Rora felt many things on many levels as she stood, watching Mori relive the memory of the death of the Aavan called Neol'Morn.
Pain. Pain was first, and it was not just the emotional pain she might have guessed. Whether the lightning was hurting the gentle blue, or the Mori in the glen in her head, or the Mori who stood just in front of her in the spring cavern, she couldn't say. It didn't matter. He was hurting, and she felt it, vibrating through her bones, fresh and familiar as the first day of spring. It was a good pain. It reminded her of what she was, what she had been before she'd found Mori. It was a simple, shared pain, nothing to do with the Bond or being a Telepath or a Pusher or a Dreamer. This was an Empath sharing the physical ailments of another soul, and, bad as it was, it was refreshing.
It was also damning. Because she could feel what it did to Mori, and she hated it, and hated not being able to lash out against it. She hated the fear and the guilt and the horror that he felt. She hated Risa for reanimating long dormant memories, even if she knew this was what Mori needed. She hated being the one to make him change. She hated the dead Aavan for his stupidity and his bravery, and she hated herself, because she knew she'd have done the precise same thing if Mori was in trouble.
She hated that she could feel how afraid he was and do nothing to stop it. Standing there before him, in the trembling world of her mind's creation, in the pitch black of Mori's mind, struck through with violet and blue and white, all vying for her attention, in the spring cavern where Mori shook and trembled, and she longed to hold him, cradle and protect him, she watched, paralyzed, not with disgust or pity, but with fear.
The fear she felt was not Mori's, and did not stem from him. The fear she felt was her own. Because she knew how to fix the problem. And she was terrified of the cost.
She could see in his mind Mori had let go of the blame, knew what had happened was not his own fault. But he had never gotten over the horror, over the memory of needing someone so badly, and yet being alone. She could feel how it ate at him, how it had made itself the center of his life, how every fear and hope and passion had been built on top of it, so strong and so deep, even Rora had never seen it until now.
The idea that came on her was sudden and fierce and bold and she hid it away from Mori before he could even begin to sense it. It took a great deal of effort and finesse to hide anything from him at all, and something as big and bright as this was made it all the more difficult. She didn't care. If Mori saw it now, half-primed and naked, she knew it would undo him forever. Even if he could learn to let go of the fear, even if she could get him to swim again, even if things went back to normal, he would never be able to let go of that seed of doubt that he would remain alone in his times of darkest need, because he could not contain his power.
And therein lay the fear, just one part of a bigger piece. What if her plan failed? What if it pushed him too far, too quickly? What if he saw it as a trick, a trap? An attempt to hurt or push him? What if he saw in her something else? Something cruel and exploitative? What if the plan worked...and she hated him for it?
The last thought made her shiver slightly in the real world. If Mori could live happily, free of guilt and fear and pain, then she would have done her job. But she knew she could not live with him hating her. If the plan worked and yet backfired, spraying the fire of his loathing in her face, she would leave this place. She would tell Rask what she had done, and she would rely on his hatred, fiery and passionate, to remove her from Mori's life forever. Mori would be too soft, too gracious. And she could not bear that.
Slowly, she began to comb out the plan.
She knew Mori's lightning could not, would not harm her. But the lightning as he knew it, and the lightning once it left him appeared to be quite different things. In moments of self-defense, she had seen the lightning crawl over his body, and she had even touched him while this happened. The lightning would not harm him, nor would it touch her -- and so they remained safe. But in the water, with a new medium, the lightning became treacherous, both to Mori, and anyone else in the water. That it had not harmed before made no difference. The water made it a danger.
And yet, in the blue and violet planes of their mind, she had seen the lightning would do no damage. Mori had confirmed she could hold it back, contain it. If it was contained there, it could not find a way out.
And then there were the safeties. These, she let Mori see, speaking as she did.
"He was different," she began after a long while of silence, and again, she Pushed the words she had before, words of calm and relaxation, willing the blue strands of Mori's mind, and the blue-white fingers of lightning, into a peaceful wave. With a great effort, she willed the dreamscape around them into a similar peace. The glasslike water behind her had still not moved, not so much as a ripple, even when Mori's memory threatened to tear the world apart. And in the real world, she laced her fingers through his and stood closer, lending warmth, strength.
"He was noble and he was brave, Mori, but he cannot do what I can. When you started to panic in Risa's pool, I saved you. Remember? I lifted you from the water, and you lived, and you'll live now. You are better, stronger than you were. And you have me. And nothing, Mori, not distance, not my people, nor yours, not the darkness, not the Ashkerai or anything they breathe, touch, think, or dream will keep me from you. Not now. Not ever. I am yours. Forever and for always, I am yours, and I will be here."
Then, carefully, slowly, she opened her eyes and stepped away. She kept the secret to herself, and very, very slowly dissolved the world she'd created around them. She kept the violet strand wrapped warm and close around the blue, and she built up a wall around what remained of the pillar, protecting, containing, insulating.
She kept her mind pressed flush against his even as she rose to her toes to kiss his cheek, cold and clammy with sweat, before slowly backing away. She smiled at him and kept her voice, her presence, in his head.
"I'm going to show you," she said slowly, feeling apprehension coil in her belly. This was it. The plan would work or it would not. Or else...it would work, and he would hate her for it. And she would not be able to live like that. She knew it well. And she knew then she would throw away their relationship, her life, to see him happy. It was the greatest sacrifice she could imagine.
"I'm going to show you you are not the boy you were. You have me now, and I will never leave you. You and I, Mori. We'll change things. We'll contain your power. We'll save your family and your people. And you will never be alone. I'll show you. Just...trust me. As I trust you."
She stood, staring at him for a moment before turning abruptly, taking a running leap, and throwing herself into the spring, as near to the center as she could manage.
--
The spring was deeper than she'd expected, a necessity, she supposed for the Aavan who bathed there. The dark blue dress she had been in ballooned gracefully around her until she knotted it at one side to keep it from tangling around her legs. She had always just lingered on the side of the pool, bathing quickly to reunite with Mori, but now, as the warm water closed over her head and pulled her under, she felt a spurt of hope and fear both.
Hope, because the new, engulfing warmth made her think something new and good could come of this.
Fear...because if things went wrong, she would hurt Mori, at the very least, and...lose him, at the most.
She let herself sink for a moment, thinking it was too late to back out now. She felt her mind still pressed up against Mori's, and let him feel her calm certainty, the warmth and love and trust she felt for him. She let him feel, too, though on a much, much gentler scale, a hint of urgency. She was not in trouble, was not in pain. Did not want to frighten him. But she needed him.
It was only seconds later that she kicked back to the surface, allowing herself to gather her bearings before opening her eyes. There were still the safeties she had put in place. She was certain she could remove both Mori and herself from danger, should any arise. But she was certain -- certain -- that none would. What frightened her was the idea of Mori getting the wrong idea. She had tried hard to keep him from panicking when she through herself in the water, filling his head with the gentler memories of the last time he'd pulled her out of the water. It was important, she knew, that he understand she was not in danger. Panic on her behalf would only serve to worsen things now. Better that he feel angry with her for the reckless stunt she'd pulled. It would kill her, for him to hate her, but she knew the price was well worth it.
Taking one more breath, she banished the worry. He could not know that was there. He needed to feel only trust and reassurance from her. To these, she added a hint of weariness -- the canyon training yesterday, Mori's nightmare just short hours ago. She was not in immediate danger...but she could not hope to tread water so deep by herself for long.
Sending a quick prayer to the Matriarch that she was doing the right thing -- taking such drastic steps to show Mori how she trusted him, and would never leave him -- she opened her eyes and looked at him.
When she spoke, her voice was calm as if she was asking him to go on a walk with her.
"Mori? Come here, alright? Come get me. You can do it. I trust you. I love you. And I will never leave you."
