[PRP] Ghost of Eves Past (Sinter + Ganyma)

[seekingCylem]

Ganyma cancels plans with Sinter. He tries to make up for lost time.

 

[seekingCylem]

Sinter reached for the tray of cookies just as the timer buzzed on the other side of the counter top. He didn't really need something else to keep time for him at this point, but the peace of mind provided by the precaution was nice all the same. The smell of cinnamon and butter dominated the atmosphere of the small hive. Sinter hoped he hadn't overdone it. He'd become a bit desensitized to the spice over the sweeps. Swiftly, he flipped the snickerdoodles off the baking sheet and onto a cooling rack.

Sinter transitioned into washing the accumulation of dishes quickly, though not as hurriedly as if he hadn't posted a neatly written "Cxme in 8<" note on his front door. There would be no need to answer the door elbow-deep in wet cookie dough scrapings when Ganyma arrived.

...Whenever that would be. The tealblood had canceled their earlier plans rather last-second. Sinter would have been more put-off if Ganyma hadn't until this point been so steadfastly reliable. It wasn't as though Sinter didn't already have several back-up plans for their routinely scheduled meetings, either. In the end, Sinter ended up suggesting a quiet evening at his hive, perhaps over tea. Something about the nature of the earlier cancellation gave Sinter reason to believe a lower-intensity activity would be wise.

Sinter worried his lower lip and scrubbed a little faster.

Sypon

 

[Sypon]

Ganyma adjusted the sleeve of his shirt, swallowed thick in his throat. He could never get a handle of the Chittentown climate. With a fog in the front of his thinkpan, Ganyma was not feeling well for a sponsored event. Getting out of the recuperacoon was tough enough that morning, and while he had at one point hoped for a full cancelation he was glad that their plans were still at least somewhat intact. Something had been gnawing at him all evening.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ganyma was at Sinter’s door. He was about to knock when he spotted the note, exhaled, and entered.

Gingerly, he stepped through the door. “Sinter, hello. It’s Ganyma, I saw the – I just came in. Uh, sorry for all the trouble.”

Ganyma walked into the space and got a sniffnode full of baked sweetness. This wasn’t the first time he’d been to Sinter’s, but the first time it was the final destination for one of their outings. Was it an outing if they stayed in? It was as comfy as ever.

“Sorry I had to cancel, uh… Feelin’ a little under the weather.” Ganyma punctuated the exclamation with a sniff.

seekingCylem

 

[seekingCylem]

Sinter set the last of the odd-sized dishes on the drying rack when he heard the soft scuffling at the door. He turned to see Ganyma enter from the foyer. Sinter quickly balled up the dishtowel in his wet hands. "Ganyma!" He exclaimed. His smile twitched, but held at Ganyma's diffidence.

"Are you... feeling alright?" Sinter tried again with a gentler tone. He folded the towel he'd been holding and set it aside. "No need to apologize. You're here now, aren't you? I'm always happy to have guests." He approached, stopping at the counter and leaning on it with both hands.

"That said I just made cookies. There's tea too, or scalding hustle beverage if you prefer."  

[Sypon]

“Yeah,” Ganyma replied. “Guess that’s true.”

“I’ve got a li’l something, just a throat thing, kinda tired. Tea would be really good, thanks.” Ganyma passed over to the dining block set-up and took a seat. He folded his hands in front of him. The air was so warm, friendly but a little stifling in his current mood. He twiddled his thumbs behind laced fingers.  

[seekingCylem]

Sinter nodded in self-satisfaction that Ganyma agreed with him. He was a guest Sinter personally invited after all. He was the last person that that should be apologizing for his presence. Sinter slowed somewhat as Ganyma went on to confess his illness. He hummed a low, disapproving note. As if a switch had been flipped in Sinter, he strode back over to the stove. With movements belonging to someone that knew his surroundings by rote, Sinter procured the kettle (water already hot, of course), boxes of loose-leaf tea, honey, mugs and a nondescript box of store-brand medicine.

Sinter turned back with a mug of jarringly-strong peppermint tea in one hand and a small plate in the other. Set upon the latter was a small spread of cookies and a tiny plastic cup of a thick, purple liquid--presumably of cold medicine. He set both down in front of Ganyma. "I highly recommend taking the medicine first so you have something to wash out the taste." Sinter grimaced despite himself. Clearly he didn't envy Ganyma for a second.

A moment later, Sinter returned with a mug of his own tea. The smell was difficult to determine over the aura of baked goods and intensity of Ganyma's own mug--illness notwithstanding. He sat down at the table across from Ganyma, munching on a spare cookie he'd pulled from the rack whilst bustling around the nutritionblock.

"If you weren't feeling well, that's all you needed to say on the matter. There's no need to push yourself to come all the way out to Chittentown," Sinter said, cocking his head in concern. "I know our initial introduction was under... specific circumstances, but I like to think of us as, ah, friends (if you don't mind, that is...) I'd at least like to make sure you don't feel pressured to, um, be... with... with these meetings," Sinter internally winced at his botched phrasing. "If there are any adjustments you'd like to make to our arrangement then all you need to do is ask."

