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 Posted: Thu Nov 10, 2022 4:45 pm
Faustite visited the house first. He made for the Ikea standalones that clashed with the stony, brooding Negaspace ambience and threw the doors open hard enough to crack the pressboard with their nails. Inside, both units were stuffed to the brim with nonperishables — cans of soup and numerous ingredients, packages of ramen noodles, jerky, chips, granola bars, trail mix, dried fruit, MREs, and snack packs of variable sizes. St the bottom sat a few gallons of distilled water. Sighing through his nose, Faustite started with the water and worked his way up, diligently disappearing food and drink to that austere space locked inside his head.
He had to fill every inch of that space, he knew, unless he wanted to lean on dozens of caches. It was enough to feed a family of four for several days ,as if they planned to get lost on a camping trip. Still, he wondered if it was enough — flame was unforgiving, after all, and burned through 10,000 calories with little issue. Some days were costlier than others.
He left the more desirable rations — the granola bars, the more popular soups, the chips, the ramen. In exchange, he reduced their stock of jerky by half.
They had a glass pitcher, still in its box, back when the thought was 'sun tea', before they realized there was no sun. This, too, he took, as well as the two-liter of soda that had but a sip and a half left inside it. That, he dumped, shook out, then tracked down a pair of scissors to cut the top off. The rest of the melting container went into the trash.
Then he was back in his office. Crouched down, he rifled the lowest drawer in his desk. Found packages of tea cookies, which joined the other foods in subspace. The kettle, too. Found teas he liked, and silk paper for sachets. Knowing Waru was likely playing damage control, Faustite spared an extra moment to fold sachets of his favorite loose leaf tea, two teaspoons in each, until he had at least a dozen. It would do, for now.
Last was the bookcase. He paused before it, hesitated for a time with his clawed hand on the handle. Then he threw the glass door open and stooped for the rolled up map that was locked inside. That wisp was there, oft patient, though the thing broke for freedom as soon as Faustite was distracted with the map.
He paused again to decide if he cared. He didn't. The door was shut.
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Posted: Thu Nov 10, 2022 6:34 pm
Waru wasn’t nearly in control enough to mitigate the damage properly, tired enough now that he felt the twinges of irrational irateness edge out all the frustrated exhaustion that lived in him. Prickly little emotions vying for their time in the brain-slot, at the control wheel.
He needed to get home.
He wasn’t *nice* about how he did it; the poor nameless group of wandering home youths – sloshed enough to be slipping down an alley in too high heels and thick soled boots, loud, happy. He slipped into Albite like a finger through oil and shanked enough energy to speed himself away from the lot of them; leaving them in a ‘car just hit me heap’ before bolting without so much as a word.
He hadn’t expected to have to play hunting hound for auras, all his senses up like his ruffled hackles, all his internal arguments the snapping of kicked dogs that couldn’t quite grasp the bone that’d slipped the ledge between yards; this is what it was like when when being ‘fun’ or ‘sexy’ simply wasn’t enough anymore. They were good glue for luring, sure, but for running a whole a** team?
“The s**t is—C’mon Firebrand…Are you really gonna make me come find you?” From gutted garden to twisting turret, nothing, all the evidence of ‘been and gone’ shown in bits of broken, bare cupboards…
”Fine...I always liked hide n seek anyways,” he wasn’t about to beck n call his boy, ohno, he popped more energy, ignored the static rake of high that pins and needled his extremities, then took off sniffing for the usual. That burnt ozone, that moonstripped copper, the waft of smoke that could only come from a magical fire. Took the longer, winding path beyond familiar doors, just to feel the burn of it behind his eyes while he thought of the last few hours vividly—
The whole of the half of his present team were, almost unanimously, displeased with him – he didn’t need to meet their eyes to feel that – so he’d stayed long enough to give an *Order*, made it clear he wanted it followed and he didn’t care about the ‘if’s and when’s’ people getting their respective wings n sparkly swords in some lengthy time thereafter. If anything leaked out, anything at all? They’d hear from him directly, and not in a loving housecall manner.
The name ‘Rowan’ lived and died with them, they were to forget it, and everything else they learned there? They were to keep their mouths shut on– if any members of the team not present asked about the seemingly random ‘All Call’ of anyone there? Then they were to be directed to himself, or to Faustite only. It was important. He did sometimes have a plan; poorly executed, flaming shitbag on the doorstep of life that his plans often were…
He did have them.
And that Aura – within that space – strung him up and stalled his step, he didn’t use the doors this time, he skipped through space sideways and shoved his hip against the desk hard enough to make it screech, while he took in the scene slow motion.
“Yahnoo…you should consider packing more peanut butter in these, uhmn, hoards....” peanut butter was calorically dense and it wouldn’t melt like nutella did, he nearly suggested honey, but the image of that and heat? Nonperishable as it was, it’d never be an easy task to manage for Faustite if he chose to lug honey around – wherever – and Faustite could find tiny packs of it “...mnh, and – nobody mentioned it, but did anyone settle on what to do with our — with Muri?”
To call Muri a problem just then? Dark mirror and deadly mess all in one, yet as he thought of the man in the mirror he realized Muri wasn’t actually the thing he cared about right then. The elephants were already out, named, known, wreaking havoc, he should’ve been asking those questions instead, but?
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2022 3:57 am
Faustite hadn't the patience, the benevolence, to swallow his scoff. Smoke roiled about him as his fire coursed perpetual, ever honest and presently intolerant of the boy who just threw himself into his office, at his desk, and started barking about peanut butter. Albite's eternal propensity to joke had been endearing in the past, even necessary, but now — it stoked his hunger.
He whipped around to face his boy, one hand clutched into a knuckle-straining fist while the other lingered on the bookcase's metal handle. If he just held fast to that —
Faustite tsked, disappointed that Albite thought to even ask. All that clamor and clangor over one little Dark Mirror Senshi, the meeting that took place with Murikabushi present and the meeting that Aelius and Trey had so courteously interrupted, and he had the gall to ask. His eyes burned from the heat roiling up his center, and he snorted ash at the thought. Then his grew a margin more tempered, as he recalled that Waru hadn't been there for the beginning. Hadn't heard what was shared, hadn't been present for the trajectory of that conversation to understand how stupid his question had been. Did that make it forgivable? Were it anyone else, no.
But for Albite? For his ridiculous, cocky smile and his boneheaded tendency to mess in everything he could, if only to say he was there?
Exhaustion stalked him as surely as it hounded Albite, and Faustite expected that he hadn't spent half as much energy as his husband had, ferrying all the others about as he did. He told himself that was why, it was all his tired, all that push to see more results, it was that b***h Princess blooming in the center of everyone, it was Murikabushi running his mouth on an endless loop without ever hearing what he was saying, it was Headache being a headache and reports mounting and a mission to plan for and Jet's judgment ever suspended above him like a sword of Damocles —
"I decided." The wisp had gone tumbling back toward its cozy bookcase, and Faustite shooed it away with the toe of his boot. He paced, then — around the table, around the boy that always knew how to find him again. "Take Tama to him, talk to him, whatever makes an ally of him. Give it a month. Then I'm gone."
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2022 6:48 am
“It’s a good plan. Though if you don’t manage to make an ally of him…I won’t stand having him as an enemy, not this one, not this time.” all the things he could stand for. All the pretty people and lost loves that tugged his heart strings so ******** endlessly, hooks full of fishes he couldn’t reel back and so the motion of it all inevitably wore grooves into the meat of his soft center – and sometimes the line got cut and he healed – and sometimes nothing was done, nothing could be done, and a rough sort of calcification formed around the edges; his delicate, squishy souls way of saving itself by dulling the edges of those feelings with time.
He trailed off, he went on. Stepped over the concept of Muri like something decided and done. Faustite would handle him with Tama’s aid, or Albite would and whatever wrath would befall him would be spared the team proper – the negaverse didn’t curse the sons for their fathers sins. Else every dissolved team beneath a traitors leadership wouldn't've been spared the chance to exist amongst any others; rotten apples amongst fresh barrels n the like….
“N I warned the team against —--” he didn’t know how to paraphrase his order concisely, struggled to find the right sorta sounds to convey what a warning even looked like when it was coming for him, ******** knew if the rest of them even took him seriously – they would, at least in this – “let's just say they won’t be speaking to anyone else about any of this, save you n me. If rumors start? I’mma know who to come for this time,” and he certainly didn’t just mean amongst the white moon, god if Nectaris got wind of this, if anyone beyond their inner circle…
No. He trusted the people in that room. Had to trust someone, knew that they’d heard him and they would keep it amongst themselves and between each other. He hadn’t explained why, wasn’t about to out his reasoning for any of them just yet.
“Gone?” as if he couldn’t see that Faustite was packing to get gone *now*. Still, hearing it out loud alongside the overwhelming amount of visual evidence was like taking a left hook to the jaw, it snapped his vision to the one pinned point.
A month.
Faustite was giving Muri a month – giving them all a month – giving Him a —
“A month to what, and gone where, Eion?” and it was suddenly easy to be still, to settle his weight against the sturdy tried and tested by fires desk, to watch his beloved boy circle while his thoughts squeezed boa tight. He thought he knew the answer to his own ask. Wanted to be wrong instead, to be told off, ******** off and sent home to wait because Faustite didn’t mean ‘Gone’ like that…
Couldn’t have.
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2022 8:13 am
Faustite snorted. "Might beat sense into him." The words were licked with fire as they left him. The attitude Muri wore was a familiar one — reminded him of Heliodor upon first being welcomed into the Negaverse. Boy was nothing but spiteful for it, lived only so he could find something to die for, or die on, or die against. All martyr and victim and damsel in distress, looking for a save when he had two capable arms and two working legs to walk himself out of the mire of his own thoughts. Stared so long at what was lost that he never heeded the endless roads of opportunity now opened to him, if he only leaned on the Negaverse a margin more.
Muri wasn't so different. Sassier, yes, and sporting more ethics, but he pined just as much. Glamorized the idea of his life being worth less than the siblings born after him, like being an older brother was to be disposable. If he knew —
About faced to pace the other direction when Albite changed subjects. It wasn't any easier to think about what happened. Felt like the lick of hungry flame inside him, sampling his ribs and lungs and heart eternally, snaking up his esophagus, marking the back of his tongue and throat with fresh burns. He knew swallowing would only grant the briefest reprieve, as did talking about the barbed end to that meeting. "Wait and see, then. Hope, for his sake, that Aelius was right." Else it would be both of them changing their identities this time, Trey now cut off from his mother's enterprise, and Aelius sentenced to reliving his slow, hard climb up from nothing. Might've been better for Trey, shedding that hereditary shackle, but he doubted either of the boys would see it that way — married to wealth as they were.
That Albite had to ask about what came next was itself maddening —
"Listen." He hissed the word, felt it sizzle across the tongue. "Remember when Aelius mouthed off to me. Said my words didn't matter. Had an impulse about it: thought I could shut him up if I just ate his starseed. Trey, too. Thought: they're Supers. Won't be that hard.
"I'm not a ******** leader, Waru. Never was. Always been a tactician. Always worked alone. What use have they for a tactician who would eat any ******** one of them if they stepped out of line? How's that different from Schörl?" Then he drew a breath, shut it, for Albite never met her. None of them did but for Aelius, and the boy was as spoilt as he'd always been, drunk off the safety that Faustite scraped together for him.
"So that one gets a month to make himself an ally. Split my time between him and the Rift. Team wanted him, team gets him. If I can't convince him, then you know where I'll be."
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2022 11:54 am
Oh, if only- Albite yearned for that, found some way to levy a smirk into something a little less sour and a little more ‘yes please’. Muri needed to be taken out back n beaten lovingly, like a favored persian rug, till all the gnarly burls that turned in against himself were loosed free n scattered to ash. Albite could stand the sass, the fervor, the passion—he couldn’t stand self loathing, and especially not at the cost of others safety.
Oddly enough, maybe not even at the cost of Muri’s own, how strange it felt to want for someone that wasn’t his so that he could protect those who very surely were.
And Albite was listening, the crackle like morning bacons call to ‘wake the ******** up’, his head a pantomime of dogs tilt, ears cocked, at the ready; he knew that noise clear as pavlovs bell. His grin only grew for hearing it, all of Eion’s frustration eeking out like steam. He trusted Aelius, he trusted Trey especially. He trusted Emmy to ward against traitors quietly from within, and that Haru and Hina as senior members of their team — of the negaverse – would keep those who’d been there to witness, however unwillingly, in some sort of line.
Tama didn’t need his trust. Tama was a cat. He’d keep it quiet just so he could watch, sideline, and snicker at their failings — or maybe even cuddle with them when they ultimately overcame them. He had hope for the brightest bit of floof, and third most important brain he was acquainted with.
“Course I know where you’ll be Eion, because I’ll be right there with you,” and now he was rolling his eyes, stating obvious s**t, he’d been and seen and – if Faustite was ever not hungry? If this little bit of altercation didn’t roil him up inside? Waru would’ve called him king of saints, lord of cleansing fire. If only people overcame what tripped em up so easily, “n your thoughts aren’t your actions, Firebrand. Goodness ******** knows if you were half as impulsive as I ever am? There wouldn’t be a world left to wage a war on. There wouldn’t be a team left to eat. You’d have done it all the first time,” for him it made all the sense in the world, pulling air between his teeth and praying for one more bit of patience because he was damned well not losing Eion to this, “to the first one of them that crossed you ******** sideways, carelessly.”
Because as much as Albite ever cared? Rarely was he careful. Evidentiary in all the fallout, in every burn that scarred over white from an attraction to fire, from the way he stood mule stubborn on a barbed fence vying for order and chaos at once — out of love that raged like wildfire — and he thought not of the beautiful fields caught within it until after everything was char and ash….
“N you’re not Schörl either, no offense? But that b***h’s one of a kind, if two of her existed in this world — a blackhole’d form – they’d have to consume each other like ******** – sharks in the womb or some s**t? No amount of ‘ate my teammates’ could compare to her – probably – having the ability to make them eat each other, with raised pinkies, n forks n knives, from fine china…Like it was michelin dining and a competitive sport all at once. Her impression’s ******** strong enough from my one memory as *you*, for me to have gotten that----” he hadn’t eaten chinese since, not fresh, not leftovers. He couldn’t divorce himself from the senses that came through so vividly; vile splatter on matte black. The image stayed. The taste. He lived so much in his own body that there was no convincing his mind that brand of greasy takeout could ever again be other than rotten bile. His tongue knew better and he was a quick learner when it came to ‘foods I cannot trust’.
