it takes a long second for him to register the voice speaking to him as white's, and not some disembodied executor. he hears it and he lets his back rest against the wall a bit more even as he blinks a few times to try to get rid of any remaining, aching phantoms.]
... Wh-White?
[he drops the honorific just for now - just to get a sense of who's in front of him.
his fingers twitch as if to test them, as if he can still use them.]
slowly, he approaches, and then places his hands against mineo's arms. not tightly, but just enough to assure him he's there. they're here, not in the place where mineo—well.
...
after a few moments of that, he freezes up, before scrambling a step back with his own hands held awkwardly in the air. (which is to say, he realized this could be interpreted as a kind gesture, which maybe was the motivation, and now he's feeling embarrassed.)]
[ . . . . it's kind of an odd gesture, and it gets mineo to blink but - he feels it. the pressure, the grounding sense that he's not alone, and he's not with someone who's going to hurt him. it takes a few precarious breaths for him to calm down enough that he's not as tense, not as fearful.
and when white backs up - he just snorts briefly, a breath that surprises even him, before he reaches a hand out to let it circle around white's gently.
I eventually will be, probably. Sorry you had to - [ . . . did he feel it? he can't imagine what it must be like, to experience a torture that you never deserved or signed up for]
[torture's nothing new to white. but he, at least—there's an argument to be made that one crime begets another. that he'd already committed his sins by that point, so it was simply karma.
what did mineo deserve? because he was rash and thoughtless? what a load of bullshit.]
But I just think whichever sociopath is out there killing people for fun would probably have an easier time trying to steal the life of somebody who doesn't have a guaranteed future.
[whatever white was about to say, though, is cut off by another scene playing.
You are in the external world, on the corpse of a god. Not far from you is where the sealing ceremony has taken place, a pillar of star-like power soaring into the boundless sky. Within is Lord Lessa, and you can only hope that despite Luciel's words, his decision won't become his sacrifice. Around him are the unconscious bodies of the Apostles who carried out the ritual; they can do nothing now.
and that - more than anything else - gets a surprised, confused swell of emotion from mineo. there's so much here that he doesn't understand, that goes right over his head, but there are some things that are able to resonate. the idea that there's something that you want to protect. that you're tired of the only one not carrying your weight. that you want to finally prove you can do something, to help someone -
and both of his hands curl around white's wrists then instead of just one, as if to make sure that he's still there.]
.... I won't.
[he says that first, softly, he can promise that but - ]
[ . . . . . . . . he wanted to live. white might've made a choice but even at the end, he wanted to live. and mineo at least recognizes the wince, pulls his hand away from the arm that seems to be hurt but -
but.]
...... you have to win. Here, I mean. You have to.
[white has to get enough power to not lose there.]
... Then, I'm going to hold you to that. You better not lose your nerve along the way.
[the sentimental, stubborn part of white thinks, of course i'll win. he crawled his way through life to reach where he is, against all the odds.
the weaker, uncertain part of him wavers. because for all those years, he "survived", rather than lived. he'd desperately scavenged for a scrap of the normal, happy life he'd been denied since birth, and to the very end, he was never able to obtain it.]
[he blinks, caught off-guard by that statement. you've got people to go back to—it's not a sentiment he expected. the idea that anyone would be hoping for him to make it is...]
mineo's kindness—the reminder that there are actually people now who would care if he got hurt—threatens to overwhelm him, and so on instinct, he abruptly pulls himself away from mineo.
it's a testament that he's getting at least a little adjusted to this, though, that after a pause, he manages to mumble out—]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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white freezes, trying to grasp what it is he saw. was that—what the fuck?
though any thoughts he might have flee at mineo's reaction. slowly, he holds up his hands, ignoring the burning sensation in one of his arms.]
Hey... hey. It's me.
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it takes a long second for him to register the voice speaking to him as white's, and not some disembodied executor. he hears it and he lets his back rest against the wall a bit more even as he blinks a few times to try to get rid of any remaining, aching phantoms.]
... Wh-White?
[he drops the honorific just for now - just to get a sense of who's in front of him.
his fingers twitch as if to test them, as if he can still use them.]
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Are you going to shoot me if I touch you? 'Cause, you know, I'd rather not get shot when I can't transform.
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and immediately he holds his hands up on either side of his head, freezing automatically.]
No, I -
.... I don't want to hurt anybody.
[he doesn't want his fear to be the cause of more pain]
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slowly, he approaches, and then places his hands against mineo's arms. not tightly, but just enough to assure him he's there. they're here, not in the place where mineo—well.
...
after a few moments of that, he freezes up, before scrambling a step back with his own hands held awkwardly in the air. (which is to say, he realized this could be interpreted as a kind gesture, which maybe was the motivation, and now he's feeling embarrassed.)]
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and when white backs up - he just snorts briefly, a breath that surprises even him, before he reaches a hand out to let it circle around white's gently.
to hold onto him, too.]
.... I don't bite or anything.
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[...
he has absolutely no idea how to broach what he saw, or if he even should.]
... You okay?
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No.
[ . . . . but he shrugs.]
I eventually will be, probably. Sorry you had to - [ . . . did he feel it? he can't imagine what it must be like, to experience a torture that you never deserved or signed up for]
... deal with any of that.
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what did mineo deserve? because he was rash and thoughtless? what a load of bullshit.]
... Don't apologize. Idiot.
It's not your fault.
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seems to struggle with that. even reliving that memory fresh, hearing the judgment upon his soul, he frowns.]
.... maybe not.
[maybe.... yes.]
.... can you -
Not tell anybody about that too?
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.... I don't know.
But I just think whichever sociopath is out there killing people for fun would probably have an easier time trying to steal the life of somebody who doesn't have a guaranteed future.
So I felt like I had to say it.
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[whatever white was about to say, though, is cut off by another scene playing.
You are in the external world, on the corpse of a god. Not far from you is where the sealing ceremony has taken place, a pillar of star-like power soaring into the boundless sky. Within is Lord Lessa, and you can only hope that despite Luciel's words, his decision won't become his sacrifice. Around him are the unconscious bodies of the Apostles who carried out the ritual; they can do nothing now.
It's just you and Mienna, the sole two humans present, against a caged Luciel—and that's where everything goes wrong.
...
various thoughts fly through white's head, the first and foremost of which is, talk about fucking shitty timing, but in the end, he settles for:]
... Well, same goes for you, then.
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oh.
and that - more than anything else - gets a surprised, confused swell of emotion from mineo. there's so much here that he doesn't understand, that goes right over his head, but there are some things that are able to resonate. the idea that there's something that you want to protect. that you're tired of the only one not carrying your weight. that you want to finally prove you can do something, to help someone -
and both of his hands curl around white's wrists then instead of just one, as if to make sure that he's still there.]
.... I won't.
[he says that first, softly, he can promise that but - ]
.... are you okay?
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... I'm fine. I knew what I was getting into.
[his death was a long time coming, at least—and, especially next to mineo, he's aware that it was about as good as someone like him could hope for.
even if, ultimately, he wanted to live.]
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but.]
...... you have to win. Here, I mean. You have to.
[white has to get enough power to not lose there.]
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Dumbass. I should be saying that to you.
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[he shrugs]
We can both win, you know. So that means that we're going to.
[he's not sure he'd be able to accept otherwise]
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[the sentimental, stubborn part of white thinks, of course i'll win. he crawled his way through life to reach where he is, against all the odds.
the weaker, uncertain part of him wavers. because for all those years, he "survived", rather than lived. he'd desperately scavenged for a scrap of the normal, happy life he'd been denied since birth, and to the very end, he was never able to obtain it.]
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... No. Not this time. I'll see it through. I have to go home.
[and he won't shy away from that]
You've got people to go back to, too.
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... I guess, yeah.
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[he couldn't quite grasp all of it but... he thinks that he got the important parts maybe]
They'd probably miss you like crazy if - [a beat] Well, they won't have to. Still, it's important to avoid that.
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[some of them might be sad just out of basic decency, but the one person who'd probably legitimately mourn him—well.]
Not that I plan on losing.
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Then I'd miss you.
Knowing that something might happen to you makes me crazy mad - so know that at least.
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mineo's kindness—the reminder that there are actually people now who would care if he got hurt—threatens to overwhelm him, and so on instinct, he abruptly pulls himself away from mineo.
it's a testament that he's getting at least a little adjusted to this, though, that after a pause, he manages to mumble out—]
... Thanks.
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