’s already weird since we live together and he doesn’t feel the same way, and I can’t figure him out, and I’m a pathetic mess that always thinks and says the wrong—”

“A toast!” Hyojin exclaimed, ignoring everything you’ve just said and cutting you off before you could bring your self-esteem any lower. “To a future couple with the most confusing history of how they met to tell their children ever! And here’s to hoping that when we’re toasting to them next time, it’ll be at their wed—”

“Hyojin, please!” you finally raised your head, no longer worried about everyone else seeing your flushed state. “Know your limits, yeah?”

She merely gave you a smile, not noticing how she might have gotten a little ahead of herself, and then clinked her glasses with everyone at the bar, – even a random stranger who jumped on board when he saw her toasting, – including you, although you barely lifted your glass off the bar top.

“I think it’s great,” Mark said to you after he finished his drink. “Jaebum needs someone like you.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you mean,” you replied, still feeling awkward to be forced to discuss your feelings when you weren’t too sure of them yourself despite spending the past few days doing nothing else but analyzing them.

He chuckled. “I’m sure you both know how well you can make your friendship work when you’re not too occupied with your arguments. You’re interested in all the same things, you’re—ah, you already know all of that. You know that once you move past the fear of never getting to know the real Jaebum, you’ll realize you actually do know him already. More than anyone else, at least.”

Mark paused – good, because you needed a moment to digest all that he’s said to you – but then continued too quickly, “but don’t worry, I’m not going to be saying anything about what happened tonight. Not to Jaebum, not to anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

You took a good look at him – undeniable gratitude in your eyes – and then started to wonder if, perhaps, this was the case with Mark and Jaebum, too. They were best friends, they had to keep each other’s secrets. But the idea that Jaebum could have talked to Mark about you suddenly made your heart race again.

What could Jaebum have talked about you? Was he complaining? Was he, perhaps, wishing you moved out and left him alone? Did he talk about the night you accidentally climbed into his bed while half-drunk and just stayed there? Did he—

“Well, speak of the devil.”

You gave Mark a confused look, his words throwing your thoughts off track. Once you looked at him, however, you saw him staring at the door, and, after following his gaze, noticed Jaebum make a beeline towards the bar.

“Oh God,” you exhaled shakily, turning away to pull yourself together. “May, do I look like I’ve just sprinted across the Siberia?”

“No,” May chuckled, amused by your reaction, but even more amused by Jaebum himself since this was the first time she was seeing him in real life after begging you for hours to send her his Facebook profile so she could, at least, check his pictures. “You look a little disheveled, but you make it work.”

“I really doubt that—”

“Hey,” Jaebum spoke, his eyes focused on you. “Big crowd here tonight, yeah?”

Mark understood that he was the one addressed even if Jaebum didn’t look at him.

“Everyone wants the best bartender in town to serve them,” he replied playfully, making his friend tear his eyes away from you and give him a doubtful look.

“I don’t see you doing any serving,” Jaebum said.

“A man’s gotta take some breaks,” Mark replied, acting offended now. “I’m not a robot.”

Jaebum chuckled. “Right. Okay. How come you’re here?”

This time, the question was directed at you. Although you had more than a moment to compose yourself, you still felt like your mind was all over the place when you met his gaze and attempted to smile inconspicuously. Suddenly, you felt like he could read your mind and therefore, figure out that you’d stupidly allowed yourself to develop feelings for him and then, ignoring all the weird things he’s said about you hanging out with his friends, had come to Mark’s bar again.

Trying to push these thoughts aside because there was no way in hell you were going to talk about any of them, you pointed at your friends.

“The girls and I wanted to go out for some drinks,” you replied. “So, we came here. These are my friends I told you about, by the way. Hyojin, Kiera, and May.”

You pointed at each of them and Jaebum nodded at all of them, not forgetting his manners despite looking a little distraught to find you here.

“Don’t look so grumpy,” Mark said, quickly catching what you meant when you called Jaebum moody earlier. “Your roommate is now more my friend than yours.”

You chuckled at this, watching Jaebum squeeze out a smile as well.

“Huh,” was his response as he slowly started to lose himself in his thoughts.

You couldn’t decipher him but after glancing at Kiera – who had her eyebrows raised as she watched Jaebum – you realized that no one at the bar, including Mark, could tell what was going on in his mind.

Somehow, however, despite the chilly start, Jaebum warmed up to your friends, and by the end of the night, they got to witness you two argue something almost painfully pointless – the reason why all bartenders you’ve seen in the city had worn suspenders. But you could tell by the wide smiles on your friends’ faces: they saw something hiding underneath your aggressive exchange with Jaebum.

A few hours later, however, once the dizziness was starting to subside and you could feel a faint headache start to show its face, you realized it’d be best to head home instead of ordering another drink. You’ve never stayed at a bar long enough for a hangover to creep in, but tonight was easily one of the best nights of your life even if you’d spent the majority of it talking instead of drinking. You’ve never smiled and laughed so much.

“Should we head back?” Jaebum asked suddenly. He’d noticed the way you kept glancing at the watch on your wrist.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nodded, appreciating his observational skills. “Unless you feel like staying, then I can—”

“Nah, I stayed longer than I intended anyway,” he replied, stretching his hands before jumping off the bar stool. “I’ll call a cab.”

“Cool,” you nodded, feeling your stomach churn once you realized you’d be sharing a cab home with him.

On the one hand, you were essentially living the dream of anyone who’s ever had feelings for anyone – you got to spend so much time with your crush, you almost got sick of him. Then again, your crush just happened to be the most unreadable person in the universe and you were almost constantly aware of how the progress bar of your relationship with him could recede seemingly out of the blue, and that did no good for your health.

Choosing not to give in to your thoughts tonight – it’d have been really pathetic to end such a fun night with another set of paranoid overthinking, which could cause you to accidentally blurt out one of the many things you were concerned about and, consequently, strain your relationship with Jaebum even more – you took a deep breath, smiled one last time, and got up from the bar stool, ready to go head back to your apartment.

After your friends cheered you two out of the bar – much to Jaebum’s confusion and your embarrassment – the two of you found yourselves in the backseat of the taxi. Jaebum, who had broken out of his shell after a few drinks and joked around just like he normally would, was suddenly back to his old—cold—self.

“You okay?” you dared to ask.

“Sure,” he replied, just glancing at you and then looking away again. “Kind of tired. Didn’t sleep very well tonight and staying out late wasn’t very smart, I guess. I’d only planned to stay for one drink but, uh, clearly, that’s not what happened.”

“Oh,” you nodded, wanting this to work as an explanation but figuring that there had to be something else going on because he didn’t seem tired two minutes ago, when he was surrounded by your friends. But now that he was alone with you, something in him seemed to change.

You didn’t know what to think about this change in attitude but you chose not to push it. You wanted to confront him and even yell at him – that would have saved you from all of the assumptions you’d inevitably make later tonight – but you chose to let him deal with his emotions alone. That seemed to be exactly what he’d wanted but it was also a decision that didn’t quite sit right with you.

When the two of you got back to your apartment and you quickly finished half a bottle of water, you inhaled deeply – it was supposed to help you get more courage but it didn’t seem to do anything, your lungs still felt empty – and then tried to approach the subject carefully. You wouldn’t ask him to explain. You’d just like to know if you and him were still arguing about the same thing – and if so, which thing was it? – or if something else had happened. Just knowing would be enough.

“Hey,” you called out to him to get his attention as Jaebum exited the bathroom to head to his bedroom. He stopped and turned around to look at you. “Did I, um… did I do something?”

“Sorry?”

You licked your lips nervously. “Uh, it’s just that… you’re being weirdly distant. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions – no matter how much I love doing exactly that – and you don’t have to explain anything to me, I just—if I did something that you didn’t like, maybe it’d be better if you told me about it.”

Jaebum didn’t reply at first – he seemed to be thinking about it and that convinced you that you had to have done something that made him upset with you – but he surprised you with a question instead of an answer once he finally spoke.

“How long have you been hanging out with Mark without me?” he asked.

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know. I was at the bar a couple of times, I guess. I don’t go there to hang out with Mark, though. I go for the drinks. A-and the first time I went to Mark’s bar without you was because I was hoping to find you there.”

A silent moment passed before Jaebum spoke again. You feared he’d only focus on the last part and realize that there had to be a reason why you were looking for him. Always looking for him.

“You’re friends with him now,” Jaebum said, only meaning to make an observation but making it sound like he was accusing you of something.

“Barely,” you countered, not sure if your relationship with Mark could have passed the friendship test. “But why are you asking all this? Are you… jealous I’ve hung out with Mark or something?”

“I’m—no,” Jaebum nearly shed his skin after you said this, looking so uncomfortable, it was painful to watch him. “Not like that, I’m just—whatever. I’m tired, okay? I’m going to go to bed.”

“Wait, but we—”

“Goodnight,” he cut you off, always using his authoritative tone with you whenever he wanted to let you know that the conversation was over.

“Right,” you mumbled, sighing as he closed the door of his bedroom, hiding himself – and his too-confusing-to-be-put-into-words emotions – away from you once again. “Goodnight.”

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dashingndaring · 6 years

Text

Once Off That Island

Characters are from the main D&D campaign I play in, the Enigma Emblem Chronicles. Xorynth (PC) belongs to me, and Keynan (NPC) was created by me and belongs to @scatteringmyashes

Rating: Teen, for mention of abuse, violence, and death.

Words: 5,658

Summary: Xorynth, with the aid of the mysterious Keynan, has escaped from Skia island, but not without consequences. Will she be able to accept them and reclaim her freedom? Meanwhile, Keynan tries to reassure the struggling half-elf, but isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong.

---------

When she awoke to the taste of salt and the foreign feeling of being suspended, the half elf jumped with a start. This of course resulted in her ass hitting wood as her entire body crashed from a hammock to the ground.

Banished light on high that hurt more than it should have...

As quickly as the thought nestled in her brain, it flew away in a panic. Calm down. Think. She stared up, noting that the only light in the room came from an orange flame from beyond the door. It trickled in just enough through the door cracks to reveal wooden planks all around. On impulse she brushed her hand against the hardwood beneath. Rough, she noted, even against her calloused fingers. Slivers threatened to leave splinters, but she couldn't bring herself to care about the small pricks of pain. They were nothing compared to the emptiness quickly consuming her insides. Now that the shock of waking up in an unfamiliar room had worn off it was impossible to stay calm while every gruesome memory came flooding back.

She wasn't on the island anymore. She had run. Rhaina had tried to stop her. But what came next? Why couldn’t she remember what came ne--

Rhaina is dead.

Ice erupted in her lungs at the memory. No, Rhaina’s death wasn't as simple as that. It was far, far worse.

I killed Rhaina.

Xorynth froze, but time continued on. Seconds went by after the revelation. Then minutes. Then hours. Slowly, her mind found an eye in the storm of her raging thoughts, just long enough to grasp the situation at hand. She should probably figure out where she was and if the person who “saved’ her was also here. But when she did, how would she react to them? Thank them for her life? Beat them bloody for daring to interfere, for making her escape a thousand times worse?

Soon enough the wave of clarity passed, and she couldn't be bothered to deal with the questions posed. They were problems that required moving, and she never wanted to get up from her new resting place.

So she remained there. Back to wood in the darkness.

***

It didn't take long past daybreak for him to realize she was conscious again. He knocked, several times, greeted by only silence before attempting to slip inside. Bread in one hand, a lantern in the other, and a bottle under his arm, he quietly closed the door before turning around and nearly dropping everything with a frightened squeak.

He had expected her to be asleep, perhaps even nervously huddled in a corner from sea sickness or anxiety. What he hadn't expected was for the girl -- woman? -- to be laying on the floor, eerily calm as she steadied her unreadable gaze towards him in the dim light.

Pulling himself together with a trademarked smile he prayed. Please, let it be that she didn't hear that squeak or see my nerves. Because it certainly seemed that her steely eyes were trying to reach into his soul for… something. Maybe information?

Well, information he could give.

***

“Hello, my name is Keynan,” the figure offered, managing to recover enough from their initial fumble to gently place their items on the ground as they sat down to be closer to her level. The words were spoken so softly Xorynth couldn't help but wonder if they were afraid of breaking her.

She simply blinked in reply. It was them. The one who stopped a spear from piercing her heart. The one who forced her hand. The one who took her to this room to face her demons alone.

The bittersweet irony of the situation did not escape her. This Keynan seemed afraid to break her, when in reality it took all her years of patience training not to levy a killing strike to their throat at any moment. Logically, she knew she did what it took to leave the island alive. Reasonably, she also knew that she plunged the dagger into her partner's heart, not Keynan. The demons in her mind had been keen to remind her of those facts since she awoke.

But emotionally? She was irrationally angry at this stanger. Unhinged grief, sorrow, and anger had taken turns over the hours trying to beat her heart until it stopped. Swords had left scars, teachers had left bruises and broken bones, and even Rhaina - oh elders passed on high, Rhaina - had made her bleed with searing, hot white pain. Yet, none of those experiences were as excruciating as the phantom feeling currently tearing Xorynth apart. She felt the pain in the same spot where a metal spearhead should have been, where a polished wood pole, marked by a single purple ribbon tied above the handle, should be protruding from her chest..

She wanted to fight back against her grief. To scream at an invisible enemy and rip their last breath from their chest. There was nothing Xorynth wanted more than a physical manifestation - a scapegoat - to take her anger out on.

Despite the urges, the monk schooled her visage into the embodiment of cold. Her body still frozen to its resting place. This stranger, who she had yet to decide if she owed or was owed by, would not be submitted to her inner plots. Not yet. Instead she would remain here until she was ready for whatever was beyond that door. Once she quelled the storm inside she could learn more. Then she would decide if Keynan was worthy of her wrath.

***

She hadn't spoken that night.

Keynan introduced himself, hoping to gauge her reaction to him. Does she remember? She probably does, right? He tried detecting any trace of fear in those silver eyes, at the same time noting the left was both silver and hazel. That was all he got, however, from her piercing gaze. If he could just get to talk…

“May I ask what your name is?”

Silence. Fair enough.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, wondering if his voice was soft enough. “The journey off island was difficult, I'm sure you're famished.”

She didn't even glance at the bread he held out, let alone reach for it.

“Ah, of course. Silly me. You can’t eat with a dry mouth. Something to drink?” He tried again, replacing the food in his hand with the glass container of water.

Her reaction remained the same. She simply stared back: serene and guarded. Occasionally she would blink owlishly, something Keynan would have found humorous if the tense atmosphere wasn't thick enough to cut with his sword.

Nothing he said, no matter how much he turned on the charm, compelled her to react. Neither her body or mouth moved. Most concerning of all, her stare never faltered.

“If you're tired I can leave you to rest further. I don't fault you for not wanting to talk or eat. You've been through more than anyone should.” Keynan paused, hoping for a small glimpse of any emotion. But her stoic face and silence drew on.

After it became evident she wasn't going to answer, he continued with every ounce of sincerity he had. “The captain told the crew to treat you like a guest. I intend to see that order through and more, just so you know. Anything you need, I will do my best to give.”

With that he stood up, gave a farewell bow and left her to her own devices. For now.

***

Over the next two days, the pair settled into their pattern.

Xorynth would wallow and seeth and plan and meditate - all without moving. It took all of her concentration not to drown in the weight of her actions and all of her energy to remain in a facade of calm. If she had any water or food to relieve herself of, she wasn't sure she would have been able to get up.

Every few hours Keynan would come back with food and water. Each visit brought gentle attempts at conversation that always ended in one-sided sharing. However, by the third try the first day she wasn't sure if the words were to soothe him or her.

She assumed Keynan identified as him by this point, anyways. When she faded in and out of consciousness, Xorynth periodically heard the other sailors talk about the weather or each other. Surprisingly her visitor was a common conversation topic. She heard rumors that he never slept, that he had saved dozens from burning ships, and even one that he could glow bright gold, blinding his enemies in battle.

