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 Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2018 5:51 pm
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Golden eyes glanced to the clock. Yes, it was certainly close to tea time. The Captain coming to him at the apartment was an easier arrangement for Aelius in the long run and likely more comfortable for Faustite than the dark room that served as the Captain’s office. So, without a thought, Aelius got to work with getting the kettle filled and on the stove and the mugs out on the counter. It was up to the half-youma which tea he’d prefer to drink, but Aelius opted for a blood-orange black loose leaf tea that was a recent addition to their tea collection. The citrus flavor was pleasing and invigorating both of which Aelius expected he’d need.
He paused at the sink and glanced over to the door. There was a chance Faustite would just teleport in but also the chance he’d opt to stroll in like a normal human being without teleportation abilities. So, the young man walked over to the door and unlocked it despite the knowledge that Faustite had a key to the apartment as well. So, either way, the Captain came, there would be no hindrance.
The report he wrote earlier sat on the small that passed muster as a kitchen table. Internally Aelius was anxious as he stared the papers down. I hope I covered everything I should. The paper had been written in bullet form and short answers and descriptions. An outline of a sort with extra notes jotted in where he deemed it important to elaborate. He feared the results of his watching of Jack/DMC Sinope would not please the Captain. This was his first mission after all and the chances of him somehow having blundered something up was high.
But oh how he was hoping that he managed to navigate around any blundering. For once he’d like to hear praise and not be torn down even more.
Walking over to the report he reached out to lift the first stapled page. His slanted, cursive writing stared starkly back at him as black ink on white. Again he worried that it may be too difficult to read, but Aelius didn’t have time to rewrite. Not with Faustite’s arrival imminent.
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Posted: Wed Jun 27, 2018 9:36 pm
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Smoke prefaced his coming, just as it predicated his going. Faustite appeared in a whorl of it, thick and dark as an unclean fireplace, before its dregs vanished altogether. Across his shoulders splayed a cat too large for his stature, though it looked content with its lodgings. Faustite moved with purpose, gait matched to his stern sense of responsibility, and he reached the kitchen in short order. Black hands found the back of one of Aelius's chairs as if checking its sturdiness. Soon the cat was poured into its upholstered seat.
A hundred million thoughts cycled through his mind, tumbling with the myriad assignments handed to him and the momentous load of ideas and thoughts and actions he wanted to take outside of his responsibilities. The drive to lead and the drive to maintain collided with each other like harried rats. He wondered if ever it would cease, or if he would find himself run so ragged that even Heliodor would look a better choice of officer than him. No — sooner they would find a corpse a more reliable show. He pushed the thought away, alongside its hundred brethren, and tabled all such encounters.
He faced his subordinate now. "Aelius." The word tasted so perfectly accurate.
"Orange pekoe today." Why do I feel so dull. Fingers thrummed atop the chair back restlessly, nails scraping its edge. They chewed into the wood with their tips and even that didn't cure the itch behind them. The restlessness that settled around his bones like spoiled skin.
Faustite remained standing, his gaze combing over the top of everything. Over the counters, the cabinets, the kettle, the cups, the civilian side of his subordinate with all his too-short hair. He watched the way the man's shoulders tensed and relaxed with every motion. With busied hands preparing the report. So it's done. Wordlessly, he splayed out a hand for it.
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2018 12:13 am
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"Why are you telling me this?" Faustite cocked his head at Aelius with a reproachful look. "That should be written into your report."
With hands braced against the chair back, Faustite flipped through the pages. Lines were beaten into the reverse, sticking out like scars, with the obverse pelted in black. "Handwritten. How odd." Was Aelius feeling wistful for the feel of paper under his palm? Or was he so rushed to meet deadline that a trip to the library wouldn't do? Whatever the reason, the choice stuck peculiarly in his mind. With legible handwriting, the choice remained an inconvenience. He pursed his lips as he read. Minutes fell away while he combed through information, his black nails drawing down the page with the swiftness of marching soldiers.
