priorcommitment | memories of all that's left behind

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trixa iktomi

memories of all that's left behind

When Zerachiel didn't show up at Ishiah's tent in the afternoon for his normal bout of training, the blonde had suspected that something had gone awry. At the same time, it was difficult to know for certain; one thing that Ishiah had observed about Zeke long ago was that he was more the type of person who would be swept away by distractions, often coming back without any way of recognizing that he was in the wrong at all for missing a lesson. Upon receiving a note from Trixa in the mail, however, he felt that his suspicions were confirmed. Someone who had been with Zeke for years, who cared for him only in the way that family could and spared no time or detail when it came to watching over the boy, would know if he had left.

It was really too bad.

Ishiah walked on over to the pair's hut, just across from his own in Bohemia, as soon as he'd returned from a shift at work. Quietly, he knocked on the front door, knowing Trixa would hear. Suspecting that she would need to talk about it, or at least to commiserate about it, as much as he needed that.

He still wasn't accustomed to losing family. And this time, without any guarantee that he would find Zeke again later on in life.

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Trixa was sharpening knives. Her own, and any other she could get her fingers on. It was busywork, but the busier she could keep herself, the less time she would have to think about the gaping holes in her life here in the island. Of her unique little family, she was the only one here. For someone who's life was based on movement, having no ties, the swiftness with which Griffin and Zeke had wormed their way into her hear and her life was surprising. Even Leo, who had been a constant for centuries had often left to pursue other had suddenly become so much closer, bound to her for their recent loss of power.

But to put in in her Mama's terms she was settled. And now that she was suddenly unsettled, she was sulking. But her Mama wasn't here. And Zeke was gone.

She heard the knock and mentally ran through the list of people that would possibly stop by.

"Door's open, Ishiah."

He paused for a few seconds before pushing open the door, ducking his head so as not to bump against the top of the frame as he stepped inside. The sound of the knives sliding along one another, morbid to most, was one that he welcomed, as familiar to Ishiah as the sword which he still more often than not wore on his hip. Old habits died hard, but what unnerved Ishiah more than anything else was how much everyone took to the peace and seemed to take it for granted, convinced that the island was a calm and nice place to be. Despite the fact that people disappeared without warning. Despite the fact that they were occasionally hauled to strange parts of the island without reason at all. No, Ishiah couldn't understand it, and to see someone else who hadn't let her guard down at all was a comfort, even if she was a trickster.

"Apologies for the intrusion," he murmured quietly, closing the door behind him as he approached Trixa, refusing to sit, refusing to let himself be put in a single spot as he just hovered. Watched the steady movement of the woman's hands.

"How are you faring?"

With a slight flick of the wrist, Trixa send one of the knives flying, sinking it in the wall next to his head.

Of all the stupid questions to ask. How did he think she was. Zeke was her brother, her family, her life and while intellectually she knew he was alive somewhere, emotionally... it was like he'd died. Left her alone, like Kimano. Left her with a gaping hole in her heart and this time there wasn't a demon to trap and rip to shreds.

For the first time since her arrival, she felt absolutely powerless. And her sorrow was only matched by her anger.

Even with sight far duller than what he had enjoyed prior to the island, Ishiah knew that the path of the knife was slightly off, the angle purposely thrown to avoid doing injury to the peri, and so he stood stock still as the blade sank itself into the wood beside him. Still, his nerves weren't nearly so calm, the action sending his temper all aflame as it took every last inch of self-restraint to try and douse the anger that so quickly burned red-hot within himself. He had to remind himself that he had lost family before, and it had also made him behave differently.

That all things considered, she could have done far worse.

So he carefully gripped the blade, examining the angle before pulling it out just so to best prevent further harm done to the weapon. While it was easy enough to construct something crude from all of the materials available on the island, that didn't mean that the well-crafted blades could be neglected.

Regardless, she had sent the message well enough. To do away with niceties.

"This isn't the first time you've lost someone," he observed, eyes narrowing as he held the knife out to her.

She took the weapon back, turning it over, letting the gleam distract her momentarily. Unbidden, the memories of Kimano rush over her like a flood; his joy, his compassion, she'd never met a trickster more willing to let a mark get off with a warning or a lesser trick and she loved, her absent brother all the more for it. She remembered Zeke's smile and his stark way of looking at things. His absolute devotion to Griffin, and lesser so his devotion to her. Both of them brothers, even if only on shared her blood.

Her jaw tightened as she slipped the knife back in her boot. "To all things there is a season, Ishiah."

It wasn't likely the response he was looking for, but as she moved to the small table and sank into the chair, she really couldn't bring herself to care. She'd left her note, so far as she was concerned, her part was done. "Why are you here, anyway? Looking for the details, or just enjoying watching a Trickster sulk?"

His jaw grew taut in response to hers, the thin and weathered scar along the line of his jaw stretching until it shone a gleaming white— white to reflect his nerves, flashes of anger, all mixed with a gutting sense of fear. Others might have told him not to dwell on the subject, but the fact still was that those who were close to them still stood a chance of disappearing any time, and without warning. Ishiah had already taken to staying by Robin's side since the incident, even if it was ultimately still different with Robin— Robin, who would be waiting back in Manhattan for Ishiah, and Robin, who was so much an integral part of Ishiah's life before they had both arrived on Tabula Rasa. With Zeke, however, the loss was complete.

Because, if Zeke was what he had claimed to be, Ishiah couldn't guarantee how the boy would live, whether his secrets would stay under wrap or if they would leak out and attract endless attention.

"I am here to commiserate," Ishiah replied after the thought, not moving from his spot as he watched Trixa move about. "I don't need details. And I assure you I do not derive pleasure from watching the suffering of others. But I am feeling Zeke's loss as well."

"Comiserate?" Trixa snorted. It wasn't that she doubted he felt Zeke's absence, it was that he had the gall to compare it to hers. He's always had friends, comrades, brothers, the ever-present Robin dashing in and out of his life. She had Leo and her mother. And Griffin and Zeke. And that was it. Sure she drifted in and out of the lives of others, but in terms of the people she could count on, the people she thought of when someone said, "family?" That was it.

She leaned back in her chair, using every inch of her petite frame to stretch out and look casual. "So, what? You want to hold me while we cry? Should we start a campfire and tell stories of our friend until the sun comes up? Or maybe we should head to the Winchester, have a few drinks? Although..." She leaned forward, "if I remember correctly, me drunk generally leads to things you hold grudges over."

Her last statement finally drew Ishiah's attention. With tricksters— and that was what she was, after all, a fact that he had determined almost as soon as he saw her and Robin talk for the first time— there was always a chance that one had encountered the trickster before. In a different body, in a different form, with a different name and history altogether. It felt like a sudden invasion of privacy, one that snuck under his skin and left him restless, antagonistic.

"So we remind ourselves that it's better for Zerachiel that he's found his way home," Ishiah replied with a frown, before then taking a step forward, eyes focused. "Now, where does this remark of yours come from? I don't believe I have ever held a grudge against you, but if you weren't Trixa then, of course I wouldn't know, would I?"

"And here I thought you were just ignoring the elephant in the room, but you didn't even know it was there?"

Well wasn't that a treat, and now she wished she hadn't said anything. After all, what he couldn't remember couldn't be held against her but it was providing a nice distraction from his attempted commiseration. So with a decidedly devious glint in her eye she smiled.

"Guess."

Ishiah approached Trixa at her beckoning, eyes narrowing as he searched her expression, tried to look past appearance and features to the emotion there. The wide smile, the laugh, behavior that suggested she didn't quite care what people thought of her. The peri's eyes widened then as he stood back at full height, brows furrowed heavily not out of any repugnance, but instead sheer surprise.

"Mica," he decided with a curt nod, features softening slightly once he'd realized, remembering all of the history that the both of them shared. "I must have been quite preoccupied not to realize. You moved to Las Vegas?"

"I did, it seems to agree with me."

She snickered and gave him a smile. He may be one of Heaven's little errand boys, but he'd done his part when it counted. And he hadn't killed her for the damages, so that was a plus, or maybe it was a certain puck's influence, either way she wasn't too worried.

"Even have my own bar now."

"Who thought we'd live to see the day you took a leaf out of my book?" Ishiah remarked lightly, or as lightly as the peri ever managed. There had been something nagging at the back of his neck ever since Trixa arrived, between being unsure of what and who she was, and now that it was resolved, even whatever friction they had occasionally shared in the past paled by comparison. She was, if not a friend, then certainly an amiable acquaintance, and one he did not mind seeing again in the slightest. "Not the one I suggested, of course."

Tilting his head, he stared more carefully, jaw only tightening for an instant. There was no point in bearing past grudges. She had been on the island for months, and in that amount of time had only proven to be a positive addition to his life. Not something he could have always said.

"It's a good look on you. Any particular reason for the change? I've heard your name shared around. Iktomi, a surname. Quite human of you."

"Thanks, although to be honest, I wish I'd made myself just a little taller, but what can you do?"

She looked around the now empty hut, trying not to wince at the memories his questions beckoned. She'd done well enough steering the conversation around and away from things, but here they were back at it. Pain, anger, if she were a Jedi, she'd be screwed. Obi-Wan she wasn't and never would be.

But she was a big fan of the truth so she decided to tell him. "I was baiting a trap and needed a good cover. The handsome bar owner with a side PI gig is a good one for me."

"Being taller comes with its share of disadvantages," Ishiah pointed out, less as a consolation and more as sheer fact. Being tall had certainly singled the peri out a number of times in his life, and in ways that weren't always positive, at that. It made him an easier targeted, it separated him from the masses of humans that he was meant to hide among. And even if it did also afford him a greater amount of blind trust given by those he was meant to protect, sometimes he wondered if those people could have ended up placing too much faith in him, as well. Certainly, Ishiah wasn't capable of doing everything.

Saving everyone.

"Baiting," he finally repeated with an exhale. "And who or what did you see fit to bait, this time?"

Her voice was low, dangerous, with an edge sharper than any knife. "The demon that killed my brother."

Another knife appeared in her hands, balanced and spun in a flashy bit of showmanship. Because really, what else was there to say? If Ishiah knew thing one about Tricksters, he'd understand what that meant. Death, and not a pleasant one.

You just don't mess with family. Getting the Light had been a nifty bonus prize, like the toy in what had been the last box of your favorite cereal.

Whatever amount of softness on Ishiah's face vanished then, weathered down to a harsh edge, unforgiving, even full of a righteous wrath. Although he had stepped away from the war long ago, decided to settle himself in Manhattan for a life apart from all of the clashes between Heaven and Hell, it didn't mean that he liked demons any more than he had as a potentate. Any more than when his body was no more than a crystalline statue meant to bring his sword down on the unworthy.

"A demon killed your brother," he repeated softly, eyes following the glinting movement of the knife slicing through the air. "I am sorry to hear of your loss, and were it in my power to help..."

He paused, evaluating his own priorities.

"I would do everything I could."

"I wouldn't accept."

The words still carried an edge. It wasn't personal, not really. But frankly, Trixa couldn't care less about the concern of a former heavenly emissary. This was paien business. It may be a demon, and Ishiah was more than welcome to hold his prejudices and grudges about that, but his was a crime against her brother, her people, her kind. It was her revenge to take, her justice to dish out and you didn't step on a Trickster's toes.

Heaven and Hell and their little soldiers could all fuck off.

Setting the final knife aside Trixa stood to cross to the back door of the hut. It was open, to catch the breeze, but it had a nice view, too. Kimano would have loved it.

Today, she hated it.

"Fair enough."

Who was Ishiah to complain of Trixa's way of attending to her affairs, provided it didn't place the innocent at risk? There were certain things, he had come to realize in his time as a peri, that one had to do on their own, or else risk lacking a sense of internal peace and acceptance. He was not at fault for what happened to Kimano's brother, and if not called upon to help, he essentially had no connection. Demons were, after all, cast aside and without any remaining ties to those they had once called brothers.

They weren't like peri.

Ishiah watched quietly as Trixa made her way to the back door, honestly unsure whether or not he was a comfort or a nuisance at that point. Either way, it didn't overly matter to him— he had arrived with the intention of making sure that Trixa would survive, which clearly seemed to be the case. As for his own loss, it was easily dealt with on his own.

"Should I leave?" he asked, quietly, hands sliding into his pockets.

"Your choice."

She stayed at the door, looking out, trying to get the mess of her thoughts in order. It was a losing battle. She couldn't pull herself out, every thought she had wound back to what she'd lost, how much it hurt, and how little she could so about it.

Leo could pull her out, but Leo wasn't here. No one was here. No one but a stuck-up peri, and over-sexed puck (who was inconveniently off the market, not that she was one to drown her sorrows in lust), and a few humans from her world she didn't even know. Yeah, life here sucked at the moment.

If the peri wanted to watch he could.

He could recognize pain. On an objective level, Ishiah also knew that it would have been better to try and alleviate it in some way. What didn't come naturally to him, however, was any notion of how to apply a salve to her emotional wounds— every idea that he came up with was rejected, as clueless as Ishiah was about what Trixa would have taken positively, or what she would balk against. Hadn't she already thrown a knife in the general direction of his head, after all?

If she refused to help herself, or to allow others to help her, then Ishiah saw no point in simply presiding over her grief.

"I'll see myself out," he concluded in a quiet tone. "But if you can think of any feasible means for me to help, let me know."

I'm not going anywhere, he almost added, before realizing that it simply wasn't a promise he could make.

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memories of all that's left behind

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