Cheers to the Prince - and to whoever killed him [Cadmus & Dominic]

The headquarter was quitter than usual around this time of the day. Usually there would be a whole group around the dining table or on the couches or at the island in the kitchen on the high stools, or at least just a few. Now there was just Dominic and Cadmus. Maybe some of the Nachon refugees were hiding in the shared bunkbedroom, but Dominic didn't want to look in there and disturb them. Not with what he and Cadmus had in mind.
"Okay," Dominic said, after resurfacing from behind the kitchen counter. His voice was raised just a bit so Cadmus could hear him at the couch area. "We have bourbon. Some scotch as well. Which do you prefer?"
You wouldn't be able to hear it on Dominic's relaxed tone or see it on his body language. There was no sign of anxiousness or distress. No sign that two days ago was the event that Dominic was sure would make his life a living hell.

Two days ago the crown prince Theodor was found dead in the forest. Murdered, his head separated from his body. The whole country had ben shocked and the whole city of Ilomar had been publicly in sorrow ever since. Privately it looked different though - not all of Ilomar was sad that the prince was no longer amongst them. Some people didn't care for him personally, some people rejoiced in the thought of the Royals getting 'what they deserve'. Some people simply didn't care. Dominic was one of those people. He really didn't care for any of the royals. He wouldn't mind them all being found dead in the woods. However, he wasn't cheering over the prince's death, because in the end the death didn't benefit EFA. No, it would actually make things a whole lot worse for them, Dominic was sure of that. Because who would the Royal family, the politicians, the church, the people, blame? The ones they always blamed. The Nachon Warlocks and more specific the Nachon Rebels.

Dominic had seen it before. Whenever something bad happened to the people, everyone would point at him and others like him, giving them the fault. As if they even had time to do such crimes when they barely had time to survive. Dominic knew that this would end with even more people being outed as Nachon Warlocks, even more Nachons needing help, even more Godia Warriors being send out to hunt them. Dominic hadn't even dared leaving his house, not even in the backstreets of the slums, since he had received the news. This murder would only give the hunt out to get him a new spark. He wouldn't be too surprised if they suddenly had his face on the news.

Which was why the TV was on in the background in the living room. Right now all the news covered was the funeral that took place right now. Almost all of Ilomar City was gathered in or around the cathedral, the streets being full. Everyone else was assisting the funerals in their own homes, praying for the family and their loss.
Domininc wasn't going to pray and neither was Cadmus, fortunately for the rebel leader. The two men had planned to drink the funeral away. Maybe this would be the first time in the last few days where Dominic could actually relax. Just a bit.

Altough he seemed relaxed right now. Not happy, he never really seemed happy, but relaxed and confident, as he placed his hand on the counter to lean over it. He looked over at Cadmus, his friend and accomplice, who was sitting in the couch, waiting for him to get back with the drinks.
"I also have an old bottle of red wine," Dominic said to him, "But I do prefer something stronger for an event like this."

It was very unusual. The emptiness of the headquarters. Usually, this place he, despite its shabby character and overall unpleasantness, had come to think of as home, was a place of life and activity. Had Cadmus not known the reason behind the sudden abandonment he would probably have felt at least somewhat unsettled. As it was, however, he was quite comfortable, reclining on the sofa; his shoes on the coffee table and a cig in his hand, half pretending to watch the news, whilst waiting for Dominic to return. "Scotch would be fine." He said, turning his head halfway to his friend in the kitchen without taking his eyes from the funeral procession on the tv.

The television had been on almost non-stop since the news of the death of the crown prince first emerged. A reporter talked about 'national mourning'. The state of the country now that Theodor was dead. No one at the headquarters could claim to be in mourning. It was well known that Theodor supported the repression of nachons. Most people did. At least outwardly. Cadmus, as someone who had spent almost half of his life in hiding because of this view and had also had the pleasure of meeting fellow nachons with like experiences, would not even pretend to be sorry for the man. Although, were the rumours of his death to be believed, it had been gruesome. Whilst the prince had arguably deserved to die, Cadmus would never rejoice in the pain of another person. It wasn't up to him to judge and punish others. If Iosta or the universe or whatever wanted something, it would happen, and so it had.

In the days following this death, there had been mixed emotions at the base. And a sense of uncertainty. What would happen now? So, whilst Dominic hadn't explicitly stated so, Cadmus was sure that the news-watching was a security measure. At some point they, the rebels and nachons, would be blamed. Dominic too, probably, the mystery leader. Who must have been stressed out of his mind. The least Cadmus could do to help his friend was to have a drink with him. Or two. Or one too many. Whatever could ease the situation. He had come to see it as his responsibility, to pay back some of what Dominic had done for him, by giving him a home, and in some ways, a family too; the people who came and went. He would never admit that he was grateful. But he could show it. Especially if all there was needed of him was to drink.

He resettled on the couch and took a drag from his cigarette, quoting:
"At times we ought to drink even to intoxication. For wine washes away troubles and dislodges them from the depths of the mind and acts as a remedy to sorrow as it does to some diseases." He closed his eyes. "I think I read that somewhere. But I am sure scotch will do the trick."

He should have known that the mention of wine would bring Cadmus to quote some philosophical book, Dominic hasn't even heard of. But to be frank - Dominic didn't know about most books. One of the many disadvantages of dropping out of school as a teen. Most book-lines Dominic had received, he had received through Cadmus' citing. Not voluntarily, though there was a sort of latent reassurance from the familiarity of the man's quotation. It somehow made the whole surreal situation a tad more normal. Not that Dominic showed his gratefulness - he simply rolled his eyes at his friends, pretending to be peeved, while not seeming the least bit actually irritated.
"Scotch is it," he said. He made the executive decision not to settle with simply pouring them a glass in the kitchen but instead grabbed two glasses and the whole bottle - which was halfway done anyways - before walking towards the living room area.
"How's it going?" he asked, while setting it all on the living room table, his eyes already glued to the television, making it sure that he wasn't asking about Cadmus, but about what Cadmus had been watching.
He sat down and poured the both of them a glass of scotch. The dark-golden liquid filled the glass a bit more than what was proper, but Dominic didn't care for being proper. And definitely not at a time like this. He even considered filling the glass to brim, but he contained himself. He handed Cadmus a glass, listening to what the man wished to tell him.

"Thank you." He took the glass from Dominic with his free hand, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray on the side table. Then he leaned back, held up the glass and admired the amber liquid, before bringing it to his lips. He paused for a moment, taking in the aroma. Cadmus was in no hurry. With the funeral and most of the country closed, he had no business that day. Thinking about it, this whole thing could very well hurt him economically. If the media decided to go down the; the-nachons-did-it-road, it might scare off customers. Well, never mind that, he thought, and took a sip of his drink.

"No real news. They just reminded us of what a wonderful person he was, our beloved prince." He spoke the last part not without a great deal of sarcasm. The media portrait of the royals was far from the one painted by the stories told in Erast. Cadmus was careful not to believe everything he heard when he frequented the Drunken Nachon, black market or FC Temple, and he had a hard time believing that the queen bathed in the blood of nachon children or that the late prince ate human hearts, yet he could imagine some of the less 'out there' gossip to probably be true.

"You also missed the arrival of the royal family, and detailed commentary on the queen's dress."

On the tv a reporter stood in front of the cathedral. The press would not be allowed inside during the ceremony, and they would return to the studio to discuss what was likely going on behind those closed doors.

"Anyways," Cad said, holding out his glass to his friend "cheers."

As soon as Cadmus had accepted the glass from him, Dominic leaned back into the wrinkled, cracked armchair, a tired, irritated sigh leaving his lips before taking his first sip of his drinks. Unlike Cadmus, he didn't nose the liquid beforehand and he simply swallowed without letting the taste circle around his tongue first. Cadmus had tried to learn him how to properly appreciate drinks like this, but while Dominic actually did want to learn it, right now all he wanted was the effect of the drink. The burn down his throat, a manageable sting compared to what might be soon to follow the latest events. Dominic's mind was constantly spinning around, preparing for all the ways EFA could get hurt in the near future. He hadn't stop thinking of this since he heard the news a few days ago, barely being able to fall asleep the nights between.

Cadmus updated him on the streaming of the funeral and Dominic rolled his eyes in sync with the healer's sarcasm. This was followed by a scornful snort when the queen's dress was mentioned.
"The press surely knows what to prioritize," he said, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. How he couldn't care less about the outfits of the funeral. Actually, how he couldn't care less about the funeral, he tried to convince himself, while not being able to look away from the screen. As if looking away would cause things on screen to get worse.

He did glance towards Cadmus, when the friend raised his glass at him. He leaned forward in the armchair, raising his glass towards Cadmus' so they briefly met and clinked.
"Cheers," he said and drank some more of the scotch before placing the glass on the table.
He kept at that position, leaned forward with his arms resting on his legs, his hands rubbing together restlessly. He had turned his head towards the screen again, even though nothing exciting was happening. They were just talking about the invited guests, those who were politically and culturally important. For a brief moment, Dominic thought of Cassius. Maybe he would see him on screen. He doubted it; the Seymor family was probably already in the cathedral.

