[ A few days after everything that happened in the Tree of Life. A few days where he's noticed his body's undergone some changes that he mostly tries to ignore. A few days that he spends forcing himself not to wonder about what's happened to those who "died" in the Tree, if his own physical sacrifices were nullified. A few days, after which he can't stand to just stew over the matter in silence by himself any longer.
One evening finds Dextera receiving the psychic equivalent of a pebble thrown at his window -- a sharp rattle to catch his attention, not violent, but not particularly subtle either. If he dares to ignore it, it's just going to keep going until he responds. And once he does allow that mental connection, Gen's voice promptly comes through at a harsh deadpan: ]
[ dextera has been careful not to mention his death to anyone outside of the group he was in—or at least, he hasn’t seen any benefit to talking about it. that hadn’t been the first time he died, and although he always hopes what he went through will be the last, he’s not that optimistic.
he’s surprised, then, not only by gen’s direct comment, but by the fact that he’s asking after dextera at all. ]
…did you get trapped, too?
[ he doesn’t immediately acknowledge his own death, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t sound considerably worse for the wear. he’s actually been doing strangely well in the aftermath. ]
It's an odd flurry of emotions that comes seeping through -- the warm flush of relief, followed by a hasty attempt to tamp it down, chased by a prickle of slightly-forced irritation. ]
Answer the fucking question.
[ Unsurprisingly, Gen isn't the type to be happy about having his questions answered with more questions. At least he pauses for a moment before continuing brusquely. ]
I ended up having to deal with that creepy tree-thing [ so yes, he was trapped, too ] and Amos mentioned he'd killed some mute guy. Dunno any other mutes running around.
[ dextera doesn’t know why gen knows amos. they were on the same side before, that much is true, but dextera never got the sense that gen was loyal enough to get along with someone like him. there’s a ripple of uncertainty, but luckily, dextera’s own unresolved feelings about what happened in that room keep him from pursuing the topic of amos too harshly, too quickly. ]
…he did.
[ he still subtly places the blame at amos’ feet, but only because dextera really was cornered into it. ]
[ Gen practically snarls that retort, almost cutting Dextera off before he's finished speaking. But the fact that he'd bothered reaching out to Dextera at all makes it terribly obvious he's being dishonest; he had be worried about Dextera's wellbeing, even if he's loathe to admit it.
There's a moment of silence afterward, the connection between them dense with discomfort and unease. After all, it isn't normal for someone to be so blasé about having died, and he's not sure how to react to it. How to feel if he's the one who feels more concerned about this than Dextera himself. Sure, he already knows that Dextera isn't really normal, but still ... ]
-- what happened. [ The question comes sudden and brusque, more a demand than a request. ] I know that ... that thing said we could give up a body part or let someone die. What, did you ask to die?
[ even as he tries to tamp down his reactions, if only for the sake of having some dignity in what should be the privacy of his mind, a defensive urge to snap back skims the surface of dextera’s mind in lieu of what might physically look like tensing. he might flinch in fear, too, under the normal circumstances of a physical encounter—but he’s not always so pathetic down to the core. he doesn’t like being spoken to like that.
the moment passes into silence, which is broken by gen’s question. it’s just as forward, maybe, but dextera can read something adjacent to concern in it and he doesn’t mind answering. it’s a situation where he might lean on his forcibly mute nature in the real world, but here… he has to say something. ]
[ Unseen, Gen scuffs a hand through his hair, teeth gritted until he can hear the grind in his ears. Empathetically, Dextera must feel that little frisson of frustration before Gen struggles to stomp it back down. Just -- why the hell did everyone jump straight to killing someone? It's not like the thought hadn't crossed his mind as well, but still ...
-- whatever. That's not the main issue at hand. ]
And -- what. Everyone what.
[ Here, some faint sensations prickle through their connection. The feel of a lighter's wheel pressing against the thumb, the soft click-puff of a flame springing to life, then the acrid bite of cigarette smoke spreading across the tongue. Gen takes a deep drag at his cigarette, nursing it for a moment before continuing, his tone of voice a touch more somber. ]
Everyone just decided you should die, anyway? [ He's loathe to admit it, but he can imagine Amos going along with that. Amos is pragmatic, after all. ] ... who else was there.
[ of course they decided he should die. it was heralded by the archangel, so there was never really any other option. he wonders what might have happened if it had been a group of anyone else—amos probably would have killed dextera in expected retaliation, or if dextera had been with strangers entirely, maybe they could have all escaped with only a finger sacrificed.
it’s over now, though. dextera doesn’t hold the decision against anyone. ]
The Archangel. Someone else I don’t know.
[ dextera knows he’s mentioned the archangel to gen in passing, in one of their earliest meetings, but he can’t recall if it was by name. it’s therefore with only a moment of hesitation that he offers his mental image of the other two participants: the archangel in stark detail, with his striking red eyes, and hythlodaeus hazy from dextera’s lack of focus. ]
[ He immediately commits those two faces to memory. Pretentious, smug, self-righteous-looking fucks. Even without the knowledge of what had happened with Dextera, he thinks he would have disliked the both of them on sight.
So of course Dextera's comment about Archangel pushes him right into the realm of hating the man. ]
Haa? 'Deserved it the most?'
[ His words spark with anger and, more notably, indignity. Indignity on Dextera's behalf. Because Gen knows that Dextera is a messed-up person, hailing from a strange world and shouldering more burdens than would be evident at first glance. Burdens that he doesn't even fully remember himself, if everything he's said is true. But still. ]
The hell's that supposed to mean? -- and you just accepted it?
[ again, there’s the little flash of wanting to fight back, but the forced acknowledgment in his own heart that he does deserve it keeps him from lashing out. he doesn’t like it, but there’s nothing else for him to do. he can only seek forgiveness through penance like this, allowing those with less sin than he to escape unharmed. ]
…I didn’t have a choice.
[ he does say this with a little frustration, some tension in his shoulders in the same distant way he could feel gen lighting a cigarette. ]
[ For once, Gen's response is neither heated nor prompt. Instead, it's a low simmer of something bitter and uneasy that seeps through their connection; Dextera might get the sense that Gen is mulling over something deeply discomforting, fighting to smother that anxiety beneath a flare of his usual anger.
For a split second, he might catch a glimpse of face filtering through his mind. A face that he probably doesn't recognize -- a youth with hollow eyes. ]
... what do you mean by that.
[ Gen's voice is more restrained this time. Though his anger hasn't left, a pervasive exhaustion comes through stronger at the moment. ]
Why couldn't you fight it. What d'you mean, you deserved it. [ A pause. Then, quietly but firmly, with a grim sort of certainty: ] ... do you really believe that, or are you just saying it because that fuck said it first?
Edited (don't look at me noticing broken html ages later ... ) 2022-11-12 02:35 (UTC)
[ dextera may not recognize the person in gen’s memories, but there’s an innate, if brief, understanding of something. a distant empathy, a familiarity in seeing someone like himself. that’s what he’s always looking for, after all: those empty eyes might unsettle someone else, but dextera wonders what they might mean. ]
…
[ is this gen’s baroque? does gen see him as someone else? dextera finds that he doesn’t mind it, though he can only give the answers he believes are true to his own identity. he can’t be anyone else, even if he tried. ]
It… hurts. My heart always hurts. I did something terrible, Gen… I do deserve it.
[ the archangel is just the one who set him on the path to understanding that. ]
[ Dextera's always reminded him of Reiji, but it's not like Gen's ever mistook them for the same person. There's always been too many differences between them for him to fall into that delusional line of thinking -- and what Dextera says now is just another one of those jarring differences that keeps him grounded.
(After all, Reiji doesn't seem to have ever been cognizant of his own cruelties.) ]
... you're not making sense.
[ Gen's too stubborn to quietly drop the subject, even if he's starting to get the sense that that's what Dextera wants. But still, there's a significant pause before he speaks again, and most of the indignant fire has left his words. ]
If you really believe that, you wouldn't have wanted someone else to die in the first place. You wouldn't still be alive right now. [ If Dextera truly believed that death was what he deserved, and yearned for it, he probably would have hurled himself off the edge of one of these islands the first chance he got. ] Is this ... really what you're okay with. Having died for a bunch of people who probably don't even appreciate it like they should.
[ gen is defending him, in his own way. dextera doesn’t know what to do with that. there are people he’s met, yes, who don’t really understand what he’s done and therefore think he’s an innocent victim of circumstance—but that’s not the approach gen is taking, and it’s not something dextera has a defense against.
even through their bond, he’s turned tense, and the next breath that gen draws might feel higher in his chest than usual; it’s dextera’s uncertainty about this line of questioning made physical. ]
I…
[ would gen have appreciated it? he thinks back to the last time their conversation turned so dark, in the midst of the sickness. ]
I’m not okay with it! But I don’t have a choice… I can’t do anything but suffer.
[ Pathetic. Everything Dextera says now sounds so pathetic.
But at the same time, Gen can't bring himself to feel very angry. ]
... is that right.
[ He feels that sympathetic tension ratchet tighter around his lungs, and Gen exhales slowly, slowly. Even if Dextera's end of the connection is growing taut, he might get the sense that Gen is simply letting things fall into place. The faint chill of a grim resignation seeps through the link between them as Gen takes his time mulling over his next lungful of smoke.
There's another significant stretch of silence, though the faint buzz of too many thoughts makes it clear Gen hasn't just abandoned Dextera mid-conversation. Then he finally says plainly: ]
Fine. But at least put up a better fight next time.
[ It sounds like Dextera's already accepted what had happened this time, so -- he'll deal with it, instead. He's used to fighting in the stead of those too spineless to stand up for themselves. It's fine. ]
[ dextera doesn’t know what to do. gen’s mild answer, despite the fact that it doesn’t seem accompanied by anger, leaves dextera at a loss of what the best thing to say next is—so he simply doesn’t say anything, and his cowardice is rewarded in the form of gen conceding to dextera’s insistent agony.
strangely, he doesn’t find that it makes him feel much better. ]
I… I will.
[ is that enough? ]
I don’t want to die. But if I have to, I don’t want to die alone. That’s all. That’s all.
[ in the transition from horos to kenos, dextera realizes he’s speaking more freely with gen than before. he can’t give a reason for it beyond the fact that things have changed. maybe it’s the archangel’s presence, now, forcing dextera to lower himself in the consideration of his peers. where he once regarded gen as someone to protect, his own sense of self has shrunk under the high-noon blaze of the archangel. ]
[ It does feel like some things have changed between them, even if Gen couldn't pinpoint why with as much accuracy as Dextera might be able to. For him, it's simply a shift into strangely familiar territory; he sounds almost matter of fact as he continues quietly: ]
I know that's what you want.
[ His response is simple, almost meaningless, but the emotional between them says more than his words do. There's a deep, aching sense of understanding and empathy to his answer despite his resigned tone of voice, because honestly --
it's what he wants, too. To not die alone.
It's why what had happened to Dextera vexes him so much. ]
I get it. I'll deal with it. [ Deal with it how? He doesn't elaborate. In his mind, Dextera surrendered the right to know that the moment he simply accepted his circumstances. Gen forges on without giving Dextera a chance to butt in, quiet but steely. ] Tell me the next time something like this happens.
[ Then he cuts the connection between them. ]
action ; two weeks or so after the iconoclast oracle event
[ Even after everything that's happened, he still likes Springstar. Not more than Highstorm, necessarily, but -- enough that he can't bring himself to stay away entirely. (And silently, he's tremendously grateful for the gift Victor gave him. Just having the freedom to be in either city without worry of physical repurcussion is something he'll never underappreciate.) The quiet and dark of Highstorm might be better in the evenings when it comes time to rest, but they leave him too much room to give in to the dreary pull of his thoughts. In that regard, the bustle of Springstar is far preferable at times when he wants to distract himself.
Times like now. Because even after some time has passed, he's still yet to fully internalize everything that had happened in that miserable chamber. (His new status as a traitor. His return to where he belongs. His acceptance of what he knows what always meant to be.)
Late in the evening finds Gen aimlessly wandering Springstar's streets, nursing a cigarette as he gazes over the crowd filtering around him; he's tired after a long day's work at the blacksmithing factory, but not so tired just yet that he's ready to go back to the manor and sleep. And it's as he's ducking away from a crowded street to a quieter spot under the shade of a tree, scuffing a hand through his hair as he considers how to spend his evening today -- that he spots a familiar figure at the very fringe of his field of vision.
It's more reflex than it is a conscious decision when he reaches out to latch his hand around Dextera's wrist. He has no plan in mind, nothing specific he wants to say. Just -- ... ]
... hey.
[ That (lame) greeting comes out low and flat, mumbled around his cigarette's stub, as Gen lets go of Dextera's wrist. But not before his fingertips linger for just a moment, briefly rubbing against the bump of his wristbone. Even in that little gesture, there's something simultaneously longing and distant -- as it always seems to be the case, when Gen's dealing with him. ]
[ dextera’s loss—the loss for all of them—has taken its toll. while it did push him to more fully embrace meridian, the feeling of failure is no easier to take than before, and they still don’t really have a plan. zenith has them outmatched, and there’s no telling how long it will be until the next oracle arrives.
if it arrives. maybe they’re just counting the days until the world ends, still.
it’s with those heavy thoughts that dextera seems a little distracted, unaware of anyone watching him, let alone seeking his attention until gen’s hand is on his wrist. dextera draws a quiet breath, briefly alarmed, until that awkward greeting—the way he lingers—tells him who it is. ]
…
[ the first sensation is relief; if gen is in springstar, he hasn’t left, even if that’s the way their conversation seemed to turn. his silence in the subsequent meridian discussions was just a natural consequence of his personality.
but dextera sees him. the power of meridian suffusing his shard allows him to see the choice gen has made after all, the way he holds it now. relief falls away, instead replaced by— by—
dextera wouldn’t know how to describe it. the immediate feeling is one of betrayal, but that’s not the true motivation behind his fraught reaction. he’s never expected that gen would owe something to meridian, and so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal of the cause dextera is fighting for. (he’s good at making exceptions for the people he cares about.) instead, there’s a cold wind of absence, a fear that gen has changed his mind.
the expression on his face only moves a bit: his dull eyes widen first, followed by the furrowing of a brow as his gaze immediately darts to the rough place of gen’s shard on his body, as if he’s made a mistake. ]
[ He'd been keeping his status as a newly permanent Zenith secret, of course. Not out of any desire for subterfuge or trickery, but simply because speaking about it hadn't felt necessary -- why go out of his way to earn the ire of his former allies by exposing himself as a traitor? (Why go out of his way to see how disappointed some of the people he actually cares about might be?) He'd known everything would come to light eventually, anyway.
... though admittedly, there's no way he could have anticipated things would turn out like this.
It's only the thinnest sliver of Gen's shard that Dextera must be able to see past the high neck of his shirt, where it's embedded at the hollow of his shirt. But it must still be enough. A darkness swirls within the smokey gray of his shard, too dense to simply be the natural coloration of his shard -- and too intense to be that of a fledgling devotee to Zenith. Gen's new allegiance to Zenith goes deeper than that.
Not that Gen knows any of this. Unaware of what Dextera is able to see, all he notices is the way Dextera's expression darkens with what looks to be consternation. ]
Why're you looking at me like that?
[ His words are fringed with a low exhale as he tries to feign casual, but Dextera must be able to feel the slight twinge through their Aspect-borne connection. And here, Gen had thought he'd earned some of Dextera's goodwill back in that miserable chamber. (His heart still squeezes tight when he thinks of that smile. A small gesture, but one that had been for him.)
Gen sinks back to lean against the tree, putting a sliver more distance between them as he dips his gaze aside. ]
You know I have a job here, right? S'just that I happened to notice you. Nothing to look so freaked out about, is it.
