Kitomyx
Immediately follows x. Occurs mid-November.
The pair snap-reeled into the set of domesticity, where walls spread up around them and the port windows framed their picturesque starscape. They stood between the folded-out bed and a narrow slate table where he once did his homework over weekend fishing trips. Pristine white carpeting contrasted heavily with the mahogany walls and framing. Behind each of them, large windows turned his once-bedroom into a fishbowl. Faustite could look out now at the empty pier through the starboard side, where a single lamp stared into their shared space. And once the world caught up with him, once he was again aware of the seas pushing gently against the boat and the way the floor shifted beneath them and how his ears reminded him of the pressure change, he could speak.
And speak he would, with no interest in backing away from their close proximity. All these protests about your lies — are you testing me? Do you really believe you haven't lied to me through our entire conversation?
I'd roll my eyes if it meant anything. "Fine. We'll see if I'm right." Faustite clapped Sinope in the ribs with his free hand, expectant for a flinch. "You've spent this whole time twitching and flinching about some hidden injury. You don't want me to know that you're hurt, but it's recent. You haven't remembered to adapt to it yet. You haven't changed your body language for it. You expect me to turn a blind eye so you can go on pretending about your health.
"I was wrong, but not about this. I was wrong that you'd make a poor addition to high society. You'd do better at it than me." I'm starting to think you pull these stunts because you like being proven wrong. Is that your special kink, Sinope? You like to be shamed?
I can show you someone who's better at it than anyone.
There was hardly time to fully appreciate the novelty of their swapped surroundings before Sinope registered Elex’s reply. He had assumed that the teleportation had been the captain’s indication that he wasn’t interested in giving a proper answer to the senshi’s inquiries. The Dark Mirror Senshi watched the officer gaze out the new room’s window as Sinope gathered his bearings from their transfer. He was about to step away when the response he hadn’t been expecting assailed him on multiple levels.
A soft, sharp gasp left his lips as the sorest section of his body was directly struck, evoking a wince and forcing him to seize up against the pain. He swore vividly under his breath, cursing his peer as he shut his eyes and simultaneously attempted to process what was being said to him. s**t. ********. Damn it...I keep forgetting I need to be more careful around him. Wonder if all Negaverse captains are this ********> Elex,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Omission isn’t lying. Otherwise I’d having nothing on you for how little you tell me.” Gingerly lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, he tried to remove his hand from the half-youma’s to put a tentative arm around his middle. “Besides, I already told you more than you actually asked. Or didn’t you realize when I said I was in a traffic accident a few days ago that I might have gotten hurt from it?”
"You want to split hairs?" He snarled, bearing down on the injured senshi. "We all omit things. It's how we have conversations that don't last a week in themselves. This," he cast an arm over Sinope, "isn't simple omission. This isn't leaving out your injuries -- it's concealing them. Badly," he finished, the word still spiteful on his tongue.
"Most car accidents end in fender-benders," he remarked more solemnly. "Sit down."
Faustite left no room to argue; as soon as the order found breath, he left the room. He was gone for no more than a minute, and sounds of his explorations filtered back to the cabin regularly. The banging of pots, throaty openings of cabinets, and demure chiming of glasses each found their turn in Faustite's repertoire of movements. An engine shuddered, sputtered, coughed. Silence reigned. Again it cleared its throat into the surrounding air, and finally remembered its husking labors. Soon, lights bloomed all over the cabin, bathing the area in rich, warm tones. Another hum kicked off as heated air began to flow from ceiling vents. And when he returned, it was with empty hands and mounting irritation.
"There's nothing here. No food. Not even cans." Faustite leaned against the narrow doorframe as he considered their options. As Elex, he was cut off from his parents' money. Sinope had little of his own, likely, if he was camping on a mall roof. Teleportation of two people was its own exhaustion, far exceeding his own instantaneous movements. Feebleness promised to settle in his bones if he didn't eat soon. "Just liquor. The hard stuff that won't expire until the roaches take over."
Which might be useful. His gaze combed over Sinope's pitiful form once more, now illuminated in artificial light. "Have they been looked at?"
”Well excuse me for my poor performance.” A lack of real food for three days straight will do that. “I’ll just have to make sure I do better next time,” he shot back. In truth, he had already mentally taken note of each indication of his wounds that Elex had mentioned in order to learn from them for the future. It aggravated his already dismal mood to recognize that he had been so sloppy, but there wasn’t much else he could do about it now.
The minute Elex was gone was spent taking in his surroundings as he tried to picture how his peer might have spent his time in that room. He ceased when less appropriate imaginings began to invade his mindscape and was left with his annoyance at the captain. Radiance and warmth spilled into the cabin directly in contrast to the more distant noises beyond before the young Yorke returned empty-handed with an explanation.
“...Liquor. Right,” he murmured. “Well we can’t drink that, now, can we?” Since he didn’t have any open wounds, he didn’t think it was necessary to use the alcohol as a sterilizer. The inquiry about if his injuries had been looked at returned his unease to the forefront of the emotions vying for his attention. His answer might have been safe enough, but he worried about where that line of questioning would eventually lead. It still bothered him that he didn’t understand why Elex was getting worked up about his attempts to conceal his injury.
“Hold on a minute. I can try to get us something to eat in a bit, but let’s get something straight first. I agreed to spy for you, so naturally I’d give you full disclosure regarding everything you asked about, but this has nothing to do with that.” he stated, slowly leaning forward onto his arms as he poised his elbows on his knees. It ached, but to a degree he could manage. “In order to 'conceal' something from you, that would imply you were looking for or would otherwise have an interest in it in the first place. It wouldn't make sense to hide something that didn't matter, so why would I? But it wouldn't be any more logical to just tell you my injuries up front because they're not your problem, so you have no right to lecture me for keeping them to myself.”
Faustite quirked a brow at Sinope's objection. A scowl threatened his features while his presence slowly demanded claim of the room. Up and across the ceiling it crept while Sinope hammered away on his own points in the argument. I thought you were better than this. No -- I shouldn't be so harsh. You just don't know. You just don't know what it's like to be forged in a crucible like the Negaverse. And that's part of what makes you so terribly you.
"Your injuries are my interest," he stated matter-of-factly. "What good is a spy that can't get away when someone tries to kill him? What good is an eavesdropper when he's too hampered by his ribs to listen in? Think, Sinope. I know you have a mind. Why wouldn't your injuries be important to me? Why wouldn't they matter when you just agreed to collect information for me? If you were half the friend you wanted to be, you'd understand that your health and well-being is important to others. I shouldn't have to tell you that." I shouldn't have to tell you any of this, but it's what you need to hear.
People are so wildly knotty when they're not wearing faces. But wearing those faces distorts our perception of ourselves, too. I'm starting to see it in myself.
Take your mask off for a while, Sinope. Do you remember what it means to be yourself?
Dark eyes settled on Sinope with a lingering, argumentative heat. Beneath the sunny lights, the pair sat at odds with one another. They fought with petty trifles. Faustite's suspicions rose with each passing word from the other teen's lips -- you're stalling for time. But why?
Elex’s scowl disconcerted the senshi somewhat, but he did not waver in his response. ”I already thought about that. But if you knew, why didn’t you call me out on it before I accepted? Hell, why did you even suggest that I spy for you if you didn’t trust that I could do it?” At least he had narrowed down the reason why.
Or so he thought.
’If I was half the friend I wanted to be’? Sinope’s countenance was inflicted with the shock of having been struck yet again. “That - that doesn’t have anything to do with this, either!” the teen protested when he recovered, face flushing with strain as his volume and pitch rose. Or does it? “Are you claiming my injuries pertain to you because of my value to you as a spy or as a friend? I may not know much about friendship, but I know you don’t mix it with business. So which is it? If it’s strictly business, why are you bringing up my shortcomings as a friend?” Are you just trying to mess with my head? Is that why you kissed me before?
Thick brows slanted as his narrowed gaze locked with Elex’s for a few moments. But then the air rushed out from him as his eyes closed and he put a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know what you want from me, Elex. You keep giving me mixed signals. It makes me question if you’re not the one concealing things from me.”
Nevermind. You don't have a brain. I was wrong.
Faustite sighed. "I asked you because I knew you could do it." Arms folded taut against his chest. Briefly he closed his eyes to the annoyance named Sinope. "But your credibility flags like a sinking ship. That's why I said I needed you watched. You can do the job -- but you have to repair your reputation. And that starts with your ribs."
The rest of Sinope's comments and questions received a wave of his hand, casting them out into dark waters. As he turned and started once more down the hallway, he gave a last thought. "Use your brain instead of looking up the answers. Consider it your demonstration of skill." Even the solutions manual is getting tired of it. For someone who tries to be so smart, you flounder fruitlessly and without direction. Like a child thrashing in the sea, you'd sooner drown than find purchase on driftwood. Pity for you, Sinope. You'll get your answers when you deserve them.
Faustite disappeared not long into the bowels at the ship's fore -- and small signs of his progress found their way back to Sinope. The sucking welcome of a fridge, tinny cans and chiming glass. The lot of it clopped and clattered onto a hard surface before footfalls sounded at the regular. Metal rolled, thick and full. By the time he re-entered their cabin, he balanced in hand a tray of two decanters, two glasses, and a couple standard-sized Royal Crown cans. One decanter housed a handsome honey brown while the other looked as clear as water. He set the wooden tray atop the slate table with unveiled inexperience.
"Are you going to show me or not?" He phrased the question with an imperfect neutrality. Already he regretted his choices.
So was this all a question of whether or not my injuries would hinder me, or a question of my credibility?
Seething in silence, Sinope touched his side. He knew Elex was right; that his track record could have used some work when it came to reliability, but he still didn’t understand a great deal. Like if the captain had a way of having him watched, and he was the one who was supposed to be watching others, why couldn’t he have employed who or whatever was watching him to do the watching that Sinope had been instructed to?
His peer left the Elex said to think. He supposed Elex’s most likely ‘watchers’ would have been youma, and from what Sinope knew of them, they might not have had the same intelligence to deduce what the captain wanted to know when it came to observing certain targets. Perhaps the task of watching Sinope would have been simpler enough to delegate to them instead. He couldn’t know for sure, though. That was the obnoxious part. Elex seemed to dislike confirming things, so Sinope could have thought up all the theories he wanted and they could have all been wrong.
“Even the smartest kid in class has to get their paper graded to know if their answers work. I feel like you’re telling me to write an essay without letting me look up sources to verify facts. But fine,” the senshi grumbled. “Stay cryptic. I’ll draw my own conclusions like you suggest.”
He watched the officer retreat once more for some unknown reason or combination and took the opportunity to scan what he could see for signs of what could potentially have been a bathroom. Maybe if he could shower off his stench of the past three days, neither of them would be as susceptible to foul frames of mind. His legs had hardly borne his full weight again when Elex showed up once more, but this time with his hands full.
Sinope impulsively darted forward to assist with the load before a twinge punished him for his carelessness. Grimacing, he painfully re-seated himself on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, sure, whatever. What are you planning to do, anyway?” He studied the tray of ominous liquids. “Last I checked, that stuff doesn’t heal broken ribs. And besides, we’re underage. Underage drinking is for idiots at parties who can’t resist a round of Truth or Dare.”
"It's not supposed to heal broken ribs." Faustite opened the decanter and poured the same two fingers' worth that he'd seen his brother use religiously. Next, he popped the tab on a can and mixed its contents until the tan froth threatened to spill over. By the time it died down, he took a sip and grimaced heavily. A grunt, and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. The glass was retired to the table. "It's to dull my wits so I can tolerate your stupid questions." But it tastes like I'm trading one poison for another.
"I asked --" Faustite paused, then thought better of it. "Nevermind." A quick flick of the wrist loosened Sinope's sash. He reached for the flowing hem to Sinope's tunic, and lifted it gingerly. Pale skin stood out against its dark shroud, and its topography of yellow, green, purple bruises. They looked like heads of cauliflower, the way they bunched up over his body. The more he revealed, the more came out of hiding. And when the hem finally reached the underside of Sinope's chin, Faustite gave a single command: "duck." In doing so, Faustite could fit the tunic over his head without much pull on the shoulders. He left Sinope to shrug the rest back.
"Do you remember learning about the revolutionary war?" Letting the question hang a moment, Faustite wandered into the tiny bathroom hidden by a closet door. He stepped back out with gauze, band-aids, ointment. Each of these found their place next to his drink, of which he took another sip.
This tastes like rancid coke after a sore throat. Licking his lips, he continued. "You probably recall how they used alcohol for an antiseptic. They used it as a pain reliever, too. A shot of what they had on hand was all they would get before surgery." Hands moved as he spoke, preparing a second drink should Sinope use to take it. "It works better than you would think." Trust me.
"If you're done with your lecture on underage drinking, lie down. Or do you expect to play truth or dare first?" He asked with a quirked brow.
The noise that emerged from the teenage captain and the look on his face once Elex had tasted the concoction caused Sinope to smirk, snort softly, and immediately jerk his head away. There was no need to be immature about this. Well, he didn’t want to be, but...somehow he had expected Elex to be more composed about his reaction. “You...are you planning on getting drunk? For real?” He could only imagine how the other young man must have been suffering to subject himself to such a nasty-tasting beverage to cope. At least, that’s what Sinope had heard about alcohol; something about it never bring sought for its flavor. He also knew how he grated on Elex’s nerves, though.
“Huh?” Before he could work out what Elex had asked that he’d missed, slender, pitch hands undid the knot of his striped sash and he shifted uncomfortably. “Elex, what - “ His mouth, quick as it was, couldn’t speak while his brain was trying to catch up with what was happening. When Sinope instinctively attempted to back up, a new dose of pain encouraged him to keep still and redirected him from his wild imagination to other male’s true motives. O-oh. Of course.
In his embarrassment, he did as he was bidden without a second thought and only after recalled why that might not have been such a good idea. Did glamours still work if you were half naked? He still had his tiara and gloves and choker, though, along with his pants and everything else below the waist, so it’d probably be fine. Besides, it was a particular pleasure to be rid of that absurd hood with ears. Enduring the last of the tailed tunic’s restraints, Sinope finally worked the piece of clothing off his body and awkwardly held it in his lap. “Uh...thank you.” He ran the fabric between his fingers before finally daring to risk a glance upward.
“Yeah,” the senshi answered, feeling more dull-witted than usual as he observed the officer enter what turned out to be the bathroom. It was nice to know there was one so close at hand when he knew he still reeked, but he still hadn’t worked out what Elex meant to do until he caught sight of the supplies he returned with. He despised the internal heat that tempered the cool air on his exposed skin as a sanguine tinge was added to the collage of colors patterning his torso. Attention automatically adjusted from the objects placed on the slate table to the tip of wet tongue that stroked supple lips. Sinope readjusted it immediately.
“That’s great and all,” he murmured as his gaze fell upon the new serving of promised disgust being poured out presumably for him. “And I appreciate your...thoughtfulness...but I’m really not into the whole ‘playing doctor’ thing.” Not that I’ve had much reason to consider it, but now that’s going to be added to the showings of my inner mind theater whether I want it there or not. Thanks, Elex. He frowned at the captain with suspicion as he discreetly ignored the order to lie down. “...And why are you talking like you’ve had to use it for that purpose yourself?”
Sinope’s mouth fell slightly ajar. “Wait, hold on. You’d play Truth or Dare?” he solicited, stiffening as he tried to lean forward and regretted it. But the pain wasn’t near enough to overwrite his visible astonishment. “Here? Now? Really?”
Faustite let Sinope stew with his questions and consider for himself whether Faustite was getting drunk or simply drinking to get through an otherwise unpleasant experience. He did, however, take another drink for the ridiculous question, and hoped the alcohol would hit him soon.
When he retired his glass, fingers still gripping the rim, he looked down on Sinope with an enigmatic expression. Brows tightened but his face remained smooth, not quite as if concentrating. "I'm not either. You smell awful, and I want to send you to the shower, but I need to know you aren't bleeding to death internally first. If you are, I'll send you to someone else." Fingers tapped the rim of the glass impatiently, a poor substitute for his usual pacing. Still, the boat afforded no space to indulge him. "I learned first aid, and that was enough."
Scooting some of the materials aside, Faustite sat a hip on the table. Its floor mounts kept them both steady. You're going to be juvenile about this. Fine. We'll do it your way.
Sighing, Faustite shut his eyes momentarily. "I'll count that as your truth question--"
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a sec,” Sinope cut in, sneering as he jerked up his palm to put a halt to his fellow teen’s words. “I don’t know how you rich folk do things, but that’s not the game I know.” The fact that Elex knew that ‘truth’ meant a question was to be asked suggested he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the proper game procedure, but if they were going to play this, the senshi wasn’t about to allow anything to be done half-assed. “I haven’t played in ages, but if you’re so eager, I guess we can give it a go. You’ve already got the alcohol. And...somehow already know how to mix it.” He eyed the glasses of prepared drinks. “Might as well go the whole nine yards.”
A single digit was held up. “First, Player 1 asks Player 2 the question, ‘truth or dare?’ Then, Player 2 picks one or the other. If they pick ‘truth’, then Player 1 asks Player 2 a question - usually embarrassing - that they have to answer truthfully. If they pick ‘dare’, then Player 1 dares Player 2 to do something - usually embarrassing or dangerous.” Though he did his best to keep a straight face, Sinope’s amusement was tugging at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. “A player can’t pick ‘truth’ more than twice in a row. And if you’re caught lying to a truth question or you refuse to do a dare, you have to play a penalty game.”
The sailor scout studied Elex’s hip where it met the tabletop. “The last time I played, the penalty game involved wearing a blindfold while doing whatever new dare you were given as a replacement. Made it more challenging...and nerve-wracking.” Hazel, blue-green irises flickered over to inky depths. “You never knew what other people were doing around you while you were trying to complete your dare. But hey, if you think you can handle that, I’m game.” His smile finally abandoned all pretense of hiding and openly taunted the captain instead.
“Naturally, though, I’m going to have to shower, first.” Sinope’s features grimaced at the view of colorful bruises dappling his exposed torso. “You said it yourself; I reek. If I’ve been internally bleeding for the past three days, I think I can last 15 more minutes.” He carefully slid himself off the fold-out bed and eased himself onto his feet. “Trust me, we’ll both be happier once I’ve cleaned up some. Is there one in there?” he inquired, nodding toward the closet door he’d seen Elex fetch first aid supplies from only a few minutes prior.
Faustite quirked a brow at Sinope's interjection. How easily you interrupt me. Am I only frightening to you when you want me to be? I must be so lucky to act as your sometimes-bogeyman.
Black hands picked under their nails tirelessly. Each scrap of dead skin was trawled out and discarded on the ground like empty wrappers, like useless trifles. You'll play your games and piss around and shirk me like dead skin. You're not just protecting yourself from the connections you fear. You demand and demand and demand, failing to understand that people have lives outside of you. That you're not important outside of yourself. Why would you want to look in on that? What fun is there in realizing that people's worlds don't orbit Sinope the Trickster? What use is there in knowing that Sinope the Brilliant is one bulb in a massive chandelier?
Maybe this assignment will teach you something. Maybe you'll face how insignificant you are when you spy on your courtmates and find that your name never comes up. That the world is filled with benign indifference. It's a terrible fate to be forgotten, isn't it?
Faustite listened through the lukewarm explanation, watered down as it was. The line of his shoulders curved under his annoyance, and his eyes settled their lidded gaze on the preacher. That he seldom knew the rules spoke to his own lack of exposure to a society that locked him out.
And just where are your eyes wandering, Sinope? His inquisitive look remained a moment longer through the rambling explanation.
"You won't listen to me unless it suits you," he muttered boredly. Fingers lifted from their ceaseless task to point back toward the bathroom door. "Run it for a minute first. It hasn't been used in a long time." His gaze drifted off from Sinope to look at the inane, at the knickknacks and nothings smattering the room. They held more interest to him than an obstinate boy that saw nothing in his peers but for what he wanted to see.
The redhead glanced over at the other teen. He regarded him for a few moments, contemplating the words he'd heard Elex utter and wondering just how much he irritated the captain. Probably more so since he had just agreed to the deal with him and was being so stubborn about it. Sinope had become increasingly self-conscious about his odor, especially since Elex had brought it up, and having been stripped of his shirt to reveal the neglected bruises hadn't helped.
"I'm sorry, but this is important to me," he told him gently, guilt jabbing the sailor scout with what he thought might have been the officer's disappointment or irritation at his disobedience. "I already looked up stuff like basic first aid at the bookstores and electronic stores while I was at the mall. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually want to survive.” The senshi made a light, vague gesture with one hand. “Other than managing the pain, just gotta make sure I can take deep breaths so I don’t develop pneumonia. Takes about six weeks for broken ribs to heal on average. I’ll live.”
His head dipped in acknowledgement of the directing fingers. "Thanks. I'll be back soon." With some effort, Sinope disappeared into the even smaller room to let the water run for a bit and power down. The wait was a struggle now that he finally had the chance to cleanse himself of the public filth he had accumulated. It felt awkward to power down just to shower properly and then have to power up again, but to him it was necessary and at least his senshi clothes would be clean. He made a mental note to try to wash his civilian clothes later even if he had to do it by hand in the sink.
The caress of the soap bar and the refreshing shampoo up thoroughly was bliss, and though he tried to hurry so as not to keep the captain waiting long, he enjoyed every moment of the running water on his skin. By the time he was finished, despite his aches and sores, Sinope was in a much better mood. He nearly emerged from the bathroom before realizing that by powering down and then back up, he had undone Elex’s efforts to rid him of his tunic. s**t. No way was he going back out there without getting it off again somehow.
He didn’t know if he could manage tearing it off without accidentally injuring himself further, so he searched about before discovering a pair of scissors in the first aid kit Elex had gone through earlier. The blades made quick work of the fabric, which he was about to dispose of before thinking better of it. It was entirely possible they would need a blindfold in the near future and if not his sash, the excess cloth would suit that purpose - or others - nicely. He stuck it in his pocket and, with that taken care of, Sinope could at last escape the tiny, cramped space.
“Phew...just what I needed,” he announced, going back over to the bed. “Thanks for that. Okay, uh...presuming you still want me to lie down…” The senshi lowered himself onto the mattress with a certain degree of awkwardness. This was due not only to his injuries and the renewed awareness that he was shirtless on a bed that wasn’t his own, but also in part because the young man whom he’d had frequent, unintentional fantasies of as of late was the person who had originally requested it. Maybe he would require some of that so-called liquid courage after all. “Mm...on second thought, I guess it doesn’t really matter if we’re underage since, if we’re busted, we’d probably have bigger things to worry about.” Could you hand me that glass, please?” His smile was sheepish. “You, um...wouldn’t happen to know how much it takes to kick in as a pain reliever, would you?” The brilliance of said sheepish smile dimmed. “Since...you seem to have some first-hand idea of its effects in that regard.”
Faustite instead stepped away and swept up his drink, the dark mixture tickling the sides of the smooth glass. He drank as much as he could before a pause to rankle his expression, and coughed out its disagreement with his too-young body. Black as his blood, the rest of the glass's contents disappeared. He coughed a final time.
Sinope came out a good ten minutes later, ten minutes long enough for rum's bawdy fingers to entwine in Faustite's mind. He watched, expression unreadable, while the youth laid down. While he played like an obedient little boy.
'Presuming you still want me to lie down…'
"I don't," Faustite answered bluntly. He remained where he was, hip against the table and one leg crossed loosely over the other. A hand flattened on the slate, painting it pale as moonlight. The other hand hoisted to his attention and he spent their conversation examining his fingers. "You Google searched it. Surely you checked Healthline and WebMD and WikiHow for all you'll ever need to know about broken ribs. You already know how to check for internal bleeding. How to listen for perforated lung. My help is irrelevant.
"If you want a drink, get it yourself. Your arms aren't broken, are they?" Faustite stared daggers into the perplexing youth.
"Start your game -- if you have the courage for that."