Finally, he looked away from the screen. Down on his restless hands, clearly in his head with all his worrying thoughts. There was a moment of silence between the men, tense, not because of their dynamic but because of the circumstances they sat in. Then Dominic said:
"Did you see what the Minister of Security posted on his social media?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "He's giving us the blame - the EFA. Saying that they'll look into putting new ressources in offence instead of defense, making sure we won't get away with any more terror."
He didn't sound sarcastic when indirectly quoting the minister. He couldn't even sound angry. He just sounded nervous. Nervous and tired. And when he finally looked at Cadmus, the worry was visible in his blue eyes. Not an expression common on Dominic.
"And it's not just Ilomar, you know" he added, "I just read the news on Ydisia." One of the neighboring countries, in which Nachon Warlocks weren't illegal as long as they didn't actively use their powers, but of course they were still stigmatized. It was one of the countries to where EFA usually would help ilomarian Nachon Warlocks escape. "Reports on hatecrimes have doubled in size just the last few days. Ydisians fear that Nachon Warlocks will attack their crown prince as well, so they're attacking them first. Innocent people."
The last two words left his lips, almost desperately as if he tried to make Cadmus understand his worry, even though he knew that if anyone Cadmus was the one who would understand just fine.
"Things are already changing for the worse. And the body isn't even been buried yet."

The smooth burn of the whisky was soothing. Not that Cadmus needed soothing, but Dominic sure did. In all fairness the pressure his friend was under had to be massive. So, it was little wonder that he looked and sounded so shaken. Very noticeably and uncharacteristically so, Cadmus thought, cradling the liquor glass in one hand. Although he himself was an active member of the EFA, his role was somewhat minor. Especially compared to that of Dominic’s.

Still, the EFA base was Cadmus' home. And as he didn't spend all his time in the small, badly lit room, which he had the pleasure of calling his own, he would inevitably get to know the nachon warlocks who was living there transitorily. He had never been part of the railroad system; the saving of nachons and the helping them escape, but in a way, he was stuck in it himself. Should a nachon currently living at the EFA have questions; about their own powers, about the law and religion condemning those powers, about the prospects of their future, Cadmus was there with an answer. Most of the time, the refugees knew about all that stuff, and just needed someone to talk to. It could be a lot to process it all: what was going on, the possibility of never seeing their home or family again, and the like. He was there for that too.

It was all very informal. A way of honouring the person who had been there for him too, in what felt like another life.

Of course, there was also the matter of his own powers. And how they were of use...  

In the end, Cadmus still had the privilege of being first and foremost his own person, responsible only for himself, and occasionally for supplying the meetings with pizza. But he could walk out if he wished, he could cross the border and start a new life. A real life. And the EFA would live on. Dominic on the other hand... It made sense how Cadmus' composure; sitting still, except for the occasional drinking could be such a contrast to that of Dominic, who seemed unable to keep hands or gaze still. And while waiting for him settle and speak up, Cadmus kept quiet.  

When Dominic did speak, neither the anxious rush of words nor the matter of what he was saying, came as much of a surprise. While he wasn't on any social media (nor did he own a phone, as he had no one to call or text), it wasn't shocking that the Minister had posted Anti-EFA propaganda again. What was worrying on the other hand, was the expression Dominic wore. It was unusual for him to show such vulnerability. The layers of leadership and control peeling off to reveal a tired and desperate man.

He hadn't known about the Ydisian situation, and his reaction upon learning was to empty his drink and pour a new. For both. At a loss for words, he slowly said; "That is concerning."  

Those words were insufficient. Insultingly so. The situation was horrific. He knew what people did to nachons... He had seen it. With his own eyes, and through the memories of others. And the tv was still busy with its stupid gossipy commentary. He was suddenly aware of his casual pose, and slowly readjusted, feet on the ground, sitting up a bit straighter.  

He picked up the newly filled glass and handed it to his friend, looking him in the eyes to emphasise his next words. "We cannot do anything about that right now. Tomorrow, or the day after, we will gather the rest of the EFA and make a plan. You have eyes out, right? We'll know more when they return. Your duty right now, is to clear your mind and relax a bit, while the rest of the world is busying itself with the funeral and the royal fashion choices."