“So that bullshit about how you’re someone they don’t want, someone who’s this lonely tactician– When the door they all came to was yours to begin with, never mine. Like the people who chose you over everything else are stupid? You can shelve that— you can have mean thoughts and still do good things — you can be *impulsive*--- hurtfully ******** so, and still find ways to make it right,” and Albite watched the pacing turn, counter, pivot, paced with his eyes where his body coiled tight; until he had to leverage himself up onto the desk properly. Lest he reach out to snag his boy and drag him into a fight — felt his mouth running and knew he might drag him in regardless.
He felt all the ways Faustite wasn’t wrong, how the team deserved more, deserved better – except he knew the one that’d let them down wasn’t his husband. It was himself. He’d pissed in the room and had his nose rubbed all in it. He wanted nothing more than to go home, but not alone. Never again alone.
“You learn from it, you grow from it, and you don’t use your past as an excuse to avoid doing so –– <******** — taking some space, though? That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, so if we’re camping in the rift…you’d better tell me what else to bring before we go. Else I’ll walk in there near-a** naked,” it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d done so.
They hadn’t had a proper honeymoon, had they? The team was grown enough, powerful enough, to fend their own and fulla the kinda leadership potential that they didn't need to be babysat. Least by the likes of him, he could pull his tablet and send a message out and a month could go by while everyone cooled down. Kama wouldn’t be happy, but he’d send him gift baskets full of french things, and apology cards, and...…
It’d give him time to think up what to tell those who hadn't attended the all call exactly what it had been about. To brainstorm things with Eion, quietly, not a lot of distractions in the Rift that weren’t survival based, and he never needed his brain for that.
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2022 2:38 pm
It wasn't a question of strength, wariness, or combat prowess. He knew Albite had handled himself thus far and would continue to do so. But the youma numbered infinite in the Rift — and magic, like energy, runs out. Faustite would have to hope that his boy would alert him if ever that moment came, and that Faustite's command as a General would halt any altercation. But that wouldn't always be the case. By Albite's own reference, the youma he spent years hunting had never given thought nor credence toward his place in the Negaverse hierarchy. "Want to eat most of them, right now." As he paced, Faustite rubbed his temples. "Starting with that ******** cat. Nothing I do is ever up to muster. Just like working under her again." It was, at once, infuriating and debilitating. Trapped him in such unmitigated helplessness that all his rage and fire only served to underline his own ineptitude. He wasn't good enough — knew he wasn't good enough — Albite was right that he couldn't compare to Schörl, but he felt as though his only option was to rule by fear. Had to assume that being on fire came with some sort of intimidation factor. Still, the answer of signing the team over to Albite, to Jadarite, promised a far less complicated transition with far more payoff for everyone involved. Trey and Aelius get their revenge for how Faustite had to slink out, Tama's happier for never having to look at him again, Jada gets the respect and responsibility she deserves, Albite keeps the team, and the brothers get to keep each other. He just wanted — needed — to leave. Couldn't take the pressure, couldn't find an appropriate outlet to vent it, either. Could've drained the entire team's worth of quota and still felt that violent hum of energy under his skin. "… They're not stupid, they're ******** insane. Who the ******** thinks, 'of all the ******** Generals in this shitshack, I think I'll go with the one that's on fire'? How's that ******** rational?" Faustite sighed, smoke wending behind him as he went. "Get where you're coming from. I just —" Just — A flattened, frustrated noise escaped him for how all that he wanted to say, to express, crushed together in an endless, nightmarish congestion. They each fought for space on his tongue, but he found that he didn't know where to start, didn't know what mattered more than the other, had too many thoughts at once and not enough lung capacity to share them all the way that Albite blitzed through any and every thought that occurred to him. That, he thought, was even more maddening than how Aelius so openly dressed him down in front of most of the ******** team. Faustite dragged his hands down his face from his temples, opened a few thin lacerations in the wake of his nails. If he noticed them, he didn't indicate it. He hadn't stopped pacing, hadn't stopped avoiding Albite's attention, but he managed a question with the quiet, strained remnants of his voice: "What do you mean."
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Posted: Sat Nov 12, 2022 4:36 am
“We all really ******** are, arent we?”
How could he be mad when it was true? Situating himself more firmly atop the desk, tangling his feet in his hefts of dreads and scraping the heels of his boots over the floor, thoughtless motion with every new circuit Faustite made. Subconsciously playing cats-cradle with the lengths in hand, while his magic stewed and his mouth ran a marathon his mind’d never keep pace with.
“Every one of us that looks up after you – and wants your love – your respect – a place in the ranks that only you can give because, and I tried to explain this to Trey before! But?” and he had, and he did, and to explain to people that someone who existed outside the circle of humans saw beyond them — though maybe he didn’t really have to explain anything to anyone at all? None of them were stupid, people didn’t just hand over theri brothers and sisters to a walking pyre with hope in their eyes for fun! Either they were desperate, or hurt, or – Or they’d seen the same things he saw every time he woke up to that sleep mussed face and cook-him-hot fires.
“You see people's values for what they really are in spite of all the external, mouthy, bullshit they bring in. Tell me that Fafnir shouldn’t be an Eternal seven times over to my one? That they didn’t keep him mediocre n middle management cause he writes pretty, or that Jada wasn’t ball n chained into ******** stagnation by her old boss, when that girl shoulda been running that team? The advantages of existing around a fire, maybe it’s some primal, human s**t; standing next to the danger they know, because there's safety in it–- Tama incites your ire? Yet there he goes promoting your people, working on your projects – bringing flowers to your wedding? The ones that leave — ” and he shrugged the concept off, waved them out of his hair. It was better not to think of the ones who couldn’t find their place, who needed something they couldn’t give.
They’d made their way along and more had come in after. Even those who’d left hadn’t truly cut ties, their auras lingered, they looked on to see if the grass was greener or just as on fire no matter the side they chose to sit that gray painted fence of sides.
“Some people just need to get ate, Firebrand. Thats a whole ******** truth. If you meant it at all for the people round you though, it wouldn’t be this hard to do – you wouldn’t cry after at the act of having nearly done it….you wouldn’t try n spare our stubborn asses by making a run for it….So…” and taking space was good, walking away was smart for Eion, for Waru too; loath as he was to admit that as fact. Sometimes? All his greed for keep was wrong, in its way, and the answer was to step the ******** off n come back after. With better ideas and less focus on all the wrong parts. Specifically on all the parts where he’d done ******** up, he’d never fix anything going at it that way.
Was that what Emmy had been trying to do with Muri? To teach him? <******** did he owe her an apology—-
“So let's make a run for it, but in a planned way….Whats three hours from here that you’ve always wanted to see? Whats…whats a week long thing that we could just do? No phones, no tablets, no team. They need a break from us – we need a break from them – ********, if you need a break from me? Like – if the Rift is your solo hike so you don’t punch a hole in somebody special? I can give you that when you say the words Ei’. S’that what you're asking…” and all the clank n shine of metal woven inexorably round hair that’d never come free, the heft of trailing weights that tipped the ends firmly enough to be daunting; the sole purpose of which he figured was to make noise and catch light. He was a target in every way save color scheme, juxtaposed curiosity of passive greens n a ‘hit me’ mouth. Waru sighed for finding one trailing end of the thought with another end of dread, and teased the words out painfully slow, “We never did get a chance to just — lay around n do ******** for a week – not completely undistracted. There's seaside stuff near here…boats….island s**t?”
Faustites team didn’t need to be a burden only he bore, always. The responsibilities inherent in having one so large. Taking a break was genuinely a good idea from his boy!
He was stuck on that. However small and childish a thought. He couldn’t let it be. The world was hard, time away was healthy. Waru could admit that domesticity was beautiful, bliss when he accepted it as such, and not just a way of coping with his own fears of losing what was most important.
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Posted: Wed Nov 16, 2022 5:00 pm
Faustite didn't want to hear Albite's sense. Didn't want to know that he'd done well by any number of the team's members, or that he somehow saw people how they truly were. He didn't hardly understand any of them — he knew it was the same way with Nembus, and Lysithea, and Ilse, and now they had all left to fight against the very team they once joined. The ones that stayed — they had to have stayed for something else. What would that something else be but Albite? Someone who could understand a person's plights and praise them for how well they've survived thus far?
Faustite seldom handed out praise. He scheduled meetings to see progress, suggest changes or new projects. He got people promoted because he gave them direction. The family component in the team came from Albite, and Albite alone. Right?
He was trained to identify weakpoints and capitalize them, so all he did was use those same skills to identify weakpoints and shore them up. It wasn't any different from the other Generals of the Negaverse, save for the fact that most of them lapsed into inactivity or vanished altogether, only to later turn up as enemies.
So Faustite kept pacing. Kept his head down, his mind turning. No matter how he looked at the mess, he didn't know what to do. Apologize? That seemed trite. Saying 'I'm sorry' like it was supposed to knit together all the hurts caused by sitting on that secret for months. Like it was supposed to unstain Emmy's carpets and untraumatize Strix, who Emmy asked be brought into the fold. Like it would wipe the smug from Tama's face while he looked down at Eion. Like it would undo Aelius's ire and Trey's pain. What the ******** did sorry do but spit in the face of the people who needed reparations?
But Albite was off talking about this like it was some ******** vacation. Half-youma didn't get vacations because there was nowhere to go where twenty-one hours of General's aura blazing over the vicinity went by unnoticed.
This s**t was all kinds of frustrating for how nothing had a straight answer. People complicated everything in ways that youma never thought to do —
"Don't know," he admitted quietly. "Never thought about going somewhere. Forgot honeymoons existed." After a beat, he added, "Somewhere remote.
"Have to hide the aura. Miss the sea, if you know of a place."
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Posted: Thu Nov 24, 2022 2:14 am
“S’okay not to know a thing — heh — to not know anything, in my case,“ spoken from firsthand experience, full of soft derision meant to distract while he racked his mind over the concept of places, ached idly for an easier choice to up and present itself— How much more dangerous were ‘Everyday People’ than the denizens of the Rift? How much more damage could be done by bright Knights n blinding Senshi of the Moon, than those allied, but ultimately unaligned, with a Senshi of Chaos.
Ones homeland was as treacherous as the others, so Albite just needed to choose, didn't he? Throw a dart at a map and however they spent their time — So long as it was together, what did he really care? The level of threat didn’t change by more than degrees. The need for one to be alert and attentive over the other. He knew Faustite would’ve had to guard him in the Rift — an exhausting prospect — at least at sea?
They’d see them coming.
So long as it was away from where they were just then — not cutting ties wholesale — but giving some respectable space, till the others could unwind from the garrote-wire tension they’d created in the wake of unveiling so much so soon, and rather garishly by his own reasoning. He’d levied his sparring knowledge of things with all the precision of an emotional grenade; looking up into the limned jut of purples that peppered the ceiling cracks of his husbands office, Waru wished he could’ve done it better, or differently, or —
He did not, however, unwish having done it at all.
For all the ease and comfort his teammates deserved, Waru believed they also deserved truth. If he was going to bind them, as friends, as family? As a bakers dozen strong and growing larger by the day. Then some things had to be transparent — to become shared burdens that were easily spoken of without fear or shame. How else could they shore each other up?
One leak — ten thousand — he had to exist believing he was amongst those he could trust, at least in part. More importantly? He needed that for Faustite too.
People they could trust. <******** knows all my knowing of people only gets me the gist of the fact that they are, and this is sugarcoating it, fed the ******** up with my bullshit right now. Saying sorry to any of them is just salt in the wound, so I won’t — but some distance?” Waru sighed, ever glad the place lacked carpet, it would’ve caught fire, worn thin, been destroyed by dervish pacing and the thousand and one times blood’d been spilled the floors surface; stone didn’t absorb that a nice plush piece of rug would have.
“A Honeymoon’s something we can have, n we can call it something else like a— what was Muri saying we were? T’hy’la — Sun-and-Stars? We could spin that we’re taking personal leave without looking like we’re running away,” open palmed honesty, his fingers done with detangling lengthy locks and prodding along their adornments without end, “n there’s a series of barrier islands…remote..uninhabited..accessible only by boat. Betchu could sail us to Wyatt easy, n I’m a real good first mate— or ah, real good shark bait if all else fails?”
If it couldn’t be a week, it could’ve been a day trip, two, three, four?
“Seriously though — if you manage the seaman bits I can handle the rest. Kama squashes his aura all the damn time, turns himself into a flashlight instead of a sunbeam,” Waru would ask him how, parse the wording out in the same way he requested gifts and favors from friends, “n cats can work like aura domes — though I don’t know about you, me, Haymitch n the sea?” he snorted for the way it sounded similar to some old wives tale, a story with an ultimately tragic end n lesson worth minding.
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Posted: Thu Nov 24, 2022 6:04 am
It was a year ago that Waru was telling him how apologizing was important — how it would mean the world to his sister, Ana, after they had a spat. He couldn't remember the details of their disagreement anymore, but he had tried his best to follow the advice. Find Ana an apology gift, reconnect, restore the feeling of having a family again. He was still adjusting to the concept of apologies, still learning how to make them heartfelt and effective.
And now Waru was telling him there were times to not apologize? That apologies could be detrimental? He wore his stress in how he stared at the ground in disbelief and kept up his tireless pacing. Faustite didn't think it was possible for people to get any more confusing, and now Waru was revealing that, wait, the rabbit hole goes deeper. In fact, the hole was a circle with no entry or exit points, and once entered, everyone forgets how they got there. It was those rifts all over again, with more than just the isolation and the violent creatures that attacked them. A day trip the the Rift sounded like an absolute necessity at this point.
It was easier there. It was less complicated, if more immediately dangerous.
"Don't know what any of that means," he pointed out in reference to Muri's unique language proclivities. It all sounded like nonsense to him — attempted poetry that lacked the sound, form, or voice to become something deeply meaningful. It wasn't Cummings' deadfromtheneckup. It was lingo at best, and Faustite wasn't privy to the circles that used it.
"But I know Axinite always nags me to take a break. Kamacite, too. Could put in for leave if I get someone to cover the necessities in my absence." He had no doubt that Axinite would offer to cover, but that boy needed a vacation of his own. And Jet might offer the same, perhaps even Kamacite in his limitless care and concern. But if he could tailor this into an opportunity for his team to shine, then perhaps it would alleviate any potential burden to the others and benefit the team overall.
As he rounded on another lap in front of the table, Faustite suspected he misheard something when Albite mentioned sailing. The boy must've meant hiding away on a ship, or having connections to smuggle them to some remote island without being caught by the White Moon, or worse, exposed to the general public. But his boy mentioned himself as a first mate, and as realization reached him, Faustite felt himself grow misty about it. 'You certain? It's been years." His voice grew tremulous at the thought.
