epidemiology | (no subject)

[Sleep comes eventually, into the morning and more restful this time. She wakes more naturally this time, content to stay burrowed underneath the sheets until all the sleep is purged from her mind.

The downfall, however, of having a clear head again is that the lack of cotton leaves plenty of space for hurt and anger to coalesce and linger. Despite the advice given to rest and regain her energy, she finds herself restless in her room, unhappy with the unanswered questions still lingering in the air. (Mostly one single unanswered question, but with enough weight to encompass fifty smaller questions.)

She waits for a reasonable hour of the day - mid-morning, when the town's alive and bustling - before reaching out to Koltira.]

We need to talk.

[ Koltira's walking in the desert when he gets the call. It's his biggest hobby these days, since it's the one that most easily allows him to avoid everybody else.

Unfortunately, they can still catch him through the jewelry. He frowns at his ring when her text comes through, briefly considering--not for the first time--pulling it off and tossing it into some pond or canyon somewhere. But he's pretty sure that would have long term, negative consequences, so. He refrains.

He supposes it's natural for her to have questions, anyway. ]

Where?

[How positively generous of him.

The saloon springs immediately to mind, being the most accessible location from her current location (in a room, right in the saloon). But given past events, she suspects he has no desire to be near the townsfolk nor the vast majority of their team.

So.]

There's a grove of trees to the east of town, about a quarter of a mile out. Does that work for you?

[ ain't it though ]

I will be there.

[ He takes Bloodmist for expediency, mounting up and riding out to the specified location in record time. At least, he presumes it's the specified location--Riza's not here yet. He slides off the saddle, pats Bloodmist's neck as she nickers softly. He turns towards the town, feeling nothing in particular beyond weary curiosity. When she approaches, he calls out. ]

Bal'a dash.

[She takes her sweet time ambling out of town, body still struggling to readjust to a life back in motion, which times her arrival some minutes after his.

At the sound of his greeting she doesn't wave, nor does she call out a greeting back, though she does give him a tired nod of acknowledgement. Presumably the sounds he'd uttered are a greeting of some sort, though she's too weary to ask. Too many other emotions trampling over simple curiosity.]

Thank you. For coming. [At the very least, she can be polite.] I hope you weren't busy.

[ He shakes his head, frowning slightly. He knows Riza didn't call him out here for a polite exchange of pleasantries. ]

Hardly so.

[ He looks her over as he takes a few steps closer. She doesn't look well, but she does look alive, which was his goal. He'd known that she would be sick--such was the price of the shadows over the Light. ]

What can I do for you, Riza?

[Simple pleasantries would have been far more preferable but ultimately far less useful to her peace of mind. She doesn't answer right away, watching Bloodmist for a few moments while she tries to gather her her thoughts into a coherent shape.

Finally, she sighs, expelling air from her lungs and with it, some of her composure.]

I want to know—why. Why you brought me back.

[Perhaps the answer's obvious, but she's having a difficult time accepting it.]

[ He thought she might have questions, but that definitely wasn't the one he expected.

He remembers his own words, spoken to her quickly cooling corpse. ]

Because you cannot atone from the grave.

[Somewhere, in the furthest corner of her mind, a part of her recognizes the validity of his point. But it's overshadowed by the deep-seated human desire to disavow logic in favor of petty emotion.]

And I should not be able to return from it either.

[The words come out sharp, edges coated heavily in confusion and anger.]

I knew what I was signing up for when I joined the military. I didn't expect to live a long and happy life. [She bites her lip, takes a shaky breath in.] I would have accepted my death.

[ He raises an eyebrow. ]

Death is a mutable concept in Azeroth.

[ Obviously. Literally just look at him. ]

And if you were meant to die, the spell would have failed.

[Don't be so logical about this. Mutable it may be wherever it is he comes from - Azeroth - but permanent it decidedly is in Amestris, and punishable in the worst of ways if tampered with.

She's thrown slightly off balance by his last statement, initial thoughts transmuting into something else.]

"Meant" to die?

[What does that even mean?]

We all have our time in this realm and the next. Yours, here, is not yet finished.

[ He leans back against one of the pine trees, arms folded over his chest. ]

You have work to do, Riza Hawkeye. People to protect. Sins to answer for.

[ He drums his fingers on his inner elbow, his mouth thin. ]

Am I wrong?

[Irritation flares up, hot and sharp. He isn't wrong, but that hardly means he's allowed off the hook so easily, not when she needs some method to release her pent-up frustration. The fact that he seems largely unbothered only serves to make things worse.]

And who are you to judge that? Whatever might be true in your world doesn't necessarily hold true in mine.

[Her mind flashes back to Edward. Alphonse.]

People don't come back from the dead, Koltira. Not as easily as I do.

[ Quietly. ]

That is so. But we are both in a different place entirely. I can only go by the rules I've always known.

[ He looks away, frowning slightly. He'd brought her back for the reasons he'd stated, and those were not a lie. They were not friends--he's well aware of this--but they aren't enemies, either. Riza is a person he respects. Reliable, competent, compassionate. ]

When I saw your corpse lying there, I felt--something. Something I have not felt since I was raised. It was--anxiety.

[ He mutters. ]

Dread.

[Her anger does not disappear but it does abate, unable to sustain itself for too long in the wake of Koltira's continued rationale. And in truth, she's still too tired for much more than short-lived bursts of emotion. Her lips stay pursed, her brows furrowed, but some of her tension releases in a short exhale.]

What do you mean, something you hadn't felt?

[She doesn't quite follow.]

[ He makes an agitated noise in his throat. Girl, did he stutter? ]

I meant what I said. The dead fear nothing. We are beyond it.

[ He mutters. ]

Usually.

[ Louder: ]

Yet, when I saw you lying there, a corpse ... it was not fear, exactly. But it was unpleasant. A sense of disquiet. You were--not as you were meant to be. I didn't like it.

[The dead fear nothing. A phrase she's heard often enough, but it's his elaboration beyond that simple statement that holds her interest, and clarifies her uncertainty.

Still, it's not enough of answer, if only because there's more to it she's missing.]

Why? I'm not—I'm not any particular friend of yours.

[If only because her behavior towards him has been less than stellar. That much she's able to recognize in herself.]

[ He shifts his weight from foot to foot, frowning. ]

No. But--

[ His eyebrows furrow. ]

--you are part of this team, nevertheless. You are competent, and despite whatever wrong you have done in the past, you have acted with honor here and now.

[ Regardless of whatever else lies between them, Koltira respects Riza. Before her revelation, he thought her a good woman. He even still mostly thinks that now. He rubs the side of his mouth. ]

Besides. I did not carve a statue for everyone, you know.

[And there it goes, the last of her anger and willful stubbornness petering out in the face of his continued honesty.

With the anger goes most of her stamina, and her head starts to spin, enough that she sags down, lets herself slide onto her knees. Not a position of supplication or forgiveness, but it is an apology of sorts. A peace offering.

(And though she makes no comment on it, there's a flare of recognition in her eyes at the mention of the carved figure, one that still sits carefully on her nightstand back in Oska.)]

There are many people more deserving of this than I. But [and the 'but' is spoken quickly, tacked on before anyone has time to protest] I'll make sure it isn't a waste. What you did.

[Because he's right. There's still much left for her to do.]

[ He comes down to his haunches as she sinks, his head inclined to one side. His ears perk forward, indicative of concern. He had thought she might shoot him, though, so this deflating is preferable.

(As for the statue, he takes the recognition, requires nothing else.) ]

Life is not about what we deserve.

[ But even if it were, he'd still disagree. ]

Though I trust that you will.

[ He looks at her carefully, assuring himself that she's really all right. Then he's back up. Ready to leave, ready to let her go and get on with her life. ]

Should you ever need me again, I will be there.

[ Because she's his teammate. Because they've been through a lot together. Because, whatever she is to him, she is a good woman. ]

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KOLTIRA

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