When he finished, he licked his lips. His gaze never left the page, even as he reached to sweep his steeped tea from the counter. He spoke after a sip of lukewarm-blistering-hot. "Unfortunate." The set of pages found their way to the table lightly.
"You did as I asked," Faustite assented with a roll of his neck. He leaned a hip against the chair scooting it an inch into the table, disturbing his Mauvian guest, and shifting his center of balance. He sipped again with both hands splayed like lotus leaves about his teacup. "I'm unsurprised that he randomizes his time off with all the routine mandated by Romano's. It must drive him stir-crazy." And it jeopardized operation — no, complicated it. No longer could he expect a simple solution to Sinope's increasingly convoluted problem. But this mistake would imminently come to an end, even if plans fell out ten seconds into an altercation.
"Need I say it? You managed your task without getting yourself killed — purposefully or accidentally. You met expectation." He retired his tea mug to the table where it sat on Heliodor's report. No spills marked the side to bleed an ink blot ring into the center of it, however. "You have solo patrol privileges again; don't abuse them.
"And type your report next time." Faustite lofted brows at him sharply.
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2018 1:01 am
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He opened his mouth to comment but snapped it shut again. Instead, golden eyes watched with nervous energy as the Captain went about reading the report. Lips pressed together at the mention of the handwritten aspect of the paper. His own mug of tea was lifted as he sipped at the sweetened contents gingerly, eyes never fully lifting away from his superior.
He winced after what felt like far too long, the papers hit the table, too-hot tea sipped at, and one uttered word was the response he got.
"Really..."You sound disappointed that I did it right. The words were bit off.
"Thank you, sir." A smile spread across his face. Despite the small gut wrenching feeling that Faustite may have expected him to foul up the job, the praise was surprisingly overwhelming. Even the double-handed way of stating it didn't bother Aelius. To top it off he'd been granted something he'd been wanting for quite a long time. Freedom.
The leach and collar around his neck felt just a bit less taunt, though he was under no illusion that it would always remain. "I swear I won't." He'd gone too long with near too little 'him' time. Even if it was during a patrol it would be better than nothing.
A nod of his head marked his agreement. "Typed it will be." At least he could read it.
The knot of anxiety that had balled up in his stomach eased.
"Actually, since you're here now and it is tea time, I wanted to ask you something." Eyes shifted to the mauvian who was making himself comfortable once again on the chair after he'd been startled with its movement. "It's something I actually should have talked to you about before now but..." He sighed, shifting his gaze back to those dark pupilless eyes.
Fingers paled as they pressed against the mug in his hand. That ball of anxiety was quick to reknot itself, but beating around the bush wasn't going to do him any favors. Just like he knew asking why that report was needed was not in his best interests.
"How do you approach pulling starseeds? Mentally, I mean. Was it something you ever struggled with?"
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2018 1:36 am
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No retorts. No stupid questions. Faustite loosed a long breath. His tone, while chiding, carried a spot of fondness belied mainly in his thin smirk. "Look at you, growing up. Like you're getting a clue."
Aelius question fell to silence for seconds that wound into a minute. That drowned the room in the sort of unease that paints in bitterness and pettiness. He could taste it on the air, no different than his own smoke, but the minute spent was needed to collect all his thoughts out of the air. While he waited, he took another long draught of tea — now cool enough that it tasted lukewarm to the youma tongue. He missed the burn; it so helped him focus. Now he'd have to scrape together the dregs of his old life at the bottom of the cup while lacking that sharp kiss of pain.
When he spoke at last, his lips were barely above the rim of his mug. Steam danced to the tune of his words. "I refused to pull them. I was obstinate like you — beholden to morals that my parents packed into me. To thoughts that weren't mine. But I didn't have your luxury of choice, or your protection."
Faustite considered his subordinate as his thumbnails trawled their toneless song over the ceramic mu. Aelius looked tired, as he often did. Less disheveled than before, perhaps, but still marked by his lac of sleep. He'd gotten used to it by now; sleeping longer than six hours would come only after melatonin doses and months of readjustment. Of lying in bed, awake, stewing in his own thoughts. And those thoughts, from what Faustite had seen over their half-year of knowing each other, yearned to deprecate. He thought himself a loser, a failure, a meatbag packed for taking blows. Faustite's smirk surfaced again, then dried up like an overripe fruit.
"I hated the idea of pulling starseeds, of ending every chance at experience someone could have with a flick of my wrist. I fought my first general on it, but he forced my hand. Just like I did yours." The methods differed — Heliodor bore no scar from Faustite's threat — but he capitulated just the same. Rote self-preservation and the shudder-thump of one's own heart rate overwrote ostentatious morals quickly. They were the sharp scent of oil on the air, wicked with blood and copper. They were the rush singing away every ache in pumping muscles. And what did morals do for men who couldn't afford them?
Finally Faustite slid a hip onto the table, teacup still in hand, as he leveled a look at Aelius. With their height difference, he felt ever his age. "I learned to think past it. Starseeding hasn't changed — I'm still ripping away every possible future for someone — but how I reflect on that changed. I don't mourn the ghosts I assign to these people.
"I think of it like this: by dying, however abruptly, their life earns meaning. All the people they touched — all the friends they shared, family they ate with, lovers they trusted — those memories matter now. They matter because they're finite. Because that life was so fleeting and ephemeral. I chose how that life was spent: between my teeth or in the Negaverse's bowels. And in exchange for committing them to our cause, I gave the memories they made meaning. I gave them weight in absence.
"Just like all the poets and writers and musicians and sculptors and painters. Their work matters because they can't make any more. Bittersweet, isn't it?"
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Posted: Thu Jul 05, 2018 12:35 pm
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A knowing grin flashed across Aelius's face before it disappeared behind the edge of his mug. Another hint of praise, double-handed once again, but there. It was a step in the right direction. In fact, it bolstered his spirits enough that even the uneasy silence that followed his question was weathered fairly well. Another sip of tea as his body became hyper-aware of the fact the counter was digging into his hip. He shifted, before pushing away from the object entirely to move to the table. Upholstered seats were a much more inviting notion.
A brow rose as he reached for the chair just as the silence was broken. To think Faustite had been so opposed to pulling starseeds at one point was a surprise. The captain was so poised and seeming non-interested in what he delivered to Schorl or consumed himself that Aelius half expected an answer that was opposite of what he received. Fingers curled around the chair's wooden back as he placed his half-empty mug on the table.
"So instead of mourning the possibilities, you instead celebrate the memories left behind for their finite status. Make them more cherishable to those who knew the person." It wasn't a terrible way to approach the situation. In fact, like Faustite said, it certainly had a very poetic feel to it. Those who surrounded the person may not have thought much about them, but once gone... "It makes sense, in an oddly cruel way." his hand clenched the back of the chair a bit too tightly before he pulled it out and deposited himself into it with a near exhausted flop. The chair groaned a protest at its abuse, but Aelius paid it no mind as he lounged against its uncomfortable back.
Hands reached out for the mug he had placed on the table as eyes drifted to the warm liquid within. "I just keep finding myself envisioning the losses that the person, and anyone who knows them, are going to experience. After all, I don't know their history. I don't know if there is someone at home waiting for them. Depending on them. And...it's those thoughts that keep coming back to me every time." Both hands found comfort in the mug as he cradled it carefully between them as if the wrong movement may shatter it. A heavy sigh and Aelius instantly felt even more tired than normal.
This was such a tiring subject, but one he knew he needed to personally broach. Somehow. Faustite had obviously found his own way of getting over his own demons with the topic at hand. Surely there was a way he could as well.
"Do you find yourself not thinking about it as much anymore?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2018 11:40 am
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Faustite shook his head softly. "No." To call it a matter of mourning or celebrating missed every complexity that rendered such a choice poetic. For as much as Rowan participated in the arts as a ballet dancer, Aelius showed himself a philistine. Another sore change out of who Aelius was, he supposed. Another lesson against blacking those already white.
"I already told you — it's bittersweet. That's the poetry. That's the poignance we need." You're as youma.
Fingertips splayed on the rim of his cup, ever chasing each other. "The people of today thrive on that cruel optimism. They're allergic to misery. They want their efforts to mean something, to earn something, to show something — just like us. But people always search for accolades, rewards. They get what they want with starseeding. That person's meaning for their actions is reflected in those sad faces, those happy ones. That's the instant gratification for all they've done in their lives.
"People will always hurt, Aelius. People need that hurt. It takes someone strong to cause it — and it makes strength in the survivors. Strength is the paler scars of survival." He chased down another roil of thoughts with his drink. Swallowing, he continued quietly. "I miss the people I lost, but I'm stronger for that loss. Strong enough to bring loss to others. And if they can't survive it," Faustite spared his subordinate a look, "then there's your cruel optimism."
His next question broached another pause. Faustite drew his lower lip into his mouth, wetting it for all the dry speech given. Such a toil it was to fill with words what should be done with actions — but Aelius insisted on their airy weightlessness. He shrugged at last, lopsided with the rise and fall of one shoulder. Another sip was taken. "Do you think I pull starseeds mindlessly?" A sharpness lingered in his stare. "I'm killing a person, Aelius. I am ending the sum of experiences they could've had with their lives. I'm ending every project, every thought, every intention they will ever have. It better be worth my while. They could've been my subordinate, my lover, my friend, my colleague, but they're a warm stone in my hand. This is all true. But I don't waste my empathy on 'could've been's."
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2018 12:36 am
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Cruel optimism? He wasn't wrong. There wasn't anything kind about the thoughts that raced through Aelius's mind when it came to stealing starseeds for the negaverse's uses. It tormented him and, if he was to go with Faustite's train of thinking, it dishonored everything that that person had done during their life as if only what their future held was what was poignant. Perhaps, thinking of it as the beginning for someone else's story to take a turn would be a more useful way to direct his optimism? After all, every cause had an effect, right?
Then again, perhaps he was just looking at this all wrong. It wouldn't be anything new. It seemed Aelius, and Heliodor by default had a knack for disappointing despite efforts. Alas, he needed a solution to this conundrum and something had to stick.
"I am sorry. I wasn't meaning you stole starseeds on random whims. I was just, wondering if the mental battle gets easier with each starseed that's taken?" He shifted forward in his seat, elbows leaning against the edge of the table, mug clasped in front of him as he rested lips on its rim. A moment passed as his brows furrowed in thought. When it seemed he was going to leave his question at that, he made a remedial attempt. "This may see, a trifle way to put it but, thinking of it as physical exercise, when you first start it can be downright painful. You want to quit from pain or frustration, but the more you work at it the easier it becomes. That's not to say it's still not work and maybe not pleasant but you do it anyway and the pain just isn't as acute as your first few times."
Heavy brows furrowed again as eyes watched Faustite with an intense curiosity and need. Tea time was his time. Aelius was able to learn and expand on materials he read or curiosities that piqued his interest. This was when his commanding officer was most open to discuss things one-on-one with a more relaxed nature. Of course, Aelius knew there were barriers that wouldn't be crossed here. Some things would remain unanswered and left for him to discover on his own, or, worse left for him to stew over.
The current conversation seemed promising. Faustite was open and willing to discuss, so Aelius was ready to dive in. Perhaps push those boundaries a bit?
"What was your first pull like? How did you react?" A momentary pause before rectifying himself. "If I may ask."
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2018 1:58 pm
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Faustite shifted on his stool, one foot propped against the lower rung while the other stretched out flippantly against the tile floor. He rolled his foot absently on its heel. "You're right," he answered after a beat. Watching Aelius, he sipped his red tea. "You kept up on your psychology." Unless he didn't and simply stumbled across a right answer. Guesses on multiple choice tests still had their chance of correctness. Even fools struck true on occasion.
The next question left Faustite closing eyes to the old. Now numb to it, the memory offered no emotional trauma or succor — and he wondered if its retelling would have any answers for his subordinate. He found none before he spoke.
'What was your first pull like?'
"Trying." He swallowed, his head tilted on remembrance's whim. "I was a lieutenant. Still human. Still young in the same ways as you.
"My general leveraged my life against theirs. Made his wager on my self-preservation. He cut my femoral artery and told me to pull a starseed. It would save me — if I found one soon enough. Two minutes and I'd be cold and bloodless." Fingernails traced the complex grooves of the table like so many eras passed. When he continued, he kept his quiet tone. "Then he sent me off into an alley, holding that cut, but blood kept pouring like so much sand through my fingers. I kept telling myself I didn't want to do it, but I didn't want to die. Like that excused the action.
"I pulled the starseed of someone who would call an ambulance for me. Ironic, isn't it?" A smirk spread across his face like an ink stain. "I had to eat it. I wanted to vomit but couldn't. I wanted to begrudge myself for it, but there's a private pride in survival. A secret thrill in transgression.
"Strange how your morals crumble when they can't keep your life." He shrugged asymmetrically.
"Does that answer your question? Your real question."
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2018 8:55 pm
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The telling was straight forward. No flowery words or attempts at lessening the blow. Aelius appreciated it. He didn't want sweet words promising him that all would be well, they meant nothing at this point. Instead, hearing of his superior's own troublesome past and seeing where he was now was...well, it was oddly comforting.
A thumb rubbed along the smooth surface of his cheap, ceramic mug. Elbows rested against the table as he watched Faustite, silence growing between them like a well welcomed friend as he attempted to find words for what he wanted to say. There was so much that could be said, but which was most suitable? Was there anything suitable to say?
"Thank you." The words tumbled forth before his brain caught up completely. A small smirk of a smile lit his face. "I never imagined your first pull was so...aggressive. Certainly effective, though." In a way, it always came down to that, didn't it? Your own life for another. Faustite just experienced that in the most visceral way.
"Thank you. Again. For not throwing me into the pit like your first General did." A shrug and a sigh. "Not that I imagine you had much hope I'd bother to try and save myself considering my miserable attempt at ending it myself."
Lifting his mug he drained the last dredges of his tea. Lips rolling against each other as he tasted the last bit of his drink. He waited a moment before rising and walking back over to the kettle. A quick lift of the lid showed a small plume of steam. It was still hot enough to brew another cup, but judging by the weight only for one. "Are you ready for another mug of tea?" He questioned as he glanced back over to the half-youma.
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2018 6:29 pm
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Aggressive. Everything about him was aggressive. Faustite finished the last of his tea while Aelius put forth his own unbidden thoughts on Faustite's experiences. One hand braced against the table afterward while the other brushed at his mauvian — pleasantly silent, pleasantly soft.
Grunting, Faustite acknowledged Aelius's thanks. He spared no comment to his subordinate's self-effacing, even if he did so in jest. The words, wet and sharp, slid over his tongue with a venom that stuck in his throat. He swallowed once, twice, half-considered more tea, then abandoned all interest in trying to respond kindly to his recruit. But to sting him with whipped words was its own folly now — not when he finally bent to fit his yoke. When he spoke again, his tone carried a sternness that lacked bite. "Don't debase yourself. Victims do that when they reach the end of their usefulness." He watched Aelius for a moment longer before his attention returned to the cat.
Aelius excused himself while Faustite gathered the cat in his arms, leaving his cup unattended and alone. The chair winched terribly on the flooring, like a rubber stopper finally wore to the bone. He shook his head to his subordinate's offer. "I need both hands.
"And Aelius, I want your starseed quota by Sunday." His hand settled on the back of his chair, pushing it in with a deliberate squeak. Would he keep his record for completing tasks on time? Would he continue to do his job as required? Or would Aelius find this challenge another opportunity to screw up — another avenue in which he could feed his burgeoning self-loathing with evidence? Don't disappoint me.
With a last glance cast to the Mauvian now nestled on his shoulder, Faustite vanished into smoke.
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