carnagecarnival | We The Lost Mailbox

[His talk of making stories about her gets him a dry look. He flatters her so much--too much, in her opinion. But she won't be swayed to deviate from her topic.

At least, not until he mentions her ancestor being in one of the other realms. She looks startled. Half a moment of stunned silence, and then a graceless "What" blurting past her lips. Her heart taps out a beat just a little quicker than normal. She should really keep her focus on Kurloz, but she can't help but ask now that he's brought up the possibility.]

She's in one of the other worlds? Is she... Does she remember? What happened in Panem? [She tries not to appear too hopeful, but her voice betrays her desperation.]

[He had intended to deviate topic from his ownself, particularly when his ownself's quarry now rest with Gamzee, a topic he can henceforth avoid at all costs now that it no longer has any relevance to her. Not to mention, he misses his matesprit and likes knowing her going on's.

But now she's really excited and this... this is exactly the sort of thing he means, that rush and longing to meet. And worst of all now is that he has to disappoint her. He shakes his head.]

Sorry, sister. She ain't of Panem. She's an iteration alternate like whereas all motherfuckers from all the fuck over got playing that game of ours. Different Neophyte what's knowing different me. Few other players what's being up in the hivecluster here, Bertie, Waspfire... I got talking at to her once before. It was some fucking dream what I was thinking between here and the Capitol, but I only got learning her to be up in Midnight that last time the walls was down.

[She isn't entirely sure where Midnight is. The past two times that the walls were down, she had lingered either in the Meadous or in Sunset Circus, save for her short jaunt in...whatever that cold place was. It hadn't really occurred to her that there might be other people that she wanted to find beyond the borders of these two worlds. But now she wishes that she had at least taken a stroll through the others. Given them a cursory once-over.

The fact that this isn't the Redglare that she knows and remembers is disheartening, and it shows. But an opportunity is an opportunity. She won't pass up this chance to get to know her ancestor simply because she doesn't remember meeting her for the few short weeks they were together.]

How do I talk to her? Do I write? If I ask Fovos to deliver it to her, do you think it'll make it there like your letters come here?

[He throws his hands up and shakes his head.]

Don't be asking me how to get a talk on at her. I ain't do nothing but fuck up by what's by her, swear at it.

[Of course, that ain't exactly all of what she's asking. He puts his hands back down.]

But yeah, just write I figure. Fovos is a chill motherfucker. If my letters get on to you and back from then it ought to be working. I've told her a bit on about you. I think she'd like to know you she's just got fear on cause all she's a recluse what pretends she don't feel shit. [A pause.] Don't tell her I told at you that.

She's known some alternates more of you, I think. And she's had close dealing with elder of me. Though not exact as we know, it ain't good. Maybe get avoidancies for them things.

[Terezi's already got her hands up, like she plans to placate him somehow, when he seems to catch on to what she means. He has her undivided attention for as long as his instructions and warnings continue, filing everything away so that maybe...maybe she can work herself up to this.]

I'll be careful. I just...want to be able to know her better, you know? Not just things I've read about her. I want to make her a little more real.

[And in the process, probably prove his point. It occurs to her that she deviated from their conversation about how he didn't feel like a very inspiring ancestor to...talk about her own.]

...Have you tried asking her? How to be an ancestor? Or asking Meulin?

[He barks a laugh. It's more self-depreciating than cruel, but he couldn't blame her if she heard him all wrong.]

Fuck no.

[He shakes his head again.]

... I've talked to Meulin, for some motherfucking sense of what could be called it. We were thinking to lusii brought back in Panem. We got admitting them dead. Descendants came in natural turn. We talked on losing and trying not to be making attachment and doing so anyway and all them ways a step would be willed averting. We talked on that feeling, knowing someone's yours... but that's what it was at. Wasn't really how to be being an ancestor as all it was wishing we was better ones, taking times missed.

As for the Neophyte, I couldn't ask her advice on nothing, I think she'd just get ire on at me or close the fuck up like she's always doing. [He shrugs. He doesn't actually know.]Most I could manage was telling her of you.

[But Terezi's a Pyrope so maybe she'll get through better. Maybe.]

[The way that he talks about her ancestor has her worried... What if she doesn't take to her any more than she's taken to her matesprit? What if she's not good enough to earn her favor? They got along well enough in Panem, but only after some miscommunication had Redglare running her down like a criminal. Even after that, she still wasn't sure how much the older troll liked her. Did a few pleasant conversations mean that she would be able to engage with this Redglare, too? Or was she simply more amiable due to needing allies in a place like Panem?

The thoughts preoccupy her again, and it takes her a moment to snap out of it. She almost wants to demand what he told Redglare about her, but she bites her tongue on that train of conversation.]

Maybe... the point is that no one really knows how to do it. I mean... We're not even supposed to meet our ancestors. Or our descendants. At best, they could leave things for us, and even then, that was only the higher castes. Anything beyond that was unheard of. Assuming that someone was your ancestor felt like taboo, unless you had undeniable proof. It felt like there were so many rules, so many missteps... I was terrified the first time I met Redglare. And you had already told her my name and everything. [She pokes him in the side as retaliation, though she's long been over it.] But that terror wasn't just from meeting her... It was everything else, too.

So maybe the point is that... it's probably not a big deal if you don't know what you're supposed to be doing. You care about doing it right. That's probably already better than most of our species ever managed.

[Her fears spin round and round. He can take her hand, give it a squeeze as all to comfort, but he can say nothing wit certainty. He doesn't understand the Neophyte well enough at all to be stating on proper response to a descendant, even if he thinks the Neophyte should respond well enough, both in theory and kindness.

He listens intently, with only a slight furrow in his brow, right up until she prods his side and he's forced to grin sheepish at her. He doesn't regret what got done. He spoke no ill of her and besides, he'd hardly cared back then.]

Descendants wasn't something I ever thought about. I got hearing of it before it'd even up and occurred. I feel like I would've figured the damn things would just... never crawl out of the caverns. Die up in the trials and the better to them. Then I'd just... not have to fucking care. I don't know if I ever could've been like how the empress does at it, just culling them off, no care up at all. But then, I'd probably have got culling any all anyways since that's how I tended to do shit.

[He obviously motherfucking cares now. A lot. And definitely doesn't want to be culling Gamzee, so long as nothing goes spectacularly badly.]

This the part where I confess I ain't know what to say to him all otherwise and how all it matters to me while you get pretending like it ain't make you all a sorts nauseous? Because we can skip that part, don't you know. [He leans in to kiss her quick.] Thank you, by the by.

[She squeezes his hand back, instinctively. She knows what fears he must be feeling off of her, and she appreciates the comfort.

The conversation veers more and more to talking about Gamzee directly. She's been trying to avoid addressing him and only speaking about Kurloz's side of things. The moment he mentions a 'him', Terezi cringes internally. He's not wrong. It does make her feel nauseous, and she's glad that he understands that well enough to let her drop it.]

...You're welcome. I wish I could be happier for you. [In that, she wishes that his descendant was anyone but Gamzee Makara. But that much doesn't need to be said.]

Edited 2017-03-25 00:37 (UTC)

[He wishes she could be. He wishes all were easier. But he doesn't need it to be. This divide will not kill him.

He leans on in, bumping his head to hers, nuzzling a bit.]

You've done a lot. Just today you got on pushing much with this, with everything. And I know still you're hurting. Would only make us unhappy if you got pretending like you wasn't.

[He rubs his thumb over the top of her hand.]

Mere wish it'd not worry you so.

[His nuzzling is taken and returned, despite the uneasiness that she still feels in her heart. He's her matesprit. No matter how much trouble he causes her, she'll never stop pitying him. That's been such a constant in her life these past few years. She's not sure what she would do if that ever did change.]

I'm okay. [Or she will be. Probably. It's close enough to count, she thinks. She needs to really think about everything that she's talked about in the past few days--and they've given her a lot to think about, but once she gets that sorted... Okay is a good word for what she thinks she'll be.