Blinking rapidly, Sinope gaped at the captain. He was speechless for a good ten seconds as he scooted over to feel for the glass, never diverting his gaze once as he did so. “Well, alright, then,” he answered eventually as Elex pronounced his help irrelevant, contemplating what might have occured while he had been away. Then he caught sight of the glass the Yorke boy had been drinking from - now empty. Oh no.
“Uh...Elex,” the senshi began, features contorting with traces of concern. Was this his fault? Was it because he’d been difficult that the other teen was downing alcohol he appeared to have no taste for? He wanted to keep his companion away from the beverages, but the look and accompanying challenges he was met with stopped him short.
Maybe this was just what Elex needed. He seemed to keep so much to himself that Sinope had a hard time understanding when the officer was irritated with him, for what reason, and to what degree. Perhaps drinking would allow him to feel more free to express himself and his thoughts. Heck, maybe it was just what Sinope needed, difficult as he found it to comprehend the other young man. This was his chance; a rare opportunity he would have been daft to turn down.
“Fine. I’m not exactly the courageous type, but if you want to play, how can I refuse?” His questing fingers closed around the cool glass containing the forbidden drink. They placed it in his lap where it was cradled carefully by both hands. “First choice is yours. Truth or dare?”
A single nail traced aimless patterns into the slate while Sinope spoke. He watched, head slightly tilted, and waited for Sinope to stammer through the lot of his thoughts before he reached a point of action. Well? Are you going to say it?
Ah. There it is. Riding on my shoulders, no less.
Faustite was quick of tongue on his answer; a surety pervaded his tone like a plague. "Dare. Try not to disappoint, my dear senshi."
The redhead’s eye twitched. He suspected the term ‘my dear senshi’ must have at least been in part to creep on his nerves, but even reckoning this, he couldn’t help but be annoyed anyway.
That was fast. What are you doing, Elex? Do you even know? Is this your impulsiveness? He frowned. What are you hoping for? What do you want out of this?
The mysterious mixture of liquids found their way down his throat, but not before staining his tongue with a series of unpleasant aftertastes. He squeezed his eyes shut against them and sucked in breath as if to air out his mouth.
“I dare you to wear your glamour, if you can. If you’ve used up your time for the day, though, you can just remove your shirt.” His lids lifted slowly to assess the other male’s response.
Faustite hummed low in his throat. The sonance of his thought tapered away when he finished contemplating Sinope's next move. He was only half-right -- and at that, he asked for Faustite's glamour. How curious. Did Sinope want to hold the reigns, then, only moments after playing obedient and obeisant? Curious. You've seen it a handful of times now, Sinope. Maybe you just want to know when I roll my eyes.
Which he did, shortly before an ethereal skin swept over his stark features and clung like a needy veil. Gone were the dark eyes, the dark hands, the smoking pipes. In their place layered pale, unbroken skin. Trim nails. Smooth muscle. Elex Yorke looked to Sinope, wrapped as he was in a plastic jacket and a buttoned undershirt and a pair of pants patched over with avante garde style in mind. White boots with black lace complemented the carpet.
"Done," he returned coolly. Elex unwrapped the blue scarf from about his neck and toyed with its ends. These he wrapped around his hands as he returned the question, at the behest of Sinope's rules.
"Truth or dare."
He swallowed hard as he bore witness to the transformation, taking in every detail as each supernatural feature was concealed beneath a guise of what some might have considered human perfection.
“Nice outfit.” The additional change of clothing was a surprise and Sinope pondered whether or not Elex was able to choose what he wore when he changed, but his thoughts didn’t linger on the matter for long. His eyes fell upon the scarf ends and the slender hands that fiddled with them as he was prodded with the decision for his round.
The prior vehemence displayed by the other teen prompted Sinope’s caution for the time being. “Truth.”
The bid for truth came with further disappointment. But their time together already strayed so far off the rails that any hope of rescuing his original intents were lost. Here, he was faced with a choice -- to ask Sinope the same petty, juvenile questions expected in a game like this, or solicit more pressing answers out of a questionably willing Dark Mirror Senshi.
But what was there to ask? Thought slogged through his mind, still quick and sharp, yet scattered like a pack of rats. He found no hope of chasing down a thread of thought for longer than a minute at a time. Talk was cheap; Sinope had very little credibility. Insofar as his Negaverse duties were concerned, Sinope presently had no information to offer him. The Court was a sham, a farce, a pathetic collection of misbegotten chaos that Metallia never claimed for her own. They meandered and meddled and poached where they could, but offered no great resistance themselves. Was there really reason to be concerned for the Negaverse here?
No, he decided. Pushing the first aid supplies as far to the side as he could, Elex adjusted to sit fully on the slate table. It held his weight as surely as Schörl held his leash.
His question found voice before he could swap it for another. "Tell me what you think of me." Black eyes now tracked him more apparently. He waited for the answer, lips pursed and scarf taut in his hands.
