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Takes Place October 27th 2024

“You!?” mouth agape and stance suddenly defensive. Nikki had told him she’d be setting him up to meet someone. Another of her dear friends, all the people she treated so much like family in her life. It was why he was out tonight at their usual meeting spot, being oh so surprised about what looked suddenly like an ambush.

Because he’d agreed with her, readily, happily! He still had his homework from Pendour to complete, and like a long overdue thesis paper he still didn’t feel he'd quite gotten everything together on? He was missing footnotes, and citations, and —

He was missing parts of himself he didn’t know how to cope with. Not truly. The way Nikki seemed to do it so well, with a heavy heart, but she did it. Acknowledging that Matt had abandoned her — that if Matt wanted to be her one and only? Then he had put in the work, and if he was choosing his family over them both?

His own life over their shared one — if he would abject responsibility of her feelings — then she would, as he suspected she always had before, handle it herself.

She’d written the note after all, he’d seen it. He hadn’t been able to write a similar one of his own. Everything up till now he realized was the same damn baiting he’s been accused of. Like waving red flags in front of bulls, like using his body as a gift to string Matt along. Bribery and baiting. His grand master plan, his ultimate failure as a person.

There was no end of ways he was mad at himself now, looking back in hindsight? Realizing he’d repeated the same mistakes in a different pattern.

Time and again.

That Matt would not be rising to it, or falling for it, that he had burnt the man he loved like dry ice. Over and over again. Only there would be no room for healing those wounds now, not this time. Matt was maybe well and truly done with him, and whether he could take it or not?

That was entirely his own problem to deal with —

Which left him here, standing on a rooftop and staring down an enemy where he’d thought he’d find a friend. He’d seen this man before, knew him, even if it’s only been a brief brush the one time? Even if the power scaling was far different now.

“You’re not the — gods want did she call you — but no — you’re that knight from before!” He hissed as cold pooled off his limbs and tangled round his feet, this was not some kinky uncle — funny uncle? No. This was some strange a*****e enemy, and the man must’ve seen him coming and followed him here!

Which was fine — he’d handle it and — hopefully? Meet whoever Nikki actually intended.

Giving this–ooohg!! and Cryolite for the life of himself couldn’t remember if the man was a proper *Knight* the last time they’d crossed paths? If this ‘Promethei’ was not nearly as layered and bundled against the cold that was so naturally his element to wield as he seemed to be currently. Regardless, there were certainly things he could imagine polishing on the man, and those ******** boots, the toes beneath them, were not a part of that vision.

Stomping on them on the other hand— He shook off the appeal, rolling his eyes as the passive hisst of sublimation spread up from beneath him in simmering waves. He only regretted that it was all for show; a cat fluffing itself up to look bigger when standing before a bear.

“Projecting much?” A curl of lip, a hint of boredom, he couldn’t help throwing up frigid walls while trying with all of himself to imagine Nikki and this man being friends – being family? *This* – this a*****e who was nothing at all like Pendour! She’d been sweet, serious, honest to a fault.

And not some fluffed up piece of jug wielding smarm with a handsome smile–

Worse still? Was the shadow that lingering recognition from one brief encounter before cast on him and, much to Cryolites disdain, the way that got him treated like less than a threat. Like he wouldn’t be a problem to handle at all for the big man. He didn’t know how to take that, how to feel here in this moment when he wasn’t running for his life, when they weren’t technically fighting, when—

And he didn’t want to be negatively associated with the college – a place he loved so dearly – to imagine this man looking for him there going forwards? In his precious library, on its rooftops, across the campus as a whole!

“Nikki didn’t warn me you were such a fetishist–”dryer than the icy air, there was a clear discomfort in the way he shifted while crossing his arms. A ready to run energy that undermined his attempt at telling the man off entirely. “And your ego is already so blindingly shined up that it clearly doesn’t need my help…”

Spoken through his teeth, as Cryolite fought with the urge to simply go now, and call it a loss– The question of whether to do that, or to stay and see it through? He was trying not to overthink the way he was being summed up and surmised at an infuriating glance! Failing, maybe, but trying nonetheless because Nikki had indeed gone to all this trouble for him!

It couldn’t hurt to hear him out – just for a moment — and shove ice in the mans face once he’d finally had enough.

‘So I made a lasting impression then?’

Some chilled pride in the idea that he’d been a memorable, if brief, encounter for the Knight. The way the hint of his grin crumpled into pinched disdain as the man before him went on and he caught the urge he had to roll his eyes —

He was not going to get into an argument over EGO and ID with this man!! Let alone kinks!! Better to let him have the win for now, to eat the sass like crow pie thrown back his way as his mocking was twisted into something complimentary instead.

