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 Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2014 9:14 pm
How much did he owe Lellouch for caring for him, helping him, and how was he paying her back? He was sneaking out of his home, out a downstairs window since she was in the living room, and after reaching his usual power up location he did just that. He'd been to work, off and on due to injuries, and been working on the tea shop and pushing himself in ways that would have had the blond haired women screaming and cursing him up and down, right before she'd tie him to his bed. He shouldn't have been risking opening up stitches and landing himself back into the hospital; but he had. Tonight however he was aiming to handle the injuries he'd obtained thanks to General Avalon, he really hoped she was suffering still, by stealing energy and possibly a starseed in order to finish healing up. He'd scar, there was no doubt about it, and he frankly didn't care. He would have three years ago but that was before the war, when everything was normal, now it was something he didn't give much thought to. He'd gain more in time, he knew it, and it would be impossible to avoid to why let it bother him?
Moving from the alley way he risked it as he teleported himself to the park, a common place to find civilians, senshi, knights and Negaverse agents. it was a risk but it could pay out handsomely with a starseed and energy, perhaps senshi or knights starseed. A smile came across his features as he walked, slowly, through the park on the hunt as he kept to the shadows to the best of his abilities. His cape and coat catching on branches here or there, as was common, slate hued eyes focused on everything outside of the shadows which he lurked within. He could sense others here and he didn't need, nor want, a fight at the moment. He couldn't imagine what lellouch would do if she found out he was not only out and powered up but had landed himself back into a hospital bed. She'd not been pleased when he'd called her from the emergency room to tell him where he was, and to ask him to walk his dog and inform here where his house key was hidden. Nope, she'd yelled at him in fact.
Shaking his head as laughter bubbled up and spilled forth the blond closed his eyes briefly. Oh yes, it had been amusing to hear her over his cell phone while he lay in a hospital bed hours after being patched up. He supposed he did deserve it, all of it as he had been the one to permit that fight to get so dangerous and perhaps even out of hand?
Opening his eyes as he tilted his head, standing still, he pondered hunting down the newest signature to hit his senses. Should he...yes - he would.
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Posted: Tue Jul 01, 2014 9:37 pm
The moon drew high in the sky, peering down on him through thick branches weighted with leaves, with fruit and bounty left behind by children who frequented the area. Now only crickets sounded, along with bats that homed their young on heavy boughs. The benches sat silent, the equipment patiently waiting for morning to rouse a dull gleam on the stainless steel poles, for summer heat to warm the rubberized chunks scattered around the slides.
And there he sat, motionless, on a familiar wooden bench while he waited. He remembered how her shoulders sat so slender against the rounded peak of the perch, where he crept close enough to view how her clavicles just barely rose above the gentle curve. Her hair, meticulously sculpted into an up-do, quite possibly shimmered beneath the dim, dismal glow cast by one of the nearby street lamps. And in her hand rested a copy of Arcadia, well-used by the well-red, while references to Camus filtered into their conversation. Another bookworm, he realized. One he might've shared a few stories, a few rounds with if he held a more human visage and a brighter heart.
But lost conquests hardly affected him anymore - not when he knew of potential salvation.
Now Bischofite sat at the bench, waiting, for some sign of the white page who offered a means of escaping his fate. Hvergelmir. And where was she now, when she admitted to frequenting this area? Had she skipped this night? Run into trouble? Suffered death at the hands of those who somehow spied on him, who somehow learned of his intentions?
Soon Bischofite caught himself grinding his teeth. Instead he clicked his tongue, shifting gaze to the pair of taloned hands that he cleaned meticulously so many times before.
In an effort to kill time, the creature settled on preening his wings. The thick cascades of black feathers accumulated dirt, road tar, and oils rather frequently. However, a few brisk strokes from base of shaft to the tip of the feather coaxed enough preening oil from his skin to wet the feathers and return a sleek shine to their teeth and strands. Soon he nearly lost himself to the task, until an oppressive and iniquitous signature called his attention back to reality.
Yes, he knew that feeling well. Too well. Skin-crawlingly well. And sure enough, when gold eyes sought through shadows for the identity of his unwelcome visitor, Bischofite discovered that his future company avoided him with equal fervor.
"Benitoite," he muttered in an echo of throaty voices. "Why are you here? You wander too far from home." His wings offered variations on his response set at speeds faster or slower than his own, sometimes jumping ahead entirely to finish their reiterated responses. And as he scrutinized the blonde, a few quiet gasps sounded. "You are hurt." I wonder who dressed that for you. Was it Quenton? Lily? One of your other friends? Or do you have a proper Negaverse medic now? Maybe a ******** buddy, a boyfriend? The possibilities are endless.
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Posted: Tue Jul 01, 2014 11:29 pm
He hadn't let anyone else on their side know of his injury, he couldn't and wouldn't let word of the fight get out. Though it had taken place in the Rift so who knew who would know or did already know. He had wished that the fight could have been elsewhere, anywhere else, he didn't care so much for the injury he'd sustained much less the injuries he'd inflicted upon the other General - he'd wished her dead and still did. Now it seemed someone else knew, or would, but would he tell? Somehow he doubted the dark haired General would breath a word of it to anyone.
Safe, for now, he made his way from the shadows and tilted his head. he'd heard the others greeting along with many others, how unusual and yet fascinating. "Bischofite. It's good to see you." Seeking to, for the moment, not address the injury and how he was playing gentle with himself.
"I may be a long way from home but the park is a common area to find those of the other side, and ours. I was looking for someone, a civilian if need be, to take a starseed from - energy in the case of a civilian." In order to speed up his own healing process. To need that spoke to the injury and that it wasn't something trivial, not to mention how careful he was with himself this evening. Oh how Lellouch was going to throw a fit when she discovered him missing from home, he knew he'd not hear the end of it for hours.
"What brings you here?" Approaching slowly he glanced about, as through there might be someone about who he didn't sense, but nothing - a shame really. It was hard to look at the other but he did and didn't look away even if he wished it. he couldn't permit himself, he had no reason to fear it not now. he'd avoided the other till now and now that he couldn't he shouldn't look away. "Are you well?" Focus on the other, ignore himself, a common thing he did. He cared more for others and it would perhaps one night be his downfall. He had fought Avalon because of what she'd done to Bischofite after all, risked his life. he'd made an attempt on her that night even.
Spying a few flashes of light, fireflies, he felt a smile tugging at his lips as he went to take a seat; gently. Seating himself he let his hands settle into his lap and his gaze turn to the other. "It's a nice evening out. Is that what brings you out and about?" He was trying, and well he thought, to make light conversation and not focus on certain things. he was trying, so hard, to act as thought certain things had not happened. he needed to move past them and try and continue on. He couldn't run or avoid it - not anymore.
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Posted: Fri Jul 04, 2014 4:45 pm
You've always known how I hated small talk, Benitoite. Do you seek to insult me? No... Something else. "You're trying to avoid somesing." Bischofite offered him little more than a glance, cold, short, before returning his gaze to the street lamps far down the road, toward the highway overpass. He remembered throwing rocks from its height, watching with devilish glee as the larger pieces struck their mark and chipped the windshield from an idling car. Catching himself, he realized how much easier it felt to dream of the past, of worlds far beyond his own when he wore a human visage and once again maintained dual lives.
"Fine," he conceded, shifting on the bench to more adequately face the blonde. He crossed legs loosely and folded his hands into a familiar net to rest on his knee. The position felt so obtusely normal compared to his horrendous visage. "I'll play along." I'll make you regret ever opening your mouth for those trite little pleasantries of yours.
"I am faring like s**t lately. Few are ze times when I find motivation enough to eat, and when I do, I vomit all but ze softest and gentlest of foods. Yet I still hunger, like some festering torment zat never fully heals. Energy offers no more sustenance zan it did when I was human - I can only surmise zat I must lif' wis' ze automatic mannerisms of a bulimic until ze day I die. Additionally, I find no reason to remain conscious - far better are ze offerings of dreams when compared to ze stark reality of my situation. Zum Beispiel. Who is going to listen to some warped creature calling himself a general, when a surfeit of zose sporting a human appearance and tied rank offer better, easier to stomach alternatives? Zum Beispiel. What good is a soldier now effectively crippled, deprived of weapon, absent ally, in a war fought wis' numbers over cleverness? Zum Beispiel. In a working machine, what use is zere in a part whose sole purpose is to hinder ze efficiency of its actions?
"Put plainly, Benitoite," he veritably snarled the boy's name, "my only hope of coping wis' zis disaster is to never wake again. Yet here I am, unable to sleep and doubly unable to tolerate ze continued diatribes of my so-called allies. In seeing you here, I'm beginning to realize just how ubiquitous our presence is." He sighed, doubling over to press forehead to bony knee. All portions of him offered no softness, no comfort - not even the wings that now slipped just slightly from their meticulous fold to his shoulders.
"And you," he started as he eyed the blonde through his thick bangs. "You never once came to visit me. I wager you never even looked for me, even if only to voice your own acrid hate for my actions. Is zis how you treated Bazzite? Are you so ashamed of me zat you cannot bear to associate even peripherally?
"You should'f kept walking, Benitoite. You should'f never even looked in my direction."
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Posted: Fri Jul 04, 2014 6:18 pm
Watching the other was easier than listening, he found this out quickly, as Bischofite's words struck home and hurt. It wasn't just what he said, no never just words, but how things were spoken. The other had been suffering, was suffering, and found himself useless. He hadn't helped, hadn't visited, but he couldn't back then. He was sure if not for tonight he wouldn't have visited any time soon either. He didn't want to say it, and maybe he looked guilty or ashamed, as he tilted his head down for a moment to look toward his own lap. He didn't look at his empty lap for long though, he owed the other the respect of watching him; of paying him attention.
"Perhaps you need to start with simple foods...as a baby and a toddler would...allow yourself to become used to things once more...I can bring you things, make things." He whispered. It somehow felt wrong to speak, to offer up words and possible solutions. It all felt wrong and he felt like he was on thin ice, or on the edge of a cliff which he may fall off of. This wasn't a feeling he liked, who would? But it wasn't a new feeling to him either. He felt hopeless, like anything he said would be discarded harshly, and it hurt knowing the other was suffering and had been.
"I -." Shaking his head he took a moment to pull himself together before attempting to speak once more, to explain himself and his lack of actions. "You remember when we first met? When you woke? How I was right after Bazzite? I'm afraid I was no better now as I was then. I also had a few injuries to tend to and it took some time." Meaning they had healed. He had some new injury which was healing at present. "I had, and still have, no hate for you. I know why you told no one your plans and while it hurt, that you didn't tell me, I understand and know why you didn't disclose your plans." He never would have agreed. he wanted this war to end, to remove every senshi, knight and cat, but not by bringing the rift into the city or turning the city into a rift of it's own. He was too emotional and too tied to people, family and friends, and could never go along with such a plan.A heavy exhale of air, a wince as he did so, and he shook his head slowly.
Watching the other rest his head on a bony knee he took note of just how bony and too thin the other seemed to be. Yes, he needed to eat. But if he offered, if he brought foods, would he eat? Biting his bottom lip he made his mind rather quickly - he'd try. He had to try.
"People once listened to, as you put it, a warped creature - Tanzanite. When she was a General and then a General Queen. She was a half youma, as you are, with wings and a monstrous hand. I swear the thing could eat small animals." Remembering that Christmas party, which had gone bad, made him sure that her hand could do such a thing. "I'm sure some people would listen to you...I would." But who else? And it wasn't because of his visage but because who would trust the other? Bischofite was extreme and didn't tell people the truth, as they would never follow him if they knew the truth of his plans. That was the real problem.
