imatreenow | twenty [action]

[Almost a week ago Mithos had returned from a mission, the first he'd ever volunteered for. It may have seemed a strange choice for someone who trusted no one, who loathed being a pawn for others, to submit himself as a lab rat for combat testing, but his choices are narrowing around him. There is something he is after. Something he can finally close his fingers around, after watching it all scream past him for so long. If he is going to be used by the Malnosso regardless of his choices, it is better that he gains something from it - which he'd had to remind himself many times to dampen the sour taste sitting in the back of his throat.

Now back in the village, he has resumed the same quiet routine as before. In the early morning, before the sun is too hot in the sky, and before too many villagers are awake, he can be seen hunched over in the garden around House 52. He tries not to wonder if the flowers, planted with the thin hope that his sister might have the chance to enjoy them, amount to anything more than a vain effort. When he decides he needs more supplies, he makes sure to visit the flower shop in the early afternoon - wondering, like a scratch in the back of his mind, if school is still in session at all, or if he'll run into someone he would rather not see at all.

Later in the day, he withdraws to the woods south of the village to train. Four thousand years of fighting are wired inside his muscles, but it doesn't hurt to stay as sharp as possible. He's still getting used to the subtle differences between a proper sword and the knife he now relies on. Slicing the air, going through the motions of killing, he feels like he is building something. When he's done, he settles in against the base of a tree and draws the ancient set of panpipes from his pocket. He usually prefers to play inside, where the music of his sister cannot be heard by prying ears, but surrounded by the forest and his thoughts he can almost forget that people exist. And so the notes come out, clear and steady.]

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[He pierces Frey with his glare.] You yourself said that I could use this knife to defend myself, and that's exactly what I'm doing. You're right there - don't even try to deny it! He tried to attack me first. I haven't broken any of your precious rules. [He spits the word out like a fire spits out an ember. He hates that he must allow himself to be confined to anyone's imposed rules, for fear of physical detainment. Just another way he cannot be in control.]

Both of you are hypocrites! You get angry at me for not forgiving others, you lecture me about letting go of hatred, but neither of you will forgive me for something that already happened, something I can't go back and change!

I never said I wasn't! [It's an accusation he's lived with for as long as he could remember, one that he long ago acknowledged as a part of himself he would always hate, that he can't be as ready to forget as the women who raised and risked everything for him.] I didn't say to let it go!

[Control, that's all they can do that's all he wanted he doesn't want to see their blood on his hands again, it was all him it was all his fault. If he had only had better control...!

It doesn't matter that Frey is restricting him so, he still tries to go around him even though his hands move of their own accord, gripping on to him almost as though he were his last lifeline as he tried to stop shaking, earth still flying up around them as his breath began to go into an irregular pattern. He didn't want this he didn't want to think about that pain, how much it must have hurt if she was driven to tears...]

Condemnation or forgiveness was not mine to give. She gave you her forgiveness, and that was the end of it. But I did not forget. [He couldn't dictate who she saw, though at the time he wanted desperately to. It would have been cruel of him to deny her that choice. But it did not mean he could forget actions that could hurt her. He had needed to keep her safe.

He'd failed once again in his efforts to keep people safe, but he was going to at least try to make sure no injuries happened. He keeps his grip on Aleos, trying to keep his balance in a shake that reminded him of an earth rune spell. What was he doing....? His voice isn't yelling, but it is strong, firm, trying to gain some sort of understanding from them both.] Because I wanted to keep her safe and happy. And now I want to keep you both safe.

That is why I am asking you both to stand down.

Edited 2013-10-06 08:55 (UTC)

[Then what are you saying? He doesn't understand anything about Aleos. He doesn't understand how she could have treasured someone like him - but that might be the jealousy screeching inside him, deafening him to the answer. And maybe there is a whole swath of Kaori he doesn't understand, not really. He never understood Freyjadour, somebody kind, somebody who claimed to care, somebody she could trust. He doesn't even understand himself right now. All he understands is confusion, and the raw ache of unfinished ends. Questions left unanswered, answers blown to questions.]

Fine! [He doesn't lower the knife, but he carefully steps back to show he never wanted to be here.] Fine...I don't even care what you think! [The quickest way to tear this confrontation down...] Just leave me alone, both of you!

[Aldreios can't bring himself to reply again to what it was Mithos said, not when his throat feels so thick and constricted, burned by words that had wanted to escape for so long when he heard those words. The other halfling had hardly been the first to say that, and he doubted he would be the last. It was a fact of life, that there would always be pain. He only wished there didn't have to be so much of it...

His head ducks to hide his face in Frey's chest, shoulders hunched as though he were starting to curl into himself. And perhaps he was, if his hands weren't gripping so tightly onto Frey's arms as he trembled; if he was hurting the older man, he didn't notice. Not when strangled noises managed to escape and he felt so sick, clinging to this man who was his only anchor right now.

Looking at Mithos at this very moment was unthinkable, not when he felt he would only hurt so much worse if he did. The pain he was feeling right now wasn't his alone, and it was so much more than he could handle even as the earth began to calm down. To look at Mithos would mean inviting his heart to try to take on as much of his anguish as he could, and he couldn't bear it anymore as he trembled more violently, wanting to scream but being unable to.]

[Those gripping hands, strong as they were, weren't rejected. Between the way Aleos curls in on himself, the trembling and the noises, it was a call for comfort Freyjadour sought to answer, wrapping his arms around him firmly in a grip that was no longer a grapple, but a hug, letting the smaller boy bury his face in his chest as he pleased.

Mithos was backing down. Aleos... Aleos wasn't going to attack anyone, not now. Both of them were hurting, but he couldn't solve these pains. This meeting was something he'd sought to avoid because of it.

He turns his head, glancing at Mithos out of the corner of his eyes with a sad look. He wished.....] I'm sorry, Mithos.

[He wished Mithos wasn't so dead set on tearing himself.... and everyone else, apart. He wished things had ended differently, back then. He wishes there was a solution that could ease things now. But 'I'm sorry' was all he could offer at the moment, when Mithos rejected everyone around him.]

[He doesn't want to, but he can still see the common lines drawn between him and this boy he can't understand, doesn't want to understand. Maybe he isn't strong either. Aleos's body - swallowing itself, trembling - reflects everything Mithos feels right now. His heart feels gutted, but full in the way an infection is full of pus. It's too much. He wants to rip it all out, even the wheezing, dilapidated frame, so he can forget what even the remainder of a heart feels like.]

You can say that as many times as you like...it still doesn't change anything.

[He continues to back up. The earth has calmed beneath his feet, but he can still feel the tremors deep inside him. A few yards away he turns, flipping the knife's blade away, and he runs. He has nowhere to go but an empty house where he can only try to hide from the ugly monsters howling inside him. All he needs is to not be found.

Alone, again. Always. Maybe he was always alone. A fool for thinking otherwise.]

Edited 2013-10-19 17:09 (UTC)

twenty [action]

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ugh sorry

/snugs Kath forever

/snugs you both

/snugs all around