Written Wonderland

((OOC: After running into Nathan))

Philip went straight back to his tent after the shimmer and knelt down by his cot. His countenance was almost uncannily still, but his heart pounded in his ears, and his lungs breathed quick and shallow, while his fists balled themselves tightly on his knees. He felt unfathomably scattered, and not for the first time since he'd awoken. He couldn't even try to name all the things he felt just then, between experiencing that shimmer, and crossing paths with Nathan--the first of their soldiers who had been attacked; his soldier, whom he'd failed to protect, whom he'd certainly let down countless times in the preceding days. Emotions swirled namelessly in a dark whirlwind around him, and all Philip could do was let his eyes watch the way light came in through the crack between tent flaps while he waited for the storm around him to subside.

He didn't know how much time he'd lost to riding out these storms. He did know that more than once, someone had asked permission to enter, and he’d remained silent, nearly holding his breath until he heard them walk away. He wanted to be invisible, terror gripping at his chest at the mere thought of being seen with this storm raging around him, let alone having to speak, and to say nothing of having to lead. He fantasized wildly of resigning--surely, he no longer deserved this station--but, he couldn't bring himself to confess his state to his captain. He wallowed in the panicked shame of it, and yet, held out some insane-feeling hope that any given storm might be the last, and perhaps he'd come out the other side pulled back together, and once again ready to lead.

He still had to weather this storm at least, though, and it happened again--one of his soldiers, asking for his attention. A loud buzzing overtook Philip's hearing to blot out the sound. His breathing stopped, and he watched the shadow the soldier cast through the crack in his tent flap, praying they respected his privacy and didn't peek in. Thankfully they did, and the buzzing subsided as Philip watched the shadow leave.

The lieutenant did his best to breathe through the storm, calming his body and letting his mind go blank. Only the line of light on the ground existed. His heartbeat slowed and softened, and at long last returned fully to his chest. The lieutenant took in a deep breath, his lungs filling completely and relief sending a wave of relaxation through his body. The storm had passed. Perhaps... perhaps now he was ready to go face Nathan. He didn't want to, but the boy's expression had been clear: he wanted Philip's acknowledgement, at the very least. The lieutenant just hoped the boy wasn't looking for answers that Philip wouldn't be able to give.

However, he didn't get two steps out of his tent before he was stopped by a different soldier.

"Lieutenant Pemberley." Chloe's voice was alarmingly strong, so much so that Philip didn't quite recognize it before he'd turned to see her. She was just standing up--apparently, she'd been sitting near his tent, perhaps even watching for him. Philip's stomach turned over, but he kept his exterior steady.

"Please," Chloe continued, still in that uncharacteristically strong voice, "Can we talk?"

Her large, dark eyes were both stern and pleading. The gravity of her request--demand--prayer--settled heavily in Philip's chest. He nodded, either unable or unwilling to ignore it. He could see that Chloe was trying to call to the very depths of him, and he felt utterly compelled to answer. The girl looked instantly relieved, although still quite serious and concerned. Philip somewhat meekly turned to sink back into his tent.

Chloe followed him in, and they both knelt in silence for a moment. Philip concentrated on his breathing while he waited for Chloe to speak. Normally he was very patient--even appreciative--of these silences with her, but at present, he dreaded her catching a glimpse of the storm that he'd been in--that he now suddenly feared he may fall right back into if he wasn't careful.

Finally, Chloe took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Philip, I'm sorry, but you have to make a choice today."

Philip let his eyebrows come together in a hint of the surprise and confusion that he felt. Chloe was occasionally cryptic, but rarely this bold. What was she aiming at, and where was this coming from? He remained silent, unable to form words on his tongue. Chloe continued after her words had finished echoing in the silent tent air.

"Do you want to go back to the goddess?”

The lieutenant’s surprise and confusion flared more brightly, and he felt his expression change dramatically. It sent a spike of panic down through his heart, as he saw Chloe’s eyes widen with even more concern at this fresh sight of him.

Philip wanted to speak, but he couldn’t. Not even to ask where this was coming from. He felt utterly paralyzed, and his panic was rising. But then, Chloe closed her eyes and placed one hand on her chest, and breathed deeply, and somehow, the panic in Philip’s heart dissipated. He looked at her with puzzlement for a moment, but she breathed that way again, and Philip decided to close his eyes as well, not realizing that his fists also loosened.

