#iolarprose

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 1 - The Figure in the Rift

Fifteen years.

He’d been aware of the place for fifteen years. It was swiftly approaching half of his life that he had been involved with the Rift. This strange half world layered over the human world taunted him every moment, more specifically, the creatures that resided within it. 

For the longest time, it frightened him in the same way a child would fear the monster under their bed. Only for him, those monsters were all too real. Even still, the Rift had its uses. 

Iolar was reminded of this as he heard alarms wail at him, sirens approaching. 

Thieving was never easy, and this was no exception. The building was actually rather challenging for him to infiltrate, and while he took so many precautions, was prepared for nearly everything, there was one thing he could never completely account for. Human unpredictability. The fact was, people still surprised him to this day. This time, it was just a security guard who chose to change his route ever so slightly. The thief had tried to knock him out before he could do anything, but he raised the alarms before Iolar could finish the job.

He had laid the guard down where he found him and found his way to a more secluded office with an expansive window. Thankfully, he had what he came for, but it wasn’t a success unless he escaped without getting arrested.

Thoughts raced in his head as he paced. He could jump. The window was right there. But no, he was on the eleventh floor. He’d die. He could try to hide, but that would only delay the inevitable. He could fight, but people would get hurt. Including himself. The chances of survival were slim at best.

But then there was the Rift. 

Iolar pulled his phone out from an inner jacket pocket, speed dialing an old friend’s number. 

“Gypsy, you’re callin’ pretty la-.”

“No time, Jace. Where are you?”

“Er- at the shop?” His friend sounded rather confused, but the sound of things being rearranged could be heard over the line. Iolar knew he’d be turning off that old beat up stereo, checking the windows, and mentally confirming where he put his gun. Just in case. Jace was a creature of habit, and it was his reactions in times like these that made Iolar thankful to have him as a friend.

“I’m coming, through the Rift.”

“Got it, brother.” Jace hung up.

Stashing his phone again, Iolar took a deep breath to steel himself. He rose his gloved hand, sweeping his hand down sharply to cut open a portal as he heard footsteps approaching the office he was in. He shot an irritated glance to the door just before he stepped inside the portal, closing it behind it by holding out his hand once more.

Inside the Rift, Iolar suppressed a shiver at the icy temperature. He was surrounded by darkness. Everything was pitch black, and below him, the darkness extended. Instinctively, he focused on his feet, keeping himself from falling. He could see movement out of the corner of his eye, the shadows moving about, curious but cautious to his sudden appearance. He took a deep breath as he felt the Rift impose on his mind. Dark thoughts started to resurface, old lies that he knew well. He pushed it away out of habit, opening his eyes and looking around.

Souls of swirling color walked around him, the souls of the police and security. He could see anxiety in many of their souls, but he brushed it aside. They would be fine. He needed to get to Jace.

Starting off at a walk, he sped his pace until he was running through the Rift at a steady, fast pace. He left the guards behind rapidly. The only problem with the Rift was his inability to see the human world, only living beings. 

Namely... buildings were a rather large problem. He couldn’t count the amount of times he wished he didn’t have to worry about exiting the Rift and ending up in a wall.

Jace was a familiar soul, and one of his most trusted friends. It was easy to pinpoint him, so long as Iolar wasn’t in another country. 

“Hey- get off!” 

A voice made him stop. That was-... a human voice. A human woman’s voice. A voice that wouldn’t make him flinch in the human world, but-. This was the Rift.

No one but him could enter the Rift.

Iolar turned, looking for the source of the noise. In the distance, he could see the figure of a woman. She had silver hair, pinned back in a bun of sorts. Silver hair that looked so much like his own. Iolar forgot how to breathe, until he saw her struggle against a shadow. The shadow was attacking her.

The thief finally could feel his feet once more. He sprinted toward her, biting the fingertip of his glove and roughly pulling it off. Below, a metallic gauntlet glinted off his skin, deep burn scars underneath. He shoved the glove in his pocket, running toward the woman as fast as he could.

A shadow cut across his path, making him have to dodge. Iolar landed easily on his feet, gritting his teeth. The shadow hissed and rounded back on him, lunging for him. 

Iolar blocked with the gauntlet, but not before the shadow managed to clip his other unarmed forearm. He hissed, turning the tide and slashing out toward the shadow with the gauntlet. The tips pierced the creature, cutting deep as the shadow screeched with pain. It dissipated, leaving him to whirl around and search for the woman once again.

But there was no trace of her.

Staring in the direction, he looked everywhere she could have gone. But there was- nothing. He let out a shaky breath. Was- was that real? Was there truly someone there? Or was the Rift causing him to finally lose his mind? Iolar felt a chill down his spine, before he reminded himself that no-... the Rift had never been able to manifest a full person before. It couldn’t make the appearance or the voice of a human, not even for a hallucination. 

Iolar shook his head, running a hand through his hair. His forearm was starting to sting. The pain reminded him that he needed to get to Jace. 

The thief forced his feet to move, continuing in the direction he had been running originally. Thoughts clouded his mind, leaving the thief feeling shaken as he ran. Everything felt- too much. He was aware of every heartbeat, every impact of a footfall, every soul he passed. It all jumbled together, leaving him feeling like a tensed string on an old instrument, ready to snap.

Finally, he spotted the familiar blue hue of his friend’s soul. Anxiety caused the soul to shift in predictable ways. Iolar slowed as he got closer, cutting a new portal to exit the Rift.

A rush of warmth wrapped around him as he felt true ground underneath his feet once more. The smell of sawdust and polyurethane assaulted his senses, and the lights made him wince. Iolar let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, feeling his legs start to wobble ever so slightly.

“Ch-christ, brother, you look like hell.” Jace spoke, causing Iolar to look up sharply, jumping. The stocky, muscular man stepped closer, making sure Iolar saw his movement before he grabbed his good arm, helping to support him. He guided him to a stool, letting him sit as he looked Iolar over. “The gauntlet- Gypsy, what happened?”

The words made Iolar realize he had never put his glove back on to conceal the metallic artifact on his hand. Did that woman have one too? He blinked slowly, staring down at it for a long moment. He pulled the glove from his pocket, gripping at the thick leather for a moment before he pulled it on over the gauntlet. It rested most of the way up his forearm, completely covering the intricate details of the gauntlet.

It helped. The familiar weight, pressure of the glove... it helped.

“...Gypsy?” Jace spoke hesitantly, but shifted away to pull a first aid kit out, setting it on the table. “... Iolar, I’m going to patch up your arm. Is that okay?”

Jace’s voice helped to ground him. Iolar took in a breath, giving a nod. He shifted so he could rest his arm on the table next to him. There were three places where his jacket was cut, blood causing the fabric to cling uncomfortably. He paused, before slipping his pack off his shoulder, dropping it to the ground, and shrugging off his jacket. Underneath, he wore a plain black, long-sleeved shirt that clung to his form.

“... Yeah, brother, think that shirt is hosed.” Jace chuckled softly, pulling a pair of scissors out from the kit. “Jacket might be able to be saved, if you find a really good tailor.”

Iolar knew he was filling the silence, letting the thief work through the swirling thoughts that went through his mind. He was thankful, in part. 

The carpenter cut the shirt up to where a t-shirt would rest, cutting off the excess and looking down at the wound. The cuts weren’t too deep, but wounds from the shadows were never easy. They bled without clotting, and were slow to heal. Jace started to clean the wound with alcohol and a clean cloth.

“... I saw someone.” Iolar finally spoke, not looking at his friend. “In-... in the Rift.”

Jace stopped in his movements. Iolar could feel his friend’s green eyes on him, and while he couldn’t look at him, he could see the stunned look in his mind’s eye. The way Jace’s bushy brows wrinkled his forehead, the premature wrinkles around his eyes all but disappearing as his eyes widened, the five o’clock shadow at his jaw as it went slack. The thief closed his eyes, clenching his gloved hand into a fist as Jace continued to clean his cuts, more methodically than before.

“... In the Rift?” Jace echoed, “... Geeze, brother. Did they attack you?”

“No. It’s-... it’s from a shadow. A shadow was attacking her, and I ran to help her. Another one attacked me.” Iolar slowly opened his eyes. “... I was escaping from a heist. I heard her- saw her when I entered the Rift.”

“Her?”

Iolar nodded, looking up at him. Jace finished cleaning the wound, applying clotting powder to a large piece of gauze before pressing it against the wound. The thief bit back a hiss from pain, taking a deep breath. “... It was a woman. Her hair- was like mine, Jace.”

Jace pressed on the wound, meeting Iolar’s gaze with a serious, but concerned expression. “... You think she’s a Rift Walker?”

“... Am I crazy?” Iolar’s voice was soft, trying to hold himself together. His eyes betrayed his jumbled up emotions. 

“Probably, but not in the way you’re thinkin’, brother.” Jace smiled softly, reaching for a roll of gauze to start to wrap the wound. “... Listen, you’ve told me a bit of how you- became a Rift Walker. How you got that thing on your hand. Sure, the only other person you’ve seen with one was completely off his rocker, but you’re not. Come on, Gypsy, if you made it, if you kept your wits about you for this long, if someone else encountered the Rift, you think there’s no one else who would be able to do what you did? No one, in the world?”

Iolar let out a long breath, trembling a bit. Jace was right. His argument was logical. If Iolar had survived, surely there would be a chance someone else could as well.

“... Thank you, Jace.” He whispered, closing his eyes again and allowing himself to take comfort in the words.

Jace chuckled a little, securing the wrap and patting Iolar on the shoulder. “... Brother, if I wasn’t used to your antics by now, I’d be dead. Now, you want to hang around and get some rest, or you runnin’ off on me?” 

“... I’d-... I’d welcome your office couch.”

“Good thing I got plenty of work to do here, then. I got an armoire to finish sanding and staining.”

“Have I ever mentioned you look far too gruff to use words like ‘armoire’?”

Jace laughed, brushing his black hair back off his forehead. “Probably, but thanks. Guess I’m full of surprises, eh?”

[asktheriftwalkers]

(( Here's psyche for iolar, someone, lin? alex?, got her into jrpgs lol )) Psyche sat down next to Iolar as if she had always known him. Her eyes are glued to a portable game screen and nothing could be heard but for the beeps from the game and the tinny background music. "Hey," she asked suddenly, eyes never leaving the screen. "Should I bring the thief or the rouge for this next fight?"

(( Who dared to teach the spacecats about JRPGs. Who thought this was a good idea. XDD ))

Staring down at a phone he was dismantling, the sudden appearance of the woman made him stop. He glanced to her out of the corner of his eye, suspicious of her intent, but focused his gaze back on a stubborn screw he could barely see. Her question made little sense, but he finally got a good grip on the screw with his tool. Remaining unmoving, he looked at her again, rather irritated.

She looked vaguely familiar. He narrowed his eyes at Psyche, but glanced to the screen of the handheld. Breathing out a sigh, he looked back to the phone, continuing to work on it as though nothing was wrong.

“... Thief. The thief has a better statistical spread than the rogue in this case.” Iolar muttered. “Though I suppose if you’re playing the game for a challenge, choosing the rogue would certainly make things harder. Why else would you ask someone who may or may not know nothing about your game on rather key choices?” 

[asktheriftwalkers]

(also some headcanons for iolar!) 💣 ✪ 💋

(( I mean the boi needs some tough questions so *shot* ))

💣: Did they ever get caught in a situation because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

Did you mean; Iolar’s entire life? *shot* Okay but now serious time. If you ever hear Iolar, Eva, or Jace mention a Budapest job- there’s a reason it’s code word for ‘everything went wrong’. Iolar in particular got roped into the Budapest job by being simply in the country when Eva called for help. He went immediately, but the job ended up in both him and Eva seriously injured, and each of them captured by police, a pissed off gang, and they barely managed to get out alive in the end. Now, it’s become an easy code for letting any of his inner circle know that things went wrong, or that someone is in serious trouble, without alerting anyone else to what is going on.

✪: Have they ever let a rare opportunity slip them by? 

Iolar rarely lets opportunities pass him by. Very rarely. At least-… in his professional life. In his personal life, he rarely falls for people. Due to his trust issues and the nature of his work, he keeps everyone at arm’s length. However, those in his inner circle, he has actually developed feelings for both his best friend, Jace, and his student / rival, Eva, in the past. He had a chance to actually make something with Eva, they both had a deep trust in each other and ended up spending a night together, but Iolar cut it off. He was afraid, and didn’t want to risk his friendship with her if things went wrong. Which, in his mind, things always went wrong when it came to him. Eva took it gracefully, and currently, Iolar simply views Eva and Jace as very close friends. 

Something still bothers him about letting everything go, some nights. Those are generally nights Iolar has more than his normal one glass of wine, and occasionally even switches to harder liquors. 

💋: Where did they have their first kiss? Do they remember who it was with? 

Iolar does remember his first kiss. It was back before his life went to hell, back in his sophomore year of high school. It was a boy who managed to convince him to join a book club with him, who had a rather large crush on Iolar at the time. He joined, spent a fair bit of time with him, but Iolar didn’t quite realize he wasn’t straight at the time. The boy kissed him in the boy’s bathroom, one where there was a fair bit of graffiti and a trash that needed to be changed. Iolar went home feeling confused, and ended up talking to his brother, Eli, about it. It was through that conversation that led Iolar to talk to the boy the next day, only to find out that the previous day was his last day at that school. He was moving out of the country with his family. Iolar struggled with it for a while, and ended up avoiding any thought of relationship until long into his adult life. Both for that reason, and because of the events with the gauntlet. He didn’t want to bring anyone in who would only get hurt because of him.

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle 8; It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Iolar wasn’t-... really a mentor.

Eva had demanded he train her, years back.

‘I want to learn from the best! You’re a legend, so teach me!’ 

He’d refused. He’d refused ten different times. Eva had persisted, so many times. She wouldn’t leave him alone. He could still recall the fury in his veins, the spilled coffee from her suddenly dropping in at random intervals, and how loud Jace laughed when she actually managed to surprise him.

‘Fine, I’ll teach you!’ 

The bright look on her face when he’d agreed. Then the moment he started actually training her.

He only saw frustration, anger, and occasionally pain after he started. Part of him had felt bad, truly, but slowly, she got better. She had a steep learning curve, but excelled once she got the hang of it. Iolar couldn’t think of a way he could’ve been prouder the moment he saw her get it, even if he’d had- a hard time showing it.

Jace always said that when they first met, he thought Iolar hated him. For a solid three years. Why, Iolar never quite understood, but when Jace had said it around Eva, she concurred. She thought he hated her too. 

He-... wasn’t that great of a mentor.

Which is why he wasn’t sure how to handle training Eloi.

Iolar watched Eloi get his bearings in the backyard to the haven. Iolar had started to turn it into a training yard, but his efforts thus far had been clearing it of obstacles and setting up a training rink. He had some padded flooring on order, but for now, it was just an dirt field that he’d cleared and leveled by hand. There were quite a few angry worms and insects from his actions, but that seriously implied Iolar cared.

Eloi kicked a bit of the dirt, walking the edges of the training ring, tracing it with his feet. Trying to figure out where it began and where it ended. Iolar gave him time. The boy still tended to struggle with his blindness, 

“... Ready?” Iolar called when Eloi finished his tracing. 

Eloi hesitated, looking up at him blindly. “... U-uhm... yeah... I think so.” Iolar did his best not to react.

The scars over his face were- severe. His eyes were both opaque, sightless, and it looked like a wild animal had gotten to him. Iolar felt badly for him. He wondered if Eloi- knew how obvious the scarring was. Everyone at the haven had known it was there, and managed their responses accordingly, but Eloi needed to be able to-...get out too. Get into the world.

“What are we-... gonna be doing?” Eloi fidgeted with his gauntlet, tracing the edges nervously. 

“First of all, I need to know where you are as far as fighting.” Iolar folded his arms, stepping into the dirt rink until he reached the center. “Only after I know that am I going to teach you anything about the shadows, or the Rift. I need to know you can handle yourself.”

The teen swallowed, before giving a nod. “... O-... okay.... How?”

“Attack me. Try to take me down. Try to kill me.” Iolar stared at him, his eyes hard. 

“K-kill you?” Eloi stammered, a bit of horror dawning on his face.

The reaction made Iolar question. Question if Eloi was truly ready for his training. Eloi seemed fragile, like trying to mold already set and cooled glass. The thief’s training wasn’t easy. It wasn’t delicate. Eva once quoted it as being ‘Like being tossed in a meat grinder and expected to run a marathon on the other side.’ 

“Yes.” Iolar stated simply, slowly glaring at him a little. The boy didn’t honestly think he’d hurt him, did he? Especially after having seen him fight Fletcher? Well... that wasn’t even much of a fight, now was it? He huffed, shaking his head. “I’m no stranger to fighting, Eloi. Don’t hold back.”

Eloi seemed nervous, still, but gave a small nod. He settled into a stance, taking a shaky breath, before rushing at him. He aimed a punch toward him, only for Iolar to catch his wrist and twist his arm, throwing him behind him with the teen’s momentum. Eloi yelped, starting to stumble, but catching himself. He gritted his teeth, before coming at Iolar again. 

Every blow the teen attempted, Iolar blocked one handedly, or stepped off to the side, letting the boy fall. The shock of his blows was fairly strong, but Iolar had faced far stronger opponents. He didn’t even need to do that much in order to absorb the shock. 

Honestly, Eloi wasn’t- half bad. But he was far too predictable. His movements were almost sloppy from his tension. He had a long way to go before Iolar felt confident in his fighting ability, but at least he knew something.

Iolar hadn’t really been fighting back this entire time.He finally rolled his eyes at Eloi’s charge and attempted kick. The thief caught Eloi’s leg. The teen yelped, trying to fight back, but Iolar’s grip was too much. Iolar threw him down to the ground. The thief heard the grunt of pain as Eloi landed. He laid there, stunned for a long moment. 

For a brief moment, he wondered if he actually had hurt the boy. Until he saw Eloi roll over to his back, his face simply set in a tired grimace.

“... You’re predictable.” Iolar drawled, almost bored. “It’s far too easy to see your movements, and frankly, you’re not that strong or fast either. You need a fair bit of training, especially if you expect to survive.” 

Eloi hesitated, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. He almost seemed distressed, but Iolar couldn’t place why.

“... O-okay... are we- going to do that today?” The teenager shifted, slowly sitting up and wincing slightly. Eloi pushed himself to stand, brushing the dirt off his t-shirt and jeans. Iolar could spot a couple scrapes on his arms from where he fell.

Iolar folded his arms over his chest, staring at Eloi. “... Yes. You have to get stronger if I’m going to take you into the Rift.” He straightened, watching the kid. “Loosen your stance.”

Eloi hesitated, but tried to take some of the tension out of his stance. But he was still- so incredibly tense. It was so unnatural for him to drop into a fighting stance. Iolar felt a prick of mild annoyance, sighing. Eloi tensed again, clenching his fists. 

Why the boy was struggling to grasp the concept was beyond Iolar. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t being trained as a thief anymore. He wouldn’t have been able to make the cut in the end. Thievery was a profession that people fell into for a handful of reasons. Most of them led to a lack of discipline. That was exactly what got all too many of them caught. Or killed.

The elder man huffed, shifting his own stance. “Just-... just watch.” He muttered, taking a deep breath. He slipped into an easy defensive stance, one of the many he knew by heart. His muscles were fairly relaxed, but alert, as though ready to spring away, but fluid, ready to react. 

He glanced to Eloi. The boy started to mimic the stance. He was still tense, but he- had the framework of it down. “No... you’ve got to relax.” Iolar sighed heavily. Eloi fidgeted, letting the stance slowly drop. 

Iolar could hear footsteps. Eloi tensed again, looking toward the house. The elder man followed his gaze, letting his stance drop. 

A teen only a couple years older than Eloi walked up with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was a mop of unruly brown curls, and behind rectangular glasses were warm brown eyes. He wore a plain, blue zip up hoodie, and jeans, but seemed rather at ease when he saw Iolar, giving a wave.

“... Chris. I wasn’t expecting you until much later.” 

Chris started to give a friendly, bright smile, before it faltered. He looked to Eloi, frowning a little. Iolar knew the thoughtful look the teen had. He got it whenever he was concerned about his little furball, the stray cat he rescued off the streets. Iolar never much cared for Rasmus, but he could admit the cat was intelligent, and it seemed to be good for Chris. 

It seemed pieces slowly clicked into place for the teen about what was going on. He fixed Iolar with a hard stare, gesturing for him to come over. 

Iolar frowned. “... Eloi, keep practicing.” He muttered, before stalking toward Chris. He tucked his thumbs in his pockets, following as Chris turned on his heel and walked about halfway back to the haven. The teen didn’t stop until they were out of earshot of Eloi.

The shorter teen turned to face Iolar, his normally gentle and warm brown eyes unusually sharp. “What are you doing to him?!” Chris signed, using his hands rather angrily at Iolar as he spoke. “He is on the verge of an anxiety attack!”

Iolar clenched his jaw, starting to speak. “I’m training him, Chris-.” 

“No, that is not training!” Chris glared at Iolar, his hands moving fast with his rather aggressive signing. “Can’t you see how fragile Eloi is?! He needs a gentle hand to guide him, not barking orders and demanding he do better!”

“I don’t know how else to train him!” Iolar snapped.

“Then step down! Tell Jace or Eva to teach him how to fight!” Chris almost snarled as he continued to sign. The sight honestly was intimidating. Iolar hadn’t seen him this angry in a long time, if- ever. The fire in his eyes reminded Iolar of arrows in flight; piercing and aimed with precision. “But you cannot have it both ways. You can’t be so aggressive and then tell me you don’t know how else to train him! You’re a thief! You’re self proclaimed master thief! Learn!!!”

Iolar stared at Chris for a long moment, hesitating. The teen was furious. The thief had always thought he had a soft heart, but it was clear right now that he also had an edge. Chris-... had a point. But-.... “How?” Iolar asked, glancing back toward Eloi for a moment. The boy had started to pace the dirt training ring, seeming really nervous as he seemed to try and walk himself through a couple fighting moves. 

The thief sighed, closing his eyes. “... Fine, if I’m-... not doing this properly, then what do you suggest?” 

Chris pursed his lips, before sighing softly. “... You take it slow. You ask questions, or watch his reactions. Don’t push him so hard, so fast.”

“... Chris, if he’s not up to par soon, he might die at the hands of the Rift. It’s not-... a gentle or slow place.” 

“Then you protect him. You teach him, and while he’s learning, you protect him with the knowledge you have.” Chris gave a small, pleading look as he signed. Desperate. “... From what you’ve told me, the voices in the Rift-... they get worse when you’re in a heightened emotional state, right?”

“...Yes.” 

“Then what do you think you’re doing to Eloi?” 

Silence fell for a long moment. 

Iolar took a deep breath, gathering himself. “... Fine, I’ll-... I’ll try.” He ran a hand down his face. He hated to admit it, but Chris was right. He had to be firm, but-... gentle, in some cases. He had to try and be- more attentive, he supposed. He sighed, looking back to Eloi. The teen had crouched down, nervously fidgeting with the dirt. When he spotted Chris starting to sign again out of the corner of his eye, he looked back to him.

“I’ll be with you. Just-... think back to how you felt when you were his age. When you first became a Rift Walker. He’s lost, and he’s scared. He’s-... only a little younger than I am. I know I’m not-... well, I’m not a fighter, but he’s not Eva or Jace. He needs a gentler hand.”

“... I know, Chris.” Iolar sighs, before shaking his head. “... Come on.”

Iolar started to walk back to the training area. The sun was starting to pass behind some clouds, making him grimace slightly. The moment he felt any rain, he was sending Chris into the house again. If Eloi was up to continue training, they would, but he wasn’t about to put Chris through that.

No, he still remembered meeting the teenager. 

Chris hadn’t changed that much over the last four years. He got a bit taller, but his mannerisms were much the same. He remembered how uncertain the boy was in communicating, passing written notes. The thief was caught off guard by how intelligent he was, truthfully. Even back then, he was one of the best inventors Iolar had ever met. He’d only gotten better with time and the resources Iolar had offered.

But the day he met him, it was storming. He remembered how frightened he was, curled up in a covered bus stop and trying to block out his ears. The soft whimpers had caught Iolar off guard. 

The thief had gently placed headphones over his ears, and turned his audio book to classical music. Iolar had stayed with the teenager until he got home. He didn’t learn why he feared storms until much later. Honestly... Iolar was surprised that Chris had ever said anything about it. Fears, regardless of their origins, needed to be respected. 

But it was hard to teach Eloi.

Iolar saw so much of himself in the boy. 

The teenager was about the same age as he was when he first received the gauntlet. He had fallen in with someone who he never should have. He was even training to be a thief. The difference was in the nature of their damage. Eloi shattered. Iolar lashed out. 

Had it not been for Jace, and later Eva, Iolar would’ve been dead. Not because of some job gone wrong, nor an assassination attempt, or anything of the sort. No... without them, things would’ve been very different. Like father, like son.

“Eloi.” The teen jumped at Iolar’s voice. Iolar kept his arms folded over his chest, a bit uncomfortable. “... This is Chris. Chris, this is Eloi.” 

The teen hesitated, but gave a small nod. “... O-okay. Hi, Chris.” He looked blindly toward the teen. Chris gave a small wave, smiling. Eloi seemed unsure of what to do with the lack of vocal greeting. “U-uhm....”

“Let’s get back to it.” Iolar shook his head. “... Eloi, how many times have you fought? Outside of training.”

“U-uhm....” 

“... Right.” Iolar sighed. Chris cleared his throat a little, shifting to sit at the edge of the dirt ring. 

The thief hesitated, grumbling a little before moving to pick up a dummy at the edge of the ring. He pulled it inside, setting it up in a pre-dug hole. It was filled with dead grass, the very same dead grass he cleared from the dirt ring, and stuffed inside an old leather jacket. The jacket had been Jace’s, but after several holes from- various activities, he’d surrendered it to the cause. 

“... I want you to fight against the dummy. I’ll correct where I need to.” Iolar stepped back to stand closer to Chris. The mute teen looked up at him, a bit approving of the sudden shift in tone. 

As Eloi moved to stand in front of the dummy, Iolar could hear Chris pull out something from his messenger bag. Iolar glanced down briefly, spotting one of the gloves he’d contracted Chris to make. His young inventor had made so many incarnations of these gloves until he found the design he did now. It was perfect blend of strong and discrete now, to cover and conceal the Rift Walker gauntlets.

This one was for Eloi.

Iolar looked back to the young teen, watching as he settled into a fighting stance. He frowned, keeping his mouth shut for the moment. Eloi threw a few punches, the dummy jarred from the force, but his movements were out of sync for his body. 

“Keep your arm straight when you punch.” Iolar called out, folding his arms. “And don’t forget your footwork. Go close, and back off.” 

Eloi made the corrections, rather well. It was slower, but at least he was making progress. But he seemed disjointed still, and Iolar could tell where his punches would land before Eloi even threw the punch. It was as though the fighting style simply didn’t work for Eloi. Yet again, from what little points he could see, it was a very-... visually based style. The teen seemed almost lost on the battlefield.

Iolar slowly tilted his head, watching closer. The pieces were slowly falling into place for him. Eloi had known how to fight, at least a bit. But due to losing his sight, he was lost. 

Chris was right. Eloi was trying his best, and Iolar had been treating it as though he didn’t know anything. 

He felt-... bad. 

The thief was brought out of his thoughts. Eloi tripped, stumbling and falling into the dummy. The teen gave a yelp of surprise. The dummy started to fall. Iolar could see a sharp piece of wood about to pierce the boy. 

Iolar bolted forward, reacting on instinct. He caught Eloi before he fell, letting the dummy fall to the ground. The elder man could feel Eloi trembling. Probably from the shock. He pulled Eloi back to his feet fully, letting him stand. 

“... You haven’t done any training since losing your sight, have you?”  Iolar asked, keeping his tone fairly calm as he took a step back.

Eloi shook his head, shaking. “I’m-... I’m s-sorry-, I-.”

“Don’t.” Iolar sighed. “... I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Eloi. So, I want you to forget everything you’ve learned about fighting right now. Fighting sightless is a completely different breed of animal.”

“... Th-then... what are- you going to do?”

“Teach you how to fight, sight or no sight.” Iolar turned on his heel, walking back to Chris. “... But not today. Chris, check the fit of the glove. I’ll be inside when you’re done.” He continued to walk toward the house, frowning.

Iolar needed a second to breathe, and to think. This all was striking a bit too close to home for him. He was-... tired. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris watched Iolar go. The teen sighed softly. The thief needed to learn how to talk to people, but especially about his feelings. Chris had known him long enough to tell when he needed a second, but-... his friend tended to run away more often than he faced anything. 

In many ways, Iolar was the bravest man Chris had ever met. In other ways... Iolar was as frightened or weak as anyone else. 

The teen turned to face the younger teen, giving another wave, before he realized something.

He... couldn’t speak. And Eloi- couldn’t see. 

Communicating was going to be a challenge, wasn’t it?

Chris grabbed his phone from his pocket, opening up a text-to-speech application. This was going to be the easiest option, at least for now. He typed out something, before letting his phone speak for him.

“Hello, my name is Chris. Iolar wanted me to see if this glove fits you. It helps to conceal and keep the gauntlet from shredding things.” 

Eloi blinked in surprise at the electronic voice. He visibly hesitated. “... Why-... does your voice sound-... weird?”

“I have to use my phone to speak. Unless you know sign language?” Chris typed, offering an awkward smile.

The younger teen shook his head. “Then are y-you... d-deaf? I-. I mean-. ... U-uhm... okay, so you have- a glove for me?”

Chris smiled warmly. “You’re fine, Eloi. I’m not deaf, but I cannot speak. So... I just do things a little differently. As for the glove, yup! May I give it to you, and help make sure it fits?”

Eloi hesitated again, before giving a small nod. He stepped closer, so Chris could hand him the glove. The inventor watched as Eloi slipped it on over the gauntlet. It completely covered the gilded artifact. Chris held up his hands briefly, before slowly moving to rest his hands on the glove, moving predictably so Eloi could tell what he was doing. 

It fit fairly decently, but it needed to be tightened down in some areas. Such small details were expected, but with it being somewhat larger, Eloi could grow into it. He tightened down the inner straps, making it snug and comfortable. He smiled after he was finished, looking to his phone again.

“I think that’s good. How does it feel?”

Eloi gave a small, nervous smile, feeling around the glove. “... Comfortable... and- and I won’t rip through it?”

“Nope. It’s the same design I use for Iolar, and while he’s broken more than a few of my gloves, it hasn’t been the gauntlet’s doing. More-... Iolar’s own doing.”

The younger teen gave a chuckle. “... K-kind of sounds like him. Is he- always reckless?” 

Chris hesitated, scratching the back of his head briefly. Well.... “Pretty frequently, yes. But if he wasn’t reckless, most of us wouldn’t be here. So... as much as we joke about it, he does what few others would.” 

Eloi seemed to understand. His smile faded, but he gave a small nod. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking toward the direction Iolar had disappeared. Chris wondered what was going through his mind. Eloi wasn’t-... that much younger than he was. He couldn’t imagine what going through all of this would-... do to someone.

“... Come on, let’s go inside. I’m kind of hungry, how about I make some sandwiches for lunch for us?” Chris gave a smile, uncaring that Eloi couldn’t truly see it. 

Spotting the jump Eloi gave, Chris felt bad for a moment. But he seemed to recover rather quickly. “I-... I don’t need-.... I mean- I’m a bit h-hu-.... But I’m- fine.”

Chris quirked a brow, before typing another response. “If I’m making one sandwich, I may as well make two. Come on, lets get some food, Eloi.” He turned to go back to the haven, not looking behind him. A few moments later, he heard footsteps behind him. Chris smiled softly. 

“... Th-... thanks....” 

“No problem.”

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 4 - Scars

(( Check tags for potential Trigger/Content Warnings for this chapter!!! ))

Iolar rushed back to the safehouse, the teenage boy in his arms. He knew he’d have some damage control to do with the dead Rift Walker, but right now-. Right now, the fact that the boy had the same wounds over his eyes that Iolar had once endured was at the forefront of his mind.

He opened the door, kicking it open fully to avoid accidentally hurting the boy worse. Only a few whimpers had escaped him in the entire run, causing a bit of worry to spark up in the thief. He kicked the door closed, hesitating and glancing down to the boy. He was in no state to go anywhere until he was recovered. He was still losing blood, and he didn’t know if that was the only place he was hurt. Iolar sighed, before walking to his guest bedroom and laying him down on the bed.

“Stay here. I’m going to go get the first aid kit. Try not to move too much.” Iolar advised, keeping his expression composed. He left the room quickly, making his way to the bathroom. 

Only once he closed the bathroom door did he allow himself a moment to breathe. 

He needed help. Iolar stared in the mirror, taking a few deep breaths in through his nose to calm himself down. He had to be detached for now, he had to be calm. Think of it like a job, like a heist. He pulled out his phone, staring down at it for a moment before dialing.

“... Brother? What’s up?” Jace’s somewhat sleepy voice came through after a couple rings. It lessened his nerves considerably.

“Jace, I need your help. A kid got hurt by a Rift Walker, one who’s mind was gone.” He took a breath, leaning down to get his first aid kit. “I’ll text you the address. It’s-... it’s not good, Jace.”

“Christ- alright, I’ll be there soon. How old is the kid?”

“He can’t be much older than fifteen. He was- hit over the eyes.” Iolar closed his eyes for a moment, standing and gripping the counter.

Jace went quiet for a moment. He let out a slow whistle. Iolar could see him scratching the stubble at his jaw in his mind’s eye. “... Poor kid. Need anything?”

“Clotting powder.” Iolar hung up, texting Jace the address of his safehouse, before dialing a number once more. It rang several times, before going to voicemail. 

“Hey, you know what to do.” Ishani’s recording spoke, before a beep sounded.

Iolar gritted his teeth, glaring down at the first aid kit. “Ishani, call me back as soon as you get this. I found another Rift Walker, and this one hurt a kid. The Rift Walker is dead, but the kid-... just call me.” 

He hung up again, before taking the first aid kit, a few towels, and walking back to the guest bedroom. The kid had curled up on the bed, whimpering softly. He seemed so young. Had Iolar looked like this when he was hurt? So much of that night was a blur. He shook it off, approaching the bed.

“Kid, I’m back.” His tone was a bit more gruff than it should’ve been as he set the first aid kit down on the nightstand. “I called a friend. He’s going to come and help. But for now, I need to get your cuts clean. Can you stretch out?”

The teenager tensed, but slowly complied. Iolar kept himself detached as he leaned down to start cleaning the wounds, ignoring the soft squeaks the boy gave in pain. He tried to ignore how much blood there was, focusing on the task at hand. He started to apply what little clotting powder he had with a rag, but the blood washed it away before long.

Iolar pressed down on the wounds, gritting his teeth. Jace needed to get here quicker.

It seemed like forever before he heard the door open. “Gypsy?” Jace called. 

“In here!” Iolar called back. 

Jace came into the room, a paper bag in his hands. He stopped in the doorway as he took in the scene. Iolar could swear he heard a soft swear uttered, under Jace’s breath, before he walked fully into the room. “What do you need, brother?”

“Help me get the wounds to clot.” Iolar ordered, looking back to the kid. 

Jace nodded, pulling out more clotting powder from the bag and starting to help, He offered a smile to the kid, even though he couldn’t see it. “... Hey, kiddo, my name is Jace. I’m gonna help as much as I can. What’s your name?”

Iolar glanced up awkwardly. He-... hadn’t asked the kid his name, had he? And this was why he didn’t deal with kids.

The boy shifted, biting back a whine in pain as they worked. “... El-... Eloi.” He softly whimpered.

“Eloi?” Jace asked, smiling slightly. “Nice to meet you, kiddo. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances.” 

“I-... I need to- l-leave.” Eloi whimpered a bit as Iolar pressed down on the cuts. 

“Hm? Kiddo, relax. You’re hurt pretty bad. Right now, focus on just getting better, okay?” Jace carded a hand gently through Eloi’s black hair, pulling it back from his face. He frowned a little, before slipping one of his large, calloused hands into one of Eloi’s. “Kiddo-, hey, Eloi. Listen to me, alright? Grip my hand however hard you need. Trust me, you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Iolar glanced up at Jace, staring at him a little. He didn’t quite understand how Jace developed his bedside manner, but-... he was thankful for the help. Eloi started to relax a bit more, gripping his friend’s hand tightly. Iolar could see his knuckles turn white from the tight grip.

It took them another hour before the cuts finally stabilized. 

That was the thing about the gauntlet, about the wounds it left. They never healed quickly, they bled for ages, and more often than not, they scarred. It was similar to the wounds from the shadows, in that way. Iolar had a new scar on his arm from when he first saw Ishani, though it was only one of many he had. Silently, he hoped that the cuts over Eloi’s eyes wouldn’t do what he feared. If there was any scar he could save another person from, it would be that.

Iolar finally bandaged Eloi’s face as gently as he could, frowning deeply. Eloi seemed exhausted, his grip waning on Jace’s hand. 

“... Hey, Eloi?” Jace spoke softly, like speaking to a frightened animal. “I’m gonna go talk with Iolar for a second, okay? I’ll be right back.”

The thief blinked at Jace, hesitating, but nodding. Eloi gave a weak nod, curling up a bit. Jace laid a light blanket over him, before shifting away from the bed. Iolar followed after him, out of the room. 

Jace closed the door behind him, looking up at Iolar briefly. He seemed to be about to say something, before he sighed, resting his hand on Iolar’s shoulder. He guided Iolar to the kitchen sink, turning the water on warm. “... Wash your hands, brother.” He spoke quietly, drawing Iolar’s attention to the blood on his hands. Right... he’d been the one to handle Eloi’s wounds the most.

Iolar gave a silent nod, moving to wash his hands silently. He scrubbed the glove that covered the gauntlet, thankful to Chris for how he made it waterproof. 

Silence fell between them until the water ran clear of red. 

“... Brother-....” Jace started, before hesitating, trailing off.

Glancing up to his friend, he saw the carpenter unable to look up at him. Iolar knew his friend a bit too well. He avoided eye contact when he feared people’s reaction. When he knew what he had to say wouldn’t be welcome. 

“... Iolar, the cuts are over his eyes-.”

“I know, Jace.” Iolar snapped.

“Iolar.” Jace’s voice was sharp as he looked back up at him. His dark green eyes were not as gentle or soft as they had been with Eloi, no- now, they had an anger to them. 

Iolar couldn’t find it in him to say anything.

“Eloi’s cuts are over his eyes. From what you’ve told me about how you got your gauntlet, from how out of sorts you are, do you honestly expect me to believe you haven’t thought of it? Of what might happen?” Jace grabbed a hand towel, thrusting his hand in Iolar’s direction violently. The thief took the towel numbly, drying his hands. “You know.”

“I- don’t know what to do, Jace-.”

“You help him.” Jace hissed. When Iolar looked away, he took his face in his hands and forced him to look at him. He so rarely saw Jace angry, it sent chills down his spine. “You help him. I see a scared and alone kid, someone who I think was broken long before today, and he needs help. You’re the only one that can help him.”

“You may be upset right now, you may be terrified of what this all may mean, but you’ve been dealing with this for so many years, Gypsy.” Jace lowered his hands, gritting his teeth and sighing. “... Pull yourself together. Comfort him, explain to him what is going on when you can. He’s just a kid, brother. He’s younger than you were, even. Just do it, for me, if you can’t do it for him.” 

Iolar stared at him, swallowing thickly. Jace knew him- too well. And he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. He sighed, feeling the tension rise in his shoulders. He couldn’t look at Jace, eyes closed as he spoke. “... Stay?” 

Jace only smiled, resting his hands on Iolar’s shoulders. “... If I was gonna leave, I’m pretty sure I would’ve done it when I first found out about all this Rift and shadow crap. But I’ve hung with you this long. Got the scars to prove it.” He laughed, making Iolar glance up.

He-... was a truly good friend. Maybe at one point, had things been different, they might’ve been more. But Iolar had long since given up on thoughts in that regard. 

Now what mattered was getting Eloi through the night.

Iolar set the rag he used to dry his hands down, walking to the door of the guest bedroom. He pokes his head in a little, but as he steps inside, he notices the steady rise and fall of Eloi’s chest. He trembled a little, but he was- asleep. Iolar sighed, running a hand down his face. That made things easier and harder all at the same time.

“... He’s asleep, Jace. How-... long can you stay?”

Jace stretched, offering a smile from the doorway. “... Til mornin’. It’s Jesse’s day off tomorrow, so I have to open the shop. Think it’ll be over before then?”

“It was for me.” Iolar sighed, looking at Jace with tired eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain was the first thing that greeted him. Eloi whined softly, shifting experimentally. Everything hurt, but the pain was focused on his face and hand. But the pain was slowly growing in his hand to match the pain at his eyes.

He gripped at something soft, trying to remember what had happened. Where was he? Why was there bandages over his eyes? Why did he hurt so much? He gripped the bedspread tighter. There was that man in the alley, the attack, and- that other man rescuing him. He was at his house, after he had bandaged him up. It took- forever to get the bleeding to stop. That was right.

“Eloi? You awake?” 

The voice made him jump. It was barely familiar, but after a second, he recognized it as the man who saved him. Iolar, his name was. And his friend, Jace. 

“... Y-yeah.” Eloi mumbled, shifting a bit. He winced, reaching up with the hand that didn’t hurt to feel over the bandages. 

“Don’t move too much, you were hurt pretty bad.” Iolar spoke, and the bed shifted as he sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Eloi hesitated, but decided to tell the truth. “... Hurting. My head hurts, and my hand. I- didn’t think I got hurt on my hand.

A long moment of silence fell, before he heard Iolar sigh. “... You got cut over your eyes. Your hand- I need to talk to you, Eloi.”

Eloi shifted to sit up, squeaking in pain a little and looking toward him, blind from the bandages. Suddenly, fear struck him. “How long have I been out?” He asked, shifting to find the edge of the bed. He had to- he had to go. He had to.

“About three hours. But Eloi- you can’t go just yet. For one, you’re still hurt, for two-.”

“I have to go, plea- ah!” Eloi doubled over, his hand exploding in pain. He gasped, falling back to the bed as he lets out a weak sob. “Ah- i-it... ow....” 

He felt hands on his shoulders, the touch gentle but firm. Iolar’s breathing was a bit shaky, barely perceptible, but just enough to notice. Eloi couldn’t hold back his shaking. It... caused Iolar’s grip on his shoulders to lessen, somewhat. 

“Eloi, I need you to listen to me.” Iolar’s voice was quieter this time, almost a trace of desperation to it. 

“... Wh-what did you-... what did you do to me?” Eloi choked out.

Iolar sighed, and the fabric of his pants shifting and his hands shifting ever so slightly as he knelt down. “Eloi, I didn’t do anything. I got the cuts over your eyes to stop bleeding, and you fell asleep.” He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “... It’s centered on your hand, right? The pain?”

The teen froze. Slowly, he nodded.

“That’s what I thought. What-... what do you remember about the man who attacked you?”

“... He- he kept mumbling things to himself. I- I don’t know what, but- he came at me. I- think he had something on his hand. It was- it was weird.” Eloi’s mouth felt dry. He shook, curling in on himself a bit. “... I-... I don’t-....” Everything else was a blur.

“You were attacked, Eloi.” Iolar’s slightly stern, matter of a fact voice almost seemed- soft for a moment. “... The man did have something on his hand. It’s called a gauntlet. He- he was something called a Rift Walker. And-... I’m one as well. He was overtaken by the Rift.”

“You- you knew him?” Eloi felt cold. He wanted to get away.

“No, I didn’t... truthfully, Eloi, I thought I was completely alone until recently. Then I met another Rift Walker, a woman named Ishani.” Iolar sighed, before removing his hands from Eloi’s shoulders. He could hear shifting, the sound of-... leather? “Eloi, could you hold out your hand? The one that doesn’t hurt?”

He hesitated, but complied, shivering with pain. Underneath his fingertips, he felt cool metal. There was intricacies to it that he could almost envision in his mind’s eye, etchings and the feeling of something mimicking ribs at Iolar’s forearm. And... small chains. Eloi could feel raised skin, like burn scars, in the holes of the metal. He let himself shift his hand a little toward Iolar’s hand, feeling a claw-like design on the back of his hand, and intricate rings and cuffs at his fingers. Only once he started to make his way toward the tips of Iolar’s fingers did he feel a hand on his, stopping him.

“... It’s sharp.” Iolar cautioned, but he could sense tension in his voice. Iolar’s hand dropped from Eloi’s touch, causing him to curl back in on himself. “... Eloi... the reason your hand hurts is because- a gauntlet is forming on your hand. It’s going to hurt. More than- anything. But you need to... to push through it. I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll explain- everything in due time, but for now... please. Just listen?”