The monk almost rolled her eyes at the thought. Slinking in the shadows was one thing. Glowing? She wasn't a fool.

Still, the superfluous talk helped distract her from her plight. There had been no time or mercy for distractions in her past life. Now she was clinging to any and all whispers in the dark like a lifeline. But they weren’t enough to drown out the voice in her mind. She needed more to keep her busy, to prevent the plunge into pure self-deprecation long enough to think through her next steps.

So at the end of the second day she decided to actually look at Keynan when he arrived, instead of staring emptily at him. This visit would be about information, not intimidation. She was level headed enough to let her guard down for just a few moments of observation. It is just a basic perception exercise. You’ve done this hundreds of times. Yes, she could perform this simple task.

Finally convinced to follow through with her plan, she let her eyes wander, hardly straining with her darkvision despite the familiar low-orange light.

He had a lot of features she simply hadn't registered in their escape. First she noted his height. He was likely a few inches taller than her, which she was surprised by. The few humans she had known at the monastery were all shorter, though perhaps a faulty sample size. Being lower to the ground was an advantage in the acrobatic fighting styles they trained in.

Next, his skin. Judging by what little she saw illuminated in orange, aside from a few pale scars that peaked from the collar of his shirt, he was darker than her. Also something she was not used to. Wherever the new recruits came from, it didn't seem to be from wherever her ancestors did. She had been considered dark for their lot, although it had never been a problem. In fact, her brown tones made it easier to blend into the darkness, earning her favor early on. Now on a ship probably leagues away, Xorynth couldn't help but feel emptiness in the pointless praise she once held dear.

His hair was also dark, coiled neatly into locs that ran past his shoulders. He seemed to take care of it well, and the thought of him spending time to manicure them stood in contrast to both his simple clothes and the opinions she hadn't fully formed around his character. She assumed he worked hard, perhaps a favored shiphand based on the rumors and his freedom to make time for these visits. But making snap judgments was a dangerous path. Who was she to say whether this man was selfless or shallow? Rhaina had more ferocity and work ethic than Xorynth had known possible, and she liked to spend hours playing with both her own hair and Xorynth's curls.

The thought made her blood grow cold. Rhaina is dead. There would be no more secret morning rendez-vous just to play with hair. Gone. No more stolen moments to feel like normal girls for at least a precious few minutes. Because you killed her.

Xorynth had nothing left. Where would she go? The orphanage wasn’t an option; she was almost of age and she would rather die than risk falling into their incapable, corrupt hands again. If she stepped foot on the island again the Elders would have her blood or make her pay for her insubordination in some worse way. The only home she ever had was Rhaina. Reliving the realization that her home and partner were gone hit sharply in her abdomen. So sharp that Xorynth couldn’t handle the pain and finally moved.

Curling in on herself, she turned her back to Keynan. Perhaps if she didn't look, she wouldn't have to acknowledge anything outside of the darkness of this room and the dryness in her mouth.

***

Why?

Keynan could only pace outside of the now closed door to the girl's room as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened.

For a moment it seemed like she was sizing him up. Quiet still, yes, but her normally cold eyes had melted into curiosity. He dared let a sliver of hope grow while he let her. Maybe she was finally warming up to him, he had thought. Getting her to eat and drink and stay alive could work. If she reached to meet Keynan just one step closer to halfway…

But fate had other ideas. Soon enough her curiosity died, replaced by a brief flash of pain so quick Keynan might have imagined it. Just like that her back was to him, closing herself off from him so assertively she chilled the room. Somehow the gap between them had grown farther apart than when he had started.

After all the attempts to make her feel welcome -- sharing what he could about the ship she was on, bringing her food (even if she rejected it), and giving her quiet company -- he had managed to do the opposite. His stomach sank.

Why is she so closed off?

Obviously, Keynan was missing something. All the visions of child slaves in the world couldn't tell him the whole story of this one girl's life. Which meant he had to work with what he knew. Alright, go over the facts.

Fact one: if his visions were time accurate she had to have been on the island for approximately 10 years. So there were a decade’s worth of memories, training, and potential horrors he didn't know about. Keynan frowned. He needed to be careful about what assumptions he made going forward.

Fact two: she had been trying to escape, seemingly on her own. When he stumbled onto the scene of her yelling at another monk, he had only caught snippets of the disagreement. The gist he got implied the red haired one currently on board had been trying to convince the other to join her “to escape from His control”. The plea seemed to fall on deaf ears. Keynan couldn't be sure whose “control” she was referring to, but he guessed it was one of the traffickers.

Fact three: the brown hair monk had tried to kill the other. That's when Keynan got involved. At first he had parried the blow, saving her from a lethally aimed spear. But he left himself open in checking to see if she was okay, and she had to turn around and save him. The spear wielder crumpled to the ground as Keynan watched the young half elf take a dagger out of their assailant’s chest. Keynan cringed at the memory. Despite a lifetime’s experience he had let his guard down. Perhaps she thought ill of him for his mistake? He tucked away the idea for later.

Fact four: she remained graceful on her feet after the fight, but her whole body was shaking as they maneuvered their way to his hidden boat. And she didn't stop until she was long into her fitful sleep. That night he wondered if the brown haired girl had been her first kill. She seemed fairly young after all The action seemed to come naturally, however, so maybe there was a different reason for her frightened reaction. Perhaps the more important question was who were the two monks to each other?

Keynan needed to reflect on this information, and quickly. The captain was gracious enough to pardon Keynan for getting involved on a simple reconnaissance mission and take in a survivor without questioning. But that patience would only last so long. She would have to do her part to gain trust and keep this ship afloat if she was going to stay. More urgently, if he couldn't get her to accept sustenance soon she was as good as dead even off the island.

***

On the third day he didn't come. Xorynth knew the moment the first replacement knocked -- two loud thumps compared to the soft pattern he used.

Apparently her outburst yesterday had cost her valuable time to learn more from Keynan. Even if he avoided speaking about himself and the circumstances of her “rescue”, every session carried important kernels of information on the ship and the outside world. For instance, knew she was on the second floor below deck, and outside her door lay the food storage, drink cellar, holding cells, weapon rooms, and the anchors. Upstairs were the living quarters, mess hall, and captain’s office. She also knew that the ship’s crew were contractors for hire, who take missions that aligned with their “cause”: defeat local pirates, smugglers, and thieves on the water in exchange for money and reputation. But she hadn’t heard anything about their current contract or why they had been at her island. Why Keynan had been there.

She sighed. The pirate seemed genuine, but Xorynth couldn’t take anything at face value. She thought her Elders, hard as they had been, genuinely cared for their charges. She had been wrong. She needed to figure out if Keynan was really friend or foe. But when the first knock of the day arrived, she got a sinking feeling that the opportunity had fallen out of her reach.

Instead of his overly positive attitude and gentle mannerisms, someone else came through the door. The figure was a short and lean gnome with pale skin and red hair, carrying the usual lantern, food, and water. Unlike him, they silently accepted her lack of acknowledgment. Whether they were too respectful or nervous or indifferent to introduce themselves, she didn’t know. They simply shrugged off her cold stare and left the items on the ground before closing the door once again.

After having a soothing voice to listen to so frequently, the long stretch of silence settling in filled Xorynth with dread. Soon enough her mind would turn against her. Don’t let the voices back in. Please, no.

Squeezing her eyes in concentration, the monk strained to hear the whispers from the outside, hoping to hear anything, even a weather report.

Boots shuffled. Wood planks creaked. Crates slid, creating soft crashed. For what felt like an eternity, the closest thing to company were rare, indistinguishable murmurs. Then she finally got lucky. A gruff voice carried down the hall just loudly enough for her to pick up the middle of a conversation.

“... about the girl?”

A second voice replied, slightly higher in pitch but too soft to hear clearly.

“Apparently she hasn’t spoken a word or lifted a finger, yet.” A pause. “Waste of rations in my opinion. We be carrying a bad omen on board, an fer what?”

Their companion murmured again, frustratingly too quiet again.

“Did you not hear? Got silver eyes, she does. An’ different shades. It’s like we’re asking for a tempest. Stranger still, I hear she has those old Eladrin markings ‘round her eyes and hair like burning coal.” The gruff voice waited again.

“If you don’ believe me ask Cain yerself! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were a spy from you-know-who,” they exclaimed conspiratorially.

“Kyrin, not everyone is a spy,” someone else calmly replied.

“Until you get proof, I’ll be suspicious all I want,” Kyrin muttured.

“Given where we found her, she probably just needed time. She’ll earn her keep soon enough.”

Xorynth’s stomach sank, ever so slightly, while she waited for the next damning words. Useless. Burden. Failure. Her mind filled in the gaps, but the words never came -- only the heavy fall of boots reached her ears.

She was used to ignoring rumors; the gossip itself didn’t bother her. But hearing angry mutterings while at the mercy of an entire ship of strangers? With no real context for an escape route, the words made her feel trapped. Who knew how many others felt the same way as Kyrin? Just because some of the crew didn’t mind keeping dead weight on board for now, didn’t mean they would lift a finger if the Captain suddenly decided to change their mind about her current “guest” status.

She was running out of time.

Your time is already up. Without her, without them? You have no future.

Xorynth gritted her teeth, doubling over as the phantom pain returned with a vengeance. She gasped, struggling to breathe. No, no, no! She needed to clear her head, she needed a moment to think. To breathe.

There's no point. You have nothing. All you can do is hide in the shadows. Hide, hide, hide…

As the darkness took her again, she had one thought: Maybe it's right.

***

“You want my advice?”

The ebony skinned woman sitting across from Keynan posed her question without looking from the small wooden bird beginning taking form in her hands.

“Yes?” He returned the question with his own and a charming smile to boot, hoping she could see it in her periphery.

Keynan had spent most of the day in thought while going about his ship work. What was the best way to make a secluded victim feel ready to ease into the outside world? Keynan had helped countless others in his lifetime, including slave rings and indoctrinated children, but this particular situation was different. Messier. Over the course of the day rational thought and prayers blurred into an unintelligible headache that could only be cured by taking to another person. And who better than his only friend on the crew to have a similar disposition to the monk?

Lucia sighed, staring down the figurine in her hand. Keynan had explained the situation so far, including what he knew from the mission. After a few moments in thought she set the dagger and bird down on the table to focus on her companion. “What’s your goal?”

“Primarily for her not to starve or dehydrate.”

“A wise idea. And after that?”

“To learn her name.”

“And after that?”

Keynan scratched his head. “Well, I was she would want a tour of the ship. That stuffy room isn’t good for anyone after more than a day.”