Sinter groaned and bopped himself between the eyes with the heel of his hand. "Ugh," he brushed his bangs back into place, "I'm sorry I'm doing a really poor job of making this sound like a friendship and not a business deal. I promise I-" Rather than defend himself, Sinter sighed in defeat, "I'm desperately out of practice with this sort of thing."

One quadrant, unfortunately, did not a well-rounded troll make.

Sypon

 

[Sypon]

Ganyma cracked a smile as Sinter served him liquid medicine, both in tea and syrup form. “Ah…” He wiped the corner of his eye, and picked up the tiny cup, downing it instantly. The taste was nostalgic and artificial, the kind of medicine he’d bought for himself as a wiggler because it was so simply labeled. At least it wasn’t orange flavor. He took the mug in his other hand and took a deep swig, breathing out the cool flavor through his nostrils.

“Thank you so much. I, ah…” Ganyma fumbled as Sinter did. As hard as it was to pick up on other troll’s feelings, it had been even more difficult for him to grapple with his own. This was nothing new. Ganyma scratched the side of his head and, almost instinctively, took Sinter’s hands and held them. “It’s okay. In fact, that’s – that’s more the reason I haven’t been feeling well.”

His eyes were cast down at Sinter’s hands – stormy teal. “I’ve had a rough go at it. This whole thing, this life thing.” Ganyma pushed out. “Sinter, I thought I was doing the right thing. Stole military tech when I was barely a teen. Got into what I didn’t realize would be a full-blown war, but there I was. I thought that he’d – I’d—killed you in that battle. Even when the commanding officer on your side was disgraced, I got off easy. I was watched – I am watched – I went to rehab. I ******** up so bad I got one of my wigglerhood friends into the rebellion without realizing and she turned me in. I went through the woods, but I made it and they made me a – they gave me the job I’ve always wanted. I tried to forget the trolls I knew who went off with the rebellion. I tried to do right, Sinter, I did, but then I betrayed everyone again and I struck out against Vidari, and… Here I am. With you. I… Ah…”

He squeezed Sinter’s hands, and then released him. Ganyma kneaded his temples, his eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t deserve you. I’ve done wrong every step of the way, and I’m sittin’ here livin’ a life I don’t deserve. I don’t know what to think, I ain’t ever been great at pickin’ out what’s what and I always try to do what’s right and protect folks, but – everything’s jumbled and I don’t even know what’s right and wrong. I know I shoulda been culled, ‘cos I’m not all that bright or anything. I just don’t know.”  

[seekingCylem]

"...That's more the reason I haven't been feeling well."

Sinter's bloodpusher jumped into his throat as he instinctively took the meaning as his own incompetence being at fault for the heavy mood. The pressure of Ganyma's hands on his own helped alleviate a degree of the stress as Ganyma struggled to continue. Sinter waited patiently. He lightly squeezed Ganyma's hands in his own, running his thumbs over callouses. They were cool, but not cold. It was calming in the thick atmosphere of the nutritionblock.

It was more difficult than Sinter expected, listening to Ganyma recount his life. Sinter of course knew the facts. He'd been given files, made to do the appropriate reading. Sinter remembered being aghast, pained even, back then that such things could have occurred to the nice boy he knew all those sweeps ago. Actually being forced to confront the effect they had on Ganyma was something else entirely. A wash of sympathy and the desire not to distract left a deeply conflicted frown on Sinter's face.

'Killed... me...' Sinter thought, momentarily confused out of his diligent listening. It took Sinter time to realize what event Ganyma was referring to. It almost sounded like the recounting of a dream. 'Old Hemisect.' Sinter's bloodpusher dropped the opposite direction. It was one of the few times he'd been in direct confrontation with the rebellion. Tamiya's hive was decimated. They had been standing right there. Ganyma had been there. The lot of them had been barely more than wigglers.

There was a lot to take in. Sinter's own trauma had compounded on top of Ganyma's own--overlapped, even. Sinter's mouth quivered despite how hard he'd clenched his teeth.

His hands were released. Sinter reflexively ran his fingers over each other at the loss of sensation. Despite his best efforts, Sinter had lost track of the conversation. There was so much, but Ganyma's final words struck Sinter first.

"Don't say that. Please. Don't," Sinter said, quietly, but with an uncharacteristic amount of force. "You deserve to be here. You deserve to be alive. You deserve," Sinter gestured loosely to his surroundings. He'd never considered his presence to be some kind of boon, but... it was all he could offer. The Ganyma he knew deserved that much at the very least. More, even. "You've done nothing but given your best effort to do what you thought was right. You always have," Sinter said, conviction alluding to their very first meeting so many sweeps ago. "That's not something many trolls can say. I sure as hell can't claim that level of fortitude. It's... more admirable than I believe our society is equipped to acknowledge."