She lifts her hand away from his, resting it against the side of his neck. Her fingertips brush against the curls of hair at the base of his skull.]

...What about you; are you okay? Really okay? After everything? [Everything that he had told her. They only barely touched on what had happened before the fighting had started, and he had said that he was fine--better than fine, but she's starting to wonder if she had taken that response for granted.]

[He thinks he understands. Sure, there's more fear to be felt, but being okay wasn't something what's being perfect, he thinks. In this particular instance, he believes her, and he's happy for it.

He must admit, even if only to himself, that the little returns of affection and gestures new tend to help the notion of all being well. It's hard to doubt when she's brushing through his hair like that. He closes his eyes and tilts his head to it, just short of a purr, but certainly not short a smile.

It's amazing the differences that time and trust create. He notices it now after telling a tale of injuries inflicted.

He answer with only a little confusion. Mostly a laugh.]

I got you here. I got all everyone nearby as normal. No one's hurt, nobody's dead. We've fought before, and we've always got working it up and out, haven't we? Just like we up and did. Not sure why a brother wouldn't be being okay.

[If she means anything else, it's not come to him yet.]

[It would be just like him to miss her meaning entirely. So worried about everyone else all the time, he doesn't realize that it's his well being that she's asking about.

She gives him that dead pan look that she does when he's being particularly thick. A thin press of her lips together and a tilt to her head... then she uses the hand at his neck to pull him in for a brief kiss.]

I didn't realize that scaring me half to death was something you'd forget so quickly. [She's teasing him, of course, but there's a hint of exasperation in her tone.] I don't really care how everyone else is doing right now... I just want to know about you. How are you doing?

[He felt the look and sure enough, when he opened his eyes it was there. The confusion grows in the face of her unimpressed stare. There's been a lot to be talking about. Whole motherfucking lot of things getting thought done over for.

He has to trace back. Scaring her to death? His shouting at her? No. That pertained to their fighting. A different time. (Too many times and also not nearly enough considering who he is and what self preservation lacking that means.) Not Gamzee for she wouldn't want to talk about that...]

... Are you meaning the memory of vision? [He looks her over, searchingly.] I'm whole. Well and motherfucking feeling. I got about healing you of me before, you recall. Mere did about the same my ownself and was motherfucking new again. Made sure I wouldn't go down too far by the vision so as to make sure I'd know to be repairing later. I even learned recent this all can be of help with more than just me, so that's all the motherfucking better too. Sorry I scared you by it.

[Which is all truths for how he is doing. Just not how he was doing. Past tenses ain't matter though. Even if a twinge of guilt has him forced into saying:]

You needn't worry about me, Terezi.

[Even as he assures her that he's well, she hears all the things that he doesn't say. I'm whole, he starts with--and just by saying that, he puts an emphasis on the difference between this and... some time when he wasn't whole. She hears the same again with him and 'feeling', and it doesn't sound like a coincidence. Between that and his description from before--mentioning his old self as being burnt up--she gets the impression that he's trying to hide how bad he really was.

As such, his last comment only has her frowning at him.]

I always worry about you. Even more, when you don't seem to worry enough about yourself. One of us has to.

[Of course she says that. He should've expected.

He turns his eyes down, away from her. He fidgets absently.]

I brought it on myself. I still think it worth it. I needed to know this and I needed to know how to motherfucking overcome. But it was my choice. Feels foolish to spill ills up over it. It'll only bother.

[He says all this, but he continues. He says like it's his own damn fault, and yet still his voice gets so small and his eyes so distant.]

I've never felt fear like that in my life. It was so much more than anything I've ever known. I've been burned but that was hotter. I've drowned but that was so much more what to swallow. It was so much, too much, I could feel myself tearing apart and I still couldn't hold. It spilled on the fuck out from my throat.

[His breath is more audible. It doesn't race, not yet, but it ain't far.]