Would it be a lie to say he was impressed? Somewhere deep down beneath the surface; with the quick wit and obvious intelligence buried beneath layers of furs and a sly grin. That this *knight* — ugh — Promethei — was somewhat charming in a sadly familiar way.

And though his heart loved Nikki? He couldn’t help but miss Matt — miss Waru — the connections he’d begun to build with his team. The strong arms of a large man. The easy back and forth banter he’s had with his fiancé, the way they could trade easy barbs that held not a single bit of sting in them.

Sassing each other just for fun — and Matt was well read, witty, sweet,,,

And Waru—

“You are, truly, the most horrendously incorrigible—“ Cryolite sniffed, arms crossed and fingers drumming along his elbow as he tried to smother both his genuine intrigue and mounting sadness back into something manageable. “And yes, I’m leaving. It’s not a question, either. It’s a truth.” He heard the question there, the stain of the mark in the man’s voice, and he aimed to quash it.

“Of my own will, too. Not because I was chased out…not because it’s…the people within it are irredeemable.” A quiet huff, “Not because Nikki is lovely…” The words warm and full of feeling, because Nikki was lovely, soft, sweet. But to say he was leaving for the sake of some twinned romance and because his heart throbbed? It felt diminishing to her efforts — to himself — to the risk he might not remember her at all and so to say he was leaving just because of her? That made such little sense to him—

“I simply didn’t realize it’d be as hard as it has been to, pull the trigger, so to speak?”

“Pendour asked me what kind of person I wanted to be—-tsk —“ Soft frustration, as if he were still dissatisfied with himself for not having an answer yet. “I’ve been framing it as though she gave me ‘homework’. It's easier to deal with that way—“ The way his eyes widened in soft realization and Cryolite, just as quickly, before Promethei got the wrong impression, aimed to correct himself.

“As I’m an adult, obviously, but —“ he winced at his own phrasing, something an adult would totally say! Ugh, it shouldn’t have been this difficult to get an idea across! But Promethei made him nervous in a way, flustered, maybe!? To know the man was one more person close to Nikki. To know that he’d probably be dealing with him beyond this point — that as with pendour this was more than a simple one off chance encounter —

“Hah— it’s just — I always did like challenging assignments.” A poor explanation, a motivational excuse? He could hardly say what to call it; he’d never played enough poker to recognize a spade for what it was. “Ehm— but that’s besides the point when the point is —“ his pause, the way his eyes dipped back up from where they’d found their way to the ground and settled neatly on Promethei’s face, a stark bit of realization crossing his gaze.

Because the man had it in one, didn’t he? Could so nearly sum up with a pretty bow and wrapping what he stuttered and struggled through saying at all.

“The point is that —- that exactly — and three this fear of — of if this isn’t my truth? If I’m just — deluding myself — faking it till I make it —“ A winced smile and the way that thought felt so familiar, because that was life, wasn’t it? Save for all those he’d thought he could be truly honest with had one by one fallen away — or been shoved away — or he’d ******** run from them. “And Nikki is not insignificant in this! I don’t mean to imply that! Not when — How she’s — I love her, and I don’t understand that sometimes because there’s nothing there sexually, but I —“ it was an easy and old habit to play with loose sleeves and sash and wish for the kind of confidence Nikki always seemed to have to speak her mind exactly.

“I’ve lost myself somewhere between what I’m leaving behind and what I’m running into, I don’t have a way of measuring myself anymore. I don’t know how to gauge what of this is me doing this for ‘me’ and not just because—“

Because Nikki was waiting with open arms, home, companions —

Because Matt had left him behind and Albite had gotten a hint and he’d severed his connections so slowly that it was now too late to do it quickly or cleanly at all! It’d been noticed. He’d been noticed, and he no longer knew for how long he could keep the planless game up —

He wanted advice. An out. Answers. Yet every time be looked inwards for them…

“Well— because of all the very obvious pros and cons….not to mention I still don’t have an answer for Pendour…and that’s felt exceedingly important to have a grasp of lately. Stressfully so. Much to my own detriment…” because he truly would’ve liked to find reasons to quit stalling, until the scales overbalanced and all he could do was let go.

It was envy, he realized, if the many feelings that roiled up in the pit of his mind and spread through his body the one that surfaced so cleanly in the next moment was not; out of nowhere lust, endless frustration, a slicy sarcastic and smarmy sense of amusement all his own. No, instead it was envy, clean, clear, green eyed.

Darker maybe, like Matt’s. Brighter, potentially? Though he realized with some ill-swallowed horror that he didn’t know what was truly hers (color-wise) and what was simply a reflection of her glamor. A thought which only strengthened his envy of the man standing before him; that Promethei had seemingly run the gauntlet and had the *strength* to do so, to come out the other side sounding wiser than Syrus felt, and a ******** of a lot *surer* than he knew himself to currently be!