It was without thought that he reached out and moved, shifting and turning on the bench, in order to embrace the other and cover the other with his own slight form; as much as he could. It hurt, moving and stretching too much was bound to hurt, but he was acting without thought as was fairly common for him when it came to emotional dealings. "I should have looked for you...but I was being self destructive again, more than the last time." Last time he hadn't gone and picked a fight with someone who than ran him through with a sword. Nope, he hadn't gone off and done something that stupid. "I felt guilt, I should have been watching and protecting you. Instead I got carried away with fighting a senshi. I had to be knocked out and carried from the warehouse. I went after Avalon - the General who stabbed you..." Trailing off as he thought about her, oh how he wished he'd killed her. She should be six foot underground, maybe deeper, feeding the local flora and fauna. He would be pleased if that were to have happened to her, he'd have buried her himself.
Drawing back, slowly, he glanced down at the other. "Do you want me to get you something to eat? Something gentle for your stomach?" He could teleport off, power down, make a food purchase, and power back up and return with something for the other to eat. Soft, wide, eyes stared down at the other as he waited, hopeful, for the others response. Why was it so easy for him to fall into behaving as he once had with the other, though it was slightly different? He had been sure it wouldn't be like this when they ran into each other again, as he was sure they would. He wasn't complaining though, no he wouldn't complain about this.
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Posted: Sat Jul 05, 2014 9:30 pm
"You're weak, Benitoite. Weaker zan I." He snarled toward the blonde, turning away just as his disgust twisted his features. "During zose times you pitied yourself and avoided everysing else, chanting 'woe is me' until your sroat ran raw and your mind numb wis' ze same damning mantra. You usher yourself away into ze dark to lick your wounds and do what? Mourn until you'f lost all feeling for ze event? Mourn until it means nossing to you? How many times must I chastise you for ze same shitty actions?" He sighed, slipping his leg off the bench while he slumped forward to afford wing space from the back of the bench.
Shifting his attention to the adjacent tree, he spoke softly. "Your trust is misplaced." He eyed the deep grooves knotted into the bark, how they cracked and fissured and stretched toward the very tips of the branches. For a moment he imagined pure chaotic energy forking through those myriad grooves, a highway nearing the complexity of the circulatory system. I don't... know anymore. Maybe I'm forcing myself to ruminate on it too harshly. I misstepped, and fell. Why, now, am I so shy to walk again? Perhaps I really am a child. "You know how many I betrayed. We lost soldiers on our side."
A betrayal... It's so damnably hard to think of it as such. Doesn't make sense to me. Thinking along common lines... It's grueling, tiring. I can't keep on like this. I need to change my way of thinking.
All that is dirt must be gold. Even if I am Midas, something worthwhile must come of this.
I will taint everything I touch. Even you, Quenton.
"I'f never met zis Tanzanite. Never seen her. Malicious spoke of her but once, and only in passing." Oh, how it stirs my blood to hear that name... "Regardless, such a comparison is moot when I do not hold her rank nor her experiences and contributions to ze Negaverse. Effectively, you're comparing apples to oranges on basis zat zey are bos' fruit."
Bischofite considered doubling over for further comfort when Benitoite moved toward him, intent on draping his arms about the creature's bony frame and remain close. In response, a practiced hand rose to the peripheral chambers known deep within the chest, where a starseed thick with rot and chaos lay within its confines. Warped fingers found purchase around its rough exterior, their brush a threat to squeeze should any further contact be solicited. "All your promises are as empty as ze devotion promised by Malicious. You grovel now, you cower and fret and cry at my accusations, utilizing my condition as a means to feel sorry for yourself - you are no better zan her, Benitoite. You may as well haf' contorted my appearance yourself.
"Gif' me a reason to abstain from ripping zis damnable hunk of rock from your chest. Do it, or I'll dig ze greatest hole zat ze Negaverse will bury me in. I will rot wis' my victims, you being ze start."
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Posted: Sat Jul 05, 2014 10:20 pm
He let Bischofite say he was weak, he knew he was, he wasn't insulted. How could you be insulted when it was the truth? He let himself get emotional and acted on them, too often, and he was his own worst enemy and he knew it. He knew these things and he hadn't gotten over it, it was something he was working on. It was a weakness which was fixable, to an extent, and one he knew was there. "Yes, I know what i did back then, I assure you." He spoke gently, he remembered his behavior back then. It wasn't something he could help than any more than he could not that long ago. he was at least out of the house and powered up, rather than drifting about his home like a lost soul.
"I know it's misplaced. I also know that I can trust you in a battle and that your plans, no matter what, will result in the deaths of senshi and knights. You may have betray us, your plans were against my own morals and personal likes, but I also understand it was to further our side in this war. You just chose a way no one else would wish to take." Because everyone else let emotions get involved, including himself, but Bischofite didn't let that hold him back from planning things. He didn't pander to such emotions and let those weaknesses dictate the plans he would come up with for them, for the war.
"We did but I'm sure members on there side were lost as well. It's a war, every fight we have risks loss of life on our side." Shrugging his shoulders. He didn't like the idea of them loosing people but he also understood, and accepted, that it had to happen and would. He already understood that he could easily die in this war as well. He'd even betrayed their own side, not like the dark haired General had though, by attacking Avalon as he had. There was the risk of repercussions though he did doubt anything would happen, he didn't figure her the sort to report him or anything. She wasn't the sort to go running off to the higher up's and cry about the General who stabbed her and wanted her dead. He figured he was safe from any punishment, for which he was glad.
"Perhaps, but what keeps you from becoming the same fruit which she is? I do not know everything she did, I only briefly met her, but you can become the same as her." It would take work, alot of it, due to his betrayal of so many but it could happen? Even Tanzanite had members who disliked her, turned on her, and he was sure that would happen to anyone. So why couldn't Bischofite become similar to her? He was smart, didn't think with his heart, and he could plot like few could. He could lead as well, lets not ever forget that. "You don't need to be a General King, you are still a general - the same as she was. She was half youma when a General." He'd seen a file on her and only skimmed it, briefly. There were files on every member of the Negaverse, past and present, it was a bit creepy to be honest.
He'd seen the hand rising, those long digits catching his attention, and then he saw the others hand enter his chest. Wide eyed he stared as pain ran through him and his starseed he felt it; felt it brushed against by the others hand. Oh god...was the other really going to grab his starseed? What would he do? He was at the others mercy and he felt the weakness distinctly. He couldn't pull away, too much risk, and there was little he could do in the position he was in. Shuddering he bit his lip as the other questioned him.
Did he have to answer? How should he answer? What could he say? He tried to push as much pain and nervousness aside as he could so he could focus on answering the other, and just how to answer him. Finally dry lips parted as he answered in what he hoped was an acceptable manner. "I grovel, cower, fret, and cry because it hurts seeing you suffer. it hurts that you are in this position and I cannot help. I pity myself because of my own stupidity and the loss of something I didn't know I had until I'd lost it." If the other thought the promise of food, that he'd make food for him, was an empty promise he'd learn otherwise if he let the blond live and wished him to fulfill the promise. but if it wasn't the promise of food than what promises?
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2014 7:21 pm
"You're too easy, Benitoite. You capitulate as a reaction - no, a compulsion. You're a doormat. You srow yourself at my feet and tell me to haf' my way wis' you so zat you might know my good graces again. It incenses me, but... Perhaps zat's why ze Negaverse values you so highly." You're as weightless as Zinkenite's words - all gesture, all act and postulation and placation. One day, a strong breeze will have you dissipate as smoke, and in one breath you'll be gone.
"You'f mistaken me from ze start." At what point did I imply that I demanded more power, that I needed others to look to me for direction and understanding from a basic level? Perhaps he's projecting. No... We've talked of this before. Eyes half-lidded, he peered down toward the blonde through his half-mask of bone and feather. "Constant rule is not what I seek. I find no joy in micromanaging lives - only for ze cogs of war to work seamlessly when we find ourselfs in need of strategy. Plainly, I only expect ozzers to adhere to my orders when ze circumstances demand it. Perhaps I might'f succeeded, had Is-... Avalon not interfered." I could name a thousand names, point to a thousand faces that yearned for my failure that night.