Started as the same old dreams. I'd had them before, I just never got far enough, clear enough. Like I was only catching echoes of the moment to come. I watched the world fall to pieces just like foretold. I watched and I would remember the way Mituna's psionics wove up in, all those screams. And then there was dark. A great motherfucking void. There was a light. A bright green motherfucking light what I watched and couldn't move from. And then He was there. The Lord. He opened his maw. And then all that fear came on out and poured the fuck in through me.

[His hands shake now, just a little.]

It was a scream and it was a direction branded into my soul and it was a hailing of the end channeled through me and it... it was familiar. I was caught between the revelation, the pain and fear of it, and... Meulin. I could hear her pleading to stop. I was not able. She held me and I could hear her cry... calling me. My name. And that's how I stopped. I stopped the memory there.

[He blinks then, shaking his head a little. His eyes lose that distance, bringing him to heres and nows. He looks mildly confused as he reaches up with one hand and finds something wet and lightly purple on his face.]

Oh.

[He presses at his eyes and shakes his head again.]

I... It wasn't actually her. I warned everyone to stay clear. I had Ienzo don them protective bits for his hearstalks. It was just the memory of her. That's all.

[He sounds so small, and all she wants is to hold him close and protect him from the harm that he speaks of. The story that he tells unsettles her, and he might feel the way her concern shifts--from a worry that he might not take care of himself, to a worry that there's something inherently dangerous about this Lord that he speaks of. Not just that this might be a real person that could hurt her matesprit... but that it's someone her matesprit still looks up to, someone he would obey without hesitation. She's not entirely sure how to feel about that.

But more pressing is the way that he starts to cry without realizing. Her heart breaks for him, and she reaches up to pull his hands away from his eyes. She wipes his tears away for him, taking care not to smudge his paint. Then she pulls him down and plants a kiss to each eye. She takes up his hands again, gripping them tightly.]

What happened back then wasn't your fault. You were attacked, and through you, Meulin was also hurt, but... You were a victim just as much as she was. You realize that, don't you?

[It made sense when it wasn't him. When it was his other self and not just a part of him. He could say easily that the motherfucker got being some kind of cursed and there was nothing to be done of it. Even when it became a memory to him, he could understand it as a thing what simply was.

For some reason, it's a whole other thing to hear it said back at him. Was he attacked? He didn't think it like that. He merely thought it a happenstance of a mortal trying to contain the will of a god. Like squeezing the hand of a lowerblood and being surprised when the bones break.

She kisses him. She tends to his face. She is oh so motherfucking gentle with him, even in her words. He leans into her and closes his eyes to savor each little touch.]

I... suppose so. I wish it to have gone some other way. [But it didn't and it couldn't have. Even Meulin's deafening would have been important.] I culled no one but I believe I went about some action terrible. Our session had to fail so you could all come to being. By writ of vision, I had to make it so. [They are used to this by now, aren't they? Acts predestined. Necessary evils to lead into a good.]

I know it was needed. I understand how the fuck this all is being to work. I know I ought not to question. But I have grown so mother fuckin tired of playing as pawn to another. Even if it is the will of the Lord, as his servant, I... I do see idol in him as you think. But I have removed from him a power over me. I ponder that perhaps this might only be that which I wish to be the right thing to motherfucking do. I wonder if that the right thing is that we, my line, may only be that which we are later designed. That our cruelty is somehow correct. But for all how it is something I'd see the will of the Lord I wonder yet, why would he... erase her holiness from me? Have I not proven loyal enough to him? Am I undeserving of her? I and those around me are safe once more. But I am so motherfucking confused. I struggle not to see this a mother fuckin reckoning due. A punishment for some thing unknown. Perhaps for being so damn drawn.

Edited 2017-03-26 19:38 (UTC)

Kurloz... [He goes on and on about this Lord of his and the hows and the whys of what happened to him. For all he talks of removing his influence, she's not quite sure that he realizes the hold that this Lord still has over him.

She runs her thumbs over his, feeling his skin against hers. It makes her aware of how much smaller than his her hands are, and yet, he feels so much more fragile than she does in this moment.]