“... Am-... am I going to turn up like that man?” Eloi felt small. Like he couldn’t possibly-... fight through this. He trembled a bit more. “And-... and how? How can a gauntlet- form?”

“You’re not going to, not on my watch.” Iolar spoke sternly, but hesitated at the other question. “... I’m afraid I don’t know how it forms. Or- why. But I know it does. And I know people can make it through it.”

The door to the room creaked, making Eloi jump. He looked blindly in the direction, trembling. 

“Hey kiddo, sorry to startle you.” Iolar’s friend’s voice spoke-... Jace. He was- kind. Eloi’s tension faded a little. “... Just wanted to check on everyone. Need some water?”

Eloi could barely move, but- he was so thirsty. All he could taste was iron. He slowly nodded, before shifting back on the bed. He didn’t know if he believed Iolar, but he knew his hand hurt. A lot. And Iolar seemed- to at least have authority on the things he spoke. He was sure of some things, no matter how fantastical they seemed.

Jace brought him water, but after a bit, Eloi could no longer drink it. The pain was becoming more and more intense. Before long, all he could do was curl up on the bed, feeling sobs choke his throat as he shook. The pain went down to the bone, like his flesh was stripped away and dipped in molten steel. He whimpered, gripping at the bed with his spare hand. 

He could hear Jace in the room, and almost something akin to the mumble most did when mouthing words. A few moments later, he felt Iolar’s hand in his spare one. 

“... Grip as tight as you need to.” Iolar spoke quietly, almost uncertainly.

Eloi tried to swallow a sob, but the hand- was a strange comfort. He nodded slowly, shaking. 

It took so long, the pain ebbing and flowing. He could feel metal pierce his skin, but- not from the outside. No, it-... it felt like it came from inside. Eloi was exhausted from all of the pain, everything, he could barely keep himself conscious as the pain started to ebb. This time, it finally didn’t return. 

Iolar squeezed his hand gently. “... How are you doing?”

“... It-... doesn’t hurt as much.” Eloi barely managed a whisper. “... It’s-... still throbbing, but-....” 

“You’ve gotten through the worst of it, Eloi. But I have to talk to you about what happens next.”

“... Next?”

“You might start- to hear things. Things that aren’t quite human.” Iolar hesitated. “... I need you to promise me that you won’t listen. No matter what they say to you, it’s all lies. It’s meant to get under your skin, to weaken you. Just-... tune them out, okay?”

Eloi could barely process the words, but gave a small nod. Hoping that Iolar would leave him be to rest now. He felt Iolar’s hand slip from his as he drifted off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iolar only let out a breath when he saw the steady rise and fall of Eloi’s chest. He ran a hand down his face, absolutely exhausted. It was almost harder to be on the supportive side of a forming gauntlet. Pain was one thing, but seeing someone unable to even speak for pain-... well, no one could be completely detached. 

“... Well... he made it, brother.” Jace spoke quietly as to not wake Eloi.

“... Yeah.”

Jace looked at him, his eyes tired, but still alert. “What happens next?”

“What do you mean?” Iolar shifted back from the bed, standing and stretching. He felt the blood drain from his head for a moment, before the world righted itself again.

“The kid has a gauntlet. Seems like a sign that you and Ishani should take him in. Teach him what you know about the gauntlet, how the Rift works. Stuff you wished you could’ve known back then.” 

Iolar turned to look at Jace, before Eloi gave a soft whimper in his sleep. His voice faltered, looking back at the sleeping teen for a moment as he gathered himself. “... I’m not good with kids, Jace.”

“... And I’m not good with my friends running to near death experiences, but guess what, we deal.” Jace sighed, approaching Iolar. “... You saw how he clung to your hand. He needs someone there for him.”

“And if he doesn’t want someone?”

“Then he needs someone, Gypsy.” Jace gave him a look. “Like how you need someone occasionally.” The carpenter sighed, shaking his head. “... Listen, I’m gonna head home so I can get a couple hours of sleep and a shower before opening the shop. Just-... talk to him about it when he wakes up.”

“I don’t even know if he has family, Jace.” Iolar snapped quietly.

“Then you talk to him, find out. I’m sure the family would prefer their son has someone who knows what’s going on with him.” Jace stepped out of the room, and Iolar followed. “But I am gonna head off. Not as young as I used to be, Gypsy. Sleepless nights kick my butt.” He offers a tired smile, clapping a hand on Iolar’s shoulder.

“... Good night, Jace.” 

“You get some rest too, okay?”

“I’ll-... try.”

As Jace left, Iolar watched. He was too tired to truly process anything that had happened. Not only was he not alone, he-... now had a teenager he didn’t know how to take care of. And he didn’t know if said teenager had parents who would be missing him. The thief groaned, walking to the couch and letting himself fall on it. It didn’t take long before he fell into a light dose.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Iolar woke to the sun on his face, making him grimace. He blearily opened his eyes, silently cursing the giant orb in the sky as he woke. Slowly, he got up, on autopilot to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee and start thinking about food for breakfast. 

Then the events of the previous night came flooding back. 

He nearly dropped his coffee mug. Eloi. He set it down on the counter, walking to the guest bedroom. The thief shifted the door a bit to peer inside, to check if he was awake or not-.

But the only thing that greeted him was an empty bed.

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 3 - Lost and Found

Drip.... Drip.... Drip....

The thief twitched with each drop. He had found a bowl to place under the leak in the roof, but he was quickly becoming impossibly annoyed with this safehouse. He could tune out bombs, gunfire, club music, and loud neighbors, but a constant drip- now that just got on his nerves. 

Eventually, he crawled up into the attic to try and find the source. Once one hung around Jace enough, they tended to pick up a few things about home improvement and repairs. Shining a flashlight around the attic as he crawled over the rafters, he grumbled irritably at a raindrop hitting his nose. 

Ishani had become a strange commonality to his life recently. The thief didn’t know what to think of her, but the more times he’d spoken to her, he was convinced she wasn’t crazy. No, in fact, she made a certain degree of sense, especially when it came to the Rift. It wasn’t that Iolar minded differences of opinion, but most people tended to be rather irritating to debate with. If they couldn’t keep up with him, he tended to walk away rather than try to teach them enough to be able to discuss the opinion. But Ishani....

Well, his fellow Rift Walker was intelligent. When he challenged her viewpoints on the Rift, on the shadows, she could back them up. She acknowledged the danger of the Rift, but seemed to be able to use it more- effortlessly than him. Even still, she seemed more interested in her research than anything else. He left her to it, and the few times he’d visited her, he found it interesting to glance over her notes and the artifacts she’d recovered. 

The ruins she had sketched out in her journals interested him, old buildings and structures that had long since started to deteriorate in the Rift. He couldn’t see a full culture, no, but he could see that- people used to use the Rift a lot more frequently than they did currently. The original Rift Walkers had to be more- sturdy than their modern counterparts. More able to withstand the Rift. 

‘Or the Rift changed.’ Ishani had pointed out during one of their phone calls.

He didn’t have a response at the moment to that statement. Of course things changed, but the Rift seemed to be immutable since he’d known it. Yet again, the Rift seemed to be around for many millennia. Fifteen years was nothing compared to thousands of years.

Iolar could see the wisdom in some of what she said, but other things just seemed like youthful indiscretions. She had had the Rift for about as long as him, but she was younger. Had more optimism than he did about the true nature of the Rift. He hadn’t mentioned the reasons why he hated the Rift, why he believed it a danger. No, some things were a bit too personal to share with someone he’d known for only a handful of weeks.

The memories still visited him in his sleep some days. He would deny it if anyone questioned him. He would blame the cold sweat at his brow on a too warm room, or the yells or whimpers on anything he could. Some days, he could still see the light in those eyes disappear, replaced by a manic haze. Those eyes he knew so well, the warm brown eyes that once comforted him when he’d had nightmares. Now those eyes were the source of his night terrors. 

Shaking off the cold feeling, Iolar spotted a few places in the roof that needed to be patched up. He didn’t have the supplies down in the safehouse, but he had spotted a hardware store a few blocks away. 

It would be good to get out for a bit, despite the rain.

Iolar sighed, crawling down to get out of the attic as thunder rolled outside. He pulled on a coat, gathering what he needed, including an umbrella. As he was about to step out of the safehouse, he felt his phone vibrate with a call. He blinked, pulling it out to glance at the caller ID. Chris? What was he doing calling?

Answering it, he pressed his phone to his ear as he slipped out of the door, closing it behind him. “A call, not a text? Is everything alright?” He waited for the familiar taps on the other end of the line, one for yes or two for no.

“Everything’s alright, Iolar. I just thought to test this out.” An electronic voice greeted him instead, a voice synthesizer of sorts. Iolar blinked in surprise as he opened his umbrella. “And before you ask, the sky is clear. It’s me.”

Iolar couldn’t help a faint smile, knowing no one would see it. “... So did you program the synthesizer, or find it?”

“A bit of both. I borrowed a bit of code from a classmate, but personalized it.” Chris responded. “But I was wanting to talk to you. We haven’t spoken much since the new Rift Walker came on scene. How have you been?”

“I’m good, Chris. Ishani is- challenging, but she does have a lot of good information.” He stepped out into the rain, thankful it wasn’t too windy. “But it is a bit stormy out, are you sure you want to talk now?”

“I’m fine for now. Does she need a glove?”

Iolar thought for a moment, furrowing his brow. “I... haven’t asked her yet. Is that an offer?”

The sound of shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line, before a meow sounded. The thief could only imagine the sort of trouble the once-stray kitten Chris had adopted was getting into. Rasmus liked to mess with his gadgets, but Chris still did adore the fleabag. The electronic voice finally sounded again. “Sorry, that was Rasmus. It is an offer, actually. But I’d have to meet her, or have you take detailed hand measurements and style requests. Want to learn glovemaking?”

“If it means keeping you safe, I’ll manage. Your mother will have my hide if you get hurt.” Iolar feared few people, but Cameron spoke volumes to how terrifying a mother could get when her child was threatened. “I’ll ask her. Ishani seems to deal with the gauntlet better than I do, but she still may like one of your gloves.”

“I do try to make them good quality.” 

“Chris, they’re the best. There aren’t many designs that can handle the edges of the gauntlet and still look somewhat decent. You improve with each design. That goes for your tech as well.” 

There was a brief silence over the line, before the voice sounded again. “... Thank you, Iolar. Midterms got me a bit down recently.”

“If you need more time off, I can-.”

“No, I’m fine, Iolar. Besides... who else will make sure everyone gets home safe? Don’t worry too much.”

Iolar rolled his eyes. “... Can’t help-... it.” He trailed off as a noise caught his attention. He slowed his pace to a stop, turning toward an alley. “... Chris, I’ll call you back later.” 

“Do you need me to contact Jace or Eva?”

“I can handle it.” He hung up, stashing his phone and listening closely.

A yelp, followed by voices. Two sets. One seemed almost incoherent, the other was- panicked. Fearful. 

“Pl-please, d-don’t come near me!” 

“Like-... like us. Like us. Shadows, shadows call.” 

Iolar tensed. 

Memories came back, of a night fifteen years prior in his life. The night it all truly began. That man- he spoke such similar words. His tone was such a similar pitch, tone, everything. It was almost identical. Another- Rift Walker. And the other voice-.

He closed his umbrella, sprinting into the alleyway. Rain hit his face and his feet splashed in a few dirty puddles, but he was focused on only one thing. 

A boy was pinned against the wall of the alleyway, struggling against an older man. The man’s eyes were wild, crazed, and he lashed out against the boy with one hand, something metallic glinting off it. Iolar recognized it immediately as a gauntlet. The boy shoved against the man, but he was tackled to the ground. The man lashed out suddenly, shouting. The shout nearly drowned out the yell of pain from the boy. 

Iolar closed in on them rapidly, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him off of the boy. He threw the man against the wall, clasping his hands around his closed umbrella to offer some form of visible deterrent. 

The man jolted when he hit the wall, looking up sharply at Iolar with those same wild eyes. The thief couldn’t resist a chill that went up his spine. All of a sudden, he felt like he was a teenager again, on that night. But he shoved the feeling aside, steeling himself. No, he was no defenseless kid anymore. He tightened his grip on the umbrella as the man lunged for him.

The gauntlet lashed out and slashed through the fabric of the umbrella effortlessly, but Iolar used the momentum the man had to jab at him. He stunned him with a jab to the throat, before sweeping his umbrella to rap at his knees. The man was forced to kneel, and Iolar hit him upside the head, hard. The man fell to the ground, eyes open as he stared up at Iolar blankly.

His mind was gone, that much Iolar knew.

Just as Iolar was about to move to check on the boy, the man jolted. Iolar jumped back a bit as he lunged for him again, a crazed smile at his lips and a darkness at the edge of his eyes. Iolar could see a shadow surrounding his soul in the Rift, the colors of his soul obscured.

Possession, what next?

Iolar gritted his teeth, before tossing aside his umbrella and lunging for the man. He was gone, the thief reminded himself as he gripped the man’s hair. He was already dead. The man clawed at his arm, the sparking pain barely registering in the moment. Iolar forced himself not to think about what he did as he slammed the man’s head sharply into the concrete.

He finally let the man’s head go, closing his eyes for a moment to pull himself together. A whimper brought him back to the present.

The thief opened his eyes. The boy. He looked to the small form of the teenaged boy, curled up tightly in the fetal position and whimpering from pain. Blood glinted off his face and hands.

Iolar stood, walking over cautiously and kneeling beside the boy. He had a curly mop of black hair, slowly getting matted by blood. His dark skin had wet blood all over it. The thief hesitated, but rested a hand at the boy’s shoulder. The boy froze, gasping in anticipation of pain. But he slowly unwound as no pain came.

“... W-who are you?” He whispered.

The thief leaned down, keeping his hand where it was. There were cuts over his eyes from the man’s gauntlet. Just like- his own. Just like Ishani’s. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “... I’m a friend. My name is Iolar. I need to take a look at your eyes, can you move?”

“What a-a-abo-ut-...?”

“The man has been taken care of. You’re safe.”

The boy whimpered again, but slowly nodded. He shifted his head so his face was more visible. Iolar looked down at him. The cuts bled profusely, and yes, cut over both eyes. The thief swallowed his own unease.

“... Alright, you need medical attention. Let me bring you back to my place, I can help you there. No questions from doctors, no hospital fees. I’m- familiar with these wounds. You need help.” 

“B-but... I c-can’t-....” The boy whimpered again, his hand grasping at the air desperately. It finally found purchase on his vest, gripping there tightly. “... I- I have t-to get- get back.”

Get back? Back where? What was so important that he would disregard such a serious injury? 

“Kid, I don’t know where you need to go, but you’re bleeding. A lot. You need the bleeding to stop before you do anything, and I can’t do that here.” Iolar paused, before resting a hand on the boy’s hand, staring down at him. Something- something about him rang familiar, but-. “... I can carry you back to my house. It’s not far.”

The boy didn’t respond verbally, but a choked sob escaped him at the pain. He slowly nodded, shifting faintly closer to Iolar. The thief sighed softly in exasperation, but moved to slip his hands under the boy. He pulled him close to his chest, standing. He was- lighter than Iolar expected, but yet again, he seemed rather small. He couldn’t be older than about sixteen, but even for that age, he was- thin. Small. 

Iolar tightened his grip on the boy, leaving the alleyway at a fast, but steady pace. 

He had to contact Ishani, but first- he had to get back home. The boy desperately needed medical attention, and the amount of blood he had already lost was alarming, to say the least. 

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 2 - Traces of Shadows

It’d been a week since the heist.

Iolar couldn’t get the woman in the Rift out of his mind. He’d stayed with Jace for a few days, before heading off to a safehouse to clear his head. It happened to be an old clock tower that long since stopped working. Honestly, the gears and old mechanics calmed him, trying to make them work once more. He could think things through clearly while his hands were moving.

Clad in a plain black tank top that showed all too many of his scars, he kept the cut Jace patched up covered and clean while he worked. After two sleepless nights of work, he finally gave in to his newfound obsession.

Grabbing a sketchbook and a few pens and pencils, he took his time and sketched a portrait of the woman in as clear detail as he could.

The woman had had lightly tanned skin and an angular face. Her jaw was prominent, her face long, her eyes slightly hooded and deep set. Her hair was harder, but long enough to be pinned back in a braided bun. All in all, she was beautiful in her own right, but Iolar wasn’t caring much for her beauty.

What he wanted to know was her identity.

So, he booted up his laptop, hacking into the DMV database to see if he got any matches for his sketch. He received a handful of them, and started scrolling through the potential hits. He didn’t linger long on all too many of them.

But one made him stop short. A woman, with a long, four pronged scar over her right eye, leaving it blinded, but her left eye was a cobalt blue. Her hair was silver, parted to cover some of the scars, but starlight silver despite her young age. Glasses framed her face, but she didn’t wear them when he saw her in the Rift.

Ishani Gloswell.

Iolar stared at her scar, instinctively raising a hand to feel his own facial scars. Over his left eye, deep, four pronged scars were present, cutting from his brow to below his jaw. The memories they brought caused a cold feeling to wash over him, a phantom pain aching in his gauntleted hand and his eye. The origin of the artifact, and what brought the Rift crashing in on him.

He pulled out his phone, speed dialing and holding the phone up to his ear. The moment he heard it picked up, he fidgeted. “Eva. I need to cash in a favor.”

“Eh? Alright, Iolar, what’s up? Is it a job?”

“I need you to help me track someone down.” He tapped his finger against his laptop, staring off into the inner workings of the clock tower. “Her name is Ishani Gloswell.”

“Huh, a woman?” Eva’s curiosity was apparent even over the phone. A curiosity Iolar knew all too well.

“Eva.” He spoke warningly.

She laughed, her smile apparent from her voice. “... Alright, alright, I’ll track her down. Though I gotta ask, what’s the significance?”

“... I think she might be like me.” Iolar stood, wandering to a ladder to get up into the inner workings of the tower, climbing.

“Like you? A thief?”

Iolar rested against a support beam, picking at a large splinter of wood. “... No. I think that- I saw her in the Rift.”

Silence came over the line.

“... Eva?”

She let out a breath. “You’re not kidding, are you? You think she’s a Rift Walker?”

“Yes.” 

“... Well then, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll give you a call back when I find something.” She hesitated. “And Iolar? Try and get some rest. I know that tone. When was the last time you slept?”

“....”

“That’s what I thought. Get some sleep, turn up your phone volume, I’ll call you as soon as I have something.” 

“... Fine. Call me.” He spoke curtly, hanging up. Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand down his face. He was tired, but nervous energy pricked at him. The thief crawled back down to where he had a hammock hanging above his work space. Turning up his phone volume, he set it down and laid down to try and get some rest. Eva was more than capable. She would find Ishani if she could be found.

-------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long before he had a solid lead. Ishani had been rather hard to track down, according to Eva. She only occasionally used her real name, and had a number of aliases. It took some of her connections in the underground to realize that Ishani was a fence of sorts by the name of Shadow, specializing in old artifacts. She bought and sold, but seemed to have an odd liking for things that were completely unidentified when it came to culture or origin.

Between Iolar and Eva, they tracked her down to a safehouse down by a pier. It was a new development, just waiting for new tenants. 

“Are you sure you don’t want some backup, brother?” Jace’s voice came over the phone.

Iolar sighed. “Jace, I appreciate it, but no. I don’t want to spook her if I can help it. Besides, don’t you have some end tables or a coffee table to deliver?”

“First of all, it’s a dining room table, and second of all-... you’re already there, aren’t you?” 

The thief hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket as he looked at the condo door. Well, here went nothing. Iolar stepped up to knock on the door, straightening. 

At first, it was silent, then he heard rustling from inside. Then silence again.

He quirked a brow, glancing around before leaning up and rapping on the door again.

More rustling, before he heard footsteps. The door cracked open, a chain keeping it from opening fully. A cobalt eye narrowed at him in the opening, a silver brow quirking. “... Who are you?”

“... Someone who saw you in the Rift. That half world with the shadows?” He didn’t back down, staring her down.

Ishani blinked, staring at him for a long moment before closing the door. He heard the chain drop, before she opened the door wider. She was shorter than him by a fair bit, wearing plain jeans and a loose, gray shirt. Her silver hair was down, meeting her waist, and seemed a bit mussed.

“... You know about the Rift?”

“I know more than that, Ishani. Or do you prefer Shadow?” He raised his gloved hand, holding it up as he watched her reaction.

She stared at him, her eyes widening a bit. She held up her own hand, a fingerless cloth glove going up her arm, but sharp metallic tips from a gauntlet were at the tips of her fingers, chains connecting to the hidden parts underneath the glove. But it was unmistakably similar to what was on his own hand. “... You’re-... one of them? Someone like me?”

“A Rift Walker? Yes.” Iolar swallowed his nerves, straightening and gesturing to the inside of the condo. “May I come in?” 

Ishani grinned. “Yeah, yeah, you can!” She stepped back, giving him space to freely enter as she went further into the condo. “I can’t believe this, another Rift Walker. You have a gauntlet? You can go into the Rift? Have you learned to control the shadows at all? What about ruins, have you found any?” 

Iolar felt his mind buzzing a bit from all the questions as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Slow down.” He closed his eyes, rubbing them with his free hand. “... Yes, I have a gauntlet, but- the rest of all that? What are you talking about?”

The woman turned to face him, blinking briefly before chuckling. She tied her hair back into a messy bun, gesturing for Iolar to follow her as she moved to a rather messy table. Iolar narrowed his eyes, examining the contents. There were artifacts on the table, as well as a few open notebooks with a hasty scrawl, and one with slightly neater handwriting, as though compiling the data.

“... What is all this?” Iolar asked, gingerly picking up one of the artifacts, a tablet of sorts. 

Ishani smirked, leaning against the table. “Proof that the Rift Walkers existed a long time ago. Proof that we are far from the first of our kind.”

Iolar examined the tablet closer. He could see a faint depiction of a shadow and a humanoid figure, as well as an ancient language he couldn’t quite identify. It was too faded. “... Controlling the shadows?” He questioned quietly.

“That’s what I think.” She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes sparkling a bit. “Hear me out, okay? The Rift Walkers and the shadows have been connected for longer than I can extrapolate. Most are hostile, yes, but have you noticed some seem to be more- curious about us than anything? It reminds me of feral animals, like they could be domesticated.”

“Domesticated?” Iolar turned to stare at her. “You’re insane. They’re a danger, not only to us, but to humanity.” 

“Some of them, yes, but so are feral animals. If they’re scared, or hungry.” 

The thief shook his head, setting down the tablet carefully before folding his arms over his head. “Okay, say you’re not absolutely insane. How do you find these artifacts?”

