carnagecarnival | We The Lost Mailbox

[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)

[She's wrapped around him, holding him togetherlike. She's listened so quiet. She bumps her forehead to his and his eyes close. He nuzzles just a little, as she speaks. Only then she's kissing him, tending so gentle.

He unravels just a little, becomes more troll. He moves in and kisses her proper, soft and chaste.

He doesn't know if this is the good sort of break or not either, but he hopes it is. He'll have to give it time to see how he goes about dealing by the mirthful.]

Even motherfucking me? Even the Lord of Destruction himself, it would seem. [It's a weak joke when his eyes are still indigo and his paint still mussed, but it's something.]

So... now that we've both torn free our world views from one another... maybe we can finally get about enjoying each other's company, yeah? Share some shit what's nice. I got something cool what to show you.

Edited 2017-05-20 05:30 (UTC)

[She kisses him back, glad for the response to her comfort. Her heart still aches for him, but it eases a little as his despair relents.]

Even you. Even if your Lord shows up on my doorstep tomorrow. I'll kick him in the shins and tell him he's wrong.

[Her tone is half-joking, but only half. Him and his Lord. They're both wrong about how much Kurloz matters, and she'll do whatever it takes to show him that.

But she's also not opposed to just enjoying her matesprit's company. It's been a trying few days, and even with all the trouble it's caused her, she's still glad to be here. It feels good to be in his arms again. Even as he suggests that he has something to show her, she debates if it's worth leaving this comfortable entanglement.]

What is it?

[He laughs, high-voiced and fearful, at the idea of her kicking the shins of a Messiah. That Messiah.]

Maybe... don't be kicking the Lord of Destruction for me, yeah? I don't think as like it would win favor or keep you well. I rather like you here.

[He forces a wry smile and it's more crooked than usual. Not in the right ways. At least not a first. He eases a little as he goes on.]

Well, there's two things, but if I'm showing the latter bit firstlike we'll never get on from it, heh.

[He lets her go, but doesn't get up. He just needs his arms enough to roll his shirt up to his and just letting it hang there.]

It... was impulse. Been fascinated since I learned it. That becoming a proper guardian granted these to them in our circles respective. I thought, if I'm committing as all to this protecting of worlds business, if I was going on through all this by my God then...

[He leans just a bit forward, to give his back some space. His eyes close. And just like that, before doubts and fear can hold him back, he sets them out. The wings spring from his back, unfolding and stretching out. They're not proper godtier wings, but he doesn't know what such things is looking like anyway. They're insect's wings, but they're strong. They spread wide, light catching the thin chitin and giving it the soft indigo iridescence. He beats them just once, then remains very still and silent, watching for approval or... not.]

[She's not sure where this is going, when he starts talking about proper guardians and protecting of worlds. But she's curious enough to let him keep going, even when he has to let go of her to do so. Her head tilts to sniff at him when he starts rolling up his shirt--She doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary from what she's smelled of him before. While his abdomen is a welcome scent and her first instinct is to touch her hands to it, she's not quite sure what the surprise is supposed to be.]

[Not until those wings suddenly unfurl from his back, and she's momentarily left at a loss for words. Her eyes open wide in awe, and if he's searching for approval, then she has more than enough to supply him. her voice finally comes, breathlessly.]

Kurloz... They're amazing.

We The Lost Mailbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject