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 Posted: Fri Oct 20, 2023 4:51 pm
It didn't sound like a new hobby to Faustite's ears, but maybe the boy meant that it reached hobby proportions when considering the number of people he folded into his own life. Or perhaps more and more people were turning up injured, in a manner that soaked up more of Albite's time. But that didn't seem to be the crux of the matter, either, and Faustite had to spend his moments of silence wisely as he pondered it. If he took very long, Albite was liable to tread straight over the subject matter and dither off to some altogether unrelated topic, as he was wont to do.
"It's not a shortcoming," he returned. "You need people to have other people." Relying on Albite for everything — practically, it wasn't sustainable for anyone. The man had the same 18-ish hours that anyone else had, and he could only be in one place at a time, even if travel time was a non-issue for him. And to expect that level of give and care from him was likewise cruel.
"I have other people. Should've gone to them. But I didn't." And that was something he struggled to explain, even to himself.
When he about-faced, and saw Albite's smiling face with his arms outstretched like a needy child, he almost scoffed for how ridiculous the boy looked. But that oafish ridiculousness was part of his perpetual charm, and Faustite ever found himself drawn into its orbit. With a resigned sigh, he meandered over to the kitchen where his husband sat, all arms and pleading looks, and entrusted himself to that embrace. It was an easy thing, leaning his wan weight against Albite and finding a place for his claws at the boy's back. Easy and almost ritualistic.
"Hard to fix anything anymore," he muttered against Albite's corset. Seldom did he think too long on that, for the answer always returned to that he was either defective or simply unsuited to the task. It was the same reason why a weapon was seldom used as a tool — it wasn't suited for the work being performed, if that work did not involve the destruction of bodies. And if Faustite's body was a weapon, if he himself was a weapon, then how could that weapon be expected to fix anything? He was built to break things. He was taught to break things.
If Aelius and Waru had switched places in his life, then Waru would be a very different man than the one he was today.
"But if you want to go somewhere, we'll go."
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Posted: Fri Oct 20, 2023 7:06 pm
They both did, didn't they? Had other people, and homes, and lovers in those homes. Had any number of spouses - fiances - bering'd and beloved alike. Had helpful faces with endless offers of 'fixits' and 'howtos' on tap. Waru knew he didn't have to come *here*, could've snapped his fingers, picked up his phone, summoned an army unto himself as easily as sought one out. And yet? He hadn't, had he. Could no more offer up an explanation than poke and prod Faustite to provide him with one. So he didn't bother to. He let those worries melt, fat over the fire silkiness, let them sizzle off as he sighed harshly and held Faustite close; inhaling all that moonstone-copper n auric power like a favored incense.
"Not everything that's broken needs fixing," the words softly revealing, carefully plucked, like he was saying something profoundly obvious, even if it was only for the sake of hearing it from himself, "and ruins can be beautiful too. Their interesting, n carry stories, and are their own kinda perfect all without people ******** fixing them. So maybe we just -- don't, for tonight?" It was a hard concept to dwell on, to not throw himself at those sorts of walls and rail against them as though they were chains meant to hinder his progress. It was harder still to accept, that some things didn't need fixing. That every winding dilemma and growing fracture wasn't his fault---nor his job to assign himself to.
"Lets go have tea with your family instead! You cn' even name the tea pet I picked out for you!! I went a little overboard -- got some different colored foxes, a dog, a flower that looks like a snake. A crane. This little fire deity dude! The tea bricks are just -- Pu-erh? Tastes so good after the first pour off--" he cut himself before he ran all the way over and off the cliff of emptying all the contents in his head out onto the ground, drowning Faustite with them.
He certainly didn't let go of the man though, indulged boldly, even if he was careful on how some touches lingered. If Faustite was going through it? ******** if his insistence on prodding the man's pangs out was going to bring a swift end to that particular coping method.
Least, not today it wouldn't. Not for either of them.
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Posted: Mon Oct 23, 2023 2:35 pm
It seemed unwise to argue with the boy — like it would go circular, they'd wind up at each other's throats again, and no resolution would come of it. All too recently had he been pissed at Albite, sent him away for a week, and Faustite still needed to leave that conversation for another day. If Albite wanted to believe that he didn't need to be fixed, or Aelius didn't need to be fixed, Faustite would ignore how incorrect he was for the moment.
It was exhausting to be pissed all the time. Unfortunately, the world conspired to keep him utterly irate as often as possible.
Maybe Albite was only telling him what Albite himself needed to hear. Had nothing to do with Faustite. That sounded easier, still, to accept. That meant he wasn't even required to respond to all the s**t flowing out of Albite's mouth — he could let it roll off his back and dissipate with the smoke wending from his core.
"Tea pets?" Leave it to Albite to buy into the most asinine schemes — "Why would I waste tea on a piece of clay." He may have been a sentimental sort, but he reserved that sentiment for the living. And the debatably living, too, he supposed. Tea pets hardly counted, even when they were enchanted to drain energy. But, if a tea pet would take Albite's worries off his worldly charges and give him something to delight in, Faustite supposed he could play along. For the amount of tea he drank each day, pouring some over a figure of an alligator or whatever wasn't that much of a waste.
Even if Albite wanted this specific tea party to be among graves. That, somehow, wasn't a waste of tea, but Faustite didn't want to dig into the intricacies of the deceased versus inanimate objects.
"Had pu-erh before. Always put me to sleep." He'd heard the suppositions for it — that it helped people lose weight, imparted more energy, cured headaches — but he'd tried it for the flavor. "Fine, bring your tea. Need to grab something before we leave," he finished, as he slid away from Albite's grasp.
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Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2023 10:38 am
"It'll be fun, you'll see!! And m'not gonna lie, I could use a nap right about now---" It shouldn't have felt like a reprieve to watch Faustite walk away, even for a moment; it shouldn't've rankled him so hard either, to be given his back once more. The feelings so blindingly opposite, tethered together on the weakest of strings before they snapped. It was the strangest whiplash of feelings, with only himself to blame for them, tumultuous as a ******** riptide. Albite had never wanted tea more in his life, some menial task to do that would settle all the flipped cards and blaring red warning bells going off in his head like a homunculus of a sound & color cacophony.
He'd had quite ******** of himself by now, of the mission, of everything.
His inventory was a nigh combustible rucksack of overuse and indistinguishable odd-ends. He took the moments he had in his home to empty it out a little more, to make sure he only had what he needed -- and that the items in it were bundled together as they should've been. Especially the tea set -- if he put the fox with eyeliner that reminded him of Kama away, and the tiny red dragon that made him think of Ren, and an egregiously fat cat that was an absolute impulse buy! *And the Hestia bat, because of course there had to be a Hestia bat!!* He laughed at himself, at his own ridiculous desires, how he wanted everyone with him even if it was in 'tea pet form'. Deciding all the little ceramic knick-nacks could adorn the newly cleared space in the cabinet that all the violent emptying had made for them.
He'd thank Faustite for it later, doing away with the old, they needed new s**t anyways.
He was keeping the ox -- or was it a red cow? The green dragon -- because once he'd learned Faustite the ******** stone was that shade, well, he just couldn't let it go! And yeah he'd gotten most of it off amazon! But did it matter so long as he liked it? If the set had black ceramic with green marbling, if the wood of the tea tray was so dark it was almost an espresso, things that reminded him of forests he'd grown to love instead of the home he only missed in dreams. Of course having an electric kettle, n full water bottle and the actual tea itself was important! It was technically a cake, but whatever, right? Cake, brick, plate -- solid and still neatly wrapped in its paper. He'd been told that older bricks had different flavors -- that the age of the tree did something to it -- it reminded him of the way people described good wines.
For him, though? The least picky coinsure in the world --
"Yanno, Ei? I just realized something--I've never made you Osang either, have I? Think you might call it an abomination, but hell -- my mother's got a good recipe for it! I can beg her to share it sometime--" he said it into the open air, to himself, kept himself busy and waiting until everything was as in it's place as it was going to be. Let his mind shift to how that particular drink really was a matter of spices and the type of milk you used -- and oh! The frown that stole his features for the realization that he couldn't keep his mind on it. That the second his hands realized they were truly empty with nothing but the cold countertop to hold onto, how he wanted Faustite back in them again.
As if he could summon him there at whim--
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Posted: Sat Nov 04, 2023 7:11 pm
"No," Faustite answered simply. Most of what Albite made, if he was allowed to go anywhere near Faustite's tea, were abominations. That he would be calling osang an abomination wasn't surprising to him.
What was surprising was the way Albite kept treading water as he spoke. Packed up his new little tea pets and kept running his mouth, saying nothing in particular, saying everything except what must have been on his mind. Whatever that was. For the longest time, Faustite thought Albite's thoughts were each taped across one of those spinning wheels with the spokes sticking out of them, and whenever it stopped, Albite would have the associated thought. Then it was immediately spun again, stopped on an altogether unrelated thought, and on the scheme would go…
But Albite had some logic, even if it was faulty logic. And at present, from what Faustite could tell by hearing him talk circles around himself, Albite was stalling.
"You're not saying what's on your mind," Faustite pointed out, though his accusation lacked bite. He kept pacing, however. "So tell me, Albite.
"What do you really want right now?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 04, 2023 8:31 pm
What did he really want? Right the ******** now! He wanted to be better, he wanted --- Albites face fell and he nearly cursed anew for how transparent he must've seemed. A glass giant sorting tea pets and trying not to fidget rigidly. Of course his boy would call him out, and he could only hiss and sigh for all the necessary and all the ways he needed that done sometimes; even if it hurt his head to find the answer. He could hunt for a center in the maelstrom of his thoughts and steer for the clearer skies within its walls.
He'd done it before, he could do it again now---
"I want---I want to feel better equipped for what I know I need to do, and in the process of that? Feel better as a whole, but I want that for everyone, don't I? For you, n Aelius, n everyone who looks kinda like the seams'r fraying at the edges all recent like....." easier to say without wincing than anything else would've been, how he missed the Rift right now, Faustite putting him on his a** -- spilling his teeth -- how all of that *felt* easier than saying any of this was. "But, selfishly? Eion, I just wanna be with you in some fantastical other where the frying pan isn't in the ceiling and the kitchen doesn't look like a bomb went off and-- Is it wrong to want everything better without having to go through the hard parts first? To want a map for those hard parts *first*--" he couldn't help the laugh that burbled up, small derisive thing for how he could answer his own question and it was pointless to ask in circles after what he already knew.
Faustite paced and his hands itched to hold and the counter wasn't nearly as arresting or grounding as it had been before, it was better to be close, to walk up to the line of pacing fire and watch his love pass by in lopes three feet in front of him. To play a game of seeing how close he could get without impeding his loves steps, without tripping up that smooth gait and stide...
"There is no better til there's peace, our kinda peace, not the peaceful kind in poems n s**t. But there is no peace right now. There can't be---Not with me not knowing what to do anymore..." the floor looked sinkable right now, soft enough to bleed back into, for all that disappearing would've been the smart thing to do rather than go on running his mouth. He could only slump and stare at the floor so long before inevitably hunting those blazing oranges and crawling blacks again, nose up and hound focused and always he wanted that fire.
Always, always, always---even now, espescially now!
"You looked *harmed*, Firebrand. When I came in- and m'not talking physically either. Though you look that too!! But *that*-- It scares me, and I don't know how to bridge any of it at all-- except to offer to take you out to tea, n visit your family who loved you, and apologize another hundred times for like -- clearly missing important s**t?" he was determined as he spoke, to spit it all out and kill the gnawing fear of failure that always made him itch terribly. Such an enemy that subtle emotion, how it made him antsy and ******** everything right up, ruining any sense he thought he could've had for gauging any number of things. Fear bred doubt and he knew he was no good to Faustite the way he was now, strung out and tired and sailing the unknown in the dark. No good to Aelius or any other being, not even himself!
And that wasn't fair at all--
"I don't like feeling off kilter anymore than I like the look of you wounded n me being not at ******** all in the know. That I was hoping Tea pets n cakes would be some kinda reprieve from anything is...it's ******** stupid, right? You can tell me it's dumb....You can tell me what hurt you besides a fist, or a brick wall....Or we can go sit in silence till some other sorta revelation crawls out in the quiet of it all. Cause I really-really-really miss holding you for long periods of time, like? Just to sleep, even." He hadn't realized how much he'd miss all the little things until they weren't there anymore, but he was damned well realizing it now.
