Zafer & Moirine - the saints can't help me now
Who: Zafer & Moirine
When: The 31st
Where: The market -> Zeki's house
Ratings & Warnings: PG-13 for Zafer being cray
"It's beautiful," she murmured as a child held a paper flower up to her. He was selling them by the basketful- flowers tinted by inexpensive dyes, folded sloppily. They reminded her of the crafts she used to make. It was a bit disheartening to think that a child of five could make them as well as she did, but it was more disheartening to see him out in the snow trying to sell them. Myron won't mind, she told herself as she set a flimsy coin in the boy's basket and picked out a dingy red flower.
Allen was finally settling. He seemed to have a grasp on the city, he had work, a place to stay. Already, Moirine felt better. Most of all, he smiled at her. He was happy in his own muted way, she believed. Twirling the flower between her gloved fingers, she smiled and continued on to the fishmonger's. Myron never cared what he ate, but the servants liked keeping up appearances. A strange situation, but she could understand their drive to feel useful. She slipped her necklace off as she neared the stand.
"Oy!" she called over the other women clamoring for fish. She glanced quickly to the side, expression shuttered, then shouted, "Oy!" again.
Zafer slipped his hand beneath his shirt to rub his own necklace once more, his stomach rolling over. Being out in public, even though the moon was not full, made him feel ill. What danger was he putting people in by simply existing? It was unacceptable, but even though all good sense told him to tell the guard and his brothers and sisters what had happened to him and bring the Hour crashing down upon Vance's head, he could not go through with it. Dying, when there was the possibility of a cure, felt like the wrong path to take.
He'd prayed for wisdom, but Cita had abandoned him; only uncertainty met his prayers. What was to become of him? He touched the necklace again, his eyes drawn to shouting coming from the crowd. Watching the market-goers from beneath his thick hood was something to do, to idle away his time. He could never join them again; even watching mundane tasks made him feel oddly alone - yet, not lonely. One of them glanced in his direction and despite how caught up he was in his own thoughts, Zafer felt something icy make its way down his spine.
He replayed the glance in his head even as he began to move slowly towards the woman in question. He could smell her, as he drew closer. It made him feel sick to recognise her by scent, as though he were some common animal. It made him feel worse to know she was out here, alone, yelling for fish in a market.
Zafer put his hand on Moirine's shoulder, angling his head down so that she'd see his face under the hood. "I think," he said, voice quiet. "We should speak."
Oh, why wouldn't he look at her? Moirine kept her hand tight around the necklace in her apron pocket. So long as she didn't have it around her neck, it was useless. Still, why couldn't she- she waved her free arm- seem to- another 'Oy!'- catch his attention? Thankful that Allen was off in another part of town, she let all illusion of dignity go. "Don't you know a lord's maid when you see one?" she shouted.
The hand on her shoulder made her jolt. She turned to look up at Zafer. Her teeth locked together and, before she could remember that he'd told her he'd abandoned his position as well, she made to dash away.
Zafer tightened his grip, giving her an incredulous look. He was a grown man who'd given his entire life to being his god's soldier. Did she really think that even if she got free she would be able to go far? "We've got enough fish," he said, voice loud enough to carry, to keep anyone who might play hero at bay. "Come on, we need to get the bread."
The key was to look confident. Impatiently tugging her arm, he took a few steps away from the crowd. Where to? Somewhere quiet.
She struggled for a moment, despite how tight his grip was. It didn't matter; all she could think of was the judgment in every Initiate, Priest and Cancellarius' eyes. What would Aribella say? She heard herself shrieking, 'No!' in her head though her lips were sealed shut.
Moirine tried to wrench her arm away from Zafer's hold, knowing full well she couldn't get loose, but she wanted him to look down, to see the hateful glare she was giving him. She'd gone back to being just another girl from the Grounds. The was what she would've been before she was chosen. Why couldn't she just be that? Resigned yet resentful, she tried to keep up with Zafer as he tugged her along.
"Slow down," she hissed. If he was taking her away, she couldn't call him off, not without calling attention to herself. Moirine put her free hand to her belly. "I can't run."
Zafer turned to look down at her stomach, then looked back around with a growl that sounded like an animal's. That only served to make him angrier. Stupid girl! Stupid, stupid child. Why would she give up her position as the most beloved of Cita's children for this? Had she been lying about what Cita had said about her brother? Bile rose in his throat at his own reactions and he walked even faster, yanking her arm like a frustrated parent with a child refusing to walk, before finally forcing himself to slow.