You have removed one power, but as long as you still hold him on a pedestal, you haven't freed yourself yet. You're still tormenting yourself with what you think you did wrong to deserve this, but... Maybe you did nothing? Maybe he's just... not the person you thought he was. Maybe he doesn't care about you as a person, not the way that you deserve to be cared about.

[She knows that this won't be something that he wants to hear. It goes against everything she knows of his faith, and she doesn't find any pleasure in ruining that for him. But he was there to help her realize the harms that were done to her by those she trusted, and she needs to be there for him in turn.

She releases one hand, touching it to his cheek to make sure that she has his attention.]

Kurloz. You don't owe anything to someone who would hurt you like that.

[He's got to bite his tongue some lest he speak before she's done. There's so much there to pick apart, but she does it with kindest intention. She does it with love and only a very small part of him warns she'll stray him off the path. He puts it out like snuffed light. That, he is certain, is wrong. But she isn't all on the same page either. She doesn't see him like he does, which is an ironic statement in its self]

You're speaking him like just anybody and I perceive him as... so much more than. He is far above mortal whims... [He's not sure she'll understand that. He tries another way.] You must understand, even if he wasn't, I don't... I don't want to be freed from him. I was hatched to serve them, the holy two. They're written into me. They saved my life by showing me how to save myself. They were there when no one else was, before you were even a thing to be. They gave me a motherfucking purpose. I...

[He can concede on some things, even if he does so miserably. Even if follows up with further defense.]

... Whether he meant to or not, he destroyed me. And I don't even know where her Highness was for it all. But I need him. It's not pity or such, but it's not no small thing either, it's like... it's... I love him. I love them. [He shakes his head, the words too heavy a confession, and a frankly stupid one even to his own ears.] The Lord at least was never meant to be a deity kind, I knew this, it was foolish to expect otherwise for he guides in ways otherlike. I got to be chosen twice, I got to serve direct, and that's how things are supposed to motherfucking be. [He should be grateful. He's not. Terezi says he owes nothing and he doesn't know if that's true.] But I wanted it to be different. I wanted to be theirs. If it's not my fault, if it's just how things is, then how will I ever... how can I get...?

[He can continue no more. It's too much to speak. He wanted to be held, he wanted to be loved, he wanted to motherfucking matter. He wanted something certain.

He curls up then, as much as he can. Useless and fucking pathetic. But he isn't able to look at her. He feels like a child. He never should've talked of this even though he did, and a part of him had wanted to.]

[She does speak of him like anybody else. She doesn't know why she shouldn't. He admits that he loves them, and that only makes her more worried for him. And she was already worried enough to begin with.

He curls up then, and her heart goes out to him. She might not be able to hear his thoughts, but she's there nonetheless. He wants to be held, and her hands are there to encircle him and hold him close to her. He wants to be loved, and her lips are there to press a kiss to the side of his head. He wants to matter, and her words are there only because he matters so much to her.]

...Do you know why I've been so skeptical all this time? It's not...just because of Gamzee. The things you've told me about your religion, I could almost believe them. The idea of the world being made in two parts, of it needing those two parts. I don't disagree. Sometimes I think I get it better than you think I do.

But I can't...imagine putting so much of that into a person. People are fallible. It doesn't matter if they're mortals or gods. When you put all of those things into a person, you're trusting them to decide for you. And everyone makes wrong decisions. Even when I could see the future--Kurloz, I still made wrong decisions. No one is above that. That would be asking too much, even of a god.

[She pets his hair back in soothing strokes, letting her fingers lace through the strands as they go, then gently pulling them free at end to start their journey again.]

It doesn't... really make sense to me, either. If everything has a dark and a light, then why should they only ever be right? And if what you feel opposes them, then why should that only ever be wrong?

[Sometimes they fight. Sometimes they clash calamitous, the two of them. But no one else is so attuned to him. No one else just clicks the fuck in. He leans into her arms, edges softening under her kiss. She's so goddamn good.

She listens to him and he tries to listen too, to really hear her preach, even when he's feeling uncertain up about it. He's not sure the uncertainty abates, but it shifts from a worry she's going to tear his faith apart into something... a little more bearable. Not much.

