If the elf didn't know better, she would say her company was shocked at the compromise. She nodded. ”Vendetheil’s never break their word, neither do the Nash’s.” Despite the fact that she loathed her entire clan, especially her parents, they were huge with honesty. One could not tell the whole story, but what was shared must be the truth. Celeste swore she would uphold the same level of expectations, but she would never lock anyone up the way the did her. Wrinkling her nose at the brief memory, she watched the mask pulled away, revealing a relatively plain face. There was not a single feature she could point out, not that she tried. It was just nice to see who she was talking to, instead of a mask.

The question caught her completely off guard. For a long time, she mulled it over. If she were honest, this was such an odd ball question, she expected something much more common. To shed the bitter, painful memories of that time, seemed like a fairy tale ending. Never worry about losing control, gaining her confidence, her happiness, her life back. No more faking until she made it to another night of terror. Finally, she spoke, flat as she stared into the wine. ”Hypothetically speaking? Maybe, I don't know. Never thought of it even as a possibility before. But in my line of work, if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.” Silence took her once more as she continued to ponder. It was slowly, oddly, beginning to make sense. The chance meeting in the middle of nowhere, the wine, forcing oneself to drink and get sick, giving her time to warm up and speak. This woman was here for some reason beyond her comprehension. ”Let me guess, you know a way.”

Putting the glass down, Celeste examined her hand. She pinched a large shard between thumb and forefinger, roughly yanking it hard with a grimace. The piece was held up to her face, expressionless as she inspected it. ”I can't control it.” Might as well share what she offered to take, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. With a flick, the shard went flying from them. ”Drugged mindless stupor, slowly breaking my mind for so long… I've forgotten how. Every night, I am still trapped in unending darkness. Inescapable, impenetrable darkness. I can still feel the gnawing hunger, too weak to do anything beyond struggling to survive.” As her voice began to gain some volume, it became very heavy with emotion. Celeste continued removing the glass shards, yanking so hard that it was dealing more damage to her hand than the broken vial did.

”Gave up on rescue, there was no hope. I can still feel every kick, every broken bone. Even now, the sun is too bright, and crowds are claustrophobic. The shadows hide cloaked attackers, waiting for the time to strike. Everyone has ulterior motives, out to get me. Including you.” She was crying now, ugly and uncontrollable. Yet she pushed on, finally having someone who sat through her problems. Not that she could stop. The vomit of woes was like a rush that, once started, could not be stopped, cascading with the flow of turbulent emotion. ”Constant worry, fearful of losing control at the wrong moment. I'm a danger to everyone around me… I'm not even worthy enough to be her wife.” Hugging her knees, Celeste buried her head in her arms as she cried.

"You're right. It does sound too good to be true." When Celeste caught on to what she was planning next, she took it as a cue to move to her next step immediately. "No, not really. It's not a sure-fire way, but incredibly close. Closest thing to perfection, in my opinion. There are still specific conditions that are required for success, but the same goes for everything else in the world." Explaining it was complicated. Best not to say too much, lest they misunderstand. It was the elf woman's turn to talk, and she listened. Shiloh began her analysis at once. There were many familiar elements: paranoia, anxiety, claustrophobia, restlessness. Fear of losing control, fear of losing oneself. Fear of disappointing loved ones because she couldn't be the same as she once was. All of these were offshoots, symptoms of something deeper. The main root cause aside from the trauma, was shame.

"You're ashamed of yourself." She said slowly. When a person bared themselves to you, you must choose your words carefully. Like unraveling a knot, it required patience and understanding. Act too hastily, and you would make it ten times worse. Gently pull a bit here, read where the threads led there. Pick the tangled parts apart, and when it was all loosened, straighten out the mess. Right now she need to let it all out, and vent those bottled up emotions. Unfortunately, Shiloh was familiar with that feeling too. "It certainly would be a miracle, if it could just be removed like a dried scab. Fortunately for you, this sort of thing has a solution. I can't say the same for me." Turning to face her, Shiloh kept her gaze lowered at the ground. 