Breathing hard, he was nearly shaking all over with emotion. Zeki's house was near; his brother would be out, but Zafer knew he could use it, had had the spare key ready in his pocket in case he felt the urge to kill and had the sequester himself. "Keep up," he said, voice short. "We are going somewhere private. We are going to talk."
She stumbled. Wincing when her arm was held in place and the rest of her fell, Moirine hissed. She got to her feet quickly, determined not to let him see her falter. He could judge her all he wanted, but she would never let him think her defeated.
Her jaw shook as he tugged her along. Like hell they were going to talk. She'd spoken to him over the ledgers, before he knew that she was with child, before she'd gotten Allen back. There was more at stake now than ever before.
"You aren't taking me to the citadel," she said flatly. Why wasn't he taking her to the citadel? Somehow, that realization made her all the more suspicious.
The thought of dragging her to the Citadel was almost funny; he barked at it, his laugh devoid of humour. "I told you before. I have left that place." His home. Her home. Taken in seconds. The thought was like a knife through the heart; the pain was almost physical.
Unlocking and wrenching open Zeki's door, he let her go, only to point towards the reception room. "My brother's house. Nobody will disturb us."
He could smell her more in these closer quarters. Her scent and the scent of his brother's maid (also currently out, thank Cita) the old smells of his brother, his sister-in-law and his nieces and nephews all seemed to invade his nostrils. Zafer reeled for a moment, stumbling back and retching. He recovered, swallowed and hoarsely whispered "get moving" to the girl.
Once they were alone in the house, she didn't bother looking around. If Zafer was no longer a cancellarius, there was no reason she had to listen. Following him had been a courtesy born of fear and now she was done with it.
Moirine ignored all the strange expressions passing over Zafer's face. "You didn't command me before and you will not command me now." he knew her as the Occia; it was how she knew herself when she wasn't trying to be someone else. "I came with you to prevent causing a scene, but if I shout for the guards, you'll be the one tried."
Her voice never once quavered. That was the key: no hesitation. No matter how afraid or uncertain, dominate the discussion and let the other parties worry.
Zafer laughed again. It was cold and bitter. Hunching over, he was supporting himself by leaning against the wall. A guard would not hear her, not from inside the house. Even if they did, his Brothers didn't know of his affliction; they'd be excellent character witnesses.
"You would not be alive without me." He had killed for her, in front of her. He had protected her, saved her life. Zafer's eyes found her face and stared at her, unblinking, the circles beneath his eyes dark. "You owe me an explanation, at least. As to why you ran without saying anything. Why you are shouting for fish in a market."
The thought made him want to retch again and he shook all over, coughing.
She remembered Saeko. She'd never be able to forget the look in her eyes. Moirine frowned and stared down at her feet, past her belly, the only thing she had worth protecting anymore. "This is my life. I don't care if it's common or disgraceful. It's mine and my baby will have a proper family."
Giving no sign that she'd move, Moirine gritted her teeth. There was his explanation. He'd become a cancellarius of his own volition; her future had been dictated by the color of her hair. If he had faith, she owed him nothing. "Why did you leave?"
The corner of his mouth lifted automatically into a snarl; he made a quiet warning sound, a growl in his throat as he eyed her. But then, who could she tell? She could tell anyone and he would be dammed. Zafer covered his face with his arms, and laughed once more, the same dry, bitter tone. "The Hour," he started, as he dropped his arms. He felt sick. That would do. "Vance, one of the monsters there. They have done something to me. Made me," he licked his lips, hand moving beneath his shirt to touch his chest. "They have made me very sick. It is possible I will die within the next few months. Unless they find a cure." The look of his face turned briefly to incredible fury, even as he said the words.
All true, though. It was all true.
"Stop laughing," she muttered. It was such a self-indulgent sound. Moirine was afraid- afraid of what he might do, who he might inform, but she had no reason to pander to his childish behavior. For so many years, she had been the child. Now that she knew how to look after herself, she would not be condescended to.
Finally, Moirine took a seat. She still knew how to conduct herself with poise. Waiting for Zafer to join her, she squinted at him. The Hour had made him sick? "Sick in what way?" he didn't look sick, didn't act the way he used to. Was he an Other now? Was that why he was so hostile?