[ He plays dumb and dodges the issue because it's easier that way. It's always easier that way when it comes to Dextera, for some reason. But even as he says this bullshit, he knows that's not what's given Dextera pause. ]
[ gen is talking to cover his panic; it’s something dextera can’t do, and so he understands when it’s happening to other people. whether he was trying to keep it a secret or not doesn’t matter—dextera isn’t going to tell anyone, but neither is he able to just forget what he’s noticed. ]
…
[ dextera doesn’t really know what to do now. he doesn’t know what they would have talked about had he not known, with most people seeming content to forget all that happened in the roots, but now it’s hard to think of anything else other than the new energy occupying gen’s shard. he doesn’t lift his eyes again immediately, instead turning them down to look at his sleeve and pick at a pill of fabric that won’t come loose. there’s silence.
—then, suddenly, the question he wants to ask comes; he looks at gen until the weight of his stare forces them to meet eyes. ]
Or -- how much does Dextera know? His memories from back in that miserable chamber are foggy at points, and he can't recall exactly what he'd said to Dextera then. But given how intense the passive Communion had been back there, he's sure Dextera could have guessed he'd go to (return to) Zenith. The question then, maybe, is whether Dextera knows he's settled in for good.
He's back where he belongs. ]
... why, you gonna join me if I tell you it's cushier on this side?
[ It's meant to be the sort of flippant, disrespectful response he gives most people, but this one feels more like something just to fill the air, not a proper deflection. And as soon as he meets Dextera's eyes, he looks away once more, pushing away from the tree to start slinking out of the shade. Towards somewhere quiet. A flick of the finger gestures for Dextera to follow. ]
You said you'd stick with that side for good, didn't you. Promised, even.
[ dextera follows him, thinking in gloomy silence about what exactly this means.
this is the first time someone he truly cares about has switched. makoto has gone to zenith, too, but he was undecided to begin with, and dextera knew that there was never really a chance of sharing the life they had in springstar for long. with gen, though, dextera wonders if he could have done something different. if he had tried harder, would they be doing this now? ]
…I’m not going anywhere.
[ he’s fully committed; that much is evident in his tone. ]
[ Gen says nothing in response at first -- out loud or through Communion -- but between their Aspect's connection and the little traces of body language, maybe Dextera can get an idea of what he's thinking. His shoulders sink a fraction with a low sigh when Dextera reiterates his commitment -- relief. A pointy ear flicks afterward -- consideration for that question. His tail lashes from side to side just once -- slight displeasure towards the matter.
Then -- ]
Those're two different things. Being comfortable and being happy.
[ He's not saying it just to be pedantic. 'Happiness' is something that he's largely given up on for himself; that wouldn't have been likely regardless of which side he aligned himself with. ]
But sure. You could say I'm more comfortable with Zenith. Like I knew I'd be.
[ it’s sick to be relieved that gen acknowledges the difference. dextera knows it is. gen wouldn’t distinguish them if he was happy, which means—
he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, standing with some distance but not enough that it would be impossible to reach out and touch gen at any time. dextera shouldn’t feel this way about someone he genuinely cares for, but it would be unbearable to watch someone claw themselves out of a grave he thought they were sharing. ]
…then that’s okay.
[ it is, in all the meanings the statement holds. ]
I can still see you. We aren’t enemies. That’s all that matters.
[ They're not yet at the spot he's been leading them towards -- a few stray pedestriants still milling past them on the way to the quiet little alleyway he's thinking of -- but Gen's footsteps still slow. Dirt grits underfoot when he half-turns to look at Dextera, his gaze steady. ]
S'that right.
[ 'We aren't enemies.' He should be happy to hear that, he thinks. But what are they, then? That slight, uneasy simmer prickles through their Communion even as Gen cants his head, trying to feign casual. ]
That's just you, though. I'm sure there's plenty of Meridian who'd love to see me dead. You're just gonna turn a blind eye to that, then? Just stand by if they do what they gotta do.
[ Because Dextera can't stop them, can he? Not while he's committed to Meridian. ]
[ dextera actually does stop, genuinely surprised by gen’s guess toward the future—for just a moment, it had felt to dextera like this was their own private issue, and by clearly stating that they aren’t enemies, that should have been the end of it.
gen feels differently.
dextera should simply warn him to stay out of the way. it’s not like before, when dextera knew that those under the sway of kenoma would be punished for their inaction. yima, at least so far, seems a more tolerant ruler for her flock, and dextera is sure that if someone stepped back from the conflict, they wouldn’t be punished.
but would gen listen to that? he doesn’t know. ]
…no one will listen to me. [ it doesn’t matter how well-established he is within the meridian energy itself, if he doesn’t have the charisma to back it up. ] But that doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. That doesn’t mean… I wouldn’t try to stop it.
[ Even after all his time spent here, a part of him is still surprised every time he realizes some people here want to protect him. Too accustomed to being the protector, or the aggressor, or both, it's a strange sensation whenever he's reminded that some people here would waste their energy on trying to keep him safe.
His chest prickles, brief but sharp, the sensation shared with Dextera. ]
... you don't need to.
[ But ultimately, he isn't something worth protecting. Gen properly turns to face Dextera, shoulders squared and hands in pockets ]
You promised you'd stay with that side -- and I'm serious about this too, you know. I can't stand the thought that you want to save the place I'm from. I don't want to lose. [ He 'speaks' evenly enough, but his words are soft and his gaze is directed at the ground between them. ] We are enemies, even if you want to pretend we aren't.
