another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

[simulsimul]

a post for random filings of things


d_p - in which Kratos and Zelos snark as well as they can with Lloyd in hearing.
here - Zelos takes Kratos up on a challenge. (cw for suicide talk)
here - spacedad finds another canon on another planet. it involves a skeleton with a disturbingly similar backstory.

Comments

[skeletonenigma]

[Saracen looks at Ghastly, then back at Kratos. Kratos isn't honestly expecting him to talk frankly about this now, is he? Not without the ability to erase it so Ghastly doesn't remember.

Hang on, he can do it. He just has to find the right words.]

Not for as long as you're here, barring Darquesse-level destruction. Which -- now that I think about it, Darquesse has something to do with the angels, doesn't she?

[The last bit Saracen says to Ghastly, in a politely curious tone instead of his habitual knowing one.]

It would explain how one person manages to destroy the entire world.

[shopworn]

[...Saracen, asking like he doesn't know? That's surreal. Ghastly hesitates, then shakes his head.]

No, I don't think so?

[This is accompanied by a hopeful look over at Kratos. Ghastly isn't sure, but he feels like -- generally -- there would be a different sort of devastation if angels were involved. Darquesse brings apocalypse, but not holy fire. Probably.]

What do you mean, not as long as he's here?

[This is, again, about half of a conversation that Ghastly really wishes he had all of.]

[simulsimul]

Darquesse has nothing to do with angels.

[A little forbiddingly. Kratos -- suspects -- based on some things now, and the memories leading up to the first, second and third time he and Saracen met. He takes a breath for more, and bites back on it; because not as long as you're here still seems like a bare level of grudging concession, not understanding.]

You'd be surprised what one person can do, given the right power.

[These words are more carefully chosen than his originals would have been, but his gaze is still penetratingly, pointedly unblinking at Saracen.]

[skeletonenigma]

[It's not very different from some of the things the professor said all those years ago, those sorts of bitingly polite, but extremely pointed, statements. The only thing that makes Saracen note it as something to be concerned about at all is the fact that an angel is saying it. Last he checked, angel trumps professorial father figure. Last he checked, angel also trumps childhood friend, but that shouldn't really play into things, given that the last time Saracen met said childhood friend, they stabbed him. 

So he doesn't answer, and just looks steadily back at Kratos.

Skulduggery comes in behind Kratos, and although he can't possibly have missed the atmosphere in the shop, his voice is bright and unconcerned.]

Ah, I see you two have met. Would an introduction be superfluous at this point?

[shopworn]

Can you two stop speaking in cryptic half-sentences?

[Said with the yearning hope of a man who knows he is probably not going to get what he wants, but who nevertheless lives in hope, and must try anyway.]

There could be tea. We could have a conversation.

[simulsimul]

[The lack of response makes it plain that Saracen is handing over the situation to Kratos; and at least part of that is due to -- whatever extreme desire he has not to let his friends know what he can do. It's a desire Kratos both understands and condemns. He'd been wrong too.

[He knows, too, that Ghastly's said something legitimate, that he's being inescapably rude; but the juggernaut of action and intent is still too ingrained to turn aside. Kratos looks back at Saracen, eyes narrowed; takes a breath, and explicitly tries to relax. It's a bit like watching a coiled spring unravel, and doing so deliberately.

[I want to talk more about this, he says wordlessly, projecting to Saracen alone. You do your friends an injustice by vying so desperately to maintain their ignorance. That last phrase, 'maintaining their ignorance', is all tangled up with other things; layered like Saracen's time is layered, and made of things like regret watching the world turn and knowing he's formed it without the consent of others; and Lloyd's shock at discovering his father's identity; and the solid shape of the seal threading time and space together within him, dictating his actions against consent.

[It's difficult to rein that in, when he remembers the half-conversations they've had, barely making it to a whole one across several different timelines. I recognise that this is not my world, and you are not mine to condemn. But I will render to you the opportunity to discuss your capabilities with someone you cannot fool. I can't imagine you've had many of those.]

[skeletonenigma]

Far be it from me to agree with someone about not wanting more puzzles, but in this case, we certainly could have a conversation.

[Skulduggery still sounds bright and unconcerned. Over in the other corner of the shop, Saracen mostly looks like something inside his brain just snapped, staring wide-eyed with shock and a hint of fear. He doesn't move, and he certainly doesn't say anything. Skulduggery spares him a glance.]

Go easy on the telepathy, please, Kratos.

[Telepathy, Saracen thinks. Of course it's bloody telepathy. Only it definitely came with a tangle of strong emotion and he has the strangest idea that he's already made all of the worst mistakes of his life, and he's somehow come back from all of them to have a second chance, except he's making all the same mistakes again, and it's an idea that doesn't quite fit in his mind. It leaves him feeling like he's teetering at the edge of a yawning chasm.

Even if he wanted to reply, he can't. Thinking communicative thoughts feels too much like Hopeless is back. How dare an angel try to act like he's half the man Hopeless was, or means half as much to Saracen as Hopeless did?]

[simulsimul]

Forgive me.

[It's murmured and genuinely contrite, gaze on Saracen. Of all the things these people are capable of, somehow it hasn't occurred that having someone speak in their heads might be somewhat beyond merely 'unexpected'; and Kratos is aware his emotions were not as leashed as he was attempting.

[He rouses himself with a shake of the head, and turns.]

I'm sorry for my rudeness, Mr Bespoke. Some tea would be appreciated, yes.