"Sick," was his only response. Leaning against the wall, he stared at her, as though uncomprehending. She'd disappeared and left them and now she sat there acting as though she'd been in the right to abandon them, to leave them. She'd put herself before the entire Citadel. Herself, her brother and whatever disgusting child of sin they'd produced.
His feelings soon flipped the other way though, his face crumpling. "I was so worried," he managed finally, voice hoarse. And he had been. He'd loved and protected Moirine as though she were a daughter and for that, he'd not even gotten a 'goodbye' either time she'd left. She'd allowed her brother to ruin her, had left their Citadel without a figurehead, and now sat there, acting as though he were the one in the wrong. There was nothing in his chest but a feeling of overwhelming, crushing disappointment in her.
'Sick.' He could demand explanations of her, yet tell her nothing in return? Moirine scowled. She would not be made to feel guilty for living her own life. Occias resigned or were replaced. After her brother's confession, she had no reason to believe that she was even Cita's chosen. He'd killed that poor child before she could even challenge Moirine.
"You weren't," she said flatly. "None of you wrote to me for months. Even before you realized I'd run, you didn't bother to put pen to paper. Don't tell me you were worried or that you cared." Her heart wasn't broken. She was stronger than that. Now, she simply saw how little people meant to one another. This argument was a fight to be won, not a discussion based on sentiment. Zafer was fishing for an angle. If he cared, he would have written. And that was that.
"You are such a child," Zafer snapped back at her. "And that is why I did not write! I did not want to be answered with bull shit when I could go out and find you instead. Did you not see me looking?" He had, despite the affliction. "Myself, Mallory, others, we searched for you!"
All through the city, he had searched. "I thought you dead!"
Moirine had no reason to snap. Zafer was an artifact of another life. Folding her hands in her lap, she clenched her jaw. "Don't call me a child," she muttered. She wasn't the one ranting, wasn't the one pulling people out of the street to harangue them. "You didn't find me. Not until you'd left. And if you curse at me again I will walk out of this room and let you wonder how I did it for the rest of your life."
Once, his raw emotion might have touched her. Now Zafer was a problem. If he got close to her, he could get close to Allen, could get close to the baby. "That was your job. It isn't anymore."
"I thought of you as my daughter!" The words exploded out of him before he could stop them. The Affliction made him this way, angrier, nigh on animal. He paced the floor angrily, her words barely filtering through to him through his rage. "Now you say these things, use magic to escape - is that it, use magic?" How else would she walk out the room without him knowing how?
He turned on her again, still angry. "Who are you?"
All he'd wanted, really, was for her to say 'goodbye'. That she refused it enraged him.
Wincing as he shouted, Moirine stared down at her feet. A daughter. He might have shown her that while he still felt it. Perhaps he had. She had no idea how a daughter should be treated. This, however, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Something was wrong with him. Flinching away when Zafer rounded on her, Moirine closed her eyes and muttered, "Do I seem as though I can use magic? I may be ruined, but still a far cry from a witch."
She'd continue to refuse him. It'd hurt more than she could say to see how little her cancellari cared for her. The first time she ran, she'd held herself at fault. The second time had been out of necessity. Zafer might have searched. Moirine couldn't know. A few words, however, would have made her feel worthwhile. He could beat his chest and cry all he wanted now. He hadn't been there when she needed him.
"Who are you?" She was finished with these lectures. "Tell me or let me pass."
"Then show me how you will walk out and leave me wondering how!" Zafer had had enough of this, of her cheek. He'd waited for her! All that time - he'd waited! And she'd never come back! "I waited for you!" He snapped suddenly, voice breaking. He'd waited. He'd waited!
"You know who I am and you still left!" He'd waited.
Waiting hadn't been good enough. Moirine got to her feet and turned her back on Zafer. Slipping the necklace on, she walked out of the room without giving him another look. All she wanted was to be forgotten. Lord Myron had given her that. He was better to her than any of the cancellari.
Zafer's behavior kept her from leaving the house. Pausing by the door, she set her hand on the doorknob, yet couldn't bring herself to turn it. What was wrong with him? Moirine lingered, hoping for an outburst, some clue as to why he'd left, why he'd changed so.
And then, then she was gone.
He could still smell her, the scent lingering. Suddenly desperate, Zafer began to overturn chairs and rip open cabinets, his supernatural strength aiding his search. Where had she gone? What foul magic was this she was using? He close to howled in anguish, his growing fingernails ripping lines down the side of the table as he collapsed to his knees, folding like a piece of paper. "I waited!" He managed finally, words almost completely leaving him. "I waited!"