It was almost galling, that the hunk of a man before him had answers upon answers at his fingertips, that he had a magic jug damned near overflowing with them. He missed that, he realized, feeling like he was on stable ground. Knowing who he was and where he was meant to be and *how* he was meant to be! A piece of a puzzle that fit right instead of having his edges sanded down haggary and being shoved into a slot that now felt wrong beneath his own skin. It made him uneasy in a near queasy way, how he’d always thought so highly of his own self right up until…

Well—

And pinpointing where it all fell apart would take more time and therapy than he was willing to commit to on a rooftop while hearing his suddenly ‘not enemy’ out with an open mind and heart.

It went on the list of things ‘to pick apart later’, preferably beneath someone else’s watchful gaze. Though if he was being honest with himself? He’d rather not have done it at all and left further introspection for his next life’s incarnation to deal with—

Let some other version of Dione pick apart where it all went wrong maybe going back the last Millennium or so?

“I’m sorry—“ He didn’t mean to sound so coarsely skeptical, to look at the beaker as if it might also bite. Or maybe contain something that did bite— “for being sooo…Tsk. for being like this? Because I’m grateful. Truly.” He meant it, he tried to, heaving a sigh and closing the gap of space with determination clicking beneath his heels. “Grateful. Bitter.”

“Because I want to have my cake and eat it, just this once.”

“I want for us to be able to sit somewhere comfortable and have this exact discussion. To be able to do so knowing that I’ll remember it *after* all is said and done, because if I had to repeat myself on a subject one too many times? I’d get frustrated to no end.” He squinted at the man, the rolls of leopard fur, the glowing blue piping and knightly symbols. He squinted like it would tell him something he didn’t already know, like how he doubted Promethei was the type to get frustrated. How the man seemed like he loved to talk; about love, and politics, and sexuality.

“But maybe you won’t…”

“Considering Nikki and Pendour spoke well of you…and also your..ehm…access to magical truth serum?” He wondered very much if Promethei ever used his abilities outside of work? If that was what they’d call this powered nonsense ‘work’. Except he knew that thinking about it would make him ask about it and he didn’t need to spend any more time blushing about how the knight seemed as focused on gaining consent as he did in being thorough with his details——

Syrus was taking notes on models and expressions of affection, a lovely dawning of understanding in his eyes, a hunger for knowledge and more laying in the wake of it. Gleaming there. While Cryolite was nodding ‘yes’ before he could think himself out of it. He did not kind, he was tired of himself, exhausted with his own barriers, and if a magic trick could be the fix?

Then ******** it, he was game.

Hell, if it all worked well enough? Maybe he’d throw Albite under the knights bridge and see if his darling himbo of a screwball friend could be psychoanalyzed just as easily.

He’d almost believed the jug to be empty, truly, when Promethei tilted it and there was no following sound of sloshing liquid or thick magic spilling out from inside. His attention so firmly pulled by the motion that he noticed little else; not what the Knights other hand was doing, nor the small device — no — his eyes were firmly glued on the *jug* as if that held all his answers. As if the words he needed to say were buried in its depths; the fiery visage that flowed free was unexpected, a wash of ethereal tendrils combined with the warmth of Promethei’s words.

It was the promises layered atop more promises that really did it for him—

The relief that came with believing Promethei wouldn’t grow impatient with him; never too frustrated to talk to, nor intolerable of his own endless questions and ceaseless yearning for more and more answers still. The scrabbling urge for self-preservation (such a small, whining thing already) waned with his desire to keep his aces sleeved and vested interests close to his chest.

He could trust his man, some gentle tendril cooed sweetly over his senses. He could be honest with Promethei, Pendour, and Nikki, and his own damn self.

It was easy.

Easy as the settling quiet and growing calm and the way he seemed to relax out of his nervous fidgeting as he finally took a deeper breath again, opening his mouth to speak. “I thought I knew, I swear that I used to for the longest time—“ the barest swallow and flicker of soulful looks, because he had known, hadn’t he? Pinning his dreams on *beating* a system that had never played fair, that was founded in fallacies; loop holes were made to be flown through with needlepoint logic, hairline cracks in a foundation exploited viciously.

He’d taken pleasure in it, a focal point of a self-driven mission; starving for every gold star achievement, the act of lying low and pretty in the tall grass like an unseen viper. The thrill of breaking norms when he chose, chasing gentler heights of uncommon friendships. The promise of the negaverse—

He had liked it, hadn’t he? Once it’d all been paired down and explained in more digestible details.

And now?

He just wanted to be happy again. Didn’t he.

‘Don’t I?’

It almost felt selfish to think, to crave something uniquely his own. Outside of all the others— irregardless or them, almost. How he didn’t know if doing any of this would make him happy — or simply give him a new space to decide what happiness looked like in.

‘What kind of person do I want to be—‘

The grass would never be greener, he wouldn’t magically become more morally inclined to be ‘good’ by anyone’s definition save his skewed own, losing his memories would be a b***h and a half of a blow to the very fibre of his soul!

And yet he wanted—

To take a chance, maybe. At absolving himself of the endless fears that lived just below the surface of his veins and crackled like thin sheets of ice under his heels. To take a chance on Nikki, who had so much endless, deep love in her that he knew he’d never for a moment feel put to the side while they were together.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known how to want for myself…” He huffed alow as he picked the words carefully free like splinters from his skin.“not so freely as this. Not so wholly as this. Nothing that wasn’t — ugh — my poor attempts at making out paths one thin line and educational triumph at a time. I wanted to cure the world of certain evils by being a — the more decisive evil in the room…”

His face screwed up gently and he sighed for how little that made sense as he said it now. It’d made sense back then though, hadn’t it? Taking advantage of a cruel system. Making all the loopholes his own. Supporting his friends through that…

“I’ve always wanted to be happy…truly happy…and I’m just..I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, not the way people say I should be, or the way it is in fairytales…” A fact wrapped around a clear willingness to try and course correct. Because he knew what happiness felt like — the cold other side of that misery carved into a scarred coin.

“It’d be nice, though. I think? To start over. To try again.” A deeper breath as he settled into the forming idea falling off his gentle lips. “To try and love people unconditionally the way I want to be loved, to be the safe haven in a storm I’d thought I’d become….” He nearly laughed, because it was laughable, wasn’t it? All the ways he’d become none of those things. Instead a cloistered little introvert who’d whittled his connections down to a bare minimum.

“I feel like I’ve failed…like I’m going to keep failing…but if that’s the way it has to be? Then I don’t want it to be like *this*, doing the same thing over and over and expecting success while getting nowhere…” His tongue unglued and he felt like he’d babbled endlessly, sucking on his feet on tail end of his half-hatched sentence. He was suddenly unsure if that was the correct thing to want, if there was a way to fail this too. The way he must have failed Waru, and Aramis, and Matt — the team — Nikki to an endless degree the poor girl. But he wouldn’t suddenly find himself able to save them from here, would he?

Not like this, not as he was—

Cryolite blinked out of it, clearing his voice and listening, Prometheis point of view was such an intriguing one, and he clung to it shamelessly. “I probably would. Though I think I’d like him better if he could convince my ‘could’ve-been’ husband to convert, even just some?” A one off jest, a sore huff of laughter at his own expense. The sound pained, because he absolutely wished everything could be so simple as that. As if wanting enough could be enough, as if he hadn’t arrived for power, and worth, and prestige right alongside his desire to do good in a twisted, backwards way. He’d wanted all of those things and more, and now?

Now he just wanted to be done with it all—

Maybe that was the trick of it? Giving up to some degree, a rock going concave beneath a stream of water. Cracking under a waterfall. Maybe he needed to bring down the hammer of order onto Matt’s house and just — let them bully the man into doing what was good for himself for once. The way Syrus felt, with painful clarity, that in some ways Fulgs desire to protect and care for his father was just a useful, sympathy inducing ruse. Oh, he had no doubt that his loves feelings were genuine for his family members! But what a sweet cover to hide beneath as well, a thick family styled blanket that his man could so easily bury himself beneath and claim as ‘home base’ and ‘tag free zone’ in a game had long since ended.

The players were dead, gone, purified. Fulgurites head would look the same mounted on a pike before or after he purified. A father would still lose a son, at least if death was the great ultimatum and looming threat that his love feared most. What did it matter if that death came to him wearing black or wearing white?? What was the point in refusing to budge if no one was spared any real heartache at all!

He could feel the way Nikki had cut her ties, saw it in bright pink writing. Knew he was as bad as Waru in this one regard….

How he didn’t want to let go fully. Not of anyone. How he’d miss them, one and all.

“But, I think you're right about the differences, if I have any morality at all? It’s in Nikki. She may not be screaming, but she’s making that pouty face at me. I’m sure you know the one. It’s actually a very convincing motivator somehow…she makes a good compass where my own has failed..” Failed was a far softer way to say it than calling it utterly nonexistent, he was not oft surrounded by compasses of any kind. Not till Nikki. So he did blush for saying it, the same as he did for Promethei calling him a lost prince in a way that made him subconsciously tuck some of his hair behind his ears.

The man could be sweet when he wanted to, it seemed, even if he drawled like a well educated southern bear.

“I really do hope so…” he smiled back, far more hopeful and less hostile than when this all began. “I do…”


(FIN!)