He didn’t know how long they breathed like that, but he deeply appreciated that Chloe was allowing him enough space to lose himself in it. Perhaps that had been her intention, even. He supposed this wasn’t the first time they had spent time together in similar ways. They came from slightly different faiths, but even so, praying together had always been soothing. Was that what they were doing now? Praying? Philip felt his cheeks flush, and he lifted a hand to his chest for the next breath.

After a few more breaths, he felt Chloe touch the hand still on his knee--a gentle, inviting touch, which prompted Philip to open his eyes and look at her again. She was still concerned, which pricked once more at his heart, but at least it seemed her sternness had faded, and Philip was relieved that he didn’t feel his panic come back--not yet, anyway.

“Philip, you have to talk to someone.” Chloe said, her voice now much more gentle and kind, the way Philip was accustomed to it.

“I can’t.” The words fell from his lips effortlessly, before he’d even conceived of saying them.

Chloe frowned and sat back, bringing her hand back onto her own knee alongside the other. She let another silence stand, though, and at last, Philip found the path to speaking for himself, at least for the moment.

“Why did you ask me that question before?”

“Because you will need to decide today,” she replied calmly. She understood he was confused about that, and continued quickly. “I’ve heard that we’re sending volunteers to the goddess, and in exchange she’ll release the Shel’ti.”

Philip couldn’t deny that something within him leapt for joy at the thought, and it made him shudder. Yes, he did want to go back to the goddess, and for that, he was deeply ashamed. He clenched both fists on his knees again, and averted his eyes to the ground. He had no idea how to proceed.

“I don’t think you should go.” Chloe said after a moment. “But, it seemed important that you knew. Mostly, I want you to talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but you can’t stay silent forever. Will you at least talk to Nathan?”

“I-- I was about to.” Philip said, just the smallest hint of indignance seeping into his voice. He didn’t mean for it to be there, but some part of him did resent this conversation. He tried to remind himself that Chloe rightfully thought he should know about something as big as sending volunteers to the goddess. Even if it hadn’t so personally concerned him, he was a lieutenant; he should know.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe offered softly. “I’ve been worried.”

Philip sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’ve been… lost.”

Chloe leaned forward and placed both her hands on his.

“Please,” she said, “help me find you.”

Philip barely raised his eyes to Chloe again, emotion tugging at his heart and his throat and his eyes. Gods, yes, some part of him did want to talk to her. This sweet stalwart soldier who somehow always looked up to him, no matter his faults, yet also could look him in the eye and tell him he’d have to make a choice. But, some other part of him would rather run his hands over her body, turn her to face away from him, push her against his cot…

The lieutenant swallowed heavily, a faint blush overtaking his face, and he pushed himself to his feet, withdrawing from Chloe’s touch. He’d done her a disservice just then, and he couldn’t fathom any way to make it up to her.

Chloe stood nearly in tandem with Philip, well aware that this was his tent, and that she’d already pushed her lieutenant’s boundaries. She didn’t leave yet, though, instead simply watching Philip’s expression with a calm, caring concern.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, not unkindly. “I promise I will speak with Nathan.”

Chloe nodded.

“He’s got a lot on his mind, so he might be a bit scarce, but, I know he wants to talk to you.”

The soldier clasped her hands over her heart, a little bit nervous that that was out of place to say. But Philip nodded, and the girl managed a soft smile before taking her leave.

Philip remained silently in his tent for some time, his eyes falling to look at the crack of light on the floor.

((OOC: Sometime after talking with Ari))

Nathan sat near the burned building, far enough away to avoid feeling like he was trespassing, but positioned on a good spot of grass to gaze upon it freely. He cycled between jotting in his notebook, marveling at the building in front of him, and losing himself in thought--or, fantasy, as the case may be. Sometimes, he shielded his eyes and gazed up at the sky, nervous with how the sun was progressing.

Chloe had been adamant that she speak with Lieutenant Pemberley first--not on Nathan’s behalf, she’d assured him, but to help Philip with something he’d been struggling with, to make space for what Nathan would then talk about. It made Nathan immensely nervous to think of his lieutenant struggling. It also made Nathan wonder if he himself was struggling. Was he? This morning, sure. Definitely. But now?