Realizing and reaching and hoping--
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2023 4:28 pm
"It's unrealistic," Faustite corrected softly. "No easy answer to ******** while the White Moon curse us with their existence. So you can want — but it won't happen." That was the worst of it, he supposed. Perhaps the wanting was worse than the reality of it, for that yearning would likely go unresolved as long as he lived. And while he supposed Albite would live long enough to see the end of the war, despite his frequent actions to the contrary, Faustite hadn't expected to get that far. Too many brushes with death confirmed as much for him: he'd die long before he witnessed the fall of that last bastion against the Negaverse. Thus his hopes would never be realized, and by extension, Albite's were partially dashed, too.
And that was, he thought, a crueler fate than whatever bad death he would die before the conclusion of this overstayed stalemate. But that was better left unsaid to the poor, suffering boy.
"Don't pin so much on yourself," he reprimanded again as he turned into another pacing length. "We're all like… Organs in the same body. Performing different functions to the same end result. We keep each other alive. Just focus on your own part. Have faith that the others can get through their challenges just the same." For better or worse. And, hopefully, one of them would relieve Albite his burden of command should Faustite get himself killed before long.
The trouble of his well-being was left unaddressed. Faustite knew no better than Albite did for how to handle it; instead, he often dragged such miserable thoughts and feelings with himself wherever he went, and while some days he could squirrel them away into the corners of his mind, other days they were rioting at the forefront of it. He felt as much a prisoner in the whole affair as Albite did. Faustite found it infinitely more frustrating that Albite had to suffer for his own shortcomings in such a bothered way, that he tortured himself over not knowing what to do for his husband, who likewise knew not how to help himself. Maybe there was no help. Maybe the answer was that he needed to learn to live with these changes, for they were permanent, and he would be inept in his role for the rest of his life, but he still needed to fill that role, even if only by half.
It was a grim sentence for both of them — one that Faustite carried in silence as his metal heels echoed their tap-tap-tap off the stone walls in the destroyed space. Albite was near, his worries casting dark shadows under his eyes in this way and that, ever dancing and laughing in Faustite's shifting firelight.
There was only one answer in reasonable distance for both of them. Faustite remained silent upon his new loop, coming toward Albite, coming within arm's reach of him. But it was Faustite who reached out this time — it was Faustite who snatched up Albite's hand before he could object or lament or even shift from where he stood. And with a short intake of breath, they vanished from what used to be a kitchen.
The darkness readily swallowed his firelight now that they were outside. His light didn't reach the stars, didn't reflect off the thin layer of clouds that blessedly obstructed them from view. It caught on a few low-hanging branches and echoed off nearby marble stones carved in memory of those who came before. The space was quiet, its gates long shut and its groundskeeper likely turned in for the night. Nonetheless, Faustite pressed a finger to his lips lest Albite forget himself.
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Posted: Tue Jan 09, 2024 1:49 am
It was easy to admit Faustite was right, and that said rightness should’ve applied to everyone! *Even his husband.* He could’ve told his love the very same, turned those wise words back around on his firebrand, like a parrot with a mirror and a rote phrase.
Knew the glower he probably would’ve gotten for it— pointing out the obvious. Knew too the drive to be all encompassing all of the time— To be the holy triad, to play every role, to become a one man band of a body and orchestrate all of its happenings; stymied every bleed, comfort every hurt defensively, aggressively even! Waru couldn’t begin to tell Faustite to do what he couldn’t begin to do himself, to go easier on himself the way he would’ve told anyone else. His hypocrisy had its limits. He let the obvious dodge vanish, let it all be pulled into the darkness and snuffed into a tense silence—
An easier silence, soon, as how Faustite’s blaze was swallowed by natures swaddling darkness so too were any words that wanted to revolt against his tongue. There was something about being in nature — even the nature of an endless sea of headstones, brambles and more well preserved patches of marble tombs. It was easier to breathe out here in the open. Breathe out his worries, and in his acceptance. To acknowledge that the whatever fears he had could wait one more day, and he wouldn’t spontaneously combust for having them.
That was Faustite’s job. To dodge artfully and leave him grasping at straws and grinning for how thoroughly tabled he could feel the subject was. Sometimes having the talk at all was enough; knowing that he’d had it out as much as he could, hot air freed from a pressure cooker, so he could focus on something else, finally! Like the sensation of squeezeing Faustites overwarm fingers like a child clinging to a favored toy; something old, worn, but dragged from cradle to college and beyond. Something he wouldn’t be letting go of any time soon if he had his way—
This is fine. It's enough.
xxStrickenizedxx A faded out fin for the win~
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