... you still okay with seeing me, even knowing that?
[ He doesn't dare hope Dextera will answer with the 'yes' that he knows is a terribly tall order. But even if he isn't conscious of it, his quiet yearning must be palpable for Dextera. ]
[ truthfully, it’s like he doesn’t hear gen’s protests. he was just waiting for the place to affirm his own feelings; it’s the same sensation that set once observed in dextera, like claws sinking in to hold onto something he fears might be taken away from him.
he refuses to listen to gen’s reasonable assessment of their respective places, because that would mean considering a different possibility than the one he wants to believe in.
thus, his firm yes. the word itself is given through communion as if it’s iron-clad, locking the two of them together across whatever physical distance might separate them. it smooths over the little nicks and cracks in the feelings that make up dextera’s fundamental motivations, allowing him to look so certain for nothing but the right reasons. he believes it himself. ]
[ It's enough to make him feel like his heart's stopped for a moment.
Not just Dextera's words -- those alone enough to make his lungs squeeze tight, his breath catching in his throat -- but the way he says them. The promptness. The certainty. 'I won't lose you,' Dextera says, and it feels a bit like someone's struck him across the head with a hammer, given how violently his thoughts go blank.
Though Gen says nothing for a moment, only looking at Dextera in silence, it must be painfully obvious that he's struggling to fight back an overwhelming deluge of tangled emotions. Shock, confusion, disbelief. But more than any of those --
a violently spiraling sense of infatuation. (Longing and possessive.) ]
That's ... [ It slips out loud first, before he tries to gather himself. Gen swallows thickly as he thoughtlessly brings his free hand up to his face; his reflexively attempt to hide his expression that way is rather undermined by the visible way his canine ears flatten back for a moment, clearly overwhelmed. ] S'that right. [ He closes his eyes as he exhales slowly, trying to will his thundering pulse calm. ] You know that's easier said than done.
[ But there's no real bite to that petulant response. It's hard to even muster his usual level of doubt -- not when Dextera had sounded so certain. 'I won't lose you.' How the hell can he bring himself to argue with that, even if he knows on a rational level that he should?
Gen exhales hoarsely once more before pulling away his hand, willing himself to keep a straight face. But maybe it doesn't matter much if he can't quite accomplish it -- not when he instead reaches forward to snag his fingers into Dextera's sleeve, tugging him just a little closer. ]
... alright. [ He'll believe it. He'll permit himself to fully believe what Dextera says. ] And you? Seems unfair if you're the only one trying. What do you want.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
communion ; a few days after everyone's happy tree of life funtime adventures
One evening finds Dextera receiving the psychic equivalent of a pebble thrown at his window -- a sharp rattle to catch his attention, not violent, but not particularly subtle either. If he dares to ignore it, it's just going to keep going until he responds. And once he does allow that mental connection, Gen's voice promptly comes through at a harsh deadpan: ]
-- heard you died.
[ Wow, amazing, 10/10 opener. ]
no subject
he’s surprised, then, not only by gen’s direct comment, but by the fact that he’s asking after dextera at all. ]
…did you get trapped, too?
[ he doesn’t immediately acknowledge his own death, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t sound considerably worse for the wear. he’s actually been doing strangely well in the aftermath. ]
no subject
It's an odd flurry of emotions that comes seeping through -- the warm flush of relief, followed by a hasty attempt to tamp it down, chased by a prickle of slightly-forced irritation. ]
Answer the fucking question.
[ Unsurprisingly, Gen isn't the type to be happy about having his questions answered with more questions. At least he pauses for a moment before continuing brusquely. ]
I ended up having to deal with that creepy tree-thing [ so yes, he was trapped, too ] and Amos mentioned he'd killed some mute guy. Dunno any other mutes running around.
no subject
…he did.
[ he still subtly places the blame at amos’ feet, but only because dextera really was cornered into it. ]
I’ve died before. I’m not hurt.
no subject
[ Gen practically snarls that retort, almost cutting Dextera off before he's finished speaking. But the fact that he'd bothered reaching out to Dextera at all makes it terribly obvious he's being dishonest; he had be worried about Dextera's wellbeing, even if he's loathe to admit it.
There's a moment of silence afterward, the connection between them dense with discomfort and unease. After all, it isn't normal for someone to be so blasé about having died, and he's not sure how to react to it. How to feel if he's the one who feels more concerned about this than Dextera himself. Sure, he already knows that Dextera isn't really normal, but still ... ]
-- what happened. [ The question comes sudden and brusque, more a demand than a request. ] I know that ... that thing said we could give up a body part or let someone die. What, did you ask to die?
no subject
[ even as he tries to tamp down his reactions, if only for the sake of having some dignity in what should be the privacy of his mind, a defensive urge to snap back skims the surface of dextera’s mind in lieu of what might physically look like tensing. he might flinch in fear, too, under the normal circumstances of a physical encounter—but he’s not always so pathetic down to the core. he doesn’t like being spoken to like that.
the moment passes into silence, which is broken by gen’s question. it’s just as forward, maybe, but dextera can read something adjacent to concern in it and he doesn’t mind answering. it’s a situation where he might lean on his forcibly mute nature in the real world, but here… he has to say something. ]
I wanted…
[ … ]
I wanted someone else to die. But everyone…
no subject
-- whatever. That's not the main issue at hand. ]
And -- what. Everyone what.