He was certainly nervous about telling Philip that he wanted to go back. But, by this point, he seemed oddly at peace with the decision, himself. He wouldn’t have to face battle again, yet would still be serving his commander, still helping his fellow soldiers and their cause. He’d miss some of his friends, but at the same time, would be relieved to unburden them--and, perhaps even to some extent, himself. It probably helped that Chloe didn’t try to change his mind, when he’d told her. Pressed him on whether it was really what he wanted, and said he’d be missed, but she didn’t try to change his mind, and, for better or for worse, Nathan found himself putting a lot of stock in that.

All at once, the boy realized that someone was behind him, also taking a seat in the grass nearby, just out of his line of sight. A nervous chill danced across Nathan’s shoulders, and he clutched at his journal, frantically debating whether he ought to ignore the person, or turn around and see who it was. Thankfully, his new companion made that decision for him.

“I’m sorry I walked away from you this morning.”

Oh, gods, it was Lieutenant Pemberley. Nathan’s stomach tumbled and twirled in his midriff, and the boy felt his ears burning with embarrassment as he realized he was trembling.

“I can talk now, if you like.”

At least Philip did sound calm… warm, even. Nathan gathered up his knees close to his chest, his journal closed by the motion and held protectively between his thighs and his stomach. A long silence passed between them, but luckily, it didn’t feel terribly uncomfortable. Nathan thought that probably, Philip expected as much.

“It’s okay.” Nathan replied softly after a long moment. “It was just… good to see someone else who had been there. Coming back was so... well, you know.”

Another silence passed, this one heavy with understanding.

“Yes,” Philip finally replied. Then, after another moment, continued, “I was ashamed of what I did with her. I still am. I’m not sure I…” Another pause--the most uncomfortable yet, but thankfully brief. “That’s why I walked away. I was afraid… you knew what I was guilty of.”

Nathan felt puzzled. He wasn’t sure that he did know what Philip felt guilty of. The boy furrowed his brow, and then gathered together his courage to turn, letting his knees bend to the side and his journal slip to the ground as he placed a hand on the grass to lean towards Philip slightly. It took him a moment to find what he wanted to say, though. He studied Philip in the meantime. His lieutenant just gazed stoically at the burned building before them, seemingly unaware of Nathan’s fresh attention. Nathan never knew how he kept so composed all the time.

“Well, I don't.” The boy finally said, his stomach turning again with a strange certainty that he was pushing back on his lieutenant in a way that he wouldn’t normally. But, it was true. Nathan genuinely had no idea what Philip was on about here. Unless…

“...Everyone knows that the goddess is irresistible," the boy continued, "I don’t think anyone blames us, not really.”

There, Nathan caught sight of a rare flinch. Philip’s brows furrowed slightly, and he shifted his gaze off to the side, away from both Nathan and the building before them.

“I shouldn’t have given in to her,” the lieutenant replied, somewhat tight-lipped. “But that’s not the worst of it. I’m grateful if you don’t know. I did terrible things at her behest.”

Well… now the peace Nathan thought he had reached with his decision was starting to falter. The goddess had perhaps done terrible things to Nathan, but she hadn’t caused him to do terrible things. Embarrassing things, sure--maybe even disgraceful, at the worst--but not terrible. What if he’d actually been very lucky during his initial stay with her?

He didn’t want to think that way, though. If he didn’t go, then someone else would go in his stead, if he understood the situation correctly. And besides, he wanted to hold on to his previous understanding of the goddess, if he could without being naive. He had to try to face this head-on, somehow. Maybe… maybe he should go ahead and tell Philip, to see how--whether--that changed the lieutenant’s tone.

Nathan swallowed heavily, a great trembling in his heart as he pressed forward.

“I-- I’m thinking of going back to her.” he said, doing his best to sound determined and not meek or terrified, even if he felt more the latter than the former in the moment.

Philip’s gaze shifted to Nathan, his brows now drawn up just slightly in a hint of sorrow. Nathan’s heart plummeted. He wasn’t sure what response he’d been hoping for from Philip, but sorrow wasn’t it. The lieutenant returned his gaze to the burned building after a moment, and Nathan dreaded the silence to follow, but mercifully Philip spoke up soon after.

“You don’t deserve that.”

That caused Nathan to feel puzzled again. What did ‘deserve’ have to do with it? None of them deserved being stolen, he knew that. And yet, Nathan felt very strongly, at least in this moment, that anyone who wanted to go to the goddess deserved to. But, the way Philip had spoken, Nathan could tell that wasn’t what he meant. He meant that going to the goddess, even voluntarily, would be a hardship, and not an honor. That made Nathan want to cry.

“You think she’s really so terrible?”

Philip flinched again. It sent a spike through Nathan’s stomach, and the boy scrunched his shoulders, this time dreading what Philip would say.

“Yes.”

Gods, just what had she made him do? Nathan wanted to ask, but the words couldn’t possibly find their way to his tongue. He knew Philip was terribly private, and the nature of the things they’d done in her realm… he understood deeply, not wanting to talk about them. Even so, he wanted desperately to know more about what had his lieutenant thinking that a god was a demon.

“Then… you shouldn’t go.” Nathan replied after a moment, his voice starting to tremble against the tears that were welling up in his eyes. Philip stared dispassionately ahead, and Nathan felt a terrible scraping inside of him.

“No,” Philip agreed all too easily, and Nathan had no idea what to make of the silence that followed. Then, a panic rose in the boy when Philip began to push himself to his feet.

“I won’t stop you,” the lieutenant said, “But you shouldn’t go, either.”

Then Philip began to walk away, and didn’t stop, even when Nathan practically cried out his name.

Guilt twisted in Philip’s chest as he walked through camp. He hadn’t exactly been kind to Nathan. Had he even given the boy anything useful, or just caused him strife? Well, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to offer Nathan anything of use from the start. At least Nathan didn’t know what he’d done. That was a relief… though also made Philip feel like something of a fraud. No one under his command--nor above it--knew what he’d done.

Maybe he really should go resign? Right now, before he lost his nerve again… but, no, that wasn’t how one should resign. It shouldn’t be a rash decision. He’d only been back for a day; it was natural that he wasn’t steady yet, but he could get there. Surely, he could get there.

Food might help, he thought. Yes, it was about lunch time. The lieutenant drew in a deep breath, and resolved to swing by the mess tent. He hadn’t been eating enough since he got back, and perhaps that was part of the problem.

He froze as soon as he stepped through the threshold, though. It took him a beat to even realize why he’d stopped; terror and shame and nausea tore at his stomach and had him fully turning around and leaving the tent before his mind even made sense of the tousled black hair and circular tattoos that were apparently sending him right back into that storm again. He made haste back for his tent, frantically batting away memories of gripping that hair, of shoving it to the ground, of watching muscles strain beneath those tattoos as he--

Philip practically threw himself into his tent, collapsing down on his hands and knees as his frantic breathing escalated to gasping, each breath entirely too shallow to subdue the panic that had been building since he’d caught sight of Evan.

Gods, he was grateful he’d managed not to run into Captain Rutliff before now, but he was horrified by how utterly devastating finally seeing the captain had been--still was. Philip trembled there on all fours by his cot, staring shakily down at the dull floor of his tent as he tried desperately to get a handle on his breathing. He was getting dizzy, and his head was pounding in time with his heartbeat, which seemed unnaturally fast.

Finally, Philip made a concerted effort to heave himself up onto his cot, at least let his muscles rest from holding him up off the ground. He watched the wall of the tent now, and his arms grabbed his pillow and held it tightly against his chest.

Memories of that order the goddess had given him continued swirling around in his periphery, and Philip did his best to fight them off, to just focus on the texture of the tent, on the vague ways that shadows shifted with the slight, occasional breeze. But then, sounds also filled him with terror, as every single footstep seemed to be approaching, threatening Philip with intrusion, accusation, blame. Philip began to hum a slow, deep melody--a prayer song he’d learned when he was young. He wasn’t sure the god it was dedicated to would appreciate hearing from the likes of him, but he was too desperate for peace to care.

((OOC: Hooooookay. So, I think it’s plausible that Philip would be like that for quite a while, maybe drifting in and out of sleep. He might not be humming by the time Novelty gets there, but I think plenty of Philip’s soldiers would be able to tell Novelty that Philip has spent most of his time since his return in his tent, and that he’s definitely straight-up ignored requests to enter on multiple occasions.))

Though the inches the sun moved down the sky only made Novelty's heart beat faster and more urgently, he wanted to make sure he went about all this the right way. After all, Lieutenant Pemberley hadn't spoken to much of anyone, and Novelty didn't think that was due to lack of trying. What would make Novelty's approach different?

After asking his typical contacts in Captain Bronwen's camp about Philip's condition, it seemed very plausible that the man had been in his tent for much of the morning and most of the afternoon. Giving it all a moment of thought, Novelty decided to leave the area and visit the mess tent. Food may be something of a cheap strategy, but Novelty needed something to quiet his own nerves regardless, and it wasn't going to hurt, right?

Pulling a clean cloth from one pocket, Novelty carefully laid a moderate amount of dried deer meat into it and wrapped it up again. He grabbed a few pieces of the meat for himself and chewed thoughtfully, finally grabbing two ripe red apples before heading out with a little more hope.

Waving to a friend, Novelty turned heel back toward Lieutenant Pemberley's tent. The soldier's heartbeat picked up yet faster. Why was he so nervous? Perhaps it was because he was prepared--or preparing at the very least--to sacrifice himself to a goddess. But, no, sacrifice was too harsh a word, right? Sure, it would be risky, but Novelty was there to gather information, not die before relaying it to his captain. Yes, Novelty had a mission, and he wasn't about to fail easily. Which meant actually getting some quality information from one of the attacked men. And, if Philip's aloofness was any indication, the man was a gold mine.

Nodding to a few soldiers settled near a fire in Captain Bronwen's camp, Novelty pressed forward, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He could do this. There was so much at stake.

Taking a moment to listen in, Novelty leaned one ear toward the closed flap of Philip's tent, hoping to hear some indication that the man hadn't left while Novelty gathered food. But, no, there was a soft, quiet humming that summoned up a half-forgotten memory from the soldier's childhood--a nursemaid rocking him while whispering a song, a prayer song, after one of the other children had frightened him with...

No need to go there now, Novelty thought, content to let the nostalgia of the gentle comfort nestle down into his adult body.

"Lieutenant Pemberley?" Novelty asked, listening but not really expecting an answer. "Lieutenant Pemberley?" He paused again, still not having any reason to believe that the man would respond, but hoping that he at least had the lieutenant's attention. The humming, at least, had stopped.

Novelty sat down in front of the tent flap, waiting a few more moments for a passing soldier to walk by. Finally, he said, "They're sending me to the goddess tonight." He let that hang in the air, hoping that Philip would put together what that meant about Novelty's being there. Unafraid of talking into the silence, Novelty added, "I don't want to go in blind." The soldier paused again, this time raising one of the apples to his lips and taking a large, noisy bite of the moist flesh. Chewing thoroughly and swallowing, Novelty strained his ears to listen for any movement. Not hearing anything, Novelty decided it was time for a risk. With his back to the tent flap, Novelty reached his hand through the opening, depositing the cloth full of dried meat and the other apple inside before withdrawing his arm.

The humming had helped considerably, though granted, Philip had completely lost track of time in the process. His arm was now simply draped over his pillow rather than gasping it, and he felt serenely lost in the gentle shifts of light and shadow he could make out on the wall of his tent.

Until, of course, someone said his name.

A fresh spike of panic skewered him, and his grip on his pillow tightened again. This was even worse than the other times soldiers had called for him, though, because this time, he'd been humming. The realization buzzed in his chest that he couldn't just pretend to not be there. Expletives flew through the lieutenant's mind that he never dare utter, but he did his best to quiet them and actually listen to the soldier--especially considering that, unlike the others the past day and a half, this soldier started talking to him even though he hadn't replied. And, not just that, but this soldier, it seemed, had a very pertinent reason to speak to him.

"They're sending me to the goddess tonight."

Philip didn't know how he should feel about that. He felt powerless to object. If the commander had decided this trade was worth it, who was he to argue? But, there was a sorrow in his heart about the whole thing. About sending even more men to face her temptations and watch themselves corrode.

"I don't want to go in blind."

That was reasonable, Philip supposed. And, he certainly had warnings he could issue. Not that he relished getting into any specifics. Perhaps he could keep it broad. Or, then again, perhaps this was exactly the time to confess? That wouldn't be particularly fair to this soldier, but then again, sending this soldier to the goddess wasn't particularly fair, either. The soldier had already signed up for things he didn't deserve, if he'd truly volunteered.

