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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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 Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2023 5:12 am
The tension couldn't have been properly cut with a steak knife. Perhaps a broadsword. Faustite kept watching him, and Encke's movements were careful as if he didn't want to scare a skittish animal. Maybe the way Richard might have approached him closer to over a decade ago. The tension relaxed when Faustite swore and dust blew through the air. Not because the situation was any less tense by its own sake, but because Encke was now reassured it wasn't him Faustite was looking at. Why was his own arm dusty like that? His brows knit. "I'll keep looking for a court. Got a feeling that’s gonna be a longer thing." Encke glanced down to his phone. Then that meant he knew where the next priority was. A court was the type of thing that was going to need an extensive search. He put out the feelers for Lysithea if her court had reformed and didn’t simply want Faustite dead first. Had reached out to his Leonian partner, the one who had made his heart swell when he realized he was still alive after Barren Pines, but didn’t hear anything there either. Too bad, that arrangement came with a royal. He tapped his phone back on and pulled up his contacts, pulling up a face he was relatively familiar with at this point. Whimsical Blue Hey Ida! I have something potentially outrageous to even ask you.
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2023 5:14 am
Faustite wondered if he should've said don't bother, I changed my mind, He supposed it wasn't too late for that, and Encke might even try to kill him and speed up the process. As much as he wanted to survive — as much as he wanted to be with his boys for years, until they sat at the edge of a crumbling world — he still wasn't certain of the price. What was it all worth if he forgot them? If he forgot his family, or himself? And if he came back as human, would his boys still love him? Or would they see him, whoever he would be, as someone they should exterminate?
If they did, could Faustite fault them? He didn't think so. All things considered in this conversation were treason. And while Faustite would do all in his power to drag the idiot Praxidike back into the fold if that boy had defected, he couldn't say that Jet would do the same, or that Mizuki would forgive him, or that Alkmene wouldn't hunt him down and destroy him in a fit of bitterness and jealousy. They wouldn't each react favorably to the one that was once Faustite.
So could he say that getting rid of his youma half was worth it? He didn't think he could, not at its steep cost. Not when the only benefit it provided was survival, and the rest was guaranteed to make him more miserable. Not when he would leave his boys behind.
The silence stretched on and on and on. Encke's cool optimism was sign enough to Faustite that even his own cooperation in this may have been futile; perhaps the White Moon – Order – whatever the ******** they called themselves lacked the personnel or the resources to even attempt to pry a youma out of him, to wash out the chaos in him. Maybe there were those that could, but they chose not to help him. He was familiar with that. He expected that. He was used to that calloused cruelty.
He was used to the tunnel. Used to the darkness. He didn't want the light at the end.
Faustite turned from Encke regardless. He started for the treeline, refreshing his uniform as he went, and picked up his pace as he neared the edge of the clearing. "Forget it," he called back to Encke.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2023 5:15 am
Considering the circumstances, Encke wasn't expecting Faustite to be particularly enthusiastic with his finding. He wasn't even sure if he was expecting happiness, not even quite sure that Faustite would actually reject chaos in the ways that were necessary if not for the situation he was in – and even then. Relief, perhaps. What he hadn't quite been expecting, though, was for Faustite to outright turn away from him. To tell him to forget it. Encke's mouth opened for a moment, and then he closed it, and then he opened it again. Would Faustite rather die? He had given Encke his name. He had sought out Order help in the first place and kept it when it was him. He was coughing like he had been smoking for thirty years and fainting in the process of all things. "You just said you didn't have long." Encke tried his best to not sound accusatory. He hadn't said much that Faustite might be running back home with, not much that would be easy to say without implicating himself somehow. This didn't seem much like a trap, anymore. "What do you plan to do if you leave?" It was an honest question. Was he walking off to go die? Why was something he was desperate for even a few hours ago feel so… wrong? Fascinating how quickly people changed.
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2023 5:17 am
He was still walking for the woods as Encke spoke to him. At him. Faustite didn't spare a look back.
This was too much too soon. Too great of a cost that he had to pay out because — what? His boys understood that he was a General of the Negaverse, that he could die any day. They understood that being part youma carried risks, the worst of which he shouldered now. Albite knew that death would, eventually, be the end of him. Youma disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again, and Faustite expected that much might be true for himself (and, truly, he'd rather this life didn't see any more cycles, whatever Encke believed).
"I know," he answered, though he didn't stop. He knew what he saw on his arm. Knew what he experienced through the coughing fits, the overheating, the hours spent in a state of anergy. Someone like Encke wouldn't see it, but he lived among youma. He remembered it where ex-youma like Malus didn't.
He didn't need a plan, either. "Die at home," he answered as he stepped into the woods, sidestepped some underbrush that got clingy at his waist. If he just went home, then he could find some comfort. Talk to someone. Vent all this mangled stress. Get reassurances from his boys that this ******** up idea of peeling the youma out with the White Moon's assistance was something worth pursuing. He could stop into Hessonite's office and ask her if she'd rather him dead or wiped of memories.
And if he died, then what did it matter to Encke? That was a victory for their side. Another one gone in their endless war.
Maybe Faustite had longer than he thought. Maybe his body would cling to its misbegotten life long enough for him to get comfortable with the idea, but he knew that day wouldn't be today. No matter how pitiful or stupid Encke found him.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2023 5:17 am
The I know hit like an uncomfortable anvil, and Encke might have winced for the truth of it. I know hinted at an uncomfortable inevitability of death and the lack of desire to do anything to intercept it. There were probably good reasons for that. The proposal to abandon everything in his whole life was a hard one, and it was probably especially hard for someone who wasn’t actually looking to leave his position. The phrasing used stuck. He had heard get rid of the youma loud and clear. He hadn’t heard an agreement to be purified. This was going to take time, and from the way Faustite was talking and acting, Encke wasn’t entirely sure if time was what this guy had. Perhaps that was okay, to a degree. The threat would be gone. They could go back to living without worrying about Faustite, even if Pendour had been right. Even if Encke knew she was right. They would just find another. Faustite would be a tragic figure to be honored with their service to chaos. The cycle was never ending. It felt wrong, though, to think that Faustite was still a threat they should be concerned about eradicating in this state. He wanted to be free of the youma. Perhaps he could be convinced of the rest of it, too. Perhaps, with the connections he held, it could lead to greater things. “Don’t have to treat this like a terminal illness,” Encke moved a bit closer, but didn’t move to stop Faustite, not wanting him to feel trapped or to try and set Encke on fire in the process of leaving. “Think about it, at least. We can help you live another day, even if that day looks different than today.” He glanced down to his phone. No answers, yet. No words to bribe him with. “Can’t exactly exchange numbers with you, but we seem to find each other often enough anyway.” … ******** had his work cut out for him.
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