[PRP] Emotional Baggage (Sinter x Tamiya)

[Sypon]

Tamiya smiled as she felt Sinter’s gentle movement of affection. She would lean her head over to him if their horns would not entangle or she would accidentally stab him in the face and eyes. “Your support is appreciated. I also have to ask for your support in another manner.” Tamiya admitted.

She shifted under the quilt and got closer to Sinter, feeling the heavy weight of their conversation had lifted somewhat. “Odette. I have deep-seated feelings for her, but I cannot understand why she has not immediately given me an answer. Our history is complicated at the very least. Do you remember the conflict of Old Hemisect…? When my hive was destroyed?” Tamiya asked. Of course he would remember. Tamiya didn’t wait for an answer. “I was beyond consolable. In hysterics, a chuckle-state, a loss of faith. I had nothing but my father left as I tore through the woods with my busted spongeclot and trembling bones. Then I found her.”

The small form of the girl with the backpack. Tamiya bit her lip and began to dictate simply: “She was working in tandem with the rebellion. She had stolen some masks from my hive – the only things that survived the fire. She was cursed with flight, and her lusus was responsible. A symbol. The reason for the purge of my soul and renewal of my faith. This was my father’s final test of my youth, and instead of culling her I made the intangible decision to destroy her lusus for her sake. For her safety, for her soul. My father completed the ritual, while I felt everything collapse in on me. We have been connected, ever since. I do not expect you to understand, but we are bound. I have attempted to protect and cure her every step of the way. I am not a failure, Sinter. I do not deserve misery in my life. But her ambivalence disturbs me. I would ask your opinion."

seekingCylem

totally justified

 

[seekingCylem]

Sinter reveled in the brief moment of silence between the two. He could feel himself begin to relax against the mound of cushions. Tamiya spoke again and Sinter inclined his head to look at her. Her shifting caused Sinter's limp body to roll into the pit created by their combined weights on the pile. He caught himself and ended up reclined on his side, facing Tamiya. He was curious now.

His curiosity soon turned to bland discomfort. Hindsight told Sinter this conversation topic had been coming a mile away. The number of mysteries surrounding Odette was off-putting, and her turbulent relationship with Tamiya made Sinter doubtful he wanted to get involved with it all in the first place. Unfortunately for Sinter, that ship had sailed a very long time ago. If it wasn't when a half-dead Tamiya dragged an unconscious Odette to his hive, it was when Sinter directly challenged Odette to a fight. She'd even taken him out for drinks afterward, which had only served to further muddle Sinter's mind and emotions. He was Tamiya's moirail, not their auspice, dammit. And as Tamiya's moirail, her well-being, and the well-being of others at Tamiya's hands were Sinter's responsibility. Sinter was bound by his pride as well as his pity to see this awkward conversation through to the end.

Sinter began with shooting Tamiya a dry look of disbelief as she asked him if he remembered Old Hemisect. He'd been caught in that explosion too. Hell, the destruction of Tamiya's hive was practically the catalyst for their entire relationship. Still, this was obviously not the point Tamiya was trying to make and Sinter refrained from giving her a hard time. There were more important matters at hand.

Sinter realized he'd never actually known where Odette and Tamiya had first met. He'd only so much as heard of Odette for the first time during the Chittentown drought. Things had escalated too quickly after that for Sinter to much care where she came from. While Odette's part in the Battle of Old Hemisect made sense intellectually, it was still a sobering thought that she too had lived through that chaos as a child. And from the losing side, no less.

Tamiya's speech had become increasingly poetic. It took Sinter time to break down her words into concrete details. Even beyond that, processing the meaning of those words was quickly becoming more than Sinter could handle.

"I made the intangible decision to destroy her lusus..."

Sinter's mind whited out. Tamiya had stopped speaking by the time he'd come to. He looked up at his moirail from where his gaze had fallen against the quilt in their laps. He was normally so thoughtful when speaking to Tamiya, but now his thoughts weren't making any sense.

"You... killed her lusus," Sinter desperately wanted this to be a question, but knew in his heart that it was a simple fact. "You orphaned her."

Sinter's voice was hushed and breathy, like he wasn't moving his vocal chords at all. His face was open, eyes wide, mouth slack. Slowly his jaw clenched and his teeth pressed into his lip. It felt like a black hole had opened in his stomach and was sucking in his lungs and brain. He knew, he knew, he knew. Tamiya was dangerous. Even as a child her delusions- her faith was beyond reproach, but she was so much more fearful of the unknown--what could have possibly lain beyond the reaches of the cult. It made her volatile. The Tamiya of the present was quick to use force under pressure, but she had the presence of mind to know what she was doing. At least... That's what Sinter had believed. Tamiya had killed Odette's lusus, a child's lusus in front of them and then ruthlessly pursued her sweeps after the fact, completely unaware that she had done anything but a great service. It was the stuff of brightmares.

And it had been going on underneath Sinter's nose this entire time. Sinter's pride and empathy conflicted more often than not, but now he could feel both traits breaking inside of him.