Philip sat up on his cot, and blinked in surprise at the hand depositing food inside his tent. For quite possibly the first time since his return, Philip's stomach let out a low rumble. The lieutenant slowly pushed himself to his feet and moved to pick up the apple and cloth with meat, and then he gently pushed the tent flap aside just a crack, just enough to lay eyes on the soldier before issuing a calm but stern instruction.

"Come in."

Honestly, Novelty had suspected that Philip might put up more of a fight such that, when the tent flap moved aside and the lieutenant not only appeared but invited him in, Novelty's heart leapt into his throat, and a smile beamed softly on his face. Though a blazing smile settled in his heart, Novelty was determined to look comforting rather than pitying, peaceful rather than enthusiastic. Still, on account of the fact that Philip, at least for a moment, stood towering over Novelty's sitting posture and the fact that Philip was a little flushed, Novelty had a difficult time keeping his composure. His eyes glittered with excitement while his gut cautioned. What a strange combination of emotions.

Wiping his mouth casually against the side of his hand, Novelty got to his feet and followed Philip back into his tent. After a moment of worrying about whether--and where--he should sit, Novelty went ahead and made a decision, sitting across from the cot on the ground with one knee up the way he had been sitting outside the tent. Once the two of them were settled, Novelty figured he should lead with something.

"Thank you. Sincerely," Novelty started, draping the hand holding his bitten apple over his knee, "I know you don't know me, and I know this is sudden." Novelty looked toward Philip, taking in his long limbs as well as the soft, short ripples of his hair, and the sensations scrambling in his stomach brought back reminders of the sounds coming from Evan's tent and Novelty's previous intentions in coming toward Captain Bronwen's camp. Pushing that back down, Novelty continued levelly, looking down toward his apple. "I know the experience wasn't pleasant for you, likely above and beyond what the others have been willing to share, so I would understand if you don't want to go into it, but... I appreciate your attention."

After another moment, Novelty quietly and almost somberly added, "And... you have little to lose with me. I'll likely be gone by sundown."

Philip couldn't help taking stock of the soldier once he laid eyes on him. He looked entirely too excited for Philip's tastes, but he supposed that threshold was rather low at the moment. He kept his expression calm and inscrutable--which was, at least, softer and more truly neutral than his captain's resting expression, so there was that.

Once the soldier was to his feet, Philip moved aside and gestured him in. The lieutenant had been planning for them to sit across from each other on the ground, but the soldier went and sat across from his cot. Philip hesitated just a moment, then decided to just go ahead and sit on the cot, then, rather than find a spot on the ground a little too uncomfortably close to the soldier. Perhaps it was better, even, to be elevated, in a position of authority. By the time the lieutenant lowered himself onto his cot, he felt more confident, his posture straight as he once again took stock of this soldier before him, his food gently held in either hand resting on his knees, cradled but forgotten.

He was grateful the soldier started speaking first. Gave Philip more time to get accustomed to his expressions and tone of voice, and feel a bit more grounded in where the soldier seemed to be coming from. He was surprised and a bit nervous when the soldier said the experience was likely unpleasant for Philip above and beyond what the others had experienced. It only showed in a swallow, but Philip felt terribly exposed.

"Indeed." Philip replied once it seemed like the soldier had finished. It was an interesting tactic he seemed to be taking, but Philip supposed a valid one. Still, that didn't make it easy to know where to start. Philip let a long silence stand, his gaze never once shying away from studying this soldier's expression.

"She is a powerful temptress." The lieutenant finally said, his brows drawing together quite seriously. "If anything clouds your heart, she will find it." He paused again there, and then added, "I think that's the most important thing to understand."

Novelty watched with curiosity and intrigue as Philip decided where to seat himself. The soldier was immensely grateful to see some of the captain's more typical posture filter down through his spine. Yes, perhaps bowing to Philip in this small way had been a smart move, even if Novelty hadn't quite intended it. He shoved that trick in a back pocket for later. Maybe it would even come in handy with the goddess. Put her at ease and then...