“Most of them are in the Rift, some of them I’ve found in the human world.” Ishani shrugged. “I’ve always had a passion for archaeology, and honestly? Seeking out answers to something that no one had even heard of? How could I pass that up?”

Iolar narrowed his eyes. It made sense, despite her- questionable views. From the sounds of it, she spent more time in the Rift than he did. He didn’t envy that. 

“Could I see your gauntlet?” Ishani leaned closer, her eyes bright.

Stunned, he recoiled a bit from her as he stared at her. Hesitating for a long moment, Ishani stepped back and and scratched her head with a nervous laugh. “Ah... sorry. I haven’t even asked you your name. I guess I’m just- excited, to meet someone who actually understands what I’ve been studying for so long.”

He let himself breathe again, staring her down with a calculating expression. “... I would be lying to say I’m not interested as well, to meet another Rift Walker.” He held out a hand. “I go by Iolar.”

“Go by- wait. The Iolar?” Ishani blinked, looking up at him. “Like- the legend, Iolar? You’re kidding, right? Everyone I’ve talked to said Iolar was- a group of people.”

“I assure you, I’m Iolar. Though that isn’t to say I don’t have contacts, just as any thief.” Iolar faintly smirked at the reaction.

Ishani chuckled. “Well- wow. I guess that explains a few of the legends of how you escaped from some of the hairier situations. I guess that also explains how you found me.” She smiled a bit, pulling a card from a messenger bag on the table and holding it out. “But just so you don’t have to commit any other major felonies to contact me, here.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jace had been concerned when he didn’t hear back from Iolar for a few hours. He did his best to focus on his work, delivering some of his creations to their new owners, but when he drove back to the shop, he couldn’t help but sigh as he slipped in.

“Ey, Jesse, I’m back!” He called, slipping his keys back in his pocket.

“Hey, your friend showed up. He’s in your office.” He heard his friend call back from the inner workings of the shop. Jesse appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as he dusted off his hands. His hair was held back by a bandana, wearing a tank top and a rolled up flannel, covered in sawdust.

Friend? It had to be either Iolar or Eva. Jace nodded. “Alright, thanks, brother. How’s the dresser set coming along?”

“Slow. I have everything marked out and measured, but some of the mortises are giving me some problems when I’m cutting them.”

“Huh... alrigh’. Well, you can move on to the other cuts if you need to, I’ll come to help out as soon as I can.” He gave a smile, moving to head back into his office. He checked his phone briefly on his way, noticing a text from Eva. He opened it as he slipped into his office.

‘Hear anything from Iolar yet? He seemed really excited to go see that Ishani chick. Well... as excited as he gets.’

Jace glanced up to see Iolar laying down on his couch, plain as day. The carpenter chuckled, shaking his head and quickly typing a response to Eva. ‘He just showed up in my office.’ He sent the text, before glancing to Iolar as he moved to lean against his desk. “... So? How’d it go?”

Iolar looked up. He certainly looked a bit haggard, almost older than usual, his silver-white hair left without a tie and thus hung loosely around his face. His dark skin seemed paler than normal, as though he hadn’t slept in a few days, and even his normally sharp attire of a button up with the sleeves rolled up, suit vest, and professional looking jeans seemed mussed. The thief sighed, running a hand down his face.

“... She’s-... certainly open to the idea of there being other Rift Walkers.”

“That’s a good sign, yeah?” Jace probed, folding his arms over his chest.

“... She thinks the shadows can be tamed. Or at very least coexisted with.” Iolar looked up at him with his sharp, ice blue eye, the other blinded and cloudy since before Jace ever met him. “I don’t like her. But she’s smart, almost ridiculously so. Where I’m a thief and a fighter- she seems to be an archaeologist. A researcher. It’s like she’s studying the Rift, trying to understand it. I’m not-... sure how to think of that.”

Jace blinked, watching Iolar closely. “... So essentially, super smart, but otherwise, your complete opposite?”

The thief stood to pace around Jace’s office, tension in his gait. Jace stayed were he was as Iolar started speaking. “It’s not that I don’t want to understand the Rift, or the shadows, but it’s dangerous. The shadows are hostile, so I tried to limit my exposure. The only thing I knew was that the Rift was dangerous, hostile, so- what was I supposed to do? Be friendly with it?” The more his friend spoke, the more worked up he seemed to get. 

“But she seems to spend a lot of time in the Rift. Could that mean she’s crazy? Or at least partially? Should I even trust her?” Iolar turned to face Jace. The carpenter knew his friend rarely showed trace of what he was truly feeling, but the confusion he saw on his friends face seemed genuine.

Jace stepped forward, resting a hand at Iolar’s shoulder. “... Gypsy, you met her once. First impressions are hard, sure, but can you imagine a single person who wouldn’t go a bit nuts from the Rift? Hell, even you have. Or did you choose to become a thief for the nifty aesthetic?” 

“Come on, brother. She didn’t attack. If she’s coherent enough to create research that impresses you, she might be a few marbles short, but she’s at least as sane as you.” Jace smiled, watching Iolar’s face scrunch up a bit in irritation. There was a bit of the old prickly thief he knew. “Besides... Iolar, you’ve talked about how you’re the only one of your kind since I’ve known you. You never had a chance to even figure anything out about the Rift Walkers, because you were the only one. Now, you have a chance to change that. Why not take advantage of it?”

Iolar sighed, brushing Jace’s hand off of his shoulder and looking away. “... Jace-....”

“... Go on, you can say it. ‘You’re right, Jace.’ ‘Thank you, Jace.’ ‘You’re such a good friend, Jace.’“ The carpenter teased, smirking. He couldn’t help but prod, shoving his own feelings aside for the moment. His friend needed someone to be strong for the moment.

The thief gave a sharp look, but took a deep breath after a moment, closing his eyes. “... I’ll-... think about it.” He took a step back, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “... I’ll be on my phone if you need me.”

“... Ya gonna get your hair cut soon? Or taking after me now? I bet you could rock a braid.” Jace chuckled.

“Lost my hair tie. And I- don’t know. It’s not too bad with it- longer.” Iolar shrugged, glancing back at Jace as the carpenter pulled a tie off his wrist, from under his watch. He held it out with a smile. 

“... Should’ve just asked, brother. Go on, then. Just try and get some rest before I see you next, eh?” Jace offered, watching Iolar take the hair tie and tie his hair back in a low ponytail. 

The thief nodded, not quite able to look up at him. “... Thanks, Jace. Really.” 

He turned to leave, and Jace was left leaning against his desk. The carpenter sighed deeply, before a chime from his phone caught his attention. Eva. Feeling a little lighter, he pulled out his phone to look at the text.

‘Well, at least he’s alive. Let me know what’s going on when you get a chance, okay?’

Jace smiled a bit, starting to type a text before deleting it, hitting the call button instead. “... Hey, how’re you?”

“Still rolling, how about you? Did Iolar just leave?”

“Right on the nose there, Eva.” Jace chuckled, before letting out a breath. “... Ahh... I’m alright. Gypsy needed a therapy session. He seems pretty uncertain about the whole Ishani debacle.”

“You sound pretty tired.”

“I just wish that Iolar would see a bit further than the end of his own nose sometimes.” Jace admitted, moving to sit in his chair. “... For a genius, he can be really dense.”

Eva laughed a little. “Isn’t that part of being a genius, Jace? Their brains have to be a bit dense so that they can hold all the genius?”

Jace hummed, chuckling. “... Mm, if that’s the case, Iolar’s off the charts. Anyways... how’s England? Enjoying yourself over there with tea time and crumpets?”

“Oh hush. You’ve just never had a good crumpet before.”

“That’s true. Maybe one day you could help me fix that, eh?”

“You’re on.”

[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 5 - The Cost of Justice

(( Check tags for Content Warnings in this chapter! ))

Since the moment Eloi disappeared, Iolar had set to finding him. It started off as a mild concern, merely wanting to ensure he wasn’t in danger from the Rift. However, as days turned to a week, he had grown quite- worried.

The fact was, ‘Eloi’ wasn’t a birth name. It was more of a moniker, similar to how ‘Iolar’ wasn’t his own name. It was one he vastly preferred, both for the protection of what remained of his family, and simply for the way it rolled off the tongue. He wondered if it was the same for Eloi. But the more he dug, the more information he found on this young boy dubbed ‘Eloi’.

He was a thief, or a thief in training, rather. He was small fish in the underground, someone that had honestly barely done more than a couple of heists. But the ones he had pulled off-... Iolar had a bad feeling about them. 

It was too sophisticated for someone as green as the kid. 

Iolar wasn’t one to normally get in the way of young thieves. Sure, some of them needed a solid push to get or stay out of the underground before its claws sunk too far into them, but others-.... There was a certain allure to darkness, and Iolar could understand that. Above most people, Iolar could understand.

However, despite his personal beliefs, Eloi seemed far too- skittish for this line of work. He seemed fragile, broken, even before he was hurt by the gauntlet. But that combined with the dangers of the gauntlet? The constant voices? The lies? The shadows that presented the risk of possession? ... Iolar didn’t want to put anyone through that, but especially not someone as skittish as the boy. 

‘He had to get back.’

Back where? To who? Iolar pulled out all the stops to find the one behind all of this. It eventually turned up as some man named Fletcher. By all intents and purposes, he wasn’t even a brilliant thief. He’d worked on a few jobs with thieves he’d heard of, toting himself as a mastermind of sorts, but he also found more reports of thieves going missing, or worse, dying on the job when it came to jobs they worked together. He wasn’t someone Iolar would let anywhere near someone as young or impressionable as the kid.

Once he had a name, it wasn’t hard to track down Fletcher. Sure, he used aliases rather cleverly, but it was nothing compared to the hoops Iolar himself jumped through to keep his identities under control.

Before long, he had a bead on an apartment that was in town. 

Ishani had cautioned him that Eloi had been traumatized, and might need some time. Jace had advised that he might be in for a fight. Between the two, Iolar trusted Jace’s judgement more. He’d heard the whimpers, the panicked speech that the young boy gave. Something more was going on here, and while he hoped it wasn’t what he suspected,he also knew-... he knew that the criminal underground attracted a certain type of person. 

Iolar pulled up to the apartment building in Jace’s truck. His friend had offered it up to Iolar when he said he was going, saying so long as he got it back to him before the next morning, he didn’t care if he took it.

Somehow, Iolar suspected his offer was more out of concern for Eloi than anything. 

The thief kept casual as he walked up to the second story of the apartments, seeming as any average visitor or tenant. The closer he got, the more he saw of the two souls inside, and heard-... was that shouting? He knocked on the door that held the number 207, slipping one hand in his pant pocket. No sense in being aggressive at the moment. 

Listening, he heard something rustling inside, and a muffled, angry voice. 

Moments later,  the door opened to a crack, and Iolar was face to face with a man slightly taller than him, with unshaven stubble and piercing, dark eyes. His black hair was unkempt, but short. Fletcher, though clearly down on his luck. He could smell liquor on his breath. 

“... Who the hell are you?” Fletcher snapped, staring at him.

Iolar watched him closely as Fletcher put a hand up on the door frame. The man’s knuckles were bruised, along with a couple fresh looking splits that slowly oozed blood. The thief let his gaze dart back to meet Fletcher’s gaze. He could hear shaky, pained breathing from inside. “... I’m a friend. I have important information for you and your student.”