"Now I am Iscariot. No darker deed could I muster to furzer tarnish my reputation in ze Negaverse. As such, I am free. I suffer, but I am free." He squeezed the seed in his hand, digging taloned nails against its surface to stir systemic pain within his peer. Smiling faintly, he leaned in close until the beak of his mask brushed against Benitoite's cheekbone. "I pine, I weep, I rail against our comrades because I am free."
You dismantle yourself because you think it's what I want. You'll play to my tune because you're afraid of death... A healthy reaction. But does being afraid imply that you want to live? You suffer, yet you want survival. Change is survival.
Oh, the myriad ways I can help you survive, Benitoite...
"And what was it zat you lost? Companionship? Why bleed for me, Benitoite? Why lament ze fate of a traitor, of one who now holds your starseed captif' by whim alone?" I suspected it for all this time. The way you reacted to me... You always bent to my will. Cowered at my rage. Jumped to meet my expectations, slunk away when I rebuked you. I knew it, and I used it as a game of my own. A toy, a plaything. I enjoyed our time together, until I wanted to grow up.
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2014 8:39 pm
"I don't want to fight my own side, I don't care to fight those who fight with me against a common enemy. I'd rather work with those on this side of the war. A doormat I may be but only to some, do not think I let everyone walk across my person." It was those he got emotionally tied to, those he got too close to. Should he change that? Should he hold everyone at arms length or better? He didn't like that idea, not in the slightest. He liked being close to those he worked with, he'd only had his weakness bite him in the a** twice. Twice too many.
"Tell me then...what was it, from the start?" He didn't know the other well, and he knew it, he'd known it from the start. The other was above him in so many ways and he'd known it and felt it all too keenly at times, it was one thing he disliked and yet loved at the same time. Pushing the thoughts, the feelings, aside he focused his attention on the other again and what he was saying.
He wanted to tell the other that he didn't mean for him to rule over peoples lives, just over the things which needed to be - fights and planning things. But he didn't speak, didn't try and correct and change things. He left it as it was, as the other said. The blond was at a loss really, this was not something he was ready for; when he could he ever be ready for this confrontation though? Was it true though? What he said about no darker deed? it seemed likely that the other was correct. he didn't even think his own deed with Bazzite was so dark. he had not sought to betray their side and turn their city into another Rift. He had not sought such destruction and brought how many unknowing officers into the plot. Bischofite had committed a dark deed indeed and his reputation, his name, went hand in hand with the word betrayal he was sure.
Gasping in pain, his hands gripping his own uniform as he cried out in pain. God, to have ones starseed gripped as it was brought such pain. It was not like being corrupted, or given more power, but it was still a pain that was so deep, so profound, that he wondered if normal people had anything which it could be compared to. He wasn't even sure he could compare it to anything. To be corrupted or gain more power was even worse though, it managed to go beyond and to leave one breathless and without thought or word.
Biting down on his lip, breathing deeply, he fought the pain back and shook his head. Tears pricking his eyes as he opened his eyes and looked down at the other. "No....more, something else." did he have to say it? Did he need to give voice to the feelings he held, had held, still held...he wasn't sure...for the other? Couldn't the other figure it out, read it from him? Alois seemed better at reading people than he was. "Traitor or not you are more than just an agent - you always were." He whispered and blinked his eyes, letting his eyes gaze up at the night sky, as he fought away the tears which threatened to fall. Whether they were from pain or emotions was unknown; even to the teen.
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Posted: Tue Jul 08, 2014 12:50 am
Bischofite drew breath and held it for a measure before starting on the slow explanation of his treason to the Negaverse, and undying allegiance to Chaos. "I don't care about zis city, its occupants, or its preservation srough our efforts. I'm not looking to defend my home from ze alien menace, protect my friends from zeir influence or borrow ze power of ze Negaverse to put a stop to sings I'm afraid of and zen go back to my happy life once every last one of zeir despicable kind lies dead at my feet. Because of zis, I expect zat I will not last srough ze entirety of ze war - not as I am now. In mind, in spirit, in body I am a war machine. We bos' know zat tanks are retired once an agreement is struck, and I cannot settle for a docile life in ze Rift." He spared some time afterward to look over Benitoite's features, to digest every fleck of fear that showed through his visage.
"Zat being said... I believed in Chaos as ze lifeblood and will of ze universe. Entropy is a law. Everysing devolves into a random and unruly state over time. Surely you'f experienced it yourself - perhaps you haven't cleaned your room for a time, and now you find ze floor covered in dirty clos'e and your so-cherished candlesticks sporting dust. Zat is a product, a manifestation, of Chaos - a power zat we wield, yet we do not subscribe to its implied philosophies as an organization. Zat is why I stand apart from ze lot of you - I followed Chaos, I followed Metallia over ze asinine concept of utilizing Chaos to return everysing to its proper Order."
But I cannot relay to you my true reason for sitting on this bench, for waiting on Hvergelmir to show. For what would you do, if you learned of it? Cry, no doubt. Cry and fret and grovel for me to give the Negaverse a second chance, give you a second chance so you can nurse all my wounds and make it better and ******** lobotomize me just so you can have things as they were again. You've always been like this, Benitoite. You're always so willing to force your head in the sand, up your own a** even, whenever trouble shows its face in paradise.
The Negaverse holds no place for me, and you cannot accept that. Perhaps I will encounter the same problem if I purge the Chaos from my body, but at least I'll be rid of this damnably choking existence.
Tightening his grip on Benitoite's starseed, he hummed lowly. "You're beating around ze bush again - as you always do. Always did. You dance around topics when you're better off confronting zem firsthand, Benitoite - and I am nigh certain I drilled zat into your head when you shattered Bazzite's starseed and warped his body into somesing far less human zan my own. You wander around ze house and pine away, pine away, pine away until morning comes and you srow yourself into work. I watched you do it, I watched you worm your way srough ze mud around ze necrosis taking root in your life.
"For once in your damnably short and pas'etic life, Benitoite, I want to hear you say it."
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2014 2:04 am
Biting down on his lip as the other spoke, trying to fight and beat back the pain, he nodded to the others words. he did understand, and they did make sense. When did something the other say not make sense? But he did wonder if the war would ever end? Would they die fighting or old men somehow retired from this? Would they grow too old, too useless, and have their lives ended for them by someone newer and younger? If it did end then what? There was no way to undo everything they'd done and seen, no way to go back to the previous life they'd each had. No, he couldn't go back to that as he was far too deep in a pool of blood and darkness. But what would he do without the duties, without the need to go out and collect energy, to be able to kill and hurt people? There was no way to return to anything peaceful, or normal, when and if this war ended whilst they still lived. "Can't go back to a happy life...not after all of this anyway. Impossible." He managed to get out past his bitten upon bottom lip.
"Perhaps there is a way to fix this...when the war ends, if not sooner if a fix can be found." Though his voice held little hope, it wasn't promising what he doubted was possible. He did wonder what would become of Bazzite if it ended, or if he died of old age or lack of usefulness. What would then happen to Bazzite? They weren't thoughts he fancied dealing with and yet he was confronting them now and was unable to escape; literally.
"If we followed chaos, completely, we would be no organization - no Negaverse. We would simply be individuals following Matallia in a very loose manner with no common anything - aside from chaos." They had a goal though, something to do,, and that alone took out some of the chaos factor, right? But he understood what the other said and couldn't fault it. he did follow chaos in the very sense and definition of the word. Why then was he like this? Shouldn't Matallia be proud, shouldn't she undo this so he could continue? One would think that the one who held to chaos the most should be held above the rest in some manner? Or at least not be as he was now. But perhaps this was just a part of chaos? The voices, the feathers - everything.
