Gallows of Transgression (ON HIATUS)

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Soon after that awkward question/statement about Killure's ass, Dremmie disappeared through a door off the side of the room, saying something about needing to find a ladder that was less wobbly.

Soren quickly became serious, walking over to Remi and cupping her cheeks in his hands. The air about him became entirely different from when the others were in the room. He appeared thoughtful, solemn, and tired now. Remi gave him a look of confusion before he parted his lips to speak. "Remi. I'm so sorry about everything you went through lately—so, so sorry you had to go through it all alone."

Remi's heart skipped a beat before beginning to thump loudly and painfully in her chest with the ferocity of an entire herd of gazelle pounding the ground with their hooves as they raced across scorched earth. If there were any gazelle left, that was. Her voice caught in her throat, because Remi knew he was talking about Faye, Caede, Aunt Colleen, the disappearance of her little brother, and the betrayal of her father and uncle.

That was all it took for the backs of her eyes to begin burning. A moment later, tears began streaming from her eyes without her consent, falling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. "I—" she began, but her voice cracked and she couldn't go on. The rest of what she wanted to say was lodged in her throat—her tongue felt like it had grown a fur coat while her mouth had dried up like a desert plain as the tears in her eyes blurred her vision. All the pain, loss, and regret she had buried within her, pushed down and out of the way, seemed to come to the surface like the eruption of a dormant volcano, with the force of a punch to the gut.

"Shh," Soren murmured, pulling her in close and holding her tightly. Remi clung to him as if he was her life support—she hadn't realized how much emotion she had been bottling up all this time until now, as it all came flooding out. "I wish I had been there," he said softly, rubbing her back soothingly and making her feel safe. "I know I don't have powers like most of you, but—I don't know. Maybe there was something I could have done if I'd known about it all in time. My heart hurts every day for them," he added, his voice breaking at the end with emotion.

Though he was full of theatrics—dramatic in a manner that was similar to her father, though much less ridiculous—Soren also had a much deeper, more genuine side to him that came out right when those around him needed it.

When they were kids, he never failed to brighten her mood with distractions, or comfort her with his tight embrace when she needed a shoulder to cry on. He always gave the best hugs—in his strong arms, she felt safe. He was her protector and her best friend all in one, and had been for years, despite their time apart. "It was just so horrific," Remi managed, finally. "The cold manner in which Uncle Fahrem killed them . . . he truly didn't care, Soren. He was—he is—a monster. And I was powerless against him! I tried—I . . . I really tried, but his power just devoured mine and once again I was helpless. And I . . . I hate being helpless."

Soren let out a broken, ragged sigh. "I'm assuming Uncle Levi did nothing, as per usual."

Remi bit her quivering lip as she thought of her father. The man was legendary, known throughout every island-city for his renowned work, but lacked a metaphorical backbone. For as long as Remi could remember, her father always did whatever her Uncle Fahrem wanted like his little puppet. He would protest at times when the situation was very serious, but those protests were limited to his voice and never evolved into action. He never did anything— never took action to stop the pain and suffering of those around him. Until that day not too long ago, when her uncle just about killed her. "No, he . . . he jumped in front of me and held off Uncle Fahrem long enough for us to get out of the way," Remi managed shakily, her words coming out quiet and wobbly.

Soren pulled away from her slightly, his eyes widening in bafflement as they searched hers. She noticed those eyes were red and swollen, though she couldn't see any tears on his cheeks. He looked surprised and startled. "Uncle Levi did that? You're kidding. He's never—" he stopped suddenly, and looked as if he were in deep thought for a few moments. Finally, he nodded slowly as if he'd just come to a sudden realization. "No, that makes sense. If he'd already lost one daughter, Faye, to his brother . . . his youngest son is missing . . . I can imagine that would be what it finally took to make him snap and stand up for the child he had left."