He'd waited, like any dog would, only to be thrown aside. "I waited for you Moirine!"
IIIIIF IT TAKES FOREVEEEERRRR I WILL WAIT FOR YOUUUU
Moirine pushed herself into a corner, her arms cradling her stomach. She should have left. This wasn't like Avith's cold fury or Allen's hysteria; she could feel Zafer's anger and it made her physically ill. Run, she told herself. Run every nerve in her body screamed. Instead, she lifted the necklace off and, with a shaking hand, hid it away in her pocket.
As loath as she was to say it, she murmured, "I'm sorry." Fear and guilt forced it out of her. Zafer didn't deserve an apology, but... she was so tired of burdening people. If she apologized, perhaps he truly would forget her.
Zafer, curled up on the floor, looked around at the noise. She was back? How had she left? There was no point in asking now; she'd leave again.
He crept a little bit closer instead, keeping his eyes on her. Did she mean it? Probably not. She was probably saying whatever she thought would make him calm. "At least say goodbye." His voice was pained. He was still on the floor, on all-fours. Anyone who'd known him before the Accident would be hard-pressed to recognise this pitiful, begging creature as a former Cancellari he realised, and felt immediately sick again.
What had happened? They were all splitting at the seams, but what could have reduced him to this? Moirine cringed, unable to keep the disgust from her face, yet placed her hand on Zafer's cheek. "Stand. Please," she said in a whisper. How could she say goodbye when he was like this? It seemed that every last look she was a part of lessened the other person. Isvelle, begging for mercy. Joshua, crying for his family. Allen, binding her in the back of a wagon, and now Zafer on all fours. This time, Moirine wouldn't allow it.
"Tell me why you left." Her green eyes were fixed on him. Once, he wouldn't refuse her anything. Was he loyal enough still to answer? She let her hand drop and took a deep breath, her chest rising. "You know my secret."
Zafer stood, but remained hunched over, close to the ground. He was still loyal. That, if anything, would end up his downfall one day. Without Cita's love, all he had to seek was the approval of humans in Tyrol. Still, he came close to crying the first time he opened his mouth to tell her, his chest tightening with strangled sobs. "A monster," he gasped. "One of them turned me into a," he could barely say the word. He felt ill again. "Wolf," he breathed, then choked.
If she had any mercy for him, she'd run him through here and now.
"You're lying." It was all she could think to say. Zafer wouldn't allow something like that to happen to him. He wouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to live in such a state. All her pity was gone. Instead, Moirine glared at him. "Why would you lie about this?"
Her teeth chattered as she shook, either with rage or fear or some feeling she had no name for. One of them had to be happy. One of them had to be safe! Cita had to love one of them enough to keep them from ruin, yet no one at the Citadel had been spared. Moirine backed away from her former cancellarius.
"An Other," she whispered with contempt.
Zafer made a face as though she'd slapped him, turning upon her with a roar. The contempt in her voice was enough to make him want to rip her head off - it was only a faded tug on his memories that gave him pause as he stepped towards her, the pain still evident on his face. She had loved him, once. She had talked about knitting things for his cat, they had laughed together. She had liked him, and now she treated him like this! All the loyalty he'd shown had been repaid with this.
He turned his back on her with a snarl and loped away, nearly ripping the front door out with the force he opened it with. "I waited," he spat. "I was loyal!" Zafer had once seen a man in the Grounds kick and curse at his dog; he now knew exactly how the animal felt. He physically hurt at her rejection, as though she'd landed her boot in ribs. "Get out!"
Moirine cringed once more. She knew then that he wasn't lying. She also knew that this was no longer Zafer. He had marched on the Hour, murdered humans who merely supported Others. He'd protected her once, but she had no doubt in her mind that if their fates were exchanged, if she stood before him and confessed to being so unclean, he would have slit her throat.
She wasn't kicking and cursing, she was simply holding to what she'd been taught. What he'd taught her. Too nervous and angry to share any of her disappointment, Moirine backed towards the door. Her hand slipped against the knob it trembled so. "If you tell them you've seen me, I'll tell them what you are," she forced before finally getting the door open and hurrying out into the snow.
He didn't deserve what had happened to him, but it had happened all the same. And she had a child to protect.
Zafer's only response to that was a howl of anguish as he slammed the door shut behind her. Now he'd truly lost everything. The Hour would pay in blood; he would make them do so himself.
When: The 31st
Where: The market -> Zeki's house
Ratings & Warnings: PG-13 for Zafer being cray
"It's beautiful," she murmured as a child held a paper flower up to her. He was selling them by the basketful- flowers tinted by inexpensive dyes, folded sloppily. They reminded her of the crafts she used to make. It was a bit disheartening to think that a child of five could make them as well as she did, but it was more disheartening to see him out in the snow trying to sell them. Myron won't mind, she told herself as she set a flimsy coin in the boy's basket and picked out a dingy red flower.
Allen was finally settling. He seemed to have a grasp on the city, he had work, a place to stay. Already, Moirine felt better. Most of all, he smiled at her. He was happy in his own muted way, she believed. Twirling the flower between her gloved fingers, she smiled and continued on to the fishmonger's. Myron never cared what he ate, but the servants liked keeping up appearances. A strange situation, but she could understand their drive to feel useful. She slipped her necklace off as she neared the stand.
"Oy!" she called over the other women clamoring for fish. She glanced quickly to the side, expression shuttered, then shouted, "Oy!" again.
Zafer slipped his hand beneath his shirt to rub his own necklace once more, his stomach rolling over. Being out in public, even though the moon was not full, made him feel ill. What danger was he putting people in by simply existing? It was unacceptable, but even though all good sense told him to tell the guard and his brothers and sisters what had happened to him and bring the Hour crashing down upon Vance's head, he could not go through with it. Dying, when there was the possibility of a cure, felt like the wrong path to take.
He'd prayed for wisdom, but Cita had abandoned him; only uncertainty met his prayers. What was to become of him? He touched the necklace again, his eyes drawn to shouting coming from the crowd. Watching the market-goers from beneath his thick hood was something to do, to idle away his time. He could never join them again; even watching mundane tasks made him feel oddly alone - yet, not lonely. One of them glanced in his direction and despite how caught up he was in his own thoughts, Zafer felt something icy make its way down his spine.
He replayed the glance in his head even as he began to move slowly towards the woman in question. He could smell her, as he drew closer. It made him feel sick to recognise her by scent, as though he were some common animal. It made him feel worse to know she was out here, alone, yelling for fish in a market.
Zafer put his hand on Moirine's shoulder, angling his head down so that she'd see his face under the hood. "I think," he said, voice quiet. "We should speak."
Oh, why wouldn't he look at her? Moirine kept her hand tight around the necklace in her apron pocket. So long as she didn't have it around her neck, it was useless. Still, why couldn't she- she waved her free arm- seem to- another 'Oy!'- catch his attention? Thankful that Allen was off in another part of town, she let all illusion of dignity go. "Don't you know a lord's maid when you see one?" she shouted.
The hand on her shoulder made her jolt. She turned to look up at Zafer. Her teeth locked together and, before she could remember that he'd told her he'd abandoned his position as well, she made to dash away.
Zafer tightened his grip, giving her an incredulous look. He was a grown man who'd given his entire life to being his god's soldier. Did she really think that even if she got free she would be able to go far? "We've got enough fish," he said, voice loud enough to carry, to keep anyone who might play hero at bay. "Come on, we need to get the bread."
The key was to look confident. Impatiently tugging her arm, he took a few steps away from the crowd. Where to? Somewhere quiet.
She struggled for a moment, despite how tight his grip was. It didn't matter; all she could think of was the judgment in every Initiate, Priest and Cancellarius' eyes. What would Aribella say? She heard herself shrieking, 'No!' in her head though her lips were sealed shut.
Moirine tried to wrench her arm away from Zafer's hold, knowing full well she couldn't get loose, but she wanted him to look down, to see the hateful glare she was giving him. She'd gone back to being just another girl from the Grounds. The was what she would've been before she was chosen. Why couldn't she just be that? Resigned yet resentful, she tried to keep up with Zafer as he tugged her along.
"Slow down," she hissed. If he was taking her away, she couldn't call him off, not without calling attention to herself. Moirine put her free hand to her belly. "I can't run."
Zafer turned to look down at her stomach, then looked back around with a growl that sounded like an animal's. That only served to make him angrier. Stupid girl! Stupid, stupid child. Why would she give up her position as the most beloved of Cita's children for this? Had she been lying about what Cita had said about her brother? Bile rose in his throat at his own reactions and he walked even faster, yanking her arm like a frustrated parent with a child refusing to walk, before finally forcing himself to slow.
Breathing hard, he was nearly shaking all over with emotion. Zeki's house was near; his brother would be out, but Zafer knew he could use it, had had the spare key ready in his pocket in case he felt the urge to kill and had the sequester himself. "Keep up," he said, voice short. "We are going somewhere private. We are going to talk."
She stumbled. Wincing when her arm was held in place and the rest of her fell, Moirine hissed. She got to her feet quickly, determined not to let him see her falter. He could judge her all he wanted, but she would never let him think her defeated.
Her jaw shook as he tugged her along. Like hell they were going to talk. She'd spoken to him over the ledgers, before he knew that she was with child, before she'd gotten Allen back. There was more at stake now than ever before.
"You aren't taking me to the citadel," she said flatly. Why wasn't he taking her to the citadel? Somehow, that realization made her all the more suspicious.
The thought of dragging her to the Citadel was almost funny; he barked at it, his laugh devoid of humour. "I told you before. I have left that place." His home. Her home. Taken in seconds. The thought was like a knife through the heart; the pain was almost physical.
Unlocking and wrenching open Zeki's door, he let her go, only to point towards the reception room. "My brother's house. Nobody will disturb us."
He could smell her more in these closer quarters. Her scent and the scent of his brother's maid (also currently out, thank Cita) the old smells of his brother, his sister-in-law and his nieces and nephews all seemed to invade his nostrils. Zafer reeled for a moment, stumbling back and retching. He recovered, swallowed and hoarsely whispered "get moving" to the girl.
Once they were alone in the house, she didn't bother looking around. If Zafer was no longer a cancellarius, there was no reason she had to listen. Following him had been a courtesy born of fear and now she was done with it.
Moirine ignored all the strange expressions passing over Zafer's face. "You didn't command me before and you will not command me now." he knew her as the Occia; it was how she knew herself when she wasn't trying to be someone else. "I came with you to prevent causing a scene, but if I shout for the guards, you'll be the one tried."
Her voice never once quavered. That was the key: no hesitation. No matter how afraid or uncertain, dominate the discussion and let the other parties worry.
Zafer laughed again. It was cold and bitter. Hunching over, he was supporting himself by leaning against the wall. A guard would not hear her, not from inside the house. Even if they did, his Brothers didn't know of his affliction; they'd be excellent character witnesses.
"You would not be alive without me." He had killed for her, in front of her. He had protected her, saved her life. Zafer's eyes found her face and stared at her, unblinking, the circles beneath his eyes dark. "You owe me an explanation, at least. As to why you ran without saying anything. Why you are shouting for fish in a market."
The thought made him want to retch again and he shook all over, coughing.
She remembered Saeko. She'd never be able to forget the look in her eyes. Moirine frowned and stared down at her feet, past her belly, the only thing she had worth protecting anymore. "This is my life. I don't care if it's common or disgraceful. It's mine and my baby will have a proper family."
Giving no sign that she'd move, Moirine gritted her teeth. There was his explanation. He'd become a cancellarius of his own volition; her future had been dictated by the color of her hair. If he had faith, she owed him nothing. "Why did you leave?"
The corner of his mouth lifted automatically into a snarl; he made a quiet warning sound, a growl in his throat as he eyed her. But then, who could she tell? She could tell anyone and he would be dammed. Zafer covered his face with his arms, and laughed once more, the same dry, bitter tone. "The Hour," he started, as he dropped his arms. He felt sick. That would do. "Vance, one of the monsters there. They have done something to me. Made me," he licked his lips, hand moving beneath his shirt to touch his chest. "They have made me very sick. It is possible I will die within the next few months. Unless they find a cure." The look of his face turned briefly to incredible fury, even as he said the words.
All true, though. It was all true.
"Stop laughing," she muttered. It was such a self-indulgent sound. Moirine was afraid- afraid of what he might do, who he might inform, but she had no reason to pander to his childish behavior. For so many years, she had been the child. Now that she knew how to look after herself, she would not be condescended to.
Finally, Moirine took a seat. She still knew how to conduct herself with poise. Waiting for Zafer to join her, she squinted at him. The Hour had made him sick? "Sick in what way?" he didn't look sick, didn't act the way he used to. Was he an Other now? Was that why he was so hostile?
"Sick," was his only response. Leaning against the wall, he stared at her, as though uncomprehending. She'd disappeared and left them and now she sat there acting as though she'd been in the right to abandon them, to leave them. She'd put herself before the entire Citadel. Herself, her brother and whatever disgusting child of sin they'd produced.
His feelings soon flipped the other way though, his face crumpling. "I was so worried," he managed finally, voice hoarse. And he had been. He'd loved and protected Moirine as though she were a daughter and for that, he'd not even gotten a 'goodbye' either time she'd left. She'd allowed her brother to ruin her, had left their Citadel without a figurehead, and now sat there, acting as though he were the one in the wrong. There was nothing in his chest but a feeling of overwhelming, crushing disappointment in her.
'Sick.' He could demand explanations of her, yet tell her nothing in return? Moirine scowled. She would not be made to feel guilty for living her own life. Occias resigned or were replaced. After her brother's confession, she had no reason to believe that she was even Cita's chosen. He'd killed that poor child before she could even challenge Moirine.
"You weren't," she said flatly. "None of you wrote to me for months. Even before you realized I'd run, you didn't bother to put pen to paper. Don't tell me you were worried or that you cared." Her heart wasn't broken. She was stronger than that. Now, she simply saw how little people meant to one another. This argument was a fight to be won, not a discussion based on sentiment. Zafer was fishing for an angle. If he cared, he would have written. And that was that.
"You are such a child," Zafer snapped back at her. "And that is why I did not write! I did not want to be answered with bull shit when I could go out and find you instead. Did you not see me looking?" He had, despite the affliction. "Myself, Mallory, others, we searched for you!"
All through the city, he had searched. "I thought you dead!"
Moirine had no reason to snap. Zafer was an artifact of another life. Folding her hands in her lap, she clenched her jaw. "Don't call me a child," she muttered. She wasn't the one ranting, wasn't the one pulling people out of the street to harangue them. "You didn't find me. Not until you'd left. And if you curse at me again I will walk out of this room and let you wonder how I did it for the rest of your life."
Once, his raw emotion might have touched her. Now Zafer was a problem. If he got close to her, he could get close to Allen, could get close to the baby. "That was your job. It isn't anymore."
"I thought of you as my daughter!" The words exploded out of him before he could stop them. The Affliction made him this way, angrier, nigh on animal. He paced the floor angrily, her words barely filtering through to him through his rage. "Now you say these things, use magic to escape - is that it, use magic?" How else would she walk out the room without him knowing how?
He turned on her again, still angry. "Who are you?"
All he'd wanted, really, was for her to say 'goodbye'. That she refused it enraged him.
Wincing as he shouted, Moirine stared down at her feet. A daughter. He might have shown her that while he still felt it. Perhaps he had. She had no idea how a daughter should be treated. This, however, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Something was wrong with him. Flinching away when Zafer rounded on her, Moirine closed her eyes and muttered, "Do I seem as though I can use magic? I may be ruined, but still a far cry from a witch."
She'd continue to refuse him. It'd hurt more than she could say to see how little her cancellari cared for her. The first time she ran, she'd held herself at fault. The second time had been out of necessity. Zafer might have searched. Moirine couldn't know. A few words, however, would have made her feel worthwhile. He could beat his chest and cry all he wanted now. He hadn't been there when she needed him.
"Who are you?" She was finished with these lectures. "Tell me or let me pass."
"Then show me how you will walk out and leave me wondering how!" Zafer had had enough of this, of her cheek. He'd waited for her! All that time - he'd waited! And she'd never come back! "I waited for you!" He snapped suddenly, voice breaking. He'd waited. He'd waited!
"You know who I am and you still left!" He'd waited.
Waiting hadn't been good enough. Moirine got to her feet and turned her back on Zafer. Slipping the necklace on, she walked out of the room without giving him another look. All she wanted was to be forgotten. Lord Myron had given her that. He was better to her than any of the cancellari.
Zafer's behavior kept her from leaving the house. Pausing by the door, she set her hand on the doorknob, yet couldn't bring herself to turn it. What was wrong with him? Moirine lingered, hoping for an outburst, some clue as to why he'd left, why he'd changed so.
And then, then she was gone.
He could still smell her, the scent lingering. Suddenly desperate, Zafer began to overturn chairs and rip open cabinets, his supernatural strength aiding his search. Where had she gone? What foul magic was this she was using? He close to howled in anguish, his growing fingernails ripping lines down the side of the table as he collapsed to his knees, folding like a piece of paper. "I waited!" He managed finally, words almost completely leaving him. "I waited!"
