#basil sunlier

[blood-spill]

Whumptober Day 30 - Caregiver

Getting one last Whumptober prompt in! Enjoy a sibling bonding session

Technically this was also supposed to fit the severe illness prompt but the way I wrote it has it not that severe so. Oops

@superwhumper06 @whump-my-dear-watson

"How're you feeling, dove?"

Basil quietly groans in response, shifting in his bed to burrow further under the layers of blankets atop it, seeking either their comfort or their warmth. It takes only a few seconds, though, before he's throwing them right back off with a barely audible whine, apparently already too hot.

"Still not very good, then, I take it."

He makes another noise that she chooses to interpret as agreement, throwing one arm lazily over his eyes as he does so, possibly to better block out the afternoon light passing through the window.

Sighing, Ivy rises from her chair. There isn't much she can do for him now, really -- He's already taken medicine, and she's already done everything she can to make him as comfortable as possible -- so she's sure he won't mind if she takes a few minutes to stretch her legs, maybe get a few smaller things done.

She steps over to the curtains and draws them shut to help Basil avoid the sunlight and then heads out of the room with a half-full glass in hand, aiming to refill it with fresher water for Basil. She figures she can grab a book for herself, too; She's more than willing to stay by her younger sibling's side when he's this sick, but that doesn't mean it's any less boring.

She slips quickly into her kitchen and soon enough has the glass of water sorted out, complete with ice cubes to keep it cool since she doubts he'll be drinking it right away, and with that done without any incident decides that she probably has enough time to grab a book from her room as well.

"'vy?"

Or not. She's hurrying back to his bedside immediately, nearly spilling the water in her haste. Her voice has jumped a step higher with anxiety as she speaks, her green eyes fixed firmly on him. "I'm here, I'm right here. Is something wrong, do you need anything? I can -- "

"Calm down, sis, 'm fine. Just wondered where you went."

Her instinctive reaction is doubt, so she spends a long moment scrutinizing him, but -- Though his voice is hoarse and dry, his skin is pale, and his now open eyes are slightly out of focus -- there's no sign he's doing any worse than he was before.

So, with a huff, she plops down onto the wooden chair, setting the glass aside. "Forgive me for being a bit worried that my little sibling might be on their deathbed."

"I assure you I don't intend to drop dead from a simple illness, of all things."

"You intended to become terribly ill, in that case, is that it? Since you only do things you intend."

Basil swats at her, managing a weak but genuine smile. "Should work on your beside manner."

"I'll make sure to be standing in the doorway the next time I point out your fallacies." She shoots him a slightly mischievous grin, earning another light smack on her arm. "My manners aside, do you think you're well enough to eat, now? Because you should, if you can." The bowl of soup on the bedstand is likely cold by now -- She'd made it maybe 25 minutes ago, having thought incorrectly that he'd be able to eat it right away -- but it'll be quick work to warm it again.

Basil considers this and eventually gives a nod, so Ivy leans over and helps him to sit up before going for the bowl. She takes a moment to call up her magic and funnel heat into it until it's on the hotter side of warm and then places it in her lap, picking up the utensil resting in it and scooping out a decent spoonful of soup.

But Basil reaches out and stills her hand with his, looking almost stern. "Think I can feed myself just fine, considering I'm an entire century old."

Ivy manages to stifle her urge to laugh, but can't quite fight down the small smile that comes with it. "Either you must be more sick than I thought or you've been spending too much time with humans."

Basil, significantly less amused, frowns, an expression that is usually slightly intimidating even to Ivy but thanks to illness now comes across as a whiny pout. "Mind sharing what you find so entertaining?"

"You're speaking as if being 106 makes you impressively old."

"Fairly sure it does."

"Might I remind you I'm twice your age? And I'm not even our eldest sibling."

"Doesn't mean I'm not an adult."

His tone is slipping into indignance, so Ivy light-heartedly ruffles his already messy hair. "I know, dove, I never said otherwise. All I mean is that you aren't old yet."

Basil seems to reluctantly surrender at this, so with the argument done Ivy finally relinquishes the soup bowl with a gentle reminder to be careful not to spill. It takes Basil mere minutes to finish it -- At some point he forgoes the spoon entirely to drink it directly from the bowl, which Ivy would probably scold him for if he wasn't sick -- and then he's immediately handing her the bowl so that he can pull himself back under the layers of blanket.

"Better?"

Basil hums in affirmation, the sound slightly hard to hear as he continues to bury himself in the covers. "Thank you."

Her mouth quirks up into a playful grin. "You absolutely owe me for this, you know."

He's burrowed so deeply into his blanket cocoon that she can't quite be certain, but Ivy is pretty sure she sees him smile in return even as he's rolling his eyes.

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #ivy sunlier #ivy (writing)

[blood-spill]

Whumptober Day 10 - Bruises

A little quickly written but bleh, something’s better than nothing

@superwhumper06 @whump-my-dear-watson

Content Warnings: Kidnapping/captivity, abuse, Regula being her horrible self in general,

When he was little, Basil regarded his injuries with nothing short of pride. Scraped knees, broken arms, spell recoil, blood-gushing cuts -- Once he'd finished crying from the pain, he would run around proudly displaying what he believed were marks of bravery, of survival, until one of his parents or older siblings or really any sensible adult got a hold of him and treated it before he had a chance to make it worse.

None of his wounds had ever had lasting effects, of course. Elves weren't like humans; It was rarer to be without magic than with, so there was always someone around to heal the injuries before they could leave any marks.

He hadn't really minded the idea of scars, back then; In fact, he'd been fascinated by, or perhaps even envious of the people who carried something to remember the things they've been through no matter how long ago it was, who could prove their strength to others so easily and clearly. His injuries by comparison had seemed fleeting, and meaningless, to the point where he'd spent days unsuccessfully trying to convince others to let his wounds heal naturally even with the risk of infection or further pain or worse.

But by the time he'd turned half a century, finally free to explore outside the boundaries of elven cities and unclaimed wilds, free to heal or not heal his injuries as he pleased, he'd gotten too used to his unmarked skin. Besides, according to a few of his past allies, the fact that it looked like he'd never been harmed in his life was mildly unnerving, and if it worried his enemies that was reason enough to continue with it. So he used his magic, long since tamed by then, to heal his injuries almost as soon as he got them as others had once done.

He hadn't minded scars then either, though, had never lost that sort of admiration of what they represented.

Basil stares at his reflection in the mirror set up directly across from him, eyes flicking over his appearance, over the wounds marring it, and tries to remind himself of this, that he will someday in the future look at the marks inflicted on him and feel pride instead of the sense of weakness, of vague shame that he does now.

Regula has her hand wrapped around his lower jaw, keeping him from looking away. Her fingers dig painfully into the forming bruise on the left side of his face, where she'd punched him about an hour ago; He'd said something, he doesn't remember exactly what, about going on a date out of spite once he was freed, and Regula had been so immediately pissed off by the idea that'd she'd immediately socked him and then stormed off without a word. Minutes later she had come marching back in with a long mirror, slammed it down on the other side of the room, and told him to take a good long look.

...Not that he'd had much choice, considering she'd immediately grabbed his face to make him look, but in all honesty he probably would've done it anyways, whether she'd forced him to or not.

His face isn't the only part of him that's bruising; There are cruel black-blue splotches painting his skin where rough treatment has broken his blood vessels, or sickly yellow tints where time has nearly healed them. His stomach especially, he knows, has taken punishment as Regula's go-to kicking target, though thin, torn cloth hides most of that from actually being seen in his reflection. And that's not even to mention the scars that now stripe his whole body, harsh and obvious and permanent.

Basil inhales sharply as Regula's grip on him tightens, her nails stabbing further into already wounded flesh.

"Elves are supposed to be naturally beautiful, aren't they? Lively eyes, and flawless skin, and all that." Her tone is equal parts triumphant and malicious; He doesn't have to look at her or her reflection to know that she's smiling mockingly.

"Go to hell," he mutters, but it's so half-hearted that Regula doesn't even bother to chastise him like usual, instead simply rolling her eyes as if he's being overdramatic and then continuing to talk.

"You can't actually expect someone to want to date you when you look like this, darling."

