#Rusabar Jahlzan

[airanke]

#44 for Vando and Rusabar

Vando x Rusabar44. “Look at me. Look at me.”

It was an unsettling scene to walk in on.

For the past few days, Rusabar had been uncharacteristically hostile: growling, glaring, arms crossed, stiffly moving away from everyone else. Entirely unlike himself.

Shion, naturally, made the mistake of trying to find out what was wrong with the death knight. The hunter had withdrawn a few times, fully aware that Rusabar didn’t want Shion to draw near him but… he couldn’t just let the behavior go. It wasn’t like Rusabar.

Shen’ahjen had soon found himself grasping the death knight’s wrist. His hand was secured tightly around Shion’s neck. His expression was completely void; vacant, as if no one was home.

Vando should have known. He should have known exactly why Rusabar was acting this way, and he should have addressed it the moment he noticed something was off.

He grabbed Shen’ahjen by the back of his shirt, jerking the rogue away. The boy stumbled, spitting curses at him, and then Vando slammed his elbow into Rusabar’s face.

The slimmer death knight staggered, though hardly flinched. He released Shion’s throat, his face contorting with pain and distress. Vando wrapped his hand around the back of Rusabar’s neck, dragging him out of the building, amid Shion’s gasps for air.

“Wait!! Vando!” Gulamijo’s cries were shrugged off. Vando grabbed two scrolls from his mount on his way out, opening one to armor himself, and thrusting the other against Rusabar’s chest. He too was armored within seconds of the scroll touching his chest.

“You’re coming with me,” he commanded, tone leaving no room for debate. Rusabar grit his teeth, weakly fighting with the larger man every step Vando took him.

Deeper and deeper into the woods of Suramar they went.

‘Should have known. Should have addressed it sooner. Should have realized he was putting this off.’

“I don’t want to do this.”

Vando’s nose twitched in agitation. A Felsworn camp was within their sights.

The cold death knight threw Rusabar down against the ground. Of course Rusabar tried to get up - gritting his teeth, biting back snarls, fighting desperately against the urges that ripped through his mind - and Vando set his foot against Rusabar’s side, shoving him over onto his back. He wasted no time in stradling Rusabar’s chest, leaning over him with all the ferocity in his eyes that he could manage, digging his fingers into the earth.

“You, don’t, have, a choice,” Vando said, low and threatening. The breath he exhaled was so cold the grass on either side of Rusabar’s head froze.

“You are a death knight, you must do this. You must cause suffering.”

“No,” Rusabar retorted, as weak as his arms were against Vando’s shoulders, “I won’t.”

“Then you would rather kill the people you care about?” Vando continued relentlessly, “you would rather choke Shion to death? And Shen’ahjen? What about Talibah, would you rather tear her limb from limb?”

Rusabar dug his fingers into Vando’s shoulders; he was unperturbed.

“No,” and again, his voice was weak; trembling, like he was afraid. Vando exhaled deeply. He pointed in the direction of the camp, but never took his eyes off of Rusabar’s face.

“Felsworn. Murder them. They threw their lot in with the Legion; their lives mean nothing. Murder them, or murder your loved ones, that is the only choice you have in this, Rusabar.”

Rusaber’s face twisted in rage. Vando stared blankly, even as tears leaked out of Rue’s eyes.

Vando easily got to his feet, grabbing Rusabar by the front of his armor. He jerked the other death knight to his feet, and wasted no time in dragging him, then shoving him toward the camp. Laughter reached their ears. Vando ignored it easily.

“Tomorrow is another day.”

Rusabar choked on a sob.

“I’ll be watching, Rue.”

His slim frame shook with barely contained anger. Vando could only imagine how it was tearing at his friend. Mentally. Internally. Vando had never known what it felt like to resist and resist and resist, because he never cared to try, and saw no reason in it.

As much as Vando tried to put up the front that he had never cared for the people he’d come to love - this little odd-ball group of Horde and Alliance - Vando refused to ever truly raise a hand against them. There was a reason why he, Thanallian, and Eldreath wandered off together.

Perhaps it was time to force Rusabar to accompany them.

Rusabar drew his sword, his tears burning streaks into his face.

The moment the runeblade touched the ground, all emotion fled from Rusabar’s face. He became a death knight in that moment. Eyes vacant, posture relaxed, head tilted eerily to the side. Rusabar walked.

Vando crossed his arms over his chest, waiting patiently. In a way, the screams fed him too. The sound of metal on metal, and blade through flesh, calmed the snapping voices in his mind.

He sighed, looking up at the canopy. The sky was clear. Sunlight filtered through the tree leaves.

Of course Vando could understand Rusabar’s distress. He had been a shaman in life; a healer specifically. It had been his job to save lives, not take them.

An hour passed. Vando no longer heard the sounds of combat. He approached, ears flicking as he listened. Rusabar hadn’t gone anywhere, no – he merely stood amidst a circle of bodies, the green light on their bodies dim. Vando gazed steadily at him.

“Look at me,” he said softly. Rusabar abruptly tried to move away, refusing to turn his head. Vando grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the nearest wall, keeping his hand firmly against Rusabar’s shoulder while grasping his chin roughly with the other.

“Look at me,” he repeated, and this time the phrase was firm. Rusabar glared at him through what Vando could only assume were stinging eyes. He let his sword thump to the ground, teeth clenched tightly together in frustration, and soon his fingers were twisting tightly in Vando’s hair.

“I wasn’t made for this,” Rusabar rasped, breaths heavy, “I wasn’t made to kill. I was made to save-…”

“I know,” Vando replied, ignoring the biting pain as Rusabar’s grip on his hair tightened.

“I didn’t want this. None of us did.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to kill just to feel okay.”

“Then come with us so you don’t have to do it alone.”

Rusabar’s hands fell from Vando’s hair to his shoulders. He stared down at their feet. His body trembled. Vando could hear those breaths he knew far too well.

“Let it out, Rusabar.”

He shook his head; Vando placed his hands on Rusabar’s waist.

“You’re not like me. You can’t keep it in, you have to let yourself feel this,” Vando allowed his gaze to soften when Rusabar chanced a glance at him, “let yourself cry.”

It was a scream. Rusabar inclined his head to Vando’s chest, and screamed - he screamed until his throat was raw, and after that he sobbed until he lost his voice.

And when he was finally done, he all but collapsed into Vando’s arms. It took little effort for Vando to stoop and pick up Rusabar’s blade. It took even less for him to cradle Rusabar in his arms. Vando carried Rusabar tenderly back to the troupe’s home, where many were waiting anxiously for their return.

He shook his head when Shion made to approach, though it was clear the boy held no ill will toward the other death knight. Talibah let a hand come to rest on Shion’s shoulder, pulling him back, and Thanallian was the only one that Vando permitted to draw closer.

“Let them be,” the night elf ordered once he was done talking to Vando in hushed voices. Vando carried Rusabar to his room, and he stayed until Rusabar fell asleep.

(( I WILL HURT YOU LIKE YOU HURT ME KNIGHT, HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO MY BOYS– ))