"And we'd have a fire on deck. Dangerous, depending on the boat." It wasn't a denial of the idea, but — surely he couldn't have that, right? Him, his boy, his boy's furry b*****d or some contraption that Kamacite lent them, on their way to an island he'd never been, free to be themselves with only the expectation to survive and return? Could he have that?
"If you're sure."
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Posted: Thu Nov 24, 2022 9:09 pm
“M’certain as s**t, seriously Eion? If anyone’d support you in this, it’d be them two,” and Waru felt the festering bit of hope that lived in his hindbrain *flare*, a bright little blaze full of gods knew how many wonderfully terrible ideas, full of *heat* for this! He plucked the notes of interest from Faustite’s tone like a spider feeling out the vibrations on a web; heard the denials, but no hard *No’s*, he hadn’t yet crossed a line and he *wanted* so badly that it felt like a need, “Besides! Dangers my middle name – I mean – not really, but it might as well be, right? Or at least ‘Danger’ is the third wheel on alluvour outings, can’t seem to go anywhere without it.”
N if he’d offended the team so much that all they’d catch the next week or so was ire? Then *this* felt right. Like the first smart move he’d made all night.
“Yanno, at port – m’talking from Douala down to Kibri, there is a thriving as ******** business outta making canoes entierly from bottles. S’like riding a wave caterpillar –--Not that I’m putting us in a plastic canoe, but? Worst comes to it, we’ve got ways offah boat, the means to call for backup should everything go s**t-creek south, I can swim, you can — swallow a ******** of water...” a wistful snicker, and he nearly went crosseyed tracking Faustites next elongated loop, keeping track of the quickpaced steps and those ever-busy hands, the dawning of something new across his boys features, “N I’ve always wanted to sail with someone who knew what they were doing, sure as ******** more n me.”
He was already envisioning things, fires at sea, the beauty of it like a wives-tale spouted round a fire.. Waru had it all romanticized; some cheap, old, warhorse of a vessel, stripped of all comforts n padding, a half decent galley below. It didn’t need to be fancy, so much as it had to be functional, rentable, nothing of the luxury he was sure his boy typically knew, but if he could steal some of Ei’s time while he was human enough and they could go perusing something to beg, borrow, or steal.
“If our little adventure goes well, if it don’t, it’ll still be more time I get to spend with you, doing things we can both enjoy – heh – relearning old ropes? Oh—oh..getting knotty...nautical? That’s…you’re gonna make me dizzy if you keep pacing like that, just – c’mere, yeh? You’ve got a little..everything..all over..n’mnot sure if I should kiss it off or?” the vaguest of gestures to Faustites entirely, but especially his face, the thin red lines that’d seemed to waver between clotting and running with fresh red. Waru suddenly wanted to capture all that fire, between his fingers, in his bed…
On a boat at sea far away from the eyes of others, and the ache of knowing what the absence of those eyes meant for them.
He hoped he’d run into Muri again someday, maybe he’d ask him for clarification about dinosaurs n star signs, about all his neat little nicknames that he lacked as much reference for as his husband did. He hoped Aelius would forgive them, and Trey, and Emmy, and…
If a little space could mend even a moment of it? Just for himself. He’d take that.
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Posted: Sun Nov 27, 2022 6:30 pm
"Doubt life is exciting enough without it." Waru was ever the thrillseeking sort, and often got himself into deadlier and deadlier situations over his career as a senshi with the Negaverse. Still, if they stayed behind, Faustite expected that Waru ran a greater risk of being murdered by the brothers than death out at sea. Even if there were sharks involved. And incredibly flammable boats. Better to spare the boy the more grisly of those options.
Faustite counted his revolutions around the desk during Waru's reminiscence, a minimum of three grew to five with the statement that Waru could swim and Faustite could swallow half the ocean. He knew how that would end — with no way to stop water from flowing into the grate, he'd overhydrate and die. He couldn't remember how that worked, but he remembered Schörl talking about it previously. As much as Waru doubted himself about sailing, Faustite wasn't sure he remembered enough about it to be any better. He had, of course, spent every available minute he could on deck and out at sea with his father, but those times were every weekend at best. When he was older, he could take the boat out with his friends, but he hadn't gotten to that point before youmafying. It'd been six years since, and he had only touched a boat once.
He could imagine Waru putting them in a plastic canoe if they ******** up and nearly drowned themselves, but Faustite couldn't imagine some recycled plastic holding up to his level of heat. While he'd never tried to wear a cincher for that long, he wondered what would happen as a result.
Truly, the boy was nothing but sweet to him. He had no reason to tell Waru no, that even the least preposterous of his ideas should be canned for something safer, more acceptable, less risky, but he couldn't rightly do so. He didn't understand threats to general well-being the way he had when he was a human boy. He'd made the decision to live in the Rift, though he didn't know his tenure lasted two years. After living in such a hostile space for that long, could he say to Waru that they needed to rethink their plans? No.
Finally his boy complained, and finally he gave up pacing. Without checking for the collar, he detoured on his path, straight into his boy's arms. With a soft chuff, he buried his face in clothed shoulder. Then he socked his boy right in the ribs.