"Go to hell," Basil repeats, putting more force and volume behind it this time. The smile slips from Regula's face and finally she releases his chin; Basil immediately tears his gaze away from the mirror, away from her, to glare hard at empty ground.

"You really should be nicer to me. I'm all you have, after all."

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #regula avarium #regula (writing) #kidnapping // #abuse //

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Whumptober Day 20 - Concussion

I got a sympathy headache writing this,,, The sacrifices we make for whump

@superwhumper06 @whump-my-dear-watson

Content Warning: Torture, abuse

Most of the pain doesn't really register, at first. It feels more like he's just been slapped, or something, a sort of flat, stinging pain across the left side of his face rather than the sudden spikes of it that Basil had expected.

There's something warm and wet dripping down the side of his head, too, near his temple, where the pain's a bit more concentrated, a bit more real; He figures it must be a blood from a scrape or laceration caused by the brick's roughness, or maybe one of its edges.

It's only logic, initially, that has him knowing that these injuries are worse than they feel; He's so confused, his thoughts so scattered and distant, that he otherwise might genuinely have confused them for superficial.

...But, then again, the fact that he's so confused, that his vision is slightly blurred and his movements are sluggish and he feels like he's just blacked out, is in itself probably a major clue into his injuries' severities, even without the pain being as intense as he'd imagined.

Unfortunately, though, the pain does inevitably start to catch up with him as he becomes more aware. What once was dull throbbing waves of it turn sharper and undoubtedly crueler, pain lancing through his temple, enough that soon he can't help but hiss out a swear through gritted teeth.

One of Regula's hands raises suddenly to the side of his head, making him raise it instinctively. Her fingers start to poke and prod through his hair -- Which even he can see, out of the corner of his eye, is by now stained with red, obvious like blood in snow -- until they press against open wound, making Basil gasp sharply and futilely try to turn away, his only way of defending himself thanks to his arms being locked behind his back and his magic inaccessible.

But Regula only brings up her other hand to hold his head still, pushing down on the injury as her magic pools into it. She's trying to heal him, he knows now, but she's so unpracticed and clumsy with her own magic that she somehow makes the pain worse as she does, turning his entire head into a nightmarish echo chamber of the stabbing ache that had at the very least been reserved just to one place before.

Basil squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, fighting down a keen whimper at the steadily increasing pain as his wound mends itself rapidly. Even when it's closed itself up, though, Regula's fingers remain at his skin, burrowing her magic ever deeper into his skull, presumably attempting to seek out and ease any brain injury or bone fractures that may have happened.

Only a second passes before he can't take it anymore, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he tries again to squirm away from her hands. The attempt turns out quickly to be meaningless, though, because another pained cry and Regula releases her grip of her own volition.

He doesn't bother wondering why, instead focusing on curling in on himself as much as he can. Which isn't very much, restrained as he is, but at least he feels a bit more protected, for what little that's worth.

Without Regula's magic encouraging it, the pain is starting to quickly fade, but even so it's still agonizing, so overwhelming that's it impossible to tear his focus from it. So he sits there instead for what must be minutes on end, unmoving, breathing ragged and inconsistent, waiting until finally the pain has dimmed just enough for him to be able to he can think semi-clearly again.

In his peripheral vision he can see Regula stubbornly shaking out the hand she'd cast with, presumably attempting to rid herself of her spell recoil, but when he finally looks up she immediately sits back on her heels and folds her hands in her lap.

"Well?" She asks, expectantly. Always expecting something from him, always waiting for him to make up for some sort of mistake or to prove a loving devotion to her that's never existed.

He doesn't even understand what that something she expects is, this time, so he gathers his voice to weakly slur out a vague statement of "D-Dunno."

Wrong answer, apparently, because her mouth sets into a frown. "You don't know?"

"What you're asking for," he elaborates, trying to keep his voice as steady and clear as he can despite the fact that his tongue feels heavy and uncooperative. "I don'... Don't know wh, what you want."

Regula gives an exaggeratedly disappointed sigh. "Really, Basil? I put all that effort into healing you and you can't figure out that I'd maybe like a little gratitude? Did your parents never teach you manners?"

"You're the one who hurt me in the first place." He intends it to sound defiant, unyielding, but he's too dazed to put much strength behind it, so it ends up sounding more like an idle observation than rebellion. It's still enough to upset Regula, though; Her dull blue eyes narrow unhappily.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Not mine." He manages to put just a little more power into his defiance, this time.

Her expression instantly drops several degrees colder.

"Don't misunderstand me. I didn't heal you because you didn't do anything wrong, I healed you because I'm forgiving. You did nothing to earn that -- If anything, actually, you're pretty undeserving of it, considering how rude you've been this entire time. I did it anyways, as a present given out of the kindness of my heart, but if you keep acting so ungrateful," she picks up the blood-splattered brick once more, "then I won't hesitate to take my gift back by undoing it."

Basil tenses instantly, shifting backwards until he hits the wall and even then so determined to move away that he presses as closely as he can against it. But Regula simply smoothly pulls herself forward, effortlessly making up the distance he's made.

"You know, Basil, it kinda almost looks like you want to keep it. ...But then, I must be wrong," She sits up a bit more, one hand darting out to bury tightly into Basil's hair to hold him still, the other raising in preparation to slam the brick into the side of his head again, "because I'm still not really hearing any appreciation."

"Th... Thank you," he forces himself to say, quiet with reluctance, earning him a small but sickeningly pleased smile from Regula. "You're right, that I don't deserve it, and it, it's nice of you to help anyways, s-so, thank you."

"See? That wasn't hard at all, was it?" Regula lets go of his hair, sets the brick back to one side. "You're very welcome, darling."

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #regula avarium #regula (writing) #torture // #abuse //

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Whumptober Day 7 - Kidnapped

Funny how the kidnapping prompt comes right after the betrayed one,

@superwhumper06

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, implied stalking

Basil's head hurts.

Basil's head hurts, and his body is aching, and he's vaguely nauseous, and...

And when his eyes flicker open, he doesn't know where he is.

Survival mode kicks in, jolting him awake despite his foggy pain. He quickly scans his surroundings; No windows, one wooden door that's likely locked. The room is nearly pitch black without something to light it -- Though it's not quite dark enough to avoid being picked apart by his keen vision -- and empty of anything besides himself, and judging by the cobwebs and the rough-looking walls he guesses that it must be a cellar, unused before now. It's medium-sized, with a ceiling that's high enough that he'll be able to stand just fine but perhaps a bit lower than he would like.

As he looks the basement over once again, idly making sure he hasn't missed any details, he turns his mind towards observing his situation more specifically.

He's sitting on the dusty floor up against a wall. His long hair hangs in thick waves around his shoulders, having apparently been pulled free from its usual braid, and his shirt is stained with just a slight splatter of dried blood. Basil allows himself the smallest of smirks, knowing from the lack of wounds that it isn't his -- He's been apparently captured by someone or something, and he can't remember how that happened, but at least he hadn't gone down without a fight.

There's something uncomfortable pressing into his neck, tight but not so much that his breathing is restricted. It's cold and stiff, so it's probably a metal collar of sorts, and he figures that the bracers around his wrists, which he quickly finds are chained close together to keep his arms behind his back, are possibly of the same material. He bends forward, slowly, testing something, and sure enough there's an increasingly strong tug from behind on the metal wrapped around his neck, the movement making it push down on the front of his throat. Tied to the wall, then; Not with a chain, like the one attaching the forearm bracers, since it hadn't made noise and had a bit of give when pulled taut. Probably just a strong rope of some kind.

Basil's head snaps up abruptly at the sound of a lock clicking open, followed by a door opening and closing, followed by footsteps that sound like they're descending towards him. For a moment he considers making his escape immediately, because he has no doubt that bindings and locks will mean little to his magic. But he figures, then, that he wouldn't know why he was captured in the first place, so he slumps back against the wall and waits, his gaze steeled as he watches the door.

A second passes, then another, and then finally the door is unlocked. Basil has just a second to examine what it'd been hiding -- Stairs, with another door at the top of them -- and then it swings shut again and he fixes his attention towards the figure that had just come through it.

...And groans internally, easily recognizing the woman that now approaches.

"I didn't think," Basil says, with bored disinterest, "that you were so desperate you'd resort to kidnapping."

Regula kneels down a few feet in front of him; He notices cloth wrapped around one of her hand, tinted pink where the blood is starting to seep through it. "I didn't think you were so stubborn and oblivious you'd reject your soulmate four times. I guess we're both surprised."

"If the universe is so cruel that it has decided my soulmate is a naive little girl who has spent the last two years obsessing over me to unhealthy degrees, then I would much rather be single, thank you."

She tilts her head, her eyebrows raising, her gaze seeming oddly innocent. "You don't have to play hard-to-get anymore, you know that, right?"

Basil rolls his eyes, exaggerating his annoyance with a deep, long-suffering sigh. "Do feel free to tell me when you get tired of playing pretend like an ignorant child. Until then," he shifts positions, readying himself to stand, "I will be more than happy to escort you to the nearest jail cell."

With that, Basil reaches out for the familiar part of his soul that is his magic, urging it through his pulse, focusing it on the chain that restricting his arms, the rope keeping him by the wall.

...But nothing happens. He doesn't even feel his magic running through his body like it's meant to, much less it acting upon his will. Instead he is hit full-force by a deep-seated feeling of wrong, like something rotten and decaying in his veins, like corruption, like pollution.

Alarmed, he lets his thoughts pull away from his magic; The feeling is still there, but lurking now, deep under the surface, lessened by the distance. He doesn't know how he didn't notice before, because it's so clear now, this dark, all-consuming sense of dread.

"...What did you do?"

Regula's face slowly breaks into a wide smile. Basil is trying so hard not to panic, but his breathing is quickening despite his efforts; He's had his magic since he was born, like all elves, has learned to rely on it for everything because it's never failed him, not ever. To have it gone now feels like some part of him has been painfully, unwillingly torn out.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

"Don't worry. It isn't gone forever." She begins to stand, still smiling -- He tries to do the same, but is yanked back down by the rope -- and turns to leave. "Maybe I'll even let you use it again, in the future, if you earn it back."

Basil's voice has risen to screaming, his voice so unused to it that it's already tearing his throat raw. "Get back here, Regula! Tell me what you did, tell me how to -- Vi ustya, tõžo shosho, okial mos vil! Give it -- "

The door slams shut.

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #regula avarium #regula (writing) #kidnapping // #stalking //

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Whumptober Day 19 - Exhaustion

Another short one and more fluff than whump but shh there had to be some comfort at some point

@superwhumper06 @whump-my-dear-watson

High above him, past the canopy of leaves, Ilias can see the deep black of the sky, lit only by the stars and moon. The view is beautiful, definitely, objectively, but he feels like he would enjoy it much more if he wasn't absolutely sick of it.

Six days, now, nearly a week. He'd thought his trouble sleeping was just due to an off day, but then it had persisted for a second day, a third, a fourth. He's had maybe 10 hours maximum of sleep, collectively, and even that's being generous.

Ilias sits upright, deciding to finally give up the battle against his insomnia, his movements slow to minimize noise.

"Basil?" He whispers breathily, just loudly enough to get the elf's attention. "I can stay up to keep watch, if you want to go to sleep early."

Basil only furrows his eyebrows in uncertain confusion, clearly unused to Ili not being already asleep.

"Having trouble falling asleep, so I figured I might as well be useful, if I'm not going to  -- "

"Ili?" Aster's voice is quiet, heavy with sleep. "'s something wrong?"

Swearing slightly under his breath -- He'd been trying to be careful not to wake Aster -- Ilias turns to face him. "No, it's all good. Sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep."

Just as Ili had feared, Aster being only half awake does nothing to dull his perceptiveness. He hums doubtfully, pushing himself up slightly from the ground. "You're better at defensive snarkiness than you are at outright lying."

"...Noted. But, really, everything's fine, you don't have to worry. Just... I can't sleep, that's all."

"Ah." Aster shifts until he's sitting cross-legged, one hand reaching up to rub at an eye sleepily as he speaks. "Any reason in particular?"

Ilias starts to shake his head, but Aster's eyes narrow immediately in suspicion, so with a sigh he relents. "Bad memories."

He doesn't have to elaborate any more than that; Frowning, Aster immediately reaches out to lightly place his hand over one of Ili's, rubbing his thumb over the back of his friend's hands in an attempt to comfort him.

"Do you want to... Talk? About it?"

"Not really."

"...Okay."

The two lapse into a few moments of silence, Aster unsure of how else to help, Ilias lost in his own troubled thoughts, until --

"It can help if you focus on something else." It takes a good second for Ili to recognize the quiet voice, hoarse from lack of use, as Basil's, considering how rarely the elf speaks.

"I've been trying," he huffs, indignantly.

"You've been trying," Basil counters, "to find something to focus on. You haven't been actually focusing on anything."

Ilias falls silent, because honestly, he can't really argue against that. Basil stops talking, too, in favor of looking off to his right, making Ili think the conversation's ended before Aster chimes in again.

"I think I can hear a cricket chirping. Concentrate on listening to that, maybe? You won't have to keep your eyes open if you're focusing on a sound instead of a sight."

Nodding, Ilias lies back down, Aster doing the same only a second later, and lets his eyes fall shut as he tries to pick the cricket chirps Aster had mentioned out from the rest of the forest noises. With plenty of doubt, since he's fairly sure that bug noises won't be enough to hold off thoughts that have kept him up for six nights now, but it's worth a shot, he figures.

It takes only a few short minutes of concentrating on the consistent, steady noise, and then he's fallen fast asleep.

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #ilias devlin #ilias (writing) #aster #aster (writing) #basil sunlier #basil (writing)

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I wanted toooo try and figure out what the protag trio looks like so here’s! That

Also forgive how inconsistent the lines are,, This is more of a sketch than an actual drawing so I didn’t bother to clean them, rip. I’ll draw them properly someday I swear

#i don't know what ili is so happy about but he better treasure that emotion because it will not last long #considering all of them literally exist only to suffer #bloodspill draws #ilias devlin #aster #basil sunlier #ilias (art) #aster (art) #basil (art) #honestly i didn't mean for ili's hair to be so fluffy but that's life i guess

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Whumptober Day 6 - Betrayed

I'm only on for like 5 seconds today to post this real quick, here's Regula, have fun

@superwhumper06

Content Warnings: Abuse, captivity/kidnapping, really vaguely implied torture??

"We need to talk, dear."

Basil looks up. Standing in the bedroom's entrance is Regula, one hand resting against the doorway, her face set into a serious, vaguely troubled expression. Her curly, marigold hair is messy, and he knows that she has only just come back from outside.

He struggles out of the mess of bedsheets he'd been tangled in. He hadn't been asleep, of course; Though he spends nearly all day sleeping -- It's easier, he's found, to deal with his situation when he's unconscious -- he always makes sure to be awake by the time Regula gets home.

He repositions himself to sit on the edge of the bed, nodding expectantly towards the spot next to him. Regula promptly clicks the door shut and goes to sit by him, resting her hands on her knees as Basil wraps one arm lightly around her shoulders.

"I've been thinking a lot, lately." She twists a strand of hair around one finger awkwardly. "See, feelings are... Strange little things. Hard to understand, almost impossible to predict or control. And they can be... Fleeting, at times, too. I'm sure you know what I mean, don't you? After all, you have said before that you used to think that you loved others, in the years before you met me."

He doesn't reply, but his eyebrows furrow just a touch, and he gives a slow, hesitant nod.

"And, well, the thing is..." She trails off and averts her gaze, visibly uncomfortable, but after a moment forces herself to continue with a heavy sigh. "I do love you, still. I will only ever love you, as you have only ever loved me. But... But you've gotten boring, Basil. Our relationship has gone stale these last few months."

"You're... Breaking up with me."

Her eyes narrow, suspiciously. "You don't seem all that upset."

Basil realizes his mistake immediately, shoulders tensing as he jumps automatically into damage-control mode. "No, no, of course I'm upset, anyone would be, of course I am." He swallows hard, trying desperately to find an excuse. "Just... I... I'm surprised, it feels like this came out of nowhere."

