Welcome to Gaia! ::

No cheery entry and soft grins, no baked goods and gifts of good tidings to succor his boss with. Not for lack of love and want; never that. That he had in abundance, had for days, had until the underdark itself caved in - rift a blackhole that would end them all and tear them to shreds beneath the weight of it's dense gravitational pull into chaos.

No - instead he opened the door like hell fire was on his heels, did so out of sheer frustration. With himself, with Eion, with Faustite. Had found a wall in his mind - a wall between them - and could only think of the one way to break through it. Wrecking ball loosed from a chain, any other day he would've derided himself for solving all of his problems the exact same way, each and every time. Except never had a single day in his life passed where he'd been quick on the come up. Things that took others minutes took him years.

Where they would've seen madness in repetition? He was simply too slow of mind to recognize that pattern; too set with his teeth deep in everything he did to let go and try for a different approach, to try for 'diplomacy'. Albite had stood through it - sat through it - in it and around it. Marinated in the mire that had become Faustites troubles. Eions listlessness. Agni's firey bite and sear. The rift? The rift had been a ******** of problems. An insurmountable avalanche of s**t that seemed to pile ever higher. The rock had fallen and knocked all the other rocks loose, covered somethings while unearthing others. Left bodies behind to rot.

Albite bemoaned being unable to dig them out, scruff Eion and dig like the ******** hound he was, to put his insurmountable muscle to use and drag them the ******** out - he had tried at St. Bernard with booze laden collar. Had tried at staying, had tried at staying even past when the staying had been warranted or wanted. Stayed until everything had become muddied beyond recognition - waters a slurry of him guessing at what he should've done, instead of doing what he was told. Doing what he was told, and feeling wrong even for that.

The bodies were too many, and the ghosts clearly alive and vivid to others, even if they were dead to him. He wasn't a ******** exorcist, could stem the flow of other things, put pressure on the wound, on the break. Could handle things he could see, yes, but the invisible s**t? All the stuff that haunted his boys house and lived in his mind?

All the messy half aborted attempts at trying, and failing from it. He wanted to be done with it, to have it out, festered wound and he wanted it bled. To dig salt into it and make it all worse so it could finally become better. Become better or break entirely. Would rebuild it from there if it took him an age - if it took him every lifetime he had - the foundation was already laid badly - he couldn't build s**t on it now.

Would burn it down and start over so he could have what he wanted - selfishly - greedily. Would suffer for that if it meant something better for his firebrand.

"Hey, Ei..." such a cute little pet name and he still wondered who he'd gotten it from, wondered why it irked him to use it now when it wasn't strictly his right to use it. Left that aside, kept his words short and simple, as much as it could be for him. "Have you ever considered - just - letting loose on s**t? Really, and I mean really, just having all this the ******** out? S'not like you're human right? Not like anyone'd care. Not like you should care if they 'do', because honestly, truly, <******** 'em all." made himself a target, severity and sincerity laced into his tone. Woven firmly into his speech as he planted his hands on Eions lovely glass and metalwork desk. Leaned over it like he owned it, like he owned the whole of it. Took up space with his presence and ate air like a vacuum with how he went on.

The sear of pinched claw where his beloved's fingers met flesh. Albite winced as he was forced to look up, to grit his teeth against the heat that would leave marks - reds slashed into earth. Felt the sear rise up around his General, perpetual boy on fire. Felt the wash of it all, hot wind as if he stood gripped in front of an oven left open; not the kind for cooking casseroles, but the kind for baking pottery. Industrial, meant to burn eternal until it overheated and snuffed out the life surrounding it.

Agni's little ire, all alight for him. He almost felt loved for it. Certainly felt warmth from it, if nothing else.

His Liege bade him to speak - so speak he did - loosed his jaw and rolled the ache out of it before loosing his tongue. Let the phrasing drip from it - damnation that slipped from between his lips.

"Binding Retribution" let them fall heavy - like nails sunk into a coffin - