:opanchuminous:
There’s a path, as Lent learned yesterday (offscreen) that leads from the top of the cliff down to the beach, so they don’t have to go all the way through town again. As Cornelius and Lent head there, Lent feels the tension of just telling Cornelius what they intended to do. They don’t want to assume the worst, but they still don’t know Cornelius that well… Sorry, but every second step is spent considering how to most quickly subdue them, in case Cornelius sees what they have to do and decides Lent should die for it.
Cornelius keeps to himself as he walks beside lent, face neutral and hard to read. Lingering silence brews a tense atmosphere as the two occupy themselves with their own thoughts. Cornelius reconsiders once or twice in the brief journey, wondering if he was trespassing any boundaries with his insistence, but Lent seemed alright with it, and they don’t seem the type to make a decision for an acquaintances sake. So he trusts in their acceptance. As they step away from stone and onto the sand, she thinks of the ocean, beyond what she admires and more on what brings her discomfort. The violence, witches, curses, magic… the threats that have levied on her companions. Her thoughts cease when the crash of a wave becomes clear enough in her ears, and she looks at the scene before them. It would’ve brought her peace, but her previous thoughts only make her think of what lied beneath. “Whenever you feel at ease- or prepared enough,” he tells lent before he steps away, giving them enough distance so he’s not in their line of sight. “Think of me as a mere fly on the wall.”
The ocean is here, and Lent’s walking right up to it. A dagger is pulled from their boot with utter nonchalance, and they turn back to look at Corn before they get started. “You do realize..” They start, unsure where they’ll end. “I have to decide whether or not to tell her about this. My sister.” The wind is stronger down here, and Lent’s hair whips into their face, so they turn to face the sea. Stepping out a little further, until their boots are being lapped at by the water. “I want to tell her everything. But I know where her Goddess stands on this.”
cw self harm || Lent sticks the dagger between their teeth for a moment before they pull off their short jacket, wrapping it around their waist. Then the dagger is brought to their–no, they remember what Ai Ling told them. Inside of the elbow, the blade is set then the skin is torn. The cut makes blood flow freely into the sea, and Lent doesn’t flinch at the pain. Not anymore, not in years.|| The only indication that this is something other than simple self-harm or self-flagellation, is the watery hands that rise up from the sea, reaching out to grab what they can of their blood offering.
Cornelius can only nod, giving Lent the full privilege to speak.
He considers one last time whether to look away or keep his eyes on lent. Would he really be accepting of the others curse if they did? What would lent think if they did? The possibility of lent misconstruing Cornelius’ averted gaze as disgust keeps her eyes where they were, even (cw: self harm) ||when they witness the blade cut through their skin, blood seeping forth|| , only allowing herself to crinkle her eyes. As if she took on lent’s pain herself. Though the lack of reflex from lent makes her wonder if it’s due to desensitization of years of self sacrificing.
Cornelius’ eyes crinkle more at the thought. Her expression hard as she watches hands take shape from seawater, a glimpse of the witch that inflicted their curse. The image of scarlet seeping and staining the clear blue of the sea becomes reality. Life being given to another. She stays in place until the offering concludes and the hands disappear. The end of another reason why she should keep her distance from the sea. She can’t help but frown slightly, but it’s thanks to those she met on land that she doesn’t tear her eyes from the truth. She relaxes the tightness of her face, and approaches lent, one of her sashes in her hand. “May I?” She offers gently.
Lent’s focused on their task until they aren’t. It’s a matter of simple actions at this point, a weekly offering over the course of… what, 8 years? The amount is more than they’re usually asked for, and they bleed as long as they can feel they’re being requested of. Cornelius’ approach nearly spooks them, though.
“… I’ll heal. That’s the other half.” Poorly explained, unless Cornelius asks further.
“the.. other half?” He repeats with much more confusion. “I apologize, you will have to elaborate.”
They refuse the sash and start walking back up to the convent. Follow along. “In exchange. My Lady takes my blood, and I have some of hers. She heals me faster than most people.” Should they be saying this? They feel a little bit of the bad feeling from being on the beach again, but the two of them avoided the church in this escapade. “This will close up by the end of the hour.”