"If…you feel too tired of carrying this burden day after day. Whenever you feel like saying 'I can't take this anymore'–" She paused, unsure if making this move was too sudden and too soon, then finished the thought. "–Just tell me. I'll make sure it's gone, every bit of it. It's a promise." It was the least she could do for her, and for every other person she had given the same proposal. "A little sliver of hope, a slim thread for a chance at happiness. Isn't that what wishes are for? They are the things we desire most, we simply never dared to believe they were possible. I'm not promising a fairy tale, or a magically-given happy ending. Just to make daily life a bit more bearable, and for people like us to breathe a little easier."  

Shame. No truer words had ever been spoken, and the elf bawled harder as it sunk in. She was ashamed for allowing herself to be too lax, to get captured. For allowing herself to be drugged for so long, being too weak to escape, too addicted to the foul substance that blocked her magic. ”Why did I let it happen? Why didn’t I fight back?” They had done their homework well, though. The trap was perfect, the capture worked according to plan without a hitch. Nothing Celeste could have done would have made a difference.

Celeste sniffled, red rimmed eyes taking in her strange companion once more. How could a dry scab be pulled for herself, and not for the mask wearer? The woman’s words were akin to a floating device, tossed to a drowning victim of the ocean. She wanted to cling to them, wanted them to be true in every sense. It was a ray of hope that she reached for longingly. Quite contrary to her character, Celeste laid her head in the woman’s lap.

”But I do feel that way. I nearly hurt Akira, and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t protect them if I fear what I am. They tried to keep me at the village because of what I could be, tried to control me. They murdered my sister, locked me away.” Tears were still streaming down her face as she was unable to stop the word vomit. Yet, she didn't want to stop. It was so refreshing to finally share her innermost feelings without anything influencing what was said. This was the truest of words. ”I just want to be confident in myself again.”

Normally Shiloh would recoil at the first sign of close physical contact, but for this woman's sake she forced herself not to move. This was a delicate point in the process. The moment one opens up their shell they are like a saltwater oyster–ready to snap shut if resistance or a possible threat emerges. If you left the oyster alone to its devices, it would gradually grow comfortable enough to open all the way and expose what laid within. The analogy was somewhat fitting in hindsight; pearls are made when an irritant enters the soft-bodied mollusk and it coats the thing in as many layers of nacre as it can until it is removed. Today she would be removing the pearl, now overgrown and its removal long overdue. But she had to ensure her fingers wouldn't be pinched, in other words.

"Yes…I understand." A lack of trust first starts from the self. Uncertainty of oneself led to indecision, distrust of others, and even paranoia. You couldn't feel secure, you could never be absolutely sure of anything. This was a daily reality for those who had been hunted. How much more so for those who not only were hunted–but had been caught. Celeste had been trapped underground in effective sensory isolation for at least a year. Along with deprivation, neglect, and abuse she was suffering post-traumatic stress. Trapped with only torment and her own thoughts, to survive she had to give up and give in. Living in such despairing hopelessness… It was enough to break the strongest of spirits.

"You can leave, but you can never escape, for the memories follow you like a shadow. The typical way would be to fight and struggle every day to push back the ravages of time, or–" She gave a pause for effect. "–You could take the simpler and easier option. Remove the root at its source." She now had enough to effectively isolate the point at which the threads of her psyche had become tangled. She knew the elf woman was desperate, but she had to be completely and unconditionally willing for this to work. The very operation hung in the balance on that one single detail. Whether or not she was ready to fully commit would determine if this would succeed or fail.

"Thank you for telling me with such honesty. Now, as I have said before; there is a way which we can turn back time. We can make it as if that never happened, and make things right again. All I ask of you is this: Are you willing to let go? Are you willing to give up the memories? Whether or not this ends lies entirely with you. If you choose not to go ahead, then I will leave, and we will part ways in peace. But if you choose to take my hand, remember that you can never go back. When something is removed, it cannot be returned."