"You did and yet I don't like conflict in my civilian life, or as little as possible." he liked to try and have some calm in his life, some part of his life where there wasn't fighting, and as much negativity. A rest from the darkness and time to recharge sort to speak. he needed to try and be normal, whatever that was, and he didn't want conflict in that part of his life so he tried to avoid it and took burdens that weren't his onto his own shoulders.
Alois was still the same though, demanding and harsh. he wasn't one to allow him to play his game and make a part of his life easy and a place where he could be oh so weak and self destructive in it. No, he wasn't surprised though the others tightening grip on his starseed had provoked a choked whimper from the ashen blond before lips parted and his eyes sought the others own. "You want to hear me say that I fell in love with you? That I didn't even realize it till it was too late? It's cruel...and yet I suppose it's no different from with Bazzite - you making me confront things. I can't destroy myself emotionally when your around." His words at times paused, were slow, hesitant due to discomfort and pain, and strained from pain. Eyes that were more gray than blue, at the moment, were bright with unshed tears of pain, physical and emotional, as he watched the other.
"I never could be weak around you, you wouldn't allow it. I couldn't be a weak and emotional person who was self destructive and threw personal pity parties for one." He could have asked if the other had felt the same, felt anything for him, but he didn't. he didn't want to know. he had just admitted to his own feelings, let the other know, and what did it matter what the other had felt? It mattered in one sense but in another it didn't, nothing could be done about them if they were there at all.
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2014 8:04 am
"I suspect zere is a way to fix zis, but it does not come of our side." He responded, sharp and blistering. We find no inclination or reason to revert our youma for human form - why do so for a general only half besieged by such abominations? And if I lose all usefulness like this, murder is more cost-effective than any research into reversing the youmafication process.
Bischofite groaned softly, a sentiment echoed through wings. "Guerrilla warfare holds far less organization zan more traditional messods, yet can be more effectif'. Look at your own history - how ze Americans won zeir revolutionary war, how ze Vietnamese drof'e zem back from ze jungles. But to tout its merits is not to demean current organization - ze Negaverse runs off of total fais' to its superiors. Additionally some lack ze mental faculties to cope wis' total chaos - so to carf'e out a portion of ze Negaverse and repurpose it for absolute chaotic devotion proves more useful zan nixing ze whole sing and rebuilding from scratch." But this is all neither here nor there - I shouldn't have to prove this to anyone.
When the words came through, Bischofite released his hold on the general's starseed and withdrew hand from chest, standing in the process. "I want you to stop hiding from yourself like you're your own personal bogeyman. I will always be cruel to you, Benitoite, for you will always need it. You are my Severin, and for every harsh jab I administer, you lof'e me all ze more." He spoke the words absent revulsion, yet a harshness indicative of his native tongue accentuated the end of the phrase. Outward Bischofite reached toward the man - the boy - and a black nailed finger ran upward from the tip of his throat to the edge of his chin. There it paused, while thick tar bubbled and hissed to the surface of his hand until every fleck of skin and nail remained covered in it. A thick strand of it hung low, threatening to seep onto Benitoite's uniform.
Drawing his hand back, a thin segment of tar connected the blonde's chin to his nail. "You will know total pain and suffering for ze coming weeks. Acknowledge it, indulge in it, embrace it. Change from it. Change is survival, Benitoite. Don't waste ze opportunity given." Finally he dropped his hand to his side, severing the strand entirely. Afterward he started toward the edge of the forest, only half-pausing when his boot touched the abrasive gravel composing the street. Looking back, he watched the general in his so-small stance beneath the jaundiced light bearing down on him. He looked sad, scared, pathetic - as if wholly defeated and reviling himself for it. "Masochism comes from Sacher-Masoch, ze man who wrote Venus im Pelz. You know suffering as sweet, deprivation as heady. You always liked it when I bit you hard.
"Now you haf' but ze memory left to torment and indulge you." The creature returned to its shambling gait, pressing just beyond the thick forest of trees before his oppressive auric energies dissipated into the atmosphere.
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