“What student?” Fletcher glared down at him. “... How did you find this place?”

Iolar rolled his eyes with a huff. “I met your- protege the other day. I need to talk to him.” 

“Go to hell.” Fletcher sneered and started to close the door. 

So much for pleasantries.

The thief kicked the door open, shoving his shoulder into it after a moment to push Fletcher back. The taller man grunted, falling back a couple steps. Iolar stepped inside, shutting the door with a swift motion.

The apartment was in disarray. There was a hole in the drywall, as though someone had fallen into it, or been shoved. Liquor and beer bottles were scattered about, some empty, some not. There was something on the stove, and from the smell of it, it was burning. But what caught his eye primary was the shaky form of Eloi, with his silver-white hair, curled up in a tight ball on the couch. His shirt was torn, and he could see the wetness of blood on the black fabric. His bandages were bled through, and seemed to be the same ones Iolar had wrapped. 

Eloi was hurt, and it seemed that his wounds were not accidental.

A cold fury washed over Iolar. He’d expected it, but seeing it firsthand, he was livid. 

Fletcher caught his balance, his eyes like fire as he rushed Iolar. The thief’s gaze snapped back to him, blocking a haphazard punch and redirecting it. He kicked Fletcher’s knee and side stepped as he stumbled again. Fletcher yelped in pain, catching himself on a table before whirling on Iolar. “You- motherfu-.” 

Iolar grabbed Fletcher’s throat with a cold stare, gripping it tightly. “I suppose I should be glad you don’t know who I am. It means I’ve done my job well.” He spoke quietly, almost starkly calm. “I go by Iolar. I am a master thief. And you made a rather large mistake.”

“Bullshit, you’re not Iolar-.” Fletcher choked a bit as Iolar tightened his grip. He lashed out with a kick, causing Iolar to throw him onto a coffee table. The table cracked with Fletcher’s weight, one of the legs breaking and throwing him to the ground with a grunt. Iolar stalked over, his expression set in cold fury. 

“Oh, I assure you, I am.” Iolar pinned Fletcher to the ground with a foot to his throat. The man grabbed his foot with his hands, but Iolar didn’t budge. “... And you’re going to regret ever harming the boy.”

“What is he to you?!” The man grunted out, glaring. “He’s nothing! He was worthless before, now he’s broken and worthless!”

Iolar leaned down, baring his teeth in a snarl. “... You know nothing.” He growled out. “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you were dead, but death won’t come.”

Fletcher growled, finally mustering the force to shove Iolar off. The thief caught himself, glaring up at him as Fletcher lunged. Iolar caught his arm, grabbing his shirt and throwing him over his shoulder. Fletcher landed over the couch, letting out a gasp in pain.

“What, not used to being the punching bag?” Iolar snapped coldly, turning his attention to Eloi. He stepped up to him, staying on his guard, but inspecting him. He needed medical attention, badly. “... Eloi.” His voice was quieter, the edge gone for the moment. “It’s Iolar. I helped you before, after you got hurt.”

“... I-...Iolar?” Eloi whimpered softly, flinching away from him and shifting further into the couch. 

“That’s right. You’re hurt, Eloi. I can help, but I can’t help you here. I need for you to come with me to a safe location.” He paused, glancing to the side as he heard Fletcher start to shift. “... Eloi, I don’t want you coming back here. Fletcher is no proper caretaker or mentor. I have contacts. I can help you find a better place. Can you go get anything you can’t bare to leave behind?”

Eloi trembled, shivering and whimpering when he heard Fletcher stand.

“... He’s-... not going anywhere, you son of a bitch.” Fletcher growled, breathing heavily.

Iolar rolled his eyes, irritated. “... Eloi. Go. I’ll handle this.” 

Fletcher moved toward Eloi and Iolar. The thief stepped between them, grabbing Fletcher’s hand by his thumb when he reached for Eloi’s collar. He twisted sharply, sending pain rocketing up Fletcher’s arm. He gasped, collapsing to the ground as Iolar held him in the thumb hold, glaring down at him. Eloi whimpered, but scurried off of the couch and into what Iolar presumed to be a bedroom.

“I’m not going to kill you, Fletcher.” Iolar snarled, watching him closely as he kept his voice low. “... No... that’s too good for you. But if you come anywhere near the boy... I will personally skin you alive, and throw you in acid. Death will not come swiftly. Do you understand me? Or,” he dislocated Fletcher’s thumb with one motion, kicking him in the abdomen for good measure, “... do I need to make myself more clear?”

The man gave a faint whimper of pain, pressing his face into the carpet. Iolar rolled his eyes, stalking away from him and toward the bedroom Eloi disappeared into.

“... Eloi, are you ready?” Iolar called calmly, peering into the room. The room was minimal, with a rather threadbare bed and a single dresser, the closet nearly bare. A backpack was next to Eloi, a couple articles of clothing inside it.

Eloi was kneeling next to an air vent he’d pried off of the wall. A small, child’s shoebox was in his hands, presumably from the vent.

“... Eloi?”

The boy jumped, clinging to the box. He swallowed thickly, nodding as he shakily placed the box within the backpack. “I-... a-are you sure I-... are you sure?”

If he could leave, Iolar realized with a sigh. He stepped up to Eloi, kneeling and zipping the backpack closed. “... You can leave, Eloi. You need medical attention, and a place where you won’t be hurt while trying to recover. And even besides that... we need to talk. About that gauntlet on your hand.” 

It was still present. It never left. Iolar knew that. Still, the scars beneath it were so fresh. 

The thief shifted to stand, shouldering Eloi’s backpack. Eloi attempted to stand, only to fall again. He whimpered from pain, holding his side. 

“... Can you move?” Iolar asked quietly, looking down at him. But as he shook his head, Iolar only sighed. He secured the backpack on his shoulder before kneeling down, slipping his hands underneath him as gently as he could. He tried to avoid any places where there was blood stains. 

Eloi whimpered with pain as Iolar straightened, tense, but didn’t fight against him. The thief walked out of the bedroom, not bothering to even look toward Fletcher before stalking out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

He kept his movements gentle, walking back down to Jace’s truck. He struggled a bit with opening it, but set Eloi down inside once he got the door open. Shrugging off the backpack, he set it by Eloi’s feet and closed the door. He walked around to the driver’s side door, hopping inside and starting the truck. 

Iolar pulled the truck away from the apartment complex, but when he stopped before pulling out onto the road, he pulled out his phone to shoot Jace a text.

‘Got him. He needs medical attention. Can I pick you up at the shop?’

At the next red light, he spotted a text back from Jace. ‘Sure thing.’ 

-------------------------------------------------------------

This safehouse was slightly different than the previous one he’d taken Eloi to originally.

It was larger, for one, and on the edge of the city. A large house on a rather large slice of land that he owned. The fences were falling apart, and the house wasn’t exactly in the best state of repair either. Several rooms needed some form of remodeling or reinforcements. The kitchen was functional, if only barely, and there was one bathroom that worked. But it was secluded, and if Fletcher tried to track them down, it was a lot easier location to defend.

Iolar had placed Eloi in the only decent bedroom that the house had, the one he took residence in when he used the house. 

The boy��s injuries spoke of long term abuse. Jace helped him to clean and bandage them, but it was clear from the dark look in his friend’s eye that he wished Iolar had done a lot more to Fletcher than just giving him a beating. The thief barely spoke the entire time they helped Eloi, but by the time they were done, the boy was so exhausted, he couldn’t stay awake. 

The two slipped out of the room after Jace laid a blanket over him. They walked in silence as they went downstairs to the kitchen. Jace leaned against the counter as Iolar silently started some coffee. The coffee maker here was old and barely functional, but it slowly puttered to life.

“... He doesn’t have anywhere else to turn, Gypsy.” Jace finally spoke, not looking up at him.

Iolar rested his hands on the countertop, leaning against it as he lets his head hang a bit. “... What’s your point, Jace?”

“My point is-.”

“Iolar? Jace? Shit, this place-... wow.” A feminine voice spoke, entering the house. Iolar looked up to see a brunette woman with a short bob hairstyle, wearing a rather large visor that resembled sunglasses, or goggles. She looked up at them, letting out a breath before picking her way through the house. The flooring wasn’t exactly in the best state either, evidenced by the creaking with every footstep.

“Eva?” Iolar narrowed his eyes, glancing to Jace. 

The carpenter shrugged. “... I might have let her know where we were going. We were both pretty worried about how things would go with the kid.” 

“And I’m glad he did.” Eva folded her arms over her chest, leaning on one foot. “How’s the kid- Eloi, was it?”

“Stable, now. That- bastard really did a number on him.” Jace sighed. “He’s sleeping. Though, one of us should probably stick with him tonight, so he doesn’t pull another stunt like he did last time.”

Eva sighed. “I’ll take a shift.” She looked toward Iolar. “... So what’s your plan?”

Iolar took his time in answering. Both of his friends fell silent, waiting for him to respond as he pulled three coffee mugs down from the cupboard, brushing them out of any dust. He poured the coffee in each, handing a mug to both Jace and Eva before settling back with his own cup. 

What was his plan? He always had a plan. Always had some idea of what was- going on. But this was a complicated situation. They had three Rift Walkers now, and it was apparent that Eloi needed a place to stay. A place to live. Both Ishani and Iolar had survived with safehouses, but asking Eloi to endure something like that-... he was still so young, and he was blind. Constantly learning new environments would only serve to delay him.

The house-... wasn’t that terrible. It needed a lot of work, but it was large enough, and there was plenty of property for additions.

Coming to terms with his decision, he took a long draw of his coffee. 

“... I’m going to make a haven for Rift Walkers, and anyone associated with us.” He spoke calmly, as though it was practically already done with those words. 

“... How?” Eva stared at him.

“Here.”

Jace choked a bit on his coffee, before staring up at him. “Here?” He coughed, “Are you serious? This takes ‘fixer upper’ to a new level, Gypsy.”

“I’ll pay you to help me fix it up.”

“With how much work that needs to be done?” The carpenter stared blankly, stunned. He shook his head, rubbing his temple. “... Brother, you better be paying well for this.”

“You know I will.”

[asktheriftwalkers]

(( for Iolar )) Dad - "What did Iolar want to be as a kid?"

“That implies that Aelian wanted to be anything at all.” The Indian man muttered, before sighing, folding his arms as he leaned back in his writer’s chair. Kavi looked up at the stranger, frowning deeply. “… Aelian, whatever he may call himself how, seemed aimless for the longest time. When he was a young boy, he’d tote being an artist, or a doctor, or any number of things, but then when it came down to it, every one of them was just a phase that lasted a few weeks at best.” 

“Commitment. The kid never had it.” Kavi sighed, running a hand down his face. “… I always thought he might follow in my footsteps, be an author. Honestly, he has a way with words. He could tell rather intense stories. Mostly about these shadows he claimed to see.” His eyes grew dark for a moment, before shaking his head.

Kavi sighed, standing and walking to a bookshelf inside his office. He pulled one particular book off of the shelf, titled ‘Depths’. He seemed to thumb through it, his eyes softening for a moment. He seemed almost sad. “… Aelian has a lot of potential, don’t get me wrong. I just hope one day he learns how to use that potential properly. We all strive for it, but he always seems aimless.” 

He looked back to the stranger, frowning deeply. “… And besides, for such a bright kid, his grades certainly don’t show it. He’ll never make anything of himself if he doesn’t get himself together.”