knightsoflegend | krozna ♔ our wrongs remain unrectified

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krozna ♔ our wrongs remain unrectified

WHO || Failboat, Mikhail Kalachnik, ?? ?? [closed]
WHAT || The Ex-Knights of Failboat arrive at Krozna
WHERE || Krozna, Russia
WHEN || 2 days after LA
HOW || Actionspam or prose

Sidelined from the mission that has been many of their lives for years, the group who had once stood against Keijen Blade has made a dangerous gambit - they've decided to leave the Knighthood, knowing they may never be allowed to return. With them, have gone Sam and Dean Winchester, and Faith Lehane. Their destination? A distant monastery overlooking the village of Krozna, in the Ural Mountains. This hidden location was home to many Shadowkind who did not wish to deal with the prejudice that their appearance might force upon them out in the world, particularly in Russia. Wynn had apparently established a location here for Knights that broke the rules of the Knighthood so extremely to reflect upon their crimes, or for those whose powers made it impossible for them to live out in civilized society.

This monastery of misfits is run by a man named Mikhail Kalachnik, a willing exile who volunteered for the position, a man vouched for as trustworthy by both Jack Chessing and Finnick Odair. It is here that the former Knights will set up a base of operations from which they intend to rescue Rafael Giovanni, research a way to stop Keijen Blade, and take him down once and for all, along with the evil Mind Master.

But first, they must get to know the exiled Knights with whom they will be sharing this hideout...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ when sam takes leave from The Hell Talk to strike out and find his room for the night, buffy waves him down in one of the first he comes across. she has an extra blanket in her arms — god only knows where she found it — and an awkward smile on her face. ]

Uh, this is the one. [ she gestures to it with her armful of blanket. ] I thought I'd go for some thing close to the common area. You know, for the snooping.

[ after an awkward beat, she corrects — ] Bad joke. But since everyone else is liable to be playing footsy or otherwise, I figured they couldn't be too upset if we grabbed the open room closest to the warm.

[Sam probably looks a little emotionally winded from the hell that was The Hell Talk, but there seems to be a lot of that going around lately. It's not all that surprising that he looks a little strained, given how long it's probably been since any of them really slept, not to mention leaving behind a place he'd kind of thought of as home for a while.

It was only the second time in his entire life he'd set roots. Maybe he'd learn his lesson, this time.

Regardless, he manages a pleasant smile, though it's equally awkward lbr. He's always liked Buffy, even if they'd butted heads from time to time, usually about Dean.]

Even if they are, they'll get over it. [She was right; most of the others were likely gonna have an easier time staying warm.] Here's hoping the walls are thick enough that we don't notice, right?

[Or things might get even more awkward. Yikes.]

And now I'm regretting my choice not to make earplugs a key element of my travel bag. Gonna have to step up my packing game for the next time we go on the lam.

[ she steps inside the room and starts unfolding the blanket. there is, as warned, exactly One (1) bed. she glances at it, then back at sam. ]

Oh! Um. I was gonna ask about cot potential, but I wanted to make sure toddlers got first dibs. [ she shrugs. ] Cold floors and all.

Maybe we'll get lucky and everyone will just, you know...remember they're not the only people here.

[Yeah, lucky. Right. That just screams them.

Oh boy, sleeping arrangement conversations.]

I wasn't really worried about it. I mean, if you're more comfortable with that, that's totally fine, but if they run out, it's just sleeping. And...we're friends or whatever. Not a big deal.

[ buffy's facial expression belongs on a brooklyn 99 episode. there's a muted sense of dread, the realization that she was not a different wavelength and now has to navigate retaining her dignity and sense of Cool while turning the rudder in a direction she had not anticipated. ]

Oh. [ it's a two-part 'oh.' like something cracking. ] Well, yeah, totally. [ here comes the uncomfortable laughter of Artificial Ease. she shakes her head and gestures just a Little Too Much. ] I mean, you're right. We're ... friends ... and that's a thing that friends do.

[ is it tho ?? ? ? ]

Sleep ... together.

That's not-

[DON'T PUT IT THAT WAY BUFFY YOU'RE MAKING HIM FEEL WEIRD ABOUT IT.]

I swear I'm not a bed hog. That was the stipulation, right? No hogging the sheets?

[Did he miss something here?]

I can totally take a cot if there's an extra one. Probably.

[Will he be too tall for it? We just don't know.]

No! No, it's fine. [ she presses her fingers to the side of her head and draws a breath. she's overthinking this. ] I'm just ... tired. Keeping the lights on is taking all of the power, and thus leaving none for critical-thinking-Buffy.

[ she softens. ]

It's been a long ... [ she thinks on it and settles on, ] Year, actually.

[Here's hoping Rafael doesn't shoot him someday for all of this.

The tension in Sam's shoulders ease, his expression sympathetic.]

Yeah, that's about where I'm at too. [He moves to have a seat in the lone chair in the room, gesturing to the bed if she wants to sit there. It's probably more comfortable.] Do you want to talk about it?

[ she exhales as she sinks down onto the bed, shoulders hunched. she picks at the edge of the blankets. ]

I don't think that's really a floodgate we want to open right now. There's no good that way, believe me. And ... if I start, I don't think I'd be able to stop. [ she presses her lips together. ] I don't think I'd be able to move. And I need to. Every minute that he's not here, it just gets harder to believe he'll come back.

[ did she really just say that out loud? she looks horrified with herself for admitting it. her eyes widen, a glassy quality to them. she stares into the middle space. ]

I have to be the Slayer just a little bit longer before I'm a person again.

Why?

[He seems to really not understand that bit. He knows full well that things can get really messed up, that they're about as messed up as they can be. He knows that she's talking about Rafael, that all she probably wants to do is save him, that it's killing her inside that she's here and not out there doing something about it.

He knows what that's like all too well.]

If you want to be the Slayer, that's fine. But you don't have to turn everything else off. Those are the things that keep us human. We're not machines.

[She doesn't have to talk about anything with him if she doesn't want to. But she's allowed to be scared, to have doubts, to feel helpless. They all do, no matter how strong they are.]

We'll find him, okay? And you know I'll do whatever I can to help.

[ she shakes her head. no, machine is good. right now, machine is the only thing that's going to get her through this. she sucks in a deep breath. sam deserves, at least, the meager explanation she can provide. ]

This is usually the part where I'd be going to Des and creating some ... stupid, suicidal plan to go in and get him back. [ she bites down on her lip. ] He was the only person that ever ... [ except he wasn't. it was a lie. every single minute of it was a lie, one that made her the biggest fool of all. one that disrespected every thing about her very being.

for all that des had meant to her, she recognized now that she had never meant anything to him. getting caught up over something that had always been worthless would only help them lose faster. ]

I start thinking about one thing that's gone wrong, and it's connected to the other, and then all I can think about is how screwed we are. What a fool I've been.

[It's not just about Rafael, then. This is also about the friend she lost, the one that betrayed her so fully that it's hard to know if you can really trust anything anymore.

He bets she feels a whole lot like his brother did, way back when. It was like everything had come full circle, and it only made him hate that he was a part of the other side even more.

It wasn't a mistake he'd make again.]

It doesn't make you a fool for wanting to believe in someone.

[Even as he says it, he realizes that he might be trying to convince himself too.]

We're still here, and we can still do something about all of this. I know you can't replace that thing you thought was real, and I know that it's not really going to fix anything, but not everyone is going to let you down like that, alright?

[He won't.]

[ she opens her mouth and shuts it. the trouble with this kind of pain is that it resists naming. pain that can be named can be processed, can be overcome. this goes deeper than that. it's not just that it's harder to process without rafael to go through it with her. it's not just the loss of des, who would have usually been the one person who helped her get through being without rafael. it's not just the perfect storm of an apocalypse that, plot twist, has nothing to do with hell and everything to do with the nightmare god.

it's her.

it's that what des did broke her. at the very core because really, if she couldn't even see it right in front of her, if she had every chance and couldn't stop it, what is she? she's not a slayer. the forces of darkness were letting her lean on them for years and she was barely the wiser. too little, too late.

and sam, somehow, is a part of that. she doesn't know how. but she knows that he is.

so it's the question, coming from him, that breaks her.

at first it's just one tear rolling down her cheek. but a strangled sob follows it, and then the rest pours out like an avalanche. her shoulders heave with each gasp between waves of tears. ]

It's too much. [ the words are barely audible between the other sounds of her crying, but she repeats them and nothing else as she drags her hands up over her face, lowering her head. she can't do it. she can't keep up like this. ]

[It really is too much. He doesn't even know the half of it and he knows that it's more than should ever be placed on the shoulders of one person.

He can tell that this goes deeper than just betrayal or fear or any other myriad of emotions that someone might feel faced with this situation. It's a lot of things all at once, and it makes Sam feel guilty for being as screwed up as he was about his own bullshit.

For a second, he debates asking her if he should leave, but he doesn't think he could leave her like this even if he wanted to. And he doesn't. He's not who she wishes were here, but no one else is, and the last thing she needs is someone to abandon her when she's hurting.

He pushes out of the chair, cautiously moving to sit next to her. His arm reaches around her shoulders, pulling her gently towards him in a silent offer of his shoulder. Or his chest, really, since she's probably too smol to actually lean against his shoulder.]

I'm sorry, Buffy.

I can't—

[ she can't get the words out, for one. she wheezes and chokes on them, shuddering. she doesn't lean into him, not yet. once she does she knows she won't be able to pull herself out of it. ]

I can't do this.

[ even if she still believed herself capable — and honestly, she doesn't see a version of this where they win. it's jarring to confront, and yet so clear. they're not strong enough. she isn't strong enough. everywhere they turn, the enemy is always ten steps ahead. everywhere they turn, there are new enemies.

but it's worse than that. even if she could, she doesn't see the point. once, it had been so clear. if nothing else, she could protect her friends. the people she loved. but those very same people are the enemy now. the very people she wanted to protect have turned against her, including the one person who might have understood, the only one who'd ever come close to real understanding of what she was and what she dealt with.

what the hell was there left to fight for? what would she be protecting, if she even could?

she crumples against sam, burying her face against his chest and collapsing into incoherence. she's inconsolable, the aforementioned floodgates looking less and less metaphorical by the minute. ]

You don't have to do anything right now, okay?

[He wants to tell her it'll be alright, but even if they somehow find a way to get through all this, he knows that it won't be. Nothing is ever going to be fine ever again, not entirely. They'll carry scars from this forever, each different and horrible, and it will take time to force away the dull pain that comes with them.

But you only had to take one look at his brother to know it wouldn't ever really go away.]

I've got you.

[That's all he can really offer her; some kind of refuge, no matter how temporary or flawed. He's not perfect either, he's made as many mistakes as a bunch of the others put together, but he's made a promise to himself to make up for them.

Maybe this is how he starts.]

[ it takes a long time for the well of grief to dry up. she's been holding it in a long time. trying to be the strong one, trying to hold it all together. but she got felicity killed, she almost lost myri. des and elena are gone. rafael's further away than ever. and seeing him again like that … not being able to be sure it was even him …

it's too much. all of it is just too much.

but even her seemingly bottomless grief finds an end, eventually. or rather, she's able to stow it away. pull it back under the surface, stomp it down where it belongs. by this point, she has slumped over to lay her head across his lap.

the shaking in her shoulders ebbs and finally stops. she stills, for a while, despondent. it's only when she curls her hand around a fistful of his jeans that it becomes clear that she's even still awake. ]

I'm sorry. [ she croaks out the words. ] I'm not the only one who's … [ she reaches up to rub at her face, but she doesn't lift her head from his lap just yet. ] Who's having a hard time.

[He doesn't really know what he's doing, doesn't know how to do anything to make it better. Maybe there isn't any way to do that at all. Maybe the only thing he can do is be here and hope that that's enough.

Sot hat's what he does, and just when he thinks she might never be able to stop, just like she said earlier, she starts to calm. Or, at the very least, her grief starts to lose obvious steam, she cries so long and hard that the tears dry up.

Her words are rough as they reach his ears, but she shakes his head.]

You don't have to apologize. [One hand smooths over her hair, pulling away any damp strands from her cheek.] I'm pretty sure you've been holding that in a long time, and it's not a contest.

[She's not going to win a prize for hiding her pain the longest, or gritting her teeth and baring it. If it were anyone else that needed a long good cry, he's pretty sure Buffy wouldn't be asking them to apologize for it, either.]

No. But it's not helping anyone, either.

[ and there's still so much work to do. she picks herself up slowly, as if her body aches with the sheer effort of it. she hesitates around his shoulder, glancing up at him and holding his gaze. there's gratitude there, and something else.

before even she can ascertain what it is, she glances away, hunching her shoulders. ]

We don't have time for feeling sorry for ourselves.

We've got time to do whatever we need to do until Tia gets here and we know where we're even heading.

[He lets her put the distance there, settles his hands in his lap as he meets her gaze, though it drops to the floor as she glances away.]

And that includes getting that out of your system, not to mention some rest.

[ man she's doing this all wrong. she takes a deep breath, centers herself, and tries again. ]

Thank you.

[ he's been good. being here for her like this, when she has no one else. her gaze flicks downward to the space between them and she draws herself up straighter. ]

You don't have to do this.

I'm not doing it because I have to.

[He doesn't think of it as being good, or doing it just because she has no one else. He cares. It's simple.]

Besides, you were there for me ages ago. It's about time I got to return the favor.

[He may not have cried or broken down from grief, but he'd needed someone, no matter how long ago it had been.]

Long memory.

[ she says it conversationally, as though in an active effort not to probe further. it doesn't work. ]

Rose and Elena were pretty close too, weren't they? This must be killing her.

They were, yeah. I think things between them really started falling apart completely after Andres, though.

[She'd come back and hadn't been what anyone had expected.]

Rose didn't really trust me back then.

Does she trust anybody now?

[ buffy isn't convinced, given that ... rose and dean have kept her out of stuff. she's at least aware enough to recognize that. ]

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