But Novelty's nerves interrupted his thoughts, especially as Philip's silence lengthened. Was "indeed" all Philip was going to say? That would certainly make this stay in his tent a bit awkward. But, thankfully, Philip did speak, and Novelty was immensely elated to hear what Philip said. The soldier nodded. It gave him a wealth of information and, he suspected, was more than many others had heard in the last few days. Still, Novelty forced his expression to remain curiously neutral.

Briefly, Novelty wondered if there was anything "clouding" his heart." He didn't think so. Not unless he counted his incredible desire to sleep around at camp, but that wasn't a cloud exactly. Novelty wasn't afraid of those desires. Anything else? Anything at all? Letting Serio down came to mind, and Novelty suppressed a shiver down his spine. Okay, perhaps there were ways the goddess could make him uncomfortable. It was hubris to think she couldn't.

Novelty wanted terribly to ask Philip was his cloud was, but he knew better than to scare the man off like that. Instead, Novelty pulled his eyebrows together to look more serious, taking his eyes off his apple to stare at Philip's boots.

"I know I'm not a temptress," Novelty said, his eyes flicking up to Philip's, "but I do think you might feel better if you ate. Your soldiers are worried." Novelty gave a small smile then and bit into his own apple encouragingly.

Philip's eyebrows shifted from serious to confused as the soldier began speaking, and then from confused to a flash of worried before settling back into serious again, perhaps with a dash of indignance. It was all very subtle in the shape of his brow and the muscles around his eyes, but it was plain as day for anyone paying enough attention.

"Did you feel like eating after the first time you killed a man?" Philip asked calmly and seriously. While the muscles throughout his body were almost impressively balanced between relaxed and stern, his face did seem to redden a shade, and for a split second, his expression softened--melted almost, though Philip reeled it in immediately, and continued, lest this soldier get the impression that he genuinely wanted a response (he most certainly did not).

"Don't worry about me, soldier. You're the one who's going to her next. So, what else do you want to know?"

Internally, the lieutenant was getting nervous. He could hear that buzzing again, this time right by his ear, as though he could turn to look and just like that he'd be pushing Evan to the ground all over again. Philip stared intently into the eyes of the soldier in front of him, his brows starting to draw together a bit angrily, though the intensity of it was offset some by the fact that his gaze wasn't quite all the way present.

Whatever Novelty expected Philip to say, it wasn't that. Watching the emotions pass subtly behind the captain's eyes, Novelty briefly worried that he had already pushed the man too far. But if that was too much, was Novelty going to get anywhere?

...after the first time you killed a man...

It obviously wasn't a memory that Novelty took pleasure in remembering--the knowledge that his brain was already tilting that direction made him queasy--and yet...

Novelty remembered the sensation of slipping up on a mission, of getting caught and deciding in that split second that either the man who had caught him needed to die or Novelty was going to. So Novelty did as his training had prepared him, moved behind the man, and silently slit his throat. Afterward, once he was safely away, Novelty vomited and retched, but he was happy to be alive. Happy to have survived, and yes, hunger returned soon. Why wouldn't it? He had been cold for days, and he knew that going without food was unwise. What did killing that man matter if Novelty died of not eating enough? But, could he kill another animal tonight, even if only for food? He would need to. When the rabbit closed his eyes after Novelty's dagger found its heart, Novelty stopped and prayed. It wasn't something he made a habit of, but he prayed for both the rabbit and the man he had killed. That it would all be forgiven. That the gods would understand. That their souls would be well cared for. And then, he ate. Meditatively. Without words.

Pulling himself back to the present, Novelty looked with a slightly wounded expression at Philip and was grateful to find a flash of softness there. Novelty couldn't blame Philip, not really. He clearly wasn't fully in control of himself, and Novelty had signed up for a volatile situation. But then Novelty's mind started chewing on what Philip might actually mean by all that. Did the goddess make Philip kill a man? Why would she do that? For what purpose? And what about that death was Philip so much more worked up about?

The softness soon retreated behind something else that blazed through Philip's expression, something that met Novelty's gaze with hunger and violence, but somehow Novelty didn't think it was violence toward him exactly, and for reasons Novelty could not fully explain, that saddened the soldier.

Looking down, Novelty asked, "Did she make you kill someone, then? Is that what's waiting for me?" After he asked his questions, Novelty looked up toward Philip with pleading eyes, his own face softening with something between understanding and compassion.