Another swig from his glass, deeper than intended, spilled down Sinope’s esophagus to drown the emotions that rose to meet it from the pit of his stomach. So much for caution; he might as well have picked a dare. You’re not asking because you want to know, he thought, resentment tinging his countenance as he stared through the bed cover. That’s obnoxious enough. But worse yet is the fact I think you already know.
Well, at least it won’t be a surprise to anyone. Might as well get it over with. His sigh contradicted the rapid throbbing in his chest. “I think you’re highly intelligent. Skilled. Capable,” he professed, reaching back over to the tray to try to pour himself some more of...something. At this point, he wasn’t really picky about what. “So much so that I feel it’s beneath you to put up with me. But I also...find you infuriatingly intriguing and attractive, perhaps because of what you might consider your faults and weaknesses, so I can’t seem to abandon all thought of you, either.”
When Sinope spoke again, he appeared to address the decanter he was attempting to pour. “I hope that was sufficient. Truth or dare?”
Elex watched with intrigue while Sinope fumbled through his answer. It came as expected -- not the whole story, but a distilled recreation likely based off of what Sinope thought he wanted to hear. The corner of his mouth dipped in a crooked frown, unwilling to abide such a short and straightforward answer. Each of their interactions informed him of reasons beyond Sinope's drivel.
But if he wanted to play with half-truths, how could Elex stop him?
"It is beneath me to put up with you," Elex confirmed pointedly. His fingers darted out in quick dismissal, unfazed by his own assertion. That hand took up residence on his thigh afterward.
So you can't stop thinking of me. Pity for you. I wonder -- do I show up in humid dreams? What face do I wear there? Maybe you like all that black. It's exotic, isn't it?
"It wasn't," he sniped back, "but I'll let it slide. You need more social lubricant." Reaching out, he tipped the decanter further toward Sinope's glass. The mix of rum and coke grew more powerful the more Sinope drank, and after a time, he'd be too wasted to keep hold of all his petty secrets. He'd speak at length, as if he had the floor, and a muted audience to take in his every grandiosity.
"Truth." He waited for another mediocre bid.
It wasn’t? The senshi examined the dark-eyed youth as he assisted in refilling his glass. Did I not embarrass myself enough for your liking? Or are you really suggesting you don’t already know what I haven’t said? That you’re genuinely interested in the opinion of someone so beneath you?
If it’s so beneath you to put up with me, why are you still doing it?
“‘Lubricant’...” he repeated quietly with a small snort. “Funny word.” Then he raised a brow at Elex. “You need more than I do.” Tight-a**. Sinope tried not to grimace as he sipped at his drink.
“Okay, wise guy. You mentioned once that I wasn’t the only one reticent to take more power, but you’re such a good little Negaverser, it’s hard to believe you’re not striving for something.” He cocked his head. “You spoke of a general who broke bones while training you and force-fed you starseeds. But I never understood if that was expected behavior of all generals or if that one was atypical.
So my question for you is, what do you think of Negaverse generals?”
Elex scoffed, chuckling. "What do you know of lubricant? You act like a virgin." That you laugh at the word is evidence enough. Nonetheless he poured a small amount of liquor into his own empty glass. Lacking mixers, he avoided drinking more than necessary, or too quickly. Already he felt the alcohol swim when he cocked his head too fast.
He wasn't prepared for Sinope's question; it was useless information to the Mirror Senshi, yet he asked about it regardless. "Are you trying to get me in trouble with the Negaverse?" Elex watched him with a lidded stare.
His hands gripped the edges of the slate as he leaned back in his recount. "The Negaverse generals… They don't have a lot in common with each other. Umber was very violent -- he never cared when he broke anyone's bones. But he doesn't have much in common with Arsenopyrite, who wanted to cover my energy quota because I had a moral quandary with it. And Arsenopyrite was completely different from Schörl, who…" His lips skewed in a sardonic smirk. "What a shame. I'm not drunk enough for that.
"Their commonalities inform their differences. They each share the same list of duties. They each share the same rank. And they each share the same level of chaos pumped into their bodies. That chaos isn't complacent -- it doesn't just lend us extra power." I wonder if you'll question your own chaos now. Or do all your Mirror counterparts seem together in the head to you?
You're a little far from a litmus test yourself, Sinope.
Elex licked his lips in thought. "It's hard to explain, but… That chaos blows them out of proportion. It reduces them into a caricature -- they stop acting like real people. They stop making sense. Take Arsenopyrite for an example. I haven't met him again since his promotion, but as a captain, he was morally contradictory. He was compassionate, but his malfunctioning moral compass tempered that compassion. I thought he was ridiculous, but it wasn't unbelievable. That someone could overlook the moral insignificance of draining someone for me isn't surprising. But generals take it beyond that.