"Does it?" Dread settles deep in his stomach; It feels like he's eaten rocks. "Maybe if you'd paid more attention to me, you would've noticed. Maybe if you put more effort into our relationship, this wouldn't be happening."

Basil can see her hands curling into tight fists where they rest on her knees. Quickly he shifts away, holding his hands out slightly as if to ward her off. "S-Sorry, I'm really sorry, I should have done more, you're right." Fear is flooding through his veins, and only seven year's worth of practice allows him to be still while his body screams at him to escape. "This is all my fault, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Regula.”

She scrutinizes him carefully and he prepares himself for the worst, but after what seems like an eternity she nods and relaxes. Basil allows himself to exhale.

"...I wasn't going to actually break up with you. I was considering just... Letting it... It's not like I've stopped loving you completely." Regula's gaze falls down to watch her hands, fingers rubbing at the fabric of her dress. "But there's someone I've learned of that I'm interested in. Not romantically, just... They're in a weird situation, and I want to know more about it. But that means that I need a lot of time, and energy, and money, things that I normally spend on you."

A long minute of silence passes. "...What now, then?"

She raises her head, slowly. The look in her eyes is odd, Basil notices now, her expression one that he has never seen and can't identify. "...I can't keep you, but I can't let you go, either."

Regula's gaze meets his and immediately the adrenaline is back, stronger than it's been in years, sharpening every sense into alertness, tensing every muscle in preparation, focusing his mind on danger, danger, danger.

"I've heard that dying doesn't really hurt, but just to be sure, you should stay still so I can be quick."

Basil hasn't been in proper battle since she caught him. He hasn't trained like he's supposed to, he's lost the natural elven elegance that was his since birth, he's had his magic sealed away -- Everything that had once made him a fearsome warrior has been gone for years now.

But when something metal comes flying with decisive determination towards him, glinting in the sunlight that pours from the window behind them, he is surprised to find that not all of him has forgotten how to fight back.

One of his hands darts out and he wraps his fingers around Regula's wrist, stopping her instantly. His mind, dulled by helpless captivity, struggles to keep up with his own instinct-driven actions as he yanks her arm up over her head and then backwards, forcing her into a painful arch that's enough to make her cry out; Less than a second with her arm twisted like this is enough to make her drop the knife and immediately he swipes it up, using his other hand now to throw her roughly onto the ground and hurrying to his feet before Regula can even piece together what's happening. His grip on the knife, the only weapon he's held in years, tightens as he glances down at her, breath still quick, heart still pounding in his chest.

She's staring up at him in shock, dull blue eyes wide, the startled fear and heartbroken betrayal in her gaze making her look almost innocent. But even as he watches this shifts into a furious glare, the sight of which is enough to make him immediately freeze, a thousand remembered horrors jumping to the front of his thoughts. But then some part of him screams at him to escape, so he goes to do just that, slamming the door open and starting to rush forward --

"Basil Sunlier!" Regula spits his name like it's a curse, her voice a distantly familiar mix of venomous and hateful. "What do you think you're going to find, out there?"

He pauses to listen, despite everything telling him not to.

"Do you think you can just go running back, pretending that nothing happened, and everything will be fine? That you can spend the rest of your life tricking others into thinking you aren't broken? Because you can't. They're going to want to know where you've been for 7 years, where all of those ugly scars came from, why you aren't using magic. And when they find out, they're going to know that you're broken, and they're going to hate you for it. You do know that, right? You aren't hoping that they're going to let you stick around, or, god forbid, that somehow they'll fix you? Because I assure you, no one will ever love you again. Nobody wants something that's so far beyond repair."

"...I know," Basil says, quietly.

"Make sure you never forget it. When you're all alone, scorned by everyone, remember that it was your fault for running away from me when all I wanted to do was let you die in the arms of someone who actually likes you."

He forces himself to run, heading straight for the front door, before the torrent of emotions rushing through him can make him turn back.

#whumptober #bloodspill writes #the betrayed prompt being that regula feels betrayed by basil not just letting her kill him in case that's not. clear. yeah #basil sunlier #basil (writing) #regula avarium #regula (writing) #abuse // #kidnapping //