Strain

"Strain" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread written on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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==Full Text==
Malak gently rubbed the balm into the burns on one of his legs, hissing a little. He towled off his hands, and then grabbed up a glass of strong drink, tipping it back into his throat and closing his eyes.
Sven…
The image of the great hall bursting into flames flared up behind his eyelids.
It’s my fault…
“Get off her! Stand back! I’ll use this I swear I will you- you- spider!”
“How did you get out!? Give me that! Argh-!”
Malak covered his mouth and then hastily grabbed up the bottle, pouring himself another shaky drink. His minds eye watched as his hands wrapped around Boris’s neck, throwing him savagely over a railing. 
He was normal…he was a normal man…but we stuffed him back into that awful place so many times…let Rhenco…
He emptied the glass into his mouth with a shudder.
We turned him into something he wasn’t…
Malak blinked a few times, cupping his hands around the glass and staring blankey at the wall. “Gods…” he barely whispered. “I’d give up every prayer I ever made to you over those last ten years…if you’d just see it in your hearts to not let Sven…not let Sven turn out like Boris…like me…like anyone else who-”
Malak jumped slightly at the sound of the door opening, shifting in his seat to see who it was that approached. 
@central-is-growing
central-is-growing
Darien firmly shut the door behind himself and folded his arms, regarding the half-breed quietly. He wasn’t angry, or trying to be intimidating. In fact, his own heart was pounding faster than the beat of a war drum. The explosion had been heard across the island and Darien already knew it had been too late for him to intervene.
“What happened?” he said simply.
moe-lazyeye
Malak looked him up and down, his eyes narrowing a little. “Who are you?” he asked, cautiously reaching for the bottle and glass again. His tattered legs defensively curled closer to his back.
central-is-growing
“Someone who needs answers, seeing as I feel I’m one of the few left somewhat in charge around here. What happened?”
moe-lazyeye
Malak gave him a second look. “In charge…?”
There was silence, and then the spider look away as he rested further into his seat. “Boris…a Central citizen and one of Rhenco’s victims lost his mind. He’d been on the edge for a while but the death of his friend in the line duty put him over it…he bombed the great hall…”
central-is-growing
Darien took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together, nodding. “He should have died with the others,” he said, with complete confidence and resignation. “We would not have been hit as hard…”
moe-lazyeye
Malak sat quiet, and then stood to hobble over to a table across the room, wincing as he put pressure on his legs. He rested his elbows on the table, and breathed thinly through his nose. “Very military…and also very strange…coming from you that is…” he sighed. 
central-is-growing
“Why is that?” he said simply, without anger or accusation. “Lives could have been saved. Do you disagree?”
moe-lazyeye
Malak paused, and then slumped further over the table. “Aye…lives would have been saved.” His fists began to clench tighter together, and his breathes became visibly more crisper and heavy in his shoulders. “Of course…roll back the clock even further, maybe if other…worse…men had died instead, Borris ever would have ended up in that state to begin with.”
“And even more people would be alive.” His teeth ground, and a steely anger laced his gaze even though he kept his eyes away from Darien. “Would you disagree with that, stranger?”
central-is-growing
“It depends.” Darien’s eyes moved behind his spectacles, taking in Malak’s less-than-human limbs. “It depends,” he continued, “on whether you actually consider me a stranger, which I don’t think you do, and who exactly you include in your list of men whom the world would be better off without.”
moe-lazyeye
Malak was quiet, and then his legs slowly began to straighten out. His body raised into the air, giving himself the appearance of someone with staggering height.
“For Boris…it would be Rhenco, or myself…” He trailed off as he turned to give him a sideways glance. “Darien Whiteland…” he growled, his feet shifting to approach him.
central-is-growing
Darien seemed satisfied. “Well, since time travel is impossible…at least, for us regular folk, anyway…we have only the future to prepare for in terms of saving lives.” The man stepped forward and gestured at another chair, raising his eyebrows, silently asking for permission to sit and join Malak. His pulse was still faster than usual, but he was unflapped by the half-breed’s show of intimidation. “That being said, if you have past personal grievances to air with me, now is the time.” He was fully expecting a solid hit or two. Or eight.
moe-lazyeye
Malak tilted his head. “Well thank you for the invitation…”
Malak hurled his chair out of the way and he surged forward, his legs drumming on the floor as he grabbed Darien up by his collar.
“If? If?! As if there isn’t a half breed that doesn’t have grievances with you!
Darien winced and gasped sharply at the sudden movement, but he tried to remain calm, holding up his hands defensively.
“Believe me, I know. The amount of vigilante justice I’ve been dealt would surprise you.”
“The fact that you had the gall to walk into a room with a half breed makes me think you haven’t been dealt nearly enough!” Malak hissed.
He shook him once. “I had to uproot my whole family, I watched my uncle get the legs pulled out of his back, and the minds of my cousins scrambled, because of you! Because of your orders!”
He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve had years to learn the lesson you’re trying to teach me. All I can do is help the Rebellion dismantle what I created.” His expression was clear, but tainted with grief and stress. This interaction had happened so, so many times, and he knew there were no right answers. There were no soothing words he could give.
Malak’s arm curled closer to his body, nearly pulling Darien off his feet. “It’s been a while Darien.” He growled. “So what have you accomplished outside of getting kidnapped by your old comrades? What good reason do I have to not put my hands around your neck and crush that treacherous windpipe of yours with my thumbs?!”
The words were angry, his look furious. But there was also hesitation, a breaking point of doubt that flickered in the half breed’s eyes.
“Because you lose a valuable asset,” he replied steadily. “As a man who knows the dungeons and the mages thereof intimately, my help lies in the future of fighting the factions that remain.”
He finally broke Malak’s furious gaze, looking down in between them at his feet. “But you still speak sense. If I were you, I would have killed me as soon as I caught sight of myself.”
Malak’s face twisted and contorted as one of his hands slipped away to clenched into a tight fist. The hand shook as it sat suspended in the air, unsure of what direction it was about to take. 
One the one hand…there was Darien. The reason for most of the persecution of half breeds across the land. Blood covering his hands. Alive for no, good, reason…
But on the other hand…there was he. Malak. And all the horrors his hands had committed against humans and half breeds alike, Central, rebellion, and everyone in between. Also alive…
His breath came in rapid hitches. He was going to do something in the next moment. He was going to do something decisive. The problem was…
He didn’t know which course of action it was going to be…
“Malak.”
Darien was looking him in the eye again. “You can do what you like to me. But I do have to ask if you believe me. Or if you think this is all an act. Because that will truly determine where you and I stand.”
Malak had already choked or struck the life out of enough people he knew didn’t deserve it.
He couldn’t risk doing it again. Even though it was a shred of doubt compared to an ocean of anger towards the man.
He let go…and backed up.
The ex-magistrate took a few steps back as well, catching his breath. He was sure he had been a few seconds from being beaten to a pulp. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, a little strained with both concern and relief. “In which case, you may have an even better reason to release your anger on me.” He tried to say the words with a bit of humor, but he could tell Malak was stewing in his own dark thoughts. “Are you alright?”
How did I suddenly become the same as Darien Whiteland…
Malak continued to look at him in almost wide eyed confusion. His eyes flickered for a moment, and then he slowly raised a finger.
The arm lowered. He was at a complete loss as to what to do. Say. At a loss for everything.
He peeled off his hat to run a hand through his hair once, and then he shook his head as he walked towards the door. “I cant do this…”
Darien put a hand on his shoulder as he passed by. “Do what?”
“Hey.” Malak raised an arm to brush Darien away. He met his gaze. “The reason you think you could put even a finger on me is beyond…” he trailed off, his gaze reading deep into Darien’s features.
“Oh…my gods…” he slowly backed away and shook his head slightly. “You’re insane. Just like the rest of them. Why else would you put a hand on the man who just a few seconds ago was ready to choke you to death?”
He put a disbelieving hand to the side of his head. “First the Cheif and Sven with me, my whole family really, all the stories about forgiveness and second chances for flat out murderers, and now you…what-” Malak shook his head, looking frustrated. “I mean…what is wrong with you rebels? With enough kind words would even the likes of Rhenco be given a home here? Wheres the line? Wheres the sense?!”
“Malak, just listen.” He tried his best not to sound frustrated, though he was, as well as offended by the implication of Rhenco being welcomed by the rebels. “Are you planning to keep doing what you did? Do you have more murders in mind?”
Malak raised his arm. “I don’t know! Not for sure , you’re certainly a tempting target but I…” He drew a steady breath. “I, can’t, believe that they would take you in so readily…I can’t believe they didn’t kill me, or permanently jail me for what I did.” 
He looked out the window. “When I said I can’t…I meant that I didn’t know how to deal…or react…to any of this…I still don’t.”
“Whether you like it or not, they don’t care about what you’ve done in the past. Only what you do now.” He threw a hand at the door and let his arm hang back to his side. “And if what you want to do now is leave, then you can do that. But don’t mistake the chance they’re giving you for madness. If you feel guilt for what you have done, you are a different man now. You have an opportunity to make things right.”
With a surge truth settled in Malak’s mind.
Of course…the issue isn’t with them. They’re protecting themselves just fine…that have good discernment. This issue lies with me…
He slowly leaned up against the wall. He still didn’t know what to do about Darien. Or how to even comprehend the conversation he was having with him, of all people, right now. He gave a half, laugh, half scoff as he scratched the back of his head with a shake. “I suppose…you’re right about that.”
The spider walked over to the door, blinking a few times to attempt to clear the alcohol that was still in his system. “I better see where it goes in that case.”
Darien gave a half-smile, full of regretful sympathy. He recognized this situation. He knew the drink, the erratic behavior, the downward spiral of self-doubt. Folding his arms, he watched Malak tipsily make it to the door.
“You’re new to becoming…well, forgive me, but…not-an-asshole, aren’t you?”
Malak paused, his fingers working into the knob. “Darien. You started hurting people because of how you were raised, and the power you became drunk on…I started because a man threatened to skin my child if I didn’t…what I’m new to…is being human for the first time in a decade.”
“I know.” The sympathy stayed in his expression as his smile disappeared. “Believe me or not, I know. It’s admirable. You saved the Chief’s son. It seems to me you are already improving.”