Sinter calmed his breathing as he tried to be careful with his words. As an Official Community Outreach and Regulation Sponsor, he was treading dangerously close to a line. As Ganyma's friend, however, Sinter had more important priorities.

"The rebels aren't... wrong," Sinter said, nearly expecting to get smote right then and there, "They're misguided. Self-righteous, and their methods are ineffectual at best, counter-productive at worst. But they aren't... Our world is toxic. It's cruel. I can be as much of a government toady as I want, but I can't be a redblooded troll and say that it's not. The status quo will always try to beat down those that try to go beyond what they are. It has no concept of 'good' or 'evil.' A lot of trolls don't realize that--or more... it doesn't make a difference to them. It's not something they need to consider. People who want change, however... They're going to meet resistance, no matter what it is they're trying to do. You can't let something... Something unfeeling, something soulless like the hemospectrum dictate your moral compass."

Without Ganyma's hands to hold, Sinter was left wringing his own. He could tell he was rambling, but he also knew if he failed to get his point across, he'd just leave things worse than when they'd started.

"The rebellion knows the way trolls are treated under the current regime is... unkind. Wrong even. Their tactics aren't," Sinter exhaled sharply to silence himself before he could get caught in a tangent, "Regardless, they do what they do because they want to see trolls being treated fairly. If more trolls were brave enough to operate that way... Well, there wouldn't be any need for a rebellion in the first place."

"I... What I'm getting at with all of this, I suppose. No, not 'suppose'... I admire you, Ganyma. You have the integrity to try and help others, even at the expense of your own well-being. Even when you were met with failure, you didn't keep blindly going down the same path out of pride or desperation. You also didn't give up on being the kind of person who tries to do right by others. Despite everything... It's still you." Sinter breathed deeply. "And everything... is a lot. It's normal to have a lot... of thoughts and emotions on the matter. Not easy... but normal. Good, even."

Unsure if he'd said enough or too much, or if he'd lapsed into another language partway through, Sinter pulled aside his mug. He chugged scalding tea to allow himself a brief break for his thoughts to catch up to his mouth.  

[Sypon]

There was a moment of silence. A long one – more of a chasm rather than a gap. Ganyma’s eyelids crinkled, his expression pursing before broadening into something of a smile as Sinter’s words washed over him. Clarity. He returned his hands to Sinter’s when he put his mug back down, coarse palms gently brushing against his skin.

“Can’t say you won’t have to remind me of all of that sometimes,” Ganyma admitted, sheepish. “I’m a little slow on this kinda thing.”

If there was anyone on this planet as consistent and level as Sinter, Ganyma hadn’t met them. He could have been biased by his stints in rehab. Maybe by the time they’d shared, the outings, the stories. The two had spent enough time together that Ganyma had latched onto Sinter’s expressions – the way he blushed (which, to be fair, was a constant), the way he laughed. Maybe he’d forgotten how an official sponsor was supposed to act, or maybe Sinter wasn’t quite that any more. He couldn’t tell – and he wasn’t thinking about it. Regardless of whatever their relationship was now, and regardless of his intent, Ganyma believed that Sinter was telling the truth. It was cathartic.

Ganyma took a deep breath. His hands were still affixed to Sinter’s, and he lazily rubbed circles with his thumbs. “But… Thank you. Really, I’m tryin’ to absorb all of it. There’s, like you said, uh, everything is a lot. I’m lucky I’ve got you. As a... Um...”

seekingCylem

friend?

 

[seekingCylem]

Sinter had run out of tea by the time Ganyma was ready to speak again. He nearly jumped to attention when Ganyma's hands returned to his own, but settled into the now-familiar action almost immediately. Sinter watched Ganyma with hope in his eyes. Trepidation, but also hope.

"I will then. Remind you that is. As many times as it takes." Sinter conjured a smile, laden relief. Perhaps what he'd said had been enough. Not profound, or really even that coherent, but enough. The two of them would have time for Sinter to do more, say more. With any luck, one night the peaceful, solid atmosphere of the moment would stick and Ganyma would see in himself what Sinter saw in him sweeps ago--what he saw in him now.

"Of course. That's what I'm here for. As your friend."

They had time. Sinter wasn't going anywhere.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma’s smile broadened into its usual form. He gave Sinter’s hands a pat and popped a cookie into his mouth in the same motion.

“I think the medicine’s working, doc.” He joked – mouth filled with sweets. The instantaneous lifting of Ganyma’s spirit was nothing new in his repertoire of quirks, but it couldn’t sweep away his sickness. Ganyma swallowed, bunched up and sneezed into his elbow. “Ugh… Well, you know…”

He rested his chin on a palm and considered the redblood. “I think chattin’ over tea and cookies is the best idea’s come up in a while.”

seekingCylem