It's not until the last bits of what she says that he's really reconsidering. His voice is a muffled croak.]

That feels Blasphemous. That sounds the sort of thing what would get me executed for blasphemy. [Of course, there's a lot of things he'd be executed for if he were on Alternia now.

He lifts his head a little.]

... Gods are... they're meant to be perfect ain't they? Real gods. They're above all things, they're... better. Than mortals are. [But he can't deny that. If there's a balance then, at some point, someone must be wrong. Right?] Do... you think he made a mistake? [It feels safer to ask, than to question of his own will. He has been devout his whole life.]

[While it might be true, she refrains from pointing out that they all would have been executed at least ten times over. He's hurting right now, and she's not so sure that levity would fix this.

Instead, she listens some more. She worries that she might just not be able to get through this block. She worries that the pedestal is set too high. But then his question comes, and she's caught a little off guard that he wants her opinion on his god's actions.

She takes a moment to compose her thoughts. To really think about what he's asking. Her verdict is delivered as gently as possible.]

I think he used you. And maybe that got the results that were needed, but those results don't mean that the action was right. What was done to you was wrong. There should have been another way. There's always another way. [Privately, she thinks that perhaps he just didn't want to search for it. Finding a way to necessary outcomes are hard enough without trying to find a way to limit that damage. It sounds to her like he just didn't care.]

And more than that... I don't think it's a mistake for you to feel the way you do. You deserved better. Even when considering balance, at least one of your lives deserved better. I don't know how anyone could consider that fair, to rob you of so much both times.

[It's hard to hear. It's hard after going all his life, knowing himself a sinner, knowing himself a traitor, knowing himself motherfucking evil for all the cruelty done about. He's built up a thousand and more reasons why he's something wretched, undeniable facts, and he's understood he's lucky to be granted as much blessing as he's been.

She says he doesn't deserve it. It wasn't fair. He deserved better. From himself, it's a tantrum. From her, it's made real. His breath shudders.

He waits until he can speak. Then, at last, he says the untempered truth. An unsurprising truth but one always somewhat held back, somewhat strangled by his adoration. Now, it sharpens it.]

I wish it had not needed to happen. I wouldn't change it now, wouldn't give up you, wouldn't turn away from earth or whoever all got coming from it. But he... he could have waited. [His voice cracks sharp.] He could've saw as to it when I was a little bit older, when we'd had the chance to live. He could left me some way to heal, spoke softer. He could have left my friends out of it, my quadrants, Gamzee. [Once again, he's in tears before her. Once again, his words get carried away from him.] I ruined everything and he would have made me do it as like it was me! And nobody fucking figured it out, I read it so! They didn't notice or they thought it was being who I am natural. I used to want to save us, all of Beforus, and they... and he...

[He falls quiet. His voice is hoarse when he speaks again.]

... My first proper cull. I was going to die. The troll was so scared of me he was going to cull my ass. And I heard them. The Messiahs. They told me to take faith. They told me what to do to live. They showed me my paint and how to paint all the fuck together. When it was just me alone, I had them. When all my hope got destroyed, I still had them. They were the only ones who I never figured to hurt me. I wanted to believe there was someone what wouldn't... [Past tense. A defeat.]

Thank you. For being here. And I'm sorry.

[She lets him talk. She holds him as the truth comes out in a rush, and the tears start to fall. He feels broken by the time he's finished, and more than anything she hopes this is the good kind of break. The kind where everything can be set to heal, stronger than before.

She bumps her forehead against his, a simple expression of pity and support. She leaves it resting there.]

You don't need to be sorry. I'll always be here for you. Even for stuff like this. [She moves just a little, just enough to kiss his tears away. A hand comes up to gently wipe away whatever else she misses. She knows how hard this must be for him, but she's proud of the progress he's made. It's more than she ever thought he might have.]

You matter. Your feelings matter, and I won't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Edited 2017-05-20 03:27 (UTC)

We The Lost Mailbox

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