She had been fighting, every day. Some days were more difficult than others, but she felt like she was slipping more frequently as of late. Always when the situation became more desperate. Take the problem out at the source? What does that entail? Celeste listened, waiting with anticipation. Whatever this masked being had, she definitely had a way with words. Turn back time, take it away. Not just the doubt and uncertainty, but the memories that caused the pain.

The memories of boots she can still smell in the night. Sounds of leather impacting the body with such force. Pain that was piled upon old pain. Never let them heal, feed her just enough to keep her alive. Not just that, but drug her, keep her unable to retaliate. Celeste shuddered at the was of fresh remembrance. Should she give it all up? Weren’t memories supposed to build a person? Even if they were debilitating? She struggled to provide a valid reason to keep hold of the painful memories of her torture, but failed. There was simply not a reason not to give them up. Yet why did she feel like a child with a beloved, old, broken, nearly destroyed toy trying to be coaxed to finally relinquish her grip upon it?

”What would such a thing cost me? Nothing is given for free. Even the wine.” Surely, while there was nothing within to force anything upon the elf, it was supplied for a reason. Slowly, Celeste sat up and stared the plain woman in the eye with such a hard look. Was the woman trustworthy enough to be held to her word? ”I’m tired… And I don’t want to hurt those closest to me anymore. Even now… Larka’s heart breaks with worry, at a loss to help me overcome.” Her gaze drifted to her hand, the blood finally beginning to clot, no longer as bright as it was. Self abuse, running away… Was that really helping anyone?

"All I ask is for you to give them up–all the pain, all the memories. To willingly and completely surrender it all." Reaching out to Celeste the same scene was repeated like the first time Shiloh had done this years before, on the wayside of a busy street on a lazy afternoon. A tear-stained face, eyes dull and hurt. An offer too tempting to turn down, too good to be true. No more tears. No more pain. Those were the things that were promised for what seemed like a small inconsequential price. "The nightmares and memories, won't you give them to me?" If she accepted, she could be totally free. The hesitation was breaking down and that yearning desire was winning. "Just close your eyes, and it'll be all over soon. It'll just be bad, bad dream. But it'll only work if you decide, only when you can say to yourself–'I can't take this anymore'." 

Sometimes it isn't wrong to give up. Sometimes letting go isn't running away. The past is only good as long as it doesn't get in the way of your future. There are some burdens which can't be shouldered alone, let alone be shouldered at all. It wasn't her fault; no amount of blaming and wishful thinking could change that. As hard as it was to accept, there were times when things were completely out of one's control. Shiloh herself knew that painfully well. Cruel as it was, time waited for no one. You can only go forward, never backward. And when the elf woman was willing, Shiloh moved without hesitation to cut the cords of attachment while gingerly drawing out an inky, ethereal mass. It was thick, dense and doubling back on itself. The rogue could feel her own body tense as she held it in her hand, the stinging agony of guilt and self-blame. Burning and chilling at the same time Shiloh could feel it work its way under her skin. Looking to the sky as she grit her teeth, a familiar wave of emotions swept over her. The memories of their origin didn't matter, it was the same either way.

It was an all-consuming guilt, fueled by bitter regrets and fear. Something terrible and unpreventable had happened and they were powerless to stop it. For Celeste, it was years of torture and imprisonment in near-darkness. For Shiloh, it was a fateful night in Vilpamolan. Shame for being weak stabbed her on the inside. If they had been stronger, this would have never happened. Celeste wouldn't have been caught or at least might have escaped her captors earlier. She could have avoided being caught and caged to be sold in the seedy underbelly of that pirates' den. Being caught wasn't the worst that had happened. No, it was when she was freed. Not all people perform acts of kindness without calculation, and in some cases it would have been better if she'd broken out on her own. Maybe then those people would still be alive…even if they were scum of the earth. They didn't deserve what came to them. Not like that.

The memories faded, and her body felt like lead. The effects of taking another's burden was concealed by her clothing out of sight and out of mind. Even if it hurt, she'd live. And now, so could Celeste. The entire experience of her imprisonment was cut and removed from her memory. Shiloh made sure not to leave behind any loose ends. To her, it would be as if that event never happened.