"You left a child, a- a redblooded child with rebel ties alone on- on a battlefield! Alone on Alternia. I don't- I don't know, I don't KNOW, Tamiya! I don't know what you were thinking. It's not a matter of principle or, or spirituality, you took the only thing that could have possibly protected her from this, this dumpster fire of a society--something she probably loved and was loved by--and murdered it and left! You had no contact with her for a least a sweep! I was there; you were living in my hive. What do you think she was left with after that!? Do you think the rebels could have done anything for her? They put her on that battlefield and made her a criminal! She didn't even have the support of her own people! A redblood can barely survive having red blood. Our value to our species is that we're expendable; a lusus- a lusus is all we're given that doesn't see us that way. She didn't succeed because of you, she succeeded in spite of you."

Sinter was on his knees against the pile, poised to pull himself off of it, away from Tamiya, at any moment. The timbre of his voice was fluctuating wildly. Sinter was beginning to crumble beneath the weight of his horror. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let this go on for so long? Had- Had he been turning a blind eye out of, out of what--fear? Fear of Tamiya? Or fear of not being a good enough moirail.

Sinter finally dropped back down into a kneeling position. The strength of emotion that had been keeping him aloft evaporated. He'd covered the bottom half of his face with his hand. It was at this point he'd stopped addressing Tamiya directly. Staring at the space between them, Sinter continued to mumble. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He hadn't even noticed that he'd been crying.  

[Sypon]

She was frozen. Motionless except for the tension of her fingers clutching desperately at the quilt, Tamiya braced herself for Sinter’s wrath. She could not expected his response. Could not have foreseen it, or even conjured any thoughts beyond her limited scope. Every sentence was a shock to her system. And every sentence was objectively true.

Odette had been left alone on a battlefield, by Tamiya no less. She hadn’t contacted her. The rebels she was affiliated with had permanently marked her. Until now, when she rose from her fate. In…Spite of her? These were no creations of science. These were facts that Tamiya could not dispute, that could not simply be twisted and turned by her previous rationalizations. For so long, however, doing so was so easy. She had… She had saved Odette. Hadn’t she? Of course…

Sinter was always honest. He was so close to Tamiya that she felt him an extension of herself. But he was always too close, and always had been. From her vulnerability in Chittentown to the breakdown in OHC, Tamiya had felt his supportive presence without keeping him in mind. He was not her. He was a redblood. A secular redblood, no less, struggling, achieving and filled with ambition regardless of his place on the hemospectrum. No longer a symbol of luck, a constant affirmation of her righteousness and faith, Sinter was just a troll now sitting next to Tamiya in a pile of comforting objects she had constructed, perhaps indirectly, to lessen the blow of her actions. She might have brushed off the horror of a regular troll, some heathen who would not understand her for sake of their own ignorance. Sinter, however, was intimately aware of Tamiya. Inside and out. She’d cast her mind upon his, tortured him with the power her father had called a gift, and was now set upon with a revelation that terrified him to the core. And Tamiya, too, was afraid.

A glimmer of the unknown began to materialize in Tamiya’s bilesack. For so long as a child she was filled with fear. Living with Sinter had given her confidence, had built up her wall of faith. She had proven to herself her worth and needed no affirmation. Now, when she really needed it, that support was simply gone. A crack in her wall had finally emerged after so many sweeps of constant pressure – the flood of doubt and pain pressing at its boundary as Sinter gibbered his apologies. There were things she did not know. That she perhaps… Was missing.

She would be forced to find it. With Sinter, anything was possible. She had taken him for granted for sweeps, and here he was. Tamiya never considered him one to leave her, but as dread took over she found her eyes suddenly overflowing. She opened her mouth to speak, and only a hyperventilating gasp emerged. Tamiya covered her face in her hands and tried to breathe, pressing her temples with her thumbs and heaving quietly. When she shakily came to, Tamiya could not bring herself to touch Sinter. She placed herself at his knees and ducked her head, dropping to the ground in a deep, deferential bow. Her voice shook.

“I a-am… s-sorry…”  

[seekingCylem]

Sinter's incessant apologizing had tapered off into shuddering breaths as the panic attack took him full-force. It was not unlike the experience of being chucklevoodooed, but without the fight or flight instinct to distract him from the crushing guilt. He'd failed utterly at the basest level of his only quadrant. Thoughts of Odette still filled Sinter with frustration, but they were now tainted with feelings of shame. It was any wonder she had been so cagey with him. It wasn't her responsibility to see that Tamiya was being properly managed. It was Sinter's.

The shifting of the unsteady base of pillows managed to break Sinter of his trance. Reluctantly, Sinter looked up to see what Tamiya was doing. He needed to rectify the situation. Fear and humiliation aside, he was primed for any sort of retaliation.

Once again, Sinter was proven wrong. He found Tamiya kneeling before him in a dogeza bow. The thought alone would have been enough to knock the wind out of him, much less the words that came next.

"I a-am... s-sorry..."