Another sigh escaped the woman. “Long term Keynan.”

Placing his elbows on the table, Keynan laced his finger together and used them to support his chin. “I spoke with Captain Taffrin about her condition today. They were… frustrated and concerned to say the least. If I can’t get her to a stable condition and working for her keep soon, Captain is afraid of unrest. I managed to convince them to give me another day, and a promise that if she proves capable, a place onboard.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow. The gesture was simple, almost vague, but Keynan knew her well enough to understand the implied question.

“Only if that’s what she wants, of course!” Keynan raised his hands in surrender. “Otherwise we can take her to the nearest port and set her up for a week or so. But I can’t imagine just leaving her there. After all she was victim too I’d like t--”

The woman interrupted, raising a hand. “Stop right there.”

“Wait, wh--”

“Shh.” Lucia waited for Keynan’s confused noises to cease before continuing. “That is your problem.”

It was Keynan’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“She isn’t simply a victim who needs saving. She has most likely experienced trauma, yes, but that is not what defines her. As long as you have boxed her as a victim, you will not be able to help her climb out of whatever slump she is in.” Lucia picked up her wooden bird and made a few key carving strokes. “She is a survivor. Perhaps, she needs a reminder of that.”

Keynan stared at the finished bird statue his companion set on the table between them as he mulled over her advice. The statuette depicted a great-horned owl, which Keynan vaguely recalled as a night time predator. Though it live in darkness, it may thrive. Hmmm.

A signature smile slowly grew on Keynan’s face. With a jolt of newly found optimism, he reached over to grab her face in his hands and placed a speedy kiss on her forehead.

“You are truly shining blessing my dear, dear friend!” He called out as he skipped from the table.

If he had bothered looking behind him, he would have seen Lucia shake her head knowingly at his familiar antics, a small smirk on her lips.

***

Dark. Twigs snapping. Panting. Foot steps.

She was running. Every muscle burned, but she couldn’t stop. They knew she had left. They were following. She had to keep going, to push through her bodies’ screaming.

Leaves rustling. Another twig, snapped. Sweat. Salt in her mouth.

Faster, or they’ll catch you. Faster or you’re dead. Faster, faster, fasterfasterfaster--

Whoosh.

Time slows to a crawl. Out of the corner of your right eye you watch a spear barely miss your ear. Silver eyes register purple ribbon.

She’s here.

Skid to a stop. Grasp the spear free from bark. Turn. Search for the familiar.

The face you find has her features, but not her eyes. Close them, it’ll go away. Shut it out, shut it out shutitoutshutitout shut--

Open. Panting, once more. Foot step. But not just yours.

They’re running, too. This connected body. Arms linking, shoulders supporting.

Together you run and run and run.

“Don’t give up.”

Warm voice. Who said that?

“Don’t. Give. Up.”

The burning is intense. It would be so easy to collapse, to rest…

“If you give up you lose. Trapped for eternity. Do you want your freedom or NOT?”

The voice booms like thunder.

Freedom. Sweet on your tongue. Heat turns to cold. Feet heavy, yet light.

Freedom. You choose freedom.

Suddenly, salt water. It crashes over, fills every pore. But you take a shaky breath. Air fills your lungs.

Dark. Peace. Finally.

***

Xorynth woke from the dream in a cold sweat. Most of the imagery faded instantly, but the swirl of emotions -- the fear, then confusion, followed by helplessness, and finally peace -- stayed and sat in her belly. She let herself cycle through them one at a time, again and again.

Freedom. Sweet on your tongue. She could almost taste it for a brief moment.

The half elf frowned. Was her freedom not what she wanted? What she craved and risked everything for? Why was she trapping herself in a desolate room after such sacrifice? She would not get to take this second chance at life if she withered away in the bottom of a ship.

For this first time in days, she sat up, fighting through the painful twinges of moving. It was a logical train of thought, a life line her mind began to wrap around. To get her freedom she simply needed to take control.

As soon as she thought the words, the voice inside chuckled, dangerously low. She realized now, almost like the dream had jogged her memory, that the voice reminded her of Elder Ru: patronizing and deep. Control? What control do you have? You have yet to properly taste freedom, and already it paralyzes you. The one thing you loved you destroyed.

NO! she tried to scream, but instead sharp pain erupting in her throat, taking the sound away.

You are a fool! A slave! A child! It taunted.

Closing her eyes as tightly as possible, Xorynth fought to clear her head. To meditate on the wood beneath her, the salt and sweet of her dream, on dreams of freedom. It was an uphill battle. The berating voice just had so much power. Only a few seconds into battle felt like an eternity at war.

You will never be free. You were groomed better than that.

No! No… she felt her fire dimming.

Submit to your fate. Accept your failure

I am tired...

Then stop wasting your energy. Rest. Submit.

Suddenly it felt so easy to submit to the storm. To the anger and fear and exhaustion. Why had she ever thought freedom would be attainable?

Knock-knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of the familiar knock pulled Xorynth roughly out of her trance. Keynan was back. She felt like that was significant. Like she was supposed to remember something, but it escapes her, just out of reach. It takes all of her remaining energy to stay upright, eyes and ears open, though faced away from him. So she ignores the feeling of forgetting.

She heard glass and clay touch wood. Her stomach knotted and throat throbbed, in response. No, I -- I don’t deserve it.

He doesn’t speak right away. A true silence falls over the room for once, and she realizes that they’ve both held their breath.

“I do not pity you.”

Involuntarily, her back tenses. She doesn’t understand. What does he mean?

“A good friend reminded me today that pity isn’t always empathy. Sometimes it is a reflex that shackles those it means to help. So I do not pity you.” He sighs.

She remains silent, struggling to process his words with the fog of the voice and her dream heavy over her consciousness. But she keeps trying.

“We do not know each other yet. I can tell you need to grieve. By escaping captivity you’ve gained much, but I would be a fool not to acknowledge that you may have lost something else worth one hundred fold. You deserve to take as much time as you need to process this new life.”

He has no idea how much I have lost, she thought bitterly.

“But the woman I escaped that island with was strong and determined to reach freedom.” With every word his tone was shifting. The gentle lilt she was now accustomed to hearing took an assertive and passionate turn. “Though she shook with pain, she ran. Despite fear, she did not stumble. She was not a simple victim. She was a survivor. You are a survivor. Would she truly allow herself to starve, caged in this room?”

It was like he had dumped water over her head. The shock of his words rushed through her system, clearing the fog. Banishing the voice. She could finally take stock of the pieces her life had become.

Despite the fragments, she had survived. Despite all odds and every circumstance she. had. survived. For the first time since waking on this ship she allowed indignance to take over. Memories of every lashing, every night without sleep, every physical punishment, every mental test rushed through her mind’s eye. She had survived. Despite abuse and torture and an assassination attempt: she had survived.

So lost in her reverie, Xorynth almost missed what Keynan said next.

“I refuse to pity you, survivor. Lie there all you want, but know that every time I leave those doors I will come back until you decide to function again and earn your keep.” He paused, and the no doubt intentional dramatic effect creating enough tension to brandish the next sentence in her brain. “I am not giving up on you.”

It was too early for promises, but Xorynth pondered the significance of the offer nonetheless. If she could manage to not give up on herself, perhaps that would be enough. With enough time, maybe she could put the pieces back together and slowly learn to function in this new world.

Maybe it was time.

***

The man shook his head in disappointment, dreads gently swaying from the momentum. The deafening silence in the room, after all he had said, ached more than it had before. Standing in front of the door he couldn’t help but feel the disappointment spread, creeping up his neck. He had sincerely expected that speech to work. He reached for the door handle, plans already swimming in his mind. Perhaps tonight I ca-

“Xorynth,” rasped a mysterious voice.

Keynan’s hand hovered above the knob. Had she just--

Like lightning he spun around to face her again, taking in the scene before him.

Instead of facing the opposite wall, she now faced him in a meditation pose. Her legs bent at the knees and she held the flats of her feet together, making a shape of a butterfly. One hand was still, palm down her right knee, while the other held the bottle of water she was chugging in a surprisingly graceful manner.

He closed his dropped jaw and and simply stared, unsure how to react. Eventually, she finished drinking and placed the bottle gently by her side before boring her eyes into his in a now familiar fashion. Silver searching gold. But this time it was warmer, dare he say more relaxed.

Keynan didn’t dare breathe in fear that whatever this breakthrough was would end as abruptly as their last encounter.

Apparently, it was his lucky day.

Whatever thoughts she was processing ran their course, and whatever she was searching for in him she seemed to find. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed in the way one does when a burden is relieved. It was as if she had been single handedly holding a ship on her shoulders and just now let it fall. Or was it resignation? Keynan couldn’t be sure, but in that moment of vulnerability he swore to himself he would learn to tell the difference in her nuanced expressions with time.

Keynan only had a moment to be shocked at how strong his emotions were to invoke such a promise when her voice rose again. A murmur much smoother than the dry scratch from earlier carried across the room:

“My name is Xorynth Nailo.”

#Enigma Emblem Chronicles #EEC #my writing #my ocs #Xorynth Nailo #Keynan #Lucia

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figmentpez · 6 years

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I have an appointment with my psychiatrist and case worker tomorrow and I am irrationally terrified.

I don’t even know how to begin to make this short, so I’m not going to even try.

I’m in a very weird situation where my health problems have kept me from trying to work, at first because I wanted to focus on school, but when that failed I didn’t start work because I was afraid that trying to hold a job would send me spiraling down again like school did. See, I had to stop taking classes because I was having severe panic attacks, and then I ended up in a mental hospital (for the second time in my life) because I was suicidal (again).

In the hospital they put me on an anti-depressant, and anti-anxiety medication. Which both helped, with certain aspects of my mental health, but neither helped at all with my biggest issue, which is my somatoform disorder. Since then I’ve been in the awkward position of having my parents pay for nearly all my expenses (rent, utilities, food, etc.) but not for my medical costs because they’re into “natural” and homeopathic medicine. So I had to enroll in the county psychiatric care system.

Things were going well enough until last year when the side-effects of the medication started to worsen to the point that I couldn’t continue. I’d had to continually scale back on my dose of Zoloft because it was causing diarrhea, and even then it was causing me severe pain in my knees, and then my feet started swelling to the point I couldn’t get my shoes on. So, in a panic I quit taking the Zoloft, but didn’t tell my doctor because I avoid things and that’s a problem.

The good news is that it didn’t make my depression any worse to do so, and my knees feel so much better right now. At first it seemed to help with the swelling in my feet, but that still comes and goes and I have no idea why. I still haven’t seen my psychiatrist since then. Three of my scheduled appointments have been rescheduled by them, another was rescheduled because of ice shutting everything down, and one I had to reschedule because I didn’t have transporation. Only there was a miscommunication, and they thought I just flaked on that meeting because the automated system didn’t tell them I canceled and I didn’t know that.

So now I have no idea what to expect tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m going to get a lecture and demands to go back on medication, with them brushing off my concerns of side-effects. And I don’t how I’ll handle that emotionally if they do, or how I’ll react. I really want to talk about things, but when I panic my brain shuts down and I just say whatever gets me out of the situation fastest, and I still haven’t learned how to counteract that when my anxiety is high, because I’m really capable and brave about things when I’m not freaking out to the point that my senses go haywire and I literally can’t see straight.

I don’t know if they’ll drop me out of the system, or if I even care if they do. I don’t know if they believe that I have somatoform disorder, or if they believe that it’s as debilitating as the doctors who originally diagnosed me with that were aware it could be. Back in the first hospital, when I learned what had been causing me severe pain for most of my life, I didn’t know enough about myself to recognize anxiety as one of my biggest problems. I only discovered that after going out into the world and actually trying to face my emotions, instead of repressing them as I had since I was a teen.

Repressing my emotions can literally paralyze me, and I don’t mean that in any hyperbolic way. Not just a metaphorical paralysis of indecision, but not being able to move my arms or legs, to the point where nerve reflex ceases to function as it should (i.e. doctor taps below the knee with that little rubber hammer, and there’s no resulting twitch in the leg like there should be). Repressing my emotions can also cause severe pain, muscle cramps & spasms, diarrhea, and I honestly don’t know what all it can do, and I don’t know who to ask about it. There are a lot of emotions I’ve had to learn to express instead of repressing, but I have yet to figure out how to deal with anxiety so that it doesn’t take an extreme toll on my physical state.

My usual tactic for getting out other emotions is to journal, or otherwise talk about my problems. Sometimes it’s public, sometimes private, but usually I can put words to my thoughts until my brain is happy with how I’m acknowledging things, and it lets up on the pain and other things it’s using to try to force me to pay attention to my emotions. I’ve yet to find a way to get that to work for anxiety. Putting my fears into words and trying to let myself just accept the emotion of fear is apparently not something I know how to do in such a way that it appeases my brain and gets it to stop destroying my body in a temper tantrum.

Just the anxiety I put up with with my life in it’s current state is enough to make my health precarious. I’m honestly terrified that if I try to do more, without having some sort of plan, that I’ll end up driving my physical and mental health so far down again that I actually will kill myself this time. I really don’t want that, but I don’t know how to do more but also avoid becoming stressed out to the point of death.

Every time in my life that I’ve started doing better and tried to add things in to get closer to a normal life, I’ve run into troubles I didn’t know how to deal with, and when I’ve started having my health problems get worse, I’ve always been told that it’s not as bad as I think it is, and that I should just push harder, and that things will get better, and how much better I do when I’m busy... and then I collapse because no one can push beyond their limits forever. And every time that resulting crash has been worse than the time before. Every time I’ve come a little closer to not recovering, and I’m not sure how many more crashes I can survive. I’m pretty sure that if I crash again it’ll be the last time, and I really don’t want things to be over.

I grew up being taught that doctors aren’t to be trusted, and fed all sorts of misinformation of how the medical system works. I’m still trying to sort out what’s right and what’s wrong, but it’s really hard for me to walk into a situation where I don’t have other options, and thus don’t feel like I have any power. It’s not that the people there have been unkind, I just don’t really know them or what to expect. In all my past visits it’s barely been anything, probably because I’ve tried to hard to present a good face and make it seem like I’m trying.

I’m too used to my parents, where I have to walk a line between healthy and sick in order to get help. If I complain about everything, and let show how awful I feel and all the troubles I’m having, I get blamed for not trying hard enough, and exaggerating things in order to be lazy. If I come across as too healthy and competent, I was blamed for faking it earlier, and I’m expected to do everything myself. Only by being just the right amount of troubled, mixed with a positive attitude, got me any sort of assistance. I’ve fallen into that pattern with my psychiatrist without even realizing it until recently. I was so afraid of having help withdrawn if I actually said how much things were bothering me, that I tried to put a positive spin on everything. “Yeah, my knees hurt so bad I can barely reach the lowest shelves at the grocery store, but ya know it’s helping my depression so don’t worry I’m going to keep taking the Zoloft!” and “Well, I’m really nervous about work, but I really do want to be able to hold a job, so I’m definitely going to talk to the employment agency (but I won’t mention just how panicked I am by the thought).”

I don’t want to go in there tomorrow, sit through some long lecture blaming me for all the things I already blame myself for, end up mentally curled up in a ball, get nothing accomplished, and then spend the next week barely functional because I have no idea to deal with all the anxiety this has stirred up because I didn’t know how to get help, or what to expect or anything. I know I should write down questions for my doctor, but I really don’t know what questions to ask, or even if I’m allowed to ask all the questions I would of a primary care physician, because that’s not what I’m seeing, and I don’t know how to go about getting a primary, not without going bankrupt. (What I really need to see is an allergist, but that’s even further beyond my knowledge and ability to handle.)

#Personal #Rant #Anxiety #Mental Illness #Pez is an Idiot #Somatoform Disorder #Pain #Doctors #Healthcare

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