Concerning, was the word that Cadmus went with. It sure was concerning, all of this, concern was haunting Dominic, but it was so much more than concerning. It was harrowing, nauseating, appalling. And it was downright terrifying. But that word would never leave Dominic's lips because admitting to such feelings would only worsen them. He couldn't admit that he was afraid because in doing so he would admit that there was something to fear. No, he needed to act as if he got it under control. He needed to pull himself together. Even in front of Cadmus, who could probably feel Dominic's fear without him having to say anything about it. That man always knew more about other people than they actually would tell him and while Dominic respected his abilities, he also hated knowing that he was the one man to see behind his facade. The tough act, that he wasn't even able to put on right now, with the little energy he had and the knowledge that Cadmus would see right through him anyways.
So when Cadmus suggested that Dominic should relax, Dominic just shook his head. While doing so he straightened up, toughened up, the worry in his eyes vanished as he furrowed his brow.
"Why should I relax with the state just waiting for the moment to attack?" he asked, not even letting Cadmus answer before continuing: "I shouldn't even be sitting here, just watching the news. I have eyes out, as you said. Cassius is at the funeral, and when he gets back, we'll know more about the Haling Dove's families' thoughts of the case."
Taking a big swig, he finished his drink and put the glass down on the table. He wasn't able to stop himself from grimacing over the burn, which he still wasn't used to.
"I should have some sort of strategy ready," he said, "Make sure not to meet Cassius empty-handed. I just need to think instead of just worrying."
It was if he was talking more to himself than to Cadmus. Hyping himself up to get back to work. Honestly, it had been dumb of him to think he could just sit back, have a drink and watch the news. Naive, really. Under these circumstances, there was no time - and no excuse - to relax. Not to Dominic.

"Alright," Cadmus said, emptying the rest of the bottle in Dominic’s glass, whilst he continued to speak. "What sort of plan were you thinking?" His tone was easy, as he tried to balance out that of the other. He had messed up by suggesting that Dominic should let go of it all for a while. Fear didn't work that way. But heck, Cadmus himself was tired, even if he would never admit it. He could use some time not having to, well, feel so much. Or rather, he spent most of his time trying not to feel. This past year or so he had suddenly become aware that he could, if not feel, then sense, the emotions of those around him. He believed it to be a side effect, somehow, of using his powers. That he... what? He would rather not delve too deep into the implications. It was absurd to think, he was drawing energy from those around him unknowingly. That he was somehow using it to read their feelings, against his own will.

He got up, with the now empty bottle, and went to the kitchen to find something else to drink. He was probably just imagining things, going crazy, because he had been staying in the same place too long. Almost five years. If the state did attack, he told himself, he could leave and go find Nathalie in Ydisia. It wouldn't be the end. At least not for him. He would do something. Even if that meant running away again. But it wouldn't come to that. He grabbed the bourbon. Then the wine, just in case. And before returning to the living room, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He wasn't upset.

He could feel his chest rise and fall with the breathing, as he stood with the two bottles. They would be okay. He could not do anything about the things happening to others. It would break a person to try to take on that kind of responsibility, and to what use? He was better off focusing on what was in front of him. Whatever that was.

Entering the living room, he suggested; "We could go do arson, burn the city down and live up to our reputation." He put down the bottles.  "Or we could try to solve the murder." He let himself fall back down onto the couch. "When we walk up to the castle with the answer, I am sure they will reward us." He picked up his glass and emptied it.

"I am sorry, Dominic, but I think you are being too harsh on yourself."

Cadmus kept calm even after Dominic's clear frustration and restlessness, even after said frustration and restlessness had been aimed towards him. Dominic had no idea how he was able to stay collected in times like this. The leader had no such ability. He could always collect himself enough to think strategically, to act and to plan but never with a cool head. Anger was a tool for him to use more so than an obstruction. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed of it, when Cadmus didn't reflect it back on him. It didn't matter whether the man would be angry with him or towards him as long as he returned the anger. If not, then Dominic just felt like a child, even though Cadmus was younger than him.
With his friend in the kitchen, he tried to collect himself, turn down all of these negative, overwhelming emotions. He might now had wanted to relax but he could still be calm while working, he tried to tell himself, even though he had never tried such thing. Calmness wasn't a virtue of Iosta, that Dominic possessed. That was one part about him that the Enferi Priests at least got right - it did sometimes feel like Tarron roamed inside him when such feelings wouldn't calm down.
He tried to take some deep breaths, but they came out shaky, and when Cadmus came back - mercifully with more to drink - he had given up on that idea again. He hadn't answered Cadmus' question about the plan, he was thinking about, knowing the man didn't mean it sincerely. He confirmed that as well when he reached the couches again, mentioning different ways they could react. The sarcasm wasn't obvious but the ideas were so out-of-hand that they could be nothing but ridicule. Dominic simply drank more of the last of the scotch, that Cadmus had poured into his glass. He didn't look at him but at least he didn't look at the news either. He simply stared into space with his jaw clenched and a frown that needed smoothing out. When Cadmus was finished, the last scotch was already gone from Dominic's glass. He put it down to pour some of the bourbun in it.
"Thanks," he said afterwards with the bottle raised to show what he was refering to. At first it would seem as if he wasn't going to reply to any of the things Cadmus had just said. Not even his call-out of him - something only Cadmus truly could do. Cassius was close enough to do the same, but his mind was too alike Dominic's. They never truly challenged each other in that regard, not even when showing concern for each other. Because if they did that, they would have to admit that they had the same issue.
But after grabbing his glass yet again and sitting back into his chair, he finally - and clearly unwillingly - said: "Maybe you have a point." He went quiet for a moment, looking down into his glass, processing what he himself just had said. Then he added, bitterly: "I think I have to be." Harsh on himself, that is. "I can't allow myself to go easy on me. Not with the world being way harsher." He looked up at Cadmus. "You must feel the same just a bit, right? I'm not the only hunted here." Cadmus was a Nachon Warlock as well. He must had known how it was to have to toughen up when the world was harsh on them. Way harsher that they could ever be on themselves.

Had Dominic not been busy staring at his bourbon, he might have seen the brief show of surprise on Cadmus' face. Though it was quickly replaced; and as Cadmus refilled his glass and brought it to his lips, it was to hide a smug expression. Of course, he had a point. As his outrageous proposals had shown, there was nothing for them to do at that moment. He knew it, and now it seemed Dominic had accepted it too. In that case it served no other purpose than self-destruction to fret further over it. Even if Dominic's admittance to beating himself up over the situation had come unwillingly, it still felt like a small victory to Cadmus.

He kept quiet while Dominic continued. Although he disagreed on the statement. He remembered being taught that the only thing a man had to do was his duty. That of being good to himself, his fellow humans and to the universe. Sometimes doing your duty meant letting go, not wearing yourself out. But he kept that to himself.

"You must feel the same just a bit, right? I'm not the only hunted here." Dominic said, and Cadmus froze. Hunted, he thought, hunted, and haunted.

"We suffer more often in imagination than in reality."
He was 15, sitting in the corner of the small bedroom, staring into the older man's eyes crouching next to him, through tears. The man continued, handing him a paper towel: "Ever heard that before, kid?"
The boy, sobbing, nodded and looked away without taking the towel; his dad had said something along those lines once. But what did it matter? The ache in his chest felt very real. If his heart had not already shattered, he was sure it would do so any moment now. He deserved the pain. Only wished for it to worsen. The old man should be punishing him. Should be hitting him or at least scream at him. Not sit there calmly and offer him towels. It had been alright when he had been alone. When he had spent all his energy on surviving another day, another night. But now? Behind the safety of the brick walls his defences crumbled.
"Well, it is a lie," The man finally got him to take the towel, "see kid, the imagination is the only place we suffer." Whilst the boy dried his eyes the man got up and held out a hand. "Come now, let us return to practice."

The memory that hit him was like stepping into a shower of ice-cold water. In the end he had proven himself right, Cadmus guessed, not without bitterness, or maybe it had only been a show. A last stance; the man whom reality could not harm. What did it matter.

He cleared his throat to remind himself where he was. In the living room of the EFA. Before he spoke, he finished his drink. Poured another, and downed that too. "We cannot choose our external circumstances, but we can always choose how we respond to them." His voice was calm but his gaze empty. Had the world not been hard on him, he wouldn't be sitting in this damned living room. A shithole where it leaked when it rained, and they froze their balls of in the winter. It was his home, and he was grateful. But in that moment, he hated Dominic for reminding him. Hated him with a rage like the hunger of flames eating up a home, a life. It only lasted a second. It wasn't Dominic's fault.

"But yeah, I used to feel that way." He put down his glass and lit a cigarette instead. His voice slightly lower than usual, and oddly empty. "That if I pushed myself hard enough the world couldn’t hurt me. That I couldn't be caught off guard, if I was harsher on myself, than the world could ever be." He took a drag, observing the smoke as he exhaled. "The thing is," He continued, uncomfortable with the sudden vulnerability, "the world always finds new ways to hurt you."