"Chrysocolla isn't a general, but she holds the same rank as one. She has no consistency to her character or her ability to function. She'll get petulant with me and demand that I see her as my superior -- she wants the respect for the power she holds -- and yet she can't function as a civilian. She needs Schörl to hold her hand through the transition from high school. A transition she squanders," he added, incensed. "She's only good for obedience anymore. For being told to drain, told to steal starseeds." Does it interest you that we call it 'stealing' rather than 'killing'?
"They're all broken in some way," he continued, gesturing to his temple. "They stopped being real people. They're more chaos than man from what I've seen. Umber isn't out of the pale for his ruthlessness or his lack of compassion. It's right on target for the rest of them to act as monsters.
"Your turn, Sinope."
Determined to betray Sinope’s inner chagrin, hot blood colored the teen’s cheeks in spite of all his efforts to maintain outward composure. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not having expected Elex to have addressed the sexual connotation of the term so immediately. He himself had only recently come across the word often enough during his ‘research’ to be embarrassed by it. The fact that Elex was already so familiar with it was an abrupt reminder that there was more to his peer than his role as a Negaverse captain.
“And you act like those morons at my school who think it’s the greatest achievement in the world to get laid.” I’ll bet it’s overrated. The sailor scout tried to bury his new apprehensions under a playful smirk. “I probably act like one ‘cause I am one. But I don’t see what that matters.” Does that make you think less of me? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
You say I act like a virgin like you know what to expect from a non-virgin. Are you not one? Prim, proper Elex Yorke? And yet you haven’t dated. What’s this? His human appearance brought the reality of the concept into sharp focus. He may have been through a lot, but he was still a teenage boy with hormones and urges like the rest of them.
Elex’s question back at him caused Sinope’s brows to knit. “Why would I - ? No, I’m just curious,” he protested. “Not everything I do is for some ulterior motive. Sorry for just being interested in your opinion.”
Noticing the captain shift on the tabletop, he shifted further toward the head of the bed, setting up with delicate movements in order to cross his legs before him and provide more space. Then, so as not to interrupt his conversation partner’s response to his ‘truth’, he gestured subtly to the area he had cleared while reflecting on what Elex had experienced with generals.
So not everyone is as ruthless as Umber. This Arsenopyrite sounds interesting, wanting to cover for a subordinate. But if Elex once had a ‘moral quandary’ with an energy quota and Arsenopyrite wasn’t the sort to demand he get over it, but he’s obviously over it now, then… The furrows of his brow deepened. He’s not drunk enough? Not drunk enough to talk about someone who’s not even here? After having no problems divulging the awful things Umber put him through, one of which potentially might have been what turned him half-youma, there’s more he won’t talk about? A hand absently flew to his hairline as his digits threaded their way through his damp, disheveled locks. Damn...who the hell is this Schörl? At least he had a name. Perhaps he could work with that later.
“So you’re saying they’re like Altea was,” he murmured, recollecting the mad queen. “Different chaos, but the source of their power was still a cause for their corruption - a corruption of their very beings.” And here he’d only been concerned about rising in rank due to responsibility. Ever since he’d learned what had happened to the fallen monarch, however, he’d had all the more reason to be wary of his reliance on the magic that gave the senshi Sinope life. He’d had his suspicions that the Negaverse suffered a similar price, but until now had had no confirmation.
“I guess the question would be at what point, exactly, they stopped acting real enough to be considered people. I doubt they were fine until the instant they were promoted.” How far along that descent into madness and monstrosity were he and Elex, then, being a pair of second-level powered beings in a war that largely pitted teenagers against each other? Would they last the duration required to reach the relative stability of adulthood? Sinope traced the contours of the youngest Yorke’s figure with his eyes. Only three hours a day to live normally...huh? It was a bitter wake-up call to the reality that no matter what he did, there were some things he couldn’t protect Elex from. That he couldn’t protect himself from.
Do people drink this stuff when they’re depressed, or does this stuff make them depressed when they drink it? he questioned silently, holding up his glass to eye level. Well, whatever. It’s nasty...but relaxing in a weird way. Another gulp of liquor preceded another revelation. If Arsenopyrite’s chaos made him contradictory...I wonder if my contradictions have anything to do with mine. I guess it’d explain why I was so sure of myself before I met Faustite, but not so much after. That was about the time I became a super. I blamed it on him and my intrigue with him, but I didn’t even consider my inner conflict might have had an external cause.
And Faustite...how much does he worry about this? If he really feels two contradicting emotions at once, does he worry it makes him that much more like them? And he’s not even a general yet… Without realizing, he ended up staring at Elex longer than was appropriate. So was this why he kept comparing himself to a monster? Not because of how he looked or how his body had changed, but because of the monsters he’d seen others become? Because of a fate he feared he would share?
“Heheheh...well if this Schörl is willing to hand-hold a high-schooler with no direction, they can’t be all that bad, can they?” He chuckled unconvincingly. “Monster or not, that takes a lot of patience.”
What about you, Elex - Faustite? How broken are you? How much of you is comprised of chaos now? Sinope took another deep swallow. “Dare.”
