Work Text:
“Nebarra,” Xelzaz takes a seat in the chair adjacent to Nebara’s, “I had something I was wondering, if you’ll indulge me.”
“Oh, must you bother me?” Nebarra straightens himself up in his chair. “I suppose I’ll give you a little of my precious time, lizard.”
“What did I ever do to be deserving such kindness?”
“Don’t push it.”
“I’ll try not to.” Getting to know Nebarra is not easy, but Xelzaz has experience in dealing with these types. You can’t take too much too quickly, and Xelzaz knows this could cross the line. He doesn’t know Nebarra’s name, has never seen his face, but he’s slept and fought by the mer’s side for months. He’ll take the risk. “I’ve heard you mention a Camia, may I ask who that is?”
“Huh?” Nebarra demeanor shifts in a second. His body goes tense, his head snaps towards Xelzaz, “I... I mentioned her to you?”
“Yes, I believe you mentioned the name a few times.”
“Oh, uhm, Yes. She was a soldier in what the Legion would call a maniples.” Nebarra makes himself small. Xelzaz can’t see his gaze within his helmet, but he’d guess Nebarra’s eyes are planted firmly on the ground. His voice is distant; genuine, in a way Xelzaz was unfamiliar with.
“We were stopping for water, or lunch, when…” Nebarra breaths in, sound muffled by the helmet, “An arrow hit her face. It all happened so quickly and... More arrows came. We didn’t stay put. We charged right into them.”
“Gods, I don’t know if it was instant or if she drifted for some time, but when we sulked back she was... She was already gone.”
Xelzaz didn’t expect this level of honesty. A quip, sure. Maybe a story about a former friend or a bitter ex-lover. But sharing such painful memories was new between the two. He lifts his hand, his instinct to reach out, to show comfort towards Nebarra, but he stops. Xelzaz cares about him, he wants to support his begrudding friend, but he doesn’t know if touch would be too intimate for someone as closed off as Nebarra.
The silence is uncomfortable. Xelzaz can't just sit there. He places his gloved hand upon Nebarra’s wrist. Nebarra doesn't react. Xelzaz can't be sure he even notices the contact. Nebarra is so far away in this moment. So raw and open and gone.
“I am so sorry, Nebarra.”
“Yeah. But, it happens.”
It does happen. Xelzaz knows it does. He knows of sleepless nights of wondering what could have been and of longing to see her stunning face a second longer. He knows of the sickening feeling of blood. Knowing you’ll never wash it all away. The metallic stick on your skin will stay with you until you die. He knows of sobbing as your whole life seems to fall apart and turn cold and knowing you’ll never put it back together the same way.
It happens.
And now Nebarra is brand new. Xelzaz will never look at him the same. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’ll always wonder if Nebarra ever asked Camia to run away from everything with him and meet his family and marry him and throw their lives away. And she wouldn't, and he wouldn't either, because they had put too much into this to leave now. Because then the sacrifices and hurt and work would mean nothing. Because happy endings mean nothing. Because they would mean nothing. But he asked, and it only matters that he asked. Asking was enough.
Nebarra stands, wordless. What is there to say, really? He walks towards his room. No doubt off to drink until he’s sick and until he forgets. Forgetting is a kind of healing, maybe.
Or maybe he’ll drink until he dies. And then he’ll die for nothing, miserable.
Xelzaz stands up.
“Wait, Nebarra.”
He stops, facing away from Xelzaz. This is the line. The limit’s been passed. Xelzaz has taken too much from him. Still, he wants to pry more. To see past the helmet and the skin and the bone and know who Nebarra is at his very core. To know if Nebarra shares the longing and the loneliness and the blood.
He won't know. Nebarra will keep many secrets from him. Xelzaz will do the same. They are not friends, truly, they are something lesser and deeper and more distant.
“What was her favorite food?”
Nebarra shifts, still hanging between the space he shared with Xelzaz and his room. Xelzaz hears a faint shaky breath.
“Caramel cheesecake. With cherry sauce.” Nebarra answers at last. He’s still quiet, but Xelzaz hopes to hear some joy in his voice. Something to show that maybe remembering is worthwhile. That living every day stuck in the past and planning for the future and focused on today still leaves time for something else. Something more, something deeper. He finds none.
“I tried to tell her it sounds more like a khajiit’s dish, and that they don't go together but… Well.”
Xelzaz will have to get some cherries.