[ Here, some faint sensations prickle through their connection. The feel of a lighter's wheel pressing against the thumb, the soft click-puff of a flame springing to life, then the acrid bite of cigarette smoke spreading across the tongue. Gen takes a deep drag at his cigarette, nursing it for a moment before continuing, his tone of voice a touch more somber. ]
Everyone just decided you should die, anyway? [ He's loathe to admit it, but he can imagine Amos going along with that. Amos is pragmatic, after all. ] ... who else was there.
no subject
it’s over now, though. dextera doesn’t hold the decision against anyone. ]
The Archangel. Someone else I don’t know.
[ dextera knows he’s mentioned the archangel to gen in passing, in one of their earliest meetings, but he can’t recall if it was by name. it’s therefore with only a moment of hesitation that he offers his mental image of the other two participants: the archangel in stark detail, with his striking red eyes, and hythlodaeus hazy from dextera’s lack of focus. ]
The Archangel… he knew I deserved it the most.
no subject
So of course Dextera's comment about Archangel pushes him right into the realm of hating the man. ]
Haa? 'Deserved it the most?'
[ His words spark with anger and, more notably, indignity. Indignity on Dextera's behalf. Because Gen knows that Dextera is a messed-up person, hailing from a strange world and shouldering more burdens than would be evident at first glance. Burdens that he doesn't even fully remember himself, if everything he's said is true. But still. ]
The hell's that supposed to mean? -- and you just accepted it?
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…I didn’t have a choice.
[ he does say this with a little frustration, some tension in his shoulders in the same distant way he could feel gen lighting a cigarette. ]
He was right. I couldn’t fight that.
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For a split second, he might catch a glimpse of face filtering through his mind. A face that he probably doesn't recognize -- a youth with hollow eyes. ]
... what do you mean by that.
[ Gen's voice is more restrained this time. Though his anger hasn't left, a pervasive exhaustion comes through stronger at the moment. ]
Why couldn't you fight it. What d'you mean, you deserved it. [ A pause. Then, quietly but firmly, with a grim sort of certainty: ] ... do you really believe that, or are you just saying it because that fuck said it first?
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…
[ is this gen’s baroque? does gen see him as someone else? dextera finds that he doesn’t mind it, though he can only give the answers he believes are true to his own identity. he can’t be anyone else, even if he tried. ]
It… hurts. My heart always hurts. I did something terrible, Gen… I do deserve it.
[ the archangel is just the one who set him on the path to understanding that. ]
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(After all, Reiji doesn't seem to have ever been cognizant of his own cruelties.) ]
... you're not making sense.
[ Gen's too stubborn to quietly drop the subject, even if he's starting to get the sense that that's what Dextera wants. But still, there's a significant pause before he speaks again, and most of the indignant fire has left his words. ]
If you really believe that, you wouldn't have wanted someone else to die in the first place. You wouldn't still be alive right now. [ If Dextera truly believed that death was what he deserved, and yearned for it, he probably would have hurled himself off the edge of one of these islands the first chance he got. ] Is this ... really what you're okay with. Having died for a bunch of people who probably don't even appreciate it like they should.
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even through their bond, he’s turned tense, and the next breath that gen draws might feel higher in his chest than usual; it’s dextera’s uncertainty about this line of questioning made physical. ]
I…
[ would gen have appreciated it? he thinks back to the last time their conversation turned so dark, in the midst of the sickness. ]
I’m not okay with it! But I don’t have a choice… I can’t do anything but suffer.
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But at the same time, Gen can't bring himself to feel very angry. ]
... is that right.
[ He feels that sympathetic tension ratchet tighter around his lungs, and Gen exhales slowly, slowly. Even if Dextera's end of the connection is growing taut, he might get the sense that Gen is simply letting things fall into place. The faint chill of a grim resignation seeps through the link between them as Gen takes his time mulling over his next lungful of smoke.
There's another significant stretch of silence, though the faint buzz of too many thoughts makes it clear Gen hasn't just abandoned Dextera mid-conversation. Then he finally says plainly: ]
Fine. But at least put up a better fight next time.
[ It sounds like Dextera's already accepted what had happened this time, so -- he'll deal with it, instead. He's used to fighting in the stead of those too spineless to stand up for themselves. It's fine. ]
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strangely, he doesn’t find that it makes him feel much better. ]
I… I will.
[ is that enough? ]
I don’t want to die. But if I have to, I don’t want to die alone. That’s all. That’s all.
[ in the transition from horos to kenos, dextera realizes he’s speaking more freely with gen than before. he can’t give a reason for it beyond the fact that things have changed. maybe it’s the archangel’s presence, now, forcing dextera to lower himself in the consideration of his peers. where he once regarded gen as someone to protect, his own sense of self has shrunk under the high-noon blaze of the archangel. ]
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[ It does feel like some things have changed between them, even if Gen couldn't pinpoint why with as much accuracy as Dextera might be able to. For him, it's simply a shift into strangely familiar territory; he sounds almost matter of fact as he continues quietly: ]
I know that's what you want.
[ His response is simple, almost meaningless, but the emotional between them says more than his words do. There's a deep, aching sense of understanding and empathy to his answer despite his resigned tone of voice, because honestly --
it's what he wants, too. To not die alone.