He'd waited, like any dog would, only to be thrown aside. "I waited for you Moirine!"
IIIIIF IT TAKES FOREVEEEERRRR I WILL WAIT FOR YOUUUU
Moirine pushed herself into a corner, her arms cradling her stomach. She should have left. This wasn't like Avith's cold fury or Allen's hysteria; she could feel Zafer's anger and it made her physically ill. Run, she told herself. Run every nerve in her body screamed. Instead, she lifted the necklace off and, with a shaking hand, hid it away in her pocket.
As loath as she was to say it, she murmured, "I'm sorry." Fear and guilt forced it out of her. Zafer didn't deserve an apology, but... she was so tired of burdening people. If she apologized, perhaps he truly would forget her.
Zafer, curled up on the floor, looked around at the noise. She was back? How had she left? There was no point in asking now; she'd leave again.
He crept a little bit closer instead, keeping his eyes on her. Did she mean it? Probably not. She was probably saying whatever she thought would make him calm. "At least say goodbye." His voice was pained. He was still on the floor, on all-fours. Anyone who'd known him before the Accident would be hard-pressed to recognise this pitiful, begging creature as a former Cancellari he realised, and felt immediately sick again.
What had happened? They were all splitting at the seams, but what could have reduced him to this? Moirine cringed, unable to keep the disgust from her face, yet placed her hand on Zafer's cheek. "Stand. Please," she said in a whisper. How could she say goodbye when he was like this? It seemed that every last look she was a part of lessened the other person. Isvelle, begging for mercy. Joshua, crying for his family. Allen, binding her in the back of a wagon, and now Zafer on all fours. This time, Moirine wouldn't allow it.
"Tell me why you left." Her green eyes were fixed on him. Once, he wouldn't refuse her anything. Was he loyal enough still to answer? She let her hand drop and took a deep breath, her chest rising. "You know my secret."
Zafer stood, but remained hunched over, close to the ground. He was still loyal. That, if anything, would end up his downfall one day. Without Cita's love, all he had to seek was the approval of humans in Tyrol. Still, he came close to crying the first time he opened his mouth to tell her, his chest tightening with strangled sobs. "A monster," he gasped. "One of them turned me into a," he could barely say the word. He felt ill again. "Wolf," he breathed, then choked.
If she had any mercy for him, she'd run him through here and now.
"You're lying." It was all she could think to say. Zafer wouldn't allow something like that to happen to him. He wouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to live in such a state. All her pity was gone. Instead, Moirine glared at him. "Why would you lie about this?"
Her teeth chattered as she shook, either with rage or fear or some feeling she had no name for. One of them had to be happy. One of them had to be safe! Cita had to love one of them enough to keep them from ruin, yet no one at the Citadel had been spared. Moirine backed away from her former cancellarius.
"An Other," she whispered with contempt.
Zafer made a face as though she'd slapped him, turning upon her with a roar. The contempt in her voice was enough to make him want to rip her head off - it was only a faded tug on his memories that gave him pause as he stepped towards her, the pain still evident on his face. She had loved him, once. She had talked about knitting things for his cat, they had laughed together. She had liked him, and now she treated him like this! All the loyalty he'd shown had been repaid with this.
He turned his back on her with a snarl and loped away, nearly ripping the front door out with the force he opened it with. "I waited," he spat. "I was loyal!" Zafer had once seen a man in the Grounds kick and curse at his dog; he now knew exactly how the animal felt. He physically hurt at her rejection, as though she'd landed her boot in ribs. "Get out!"
Moirine cringed once more. She knew then that he wasn't lying. She also knew that this was no longer Zafer. He had marched on the Hour, murdered humans who merely supported Others. He'd protected her once, but she had no doubt in her mind that if their fates were exchanged, if she stood before him and confessed to being so unclean, he would have slit her throat.
She wasn't kicking and cursing, she was simply holding to what she'd been taught. What he'd taught her. Too nervous and angry to share any of her disappointment, Moirine backed towards the door. Her hand slipped against the knob it trembled so. "If you tell them you've seen me, I'll tell them what you are," she forced before finally getting the door open and hurrying out into the snow.
He didn't deserve what had happened to him, but it had happened all the same. And she had a child to protect.
Zafer's only response to that was a howl of anguish as he slammed the door shut behind her. Now he'd truly lost everything. The Hour would pay in blood; he would make them do so himself.