"For opening your damned mouth," he explained, though his arms encircled his boy tighter. Fresh ink ran from his eyes, stained his boy's skin and fuku. Feeling the first runs of emotion drained him nigh completely. "Hate this. Hate everything about this. ******** that stupid c**t and her blight. Her wings. Her power. Her planet. And ******** Murikabullshit for walking into my ******** life, and —" his voice cracked, broke off, and died in a sniffle.
"Let's leave. Now."
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Posted: Sun Nov 27, 2022 9:48 pm
“******** was it always the ribs!!*
But Waru had earned that, took it, curling around his boy with a huff and wince; clutching his beloveds firey form tighter still. Till he could fit his fingers tween the swirling rungs of flame-wicked grate, get his fingers sooty with it, and get the rest tangled — running blunt nails up a clothed back into heat-straightened curls.
*I know. I’m sorry. I had to —*
Meaningless mouth sounds, there was no point in opening his gob wide enough to speak them into existence. He knew that Faustite knew. That Faustite had to know he meant all the things it was better not to say, bodily, in his bones. Because Helio’d had his chance between years — to send a letter - tell a lie - play the part of runaway that’d gone off and not died; but simply shirked his family’s responsibilities.
Hadn’t though, had he?
N Trey?
Waru didn’t want to count all the times he’d watched that mans beautiful mouth move and waited to hear the words that sat behind his eyes come out — get spoken — be made into living truth. All the sacrifices the brothers had been through, apart, together.
Maybe it wasn’t right that he’d taken that choice of a proper, quiet reveal away from them — but he didn’t believe in fates grand designs — simply seized opportunities and made choices. Given the chance to do it all over again? He wouldn’t’ve changed a thing. Everyone’d suffered more than enough. Everyone’d been so, so, so alone. But No More. Never again. If every support worth shoring them through the fallout needed to be called upon — to help them or the brothers? Wasn’t that what families were for — what their team was for?
“I deserved that—jeezuz—alright, alright. Let’s go. Anything else that needs done? We can get done via tablet or phone…” they were stealing the boat tonight then, taking it off like it’d gone adrift — all those pretentious little captains that left their keys onboard — provisions could be quietly snagged along the way, at sandbar stop points at — whatever remote island they aimed themselves towards. Waru liked the impulse of it all, the swift unpredictability of future events — of not knowing what those events would hold; it was the catch in his boys voice that cinched the decision for him though. The warm soak of wet, the way he shuddered for it and drug in a deeper sigh of air.
“Ohh, Ei….you’ve done so well….in spite of every obstacle stacked against you, including alluv this too? *You did good….*” Albite didn’t think anyone would tell Faustite otherwise, knew a heft of the evenings oopsidents lay with him too — and Jet would hear about the Princess, no tea parties to be had except in ‘jest’, he’d heard about the world ending blight too. Muri was the only wildcard, but Albite trusted their team to keep being wonderful enough to handle things in their absence, even if it extended beyond a week….
“N I love you? Alright? ******** — a whole lotta people love you. Mmmn, sorting this can wait till we’re back..heh..if we don’t beach ourselves on some nice, private, resort,” a relief, to pet through Faustites hair as he rambled on, all the ways doing so had always soothed him; especially if it let him hide Ei away a bit longer, to become some small bit of held treasure — n offer that same comfort back the only way he knew.
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Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2022 3:19 pm
He knew he couldn't, as much as he wanted to be gone from Destiny City and all of its nonsense. They could find a boat, stock it, store clothes on it, whatever, but Faustite knew the business with Murikabushi took unfortunate precedence. But he wanted to, how badly he wished to leave the place behind for anywhere. Some ******** island Waru remembered, Madrid, the Rift —
"Don't ******** lie." Faustite sputtered as he pushed himself away from the boy. Scrubbing at his eyes roughly, black began to stain the gold cuffs. "What happened wasn't anything ******** close to good. Wasn't anything but a shitshow. And now? Have to deal with… All of this. That ******** Mirror Maid, Trey, Aelius, the rest of the team?" Faustite snorted. How much damage did that do? Schörl was right, he'd get subordinates just like him someday — and she was spot on. How many of his team were hotheaded and quick to act? How many were just as quick to resort to scathing diatribes? Fat ******** surprise, then, that it hurt.
As he snorted back some of the tears, Faustite shook his head. "Can't wait. If it waits, there'll be more ********. More damage."
Another sniffle and he was back to pacing, to making deals with himself, to lighting on decision after decision and discarding the next as soon as he'd left the last. "What if we just —" A defeated sigh. What was the point? If every decision was a bad one, then he could pick any of them, right? If he was guaranteed to ******** up, then what was there to worry about?
"We can go," he decided at last. "Pick out a boat. Pack s**t. But we can't leave until this s**t is sorted. Okay?" And he stared up at Albite, pleadingly so, as if the boy's agreement would prove he still had enough mind left to make coherent decisions.
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