It's why what had happened to Dextera vexes him so much. ]
I get it. I'll deal with it. [ Deal with it how? He doesn't elaborate. In his mind, Dextera surrendered the right to know that the moment he simply accepted his circumstances. Gen forges on without giving Dextera a chance to butt in, quiet but steely. ] Tell me the next time something like this happens.
[ Then he cuts the connection between them. ]
action ; two weeks or so after the iconoclast oracle event
Times like now. Because even after some time has passed, he's still yet to fully internalize everything that had happened in that miserable chamber. (His new status as a traitor. His return to where he belongs. His acceptance of what he knows what always meant to be.)
Late in the evening finds Gen aimlessly wandering Springstar's streets, nursing a cigarette as he gazes over the crowd filtering around him; he's tired after a long day's work at the blacksmithing factory, but not so tired just yet that he's ready to go back to the manor and sleep. And it's as he's ducking away from a crowded street to a quieter spot under the shade of a tree, scuffing a hand through his hair as he considers how to spend his evening today -- that he spots a familiar figure at the very fringe of his field of vision.
It's more reflex than it is a conscious decision when he reaches out to latch his hand around Dextera's wrist. He has no plan in mind, nothing specific he wants to say. Just -- ... ]
... hey.
[ That (lame) greeting comes out low and flat, mumbled around his cigarette's stub, as Gen lets go of Dextera's wrist. But not before his fingertips linger for just a moment, briefly rubbing against the bump of his wristbone. Even in that little gesture, there's something simultaneously longing and distant -- as it always seems to be the case, when Gen's dealing with him. ]
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if it arrives. maybe they’re just counting the days until the world ends, still.
it’s with those heavy thoughts that dextera seems a little distracted, unaware of anyone watching him, let alone seeking his attention until gen’s hand is on his wrist. dextera draws a quiet breath, briefly alarmed, until that awkward greeting—the way he lingers—tells him who it is. ]
…
[ the first sensation is relief; if gen is in springstar, he hasn’t left, even if that’s the way their conversation seemed to turn. his silence in the subsequent meridian discussions was just a natural consequence of his personality.
but dextera sees him. the power of meridian suffusing his shard allows him to see the choice gen has made after all, the way he holds it now. relief falls away, instead replaced by— by—
dextera wouldn’t know how to describe it. the immediate feeling is one of betrayal, but that’s not the true motivation behind his fraught reaction. he’s never expected that gen would owe something to meridian, and so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal of the cause dextera is fighting for. (he’s good at making exceptions for the people he cares about.) instead, there’s a cold wind of absence, a fear that gen has changed his mind.
the expression on his face only moves a bit: his dull eyes widen first, followed by the furrowing of a brow as his gaze immediately darts to the rough place of gen’s shard on his body, as if he’s made a mistake. ]
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... though admittedly, there's no way he could have anticipated things would turn out like this.
It's only the thinnest sliver of Gen's shard that Dextera must be able to see past the high neck of his shirt, where it's embedded at the hollow of his shirt. But it must still be enough. A darkness swirls within the smokey gray of his shard, too dense to simply be the natural coloration of his shard -- and too intense to be that of a fledgling devotee to Zenith. Gen's new allegiance to Zenith goes deeper than that.
Not that Gen knows any of this. Unaware of what Dextera is able to see, all he notices is the way Dextera's expression darkens with what looks to be consternation. ]
Why're you looking at me like that?
[ His words are fringed with a low exhale as he tries to feign casual, but Dextera must be able to feel the slight twinge through their Aspect-borne connection. And here, Gen had thought he'd earned some of Dextera's goodwill back in that miserable chamber. (His heart still squeezes tight when he thinks of that smile. A small gesture, but one that had been for him.)
Gen sinks back to lean against the tree, putting a sliver more distance between them as he dips his gaze aside. ]
You know I have a job here, right? S'just that I happened to notice you. Nothing to look so freaked out about, is it.
[ He plays dumb and dodges the issue because it's easier that way. It's always easier that way when it comes to Dextera, for some reason. But even as he says this bullshit, he knows that's not what's given Dextera pause. ]
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…
[ dextera doesn’t really know what to do now. he doesn’t know what they would have talked about had he not known, with most people seeming content to forget all that happened in the roots, but now it’s hard to think of anything else other than the new energy occupying gen’s shard. he doesn’t lift his eyes again immediately, instead turning them down to look at his sleeve and pick at a pill of fabric that won’t come loose. there’s silence.
—then, suddenly, the question he wants to ask comes; he looks at gen until the weight of his stare forces them to meet eyes. ]
Is it more comfortable there?
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Or -- how much does Dextera know? His memories from back in that miserable chamber are foggy at points, and he can't recall exactly what he'd said to Dextera then. But given how intense the passive Communion had been back there, he's sure Dextera could have guessed he'd go to (return to) Zenith. The question then, maybe, is whether Dextera knows he's settled in for good.
He's back where he belongs. ]
... why, you gonna join me if I tell you it's cushier on this side?
[ It's meant to be the sort of flippant, disrespectful response he gives most people, but this one feels more like something just to fill the air, not a proper deflection. And as soon as he meets Dextera's eyes, he looks away once more, pushing away from the tree to start slinking out of the shade. Towards somewhere quiet. A flick of the finger gestures for Dextera to follow. ]
You said you'd stick with that side for good, didn't you. Promised, even.
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this is the first time someone he truly cares about has switched. makoto has gone to zenith, too, but he was undecided to begin with, and dextera knew that there was never really a chance of sharing the life they had in springstar for long. with gen, though, dextera wonders if he could have done something different. if he had tried harder, would they be doing this now? ]
…I’m not going anywhere.
[ he’s fully committed; that much is evident in his tone. ]
I just want to know… if you’re happier.
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Then -- ]
Those're two different things. Being comfortable and being happy.
[ He's not saying it just to be pedantic. 'Happiness' is something that he's largely given up on for himself; that wouldn't have been likely regardless of which side he aligned himself with. ]
But sure. You could say I'm more comfortable with Zenith. Like I knew I'd be.
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he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, standing with some distance but not enough that it would be impossible to reach out and touch gen at any time. dextera shouldn’t feel this way about someone he genuinely cares for, but it would be unbearable to watch someone claw themselves out of a grave he thought they were sharing. ]
…then that’s okay.
[ it is, in all the meanings the statement holds. ]
I can still see you. We aren’t enemies. That’s all that matters.
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S'that right.
[ 'We aren't enemies.' He should be happy to hear that, he thinks. But what are they, then? That slight, uneasy simmer prickles through their Communion even as Gen cants his head, trying to feign casual. ]
That's just you, though. I'm sure there's plenty of Meridian who'd love to see me dead. You're just gonna turn a blind eye to that, then? Just stand by if they do what they gotta do.
[ Because Dextera can't stop them, can he? Not while he's committed to Meridian. ]
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[ dextera actually does stop, genuinely surprised by gen’s guess toward the future—for just a moment, it had felt to dextera like this was their own private issue, and by clearly stating that they aren’t enemies, that should have been the end of it.
gen feels differently.
dextera should simply warn him to stay out of the way. it’s not like before, when dextera knew that those under the sway of kenoma would be punished for their inaction. yima, at least so far, seems a more tolerant ruler for her flock, and dextera is sure that if someone stepped back from the conflict, they wouldn’t be punished.
but would gen listen to that? he doesn’t know. ]
…no one will listen to me. [ it doesn’t matter how well-established he is within the meridian energy itself, if he doesn’t have the charisma to back it up. ] But that doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. That doesn’t mean… I wouldn’t try to stop it.
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His chest prickles, brief but sharp, the sensation shared with Dextera. ]
... you don't need to.
[ But ultimately, he isn't something worth protecting. Gen properly turns to face Dextera, shoulders squared and hands in pockets ]
You promised you'd stay with that side -- and I'm serious about this too, you know. I can't stand the thought that you want to save the place I'm from. I don't want to lose. [ He 'speaks' evenly enough, but his words are soft and his gaze is directed at the ground between them. ] We are enemies, even if you want to pretend we aren't.
... you still okay with seeing me, even knowing that?
[ He doesn't dare hope Dextera will answer with the 'yes' that he knows is a terribly tall order. But even if he isn't conscious of it, his quiet yearning must be palpable for Dextera. ]
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[ truthfully, it’s like he doesn’t hear gen’s protests. he was just waiting for the place to affirm his own feelings; it’s the same sensation that set once observed in dextera, like claws sinking in to hold onto something he fears might be taken away from him.
he refuses to listen to gen’s reasonable assessment of their respective places, because that would mean considering a different possibility than the one he wants to believe in.
thus, his firm yes. the word itself is given through communion as if it’s iron-clad, locking the two of them together across whatever physical distance might separate them. it smooths over the little nicks and cracks in the feelings that make up dextera’s fundamental motivations, allowing him to look so certain for nothing but the right reasons. he believes it himself. ]
I won’t lose you. Not to this.
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Not just Dextera's words -- those alone enough to make his lungs squeeze tight, his breath catching in his throat -- but the way he says them. The promptness. The certainty. 'I won't lose you,' Dextera says, and it feels a bit like someone's struck him across the head with a hammer, given how violently his thoughts go blank.
Though Gen says nothing for a moment, only looking at Dextera in silence, it must be painfully obvious that he's struggling to fight back an overwhelming deluge of tangled emotions. Shock, confusion, disbelief. But more than any of those --
a violently spiraling sense of infatuation. (Longing and possessive.) ]
That's ... [ It slips out loud first, before he tries to gather himself. Gen swallows thickly as he thoughtlessly brings his free hand up to his face; his reflexively attempt to hide his expression that way is rather undermined by the visible way his canine ears flatten back for a moment, clearly overwhelmed. ] S'that right. [ He closes his eyes as he exhales slowly, trying to will his thundering pulse calm. ] You know that's easier said than done.
[ But there's no real bite to that petulant response. It's hard to even muster his usual level of doubt -- not when Dextera had sounded so certain. 'I won't lose you.' How the hell can he bring himself to argue with that, even if he knows on a rational level that he should?
Gen exhales hoarsely once more before pulling away his hand, willing himself to keep a straight face. But maybe it doesn't matter much if he can't quite accomplish it -- not when he instead reaches forward to snag his fingers into Dextera's sleeve, tugging him just a little closer. ]
... alright. [ He'll believe it. He'll permit himself to fully believe what Dextera says. ] And you? Seems unfair if you're the only one trying. What do you want.