Sinter's tears slowed to a stop. It felt as though Alternia itself had done the same. It was only a sliver of Sinter's subconscious that allowed him to steady his breathing. This was... unprecedented. Tamiya Aiguma did not apologize. The admittance of wrong-doing was tantamount to a loss of faith in the cult. Tamiya's belief was shaken. Sinter's words had hit Tamiya at the very core of her being.

On some level, perhaps Sinter should have felt a sense of accomplishment. Instead he just felt sad.

"Please... Please, don't," Sinter said quietly, hoarsely, "I'm not the one who got hurt from all of this. I... I failed as a moirail. I should- I should have known better."

What a sorry pair they were.  

[Sypon]

Tamiya silently clutched at the ground. Sinter’s apology seemed unacceptable now after she had put herself in such a vulnerable position – but for once, she could sense something more. Sinter’s point of view, his weeping, it made more sense now. Not because it was the same as Tamiya’s, but because finally she allowed herself to take the dive and understand. It was simple, the bare minimum a troll could do. For Tamiya this was a lifechanging epiphany.

The pile was an utter cluster, a ruination of order. The walls had quite literally broken down – a small, important step. Tamiya reared from her kneeling position and flung herself at Sinter. She clutched him in an immense, vice-like hug, scattering cuddle-devices every which way. “We will improve. You will defy me and I will honor you. We will prevail, my moirail. Believe in me, I beseech you. I will do the same faithfully.” She muttered into his hair. Tamiya closed her eyes and tried to rid herself of the last of her defiant tears.  

[seekingCylem]

Sinter hadn't anticipated Tamiya's embrace. Under other circumstances, he would have found it strange. Now, however, he returned the gesture readily. His arms looped up over her shoulders, and his face pressed against her clavicle. The hug was painfully tight and unsteady atop the rapidly eroding mountain of pillows. Sinter wouldn't have rather been anywhere else. He nodded in response, the best he could given the pair's close proximity.

"Yes, we will improve," Sinter agreed, voice partially muffled by Tamiya's haori. Her cool breath tickled the space between his horns. "We've come this far already. We know... We know better now."

Sinter understood the significance of what Tamiya was saying to him. Tamiya was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. She was equal parts talk and action--a trait Sinter had always admired. He knew such a transition wouldn't come easily, but he trusted completely that Tamiya would try. It was really all either of them could do. It was enough.  

[Sypon]

Tamiya sighed into Sinter, rubbing the back of his head idly. “Yes. You are dearer to me than anyone on this world.” She muttered an addendum with a blink, nearly an afterthought: “******** purpleblood transitioned her kneeling position so that she could be safely separated from her moirail. She pulled up the quilt around them and reattached herself to Sinter, lacing an arm around him and pulling him into the pillow pile. She smiled weakly, eyes still puffy and tearstained as she laid amongst the collapsed fort. “We will discuss this more after the holy sanctuary known as classic cinema. I am going to remove my make-up. Choose your metaphorical poison from my righteous entertainment cabinet.”

Tamiya got up, simultaneously pushing down on Sinter’s shoulder. The sounds of her entering her ablutionblock soon commenced, leaving the redblood alone in Tamiya’s hive. Her cabinet was chock full – but incredibly organized. One of the drawers was very cleanly labeled: Sinter. Its contents were a plethora of beautiful film classics. Black and white favorites from an era where hemotype was obscured, long stories with multiple intermissions – even a few rarities that were a wonder of Alternia. Thoughtful noir films and extravagant escapades, and some of Tamiya’s favorite silent comedies.  

[seekingCylem]

Sinter couldn't help but laugh at Tamiya's chosen term of endearment. "You're ridiculous," he chuckled with a voice full of weary warmth. He offered Tamiya a light squeeze before releasing her.

He allowed himself to be limply repositioned in the pillow pile, waiting until Tamiya left to go rifle through the entertainment center. He settled on a gentle-paced movie about swordstrolls with strict codes of honor. It appealed to both his and Tamiya's interests. Once the disc was in the cinematic reiteration device, Sinter set about rebuilding the decimated pile. At least with its integrity having been stress tested, its structure could be efficiently improved. By the time Tamiya returned, Sinter had apparently constructed an entire loveseat out of individual cushions.  

[Sypon]

Tamiya padded back into the room in her simple white robe, brushing her long hair out as she did so. "Oh my gogly Messiahs, you have chosen well." She announced. Tamiya pulled her hair back into a bun on her head and dropped next to her moirail. She was exhausted.

"This may take us through the morning." She extracted two bottles of soda from behind a cushion as though through some kind of miraculous magic. "I am prepared. Also, a recuperacoon has been set up for you and also clothing. I am not faultless, but I am still incredible."

She drew her arms around Sinter's and pulled in as close as she could without catching him on her horns. Tamiya closed her eyes. Her face was inherently expressive with her make-up, but the baked-in emotions were misguided. Now her features were more subtle, genuine. Her skin was badly damaged from her many battles and the wear from her make-up rituals. If anything, her angled features were at least softened against Sinter's shoulder.

"Our path is not easy. We are destined for war, conquest and chaos. For choosing what is right among so many wrongs. Bless you." She would not cease thinking about Sinter's words - what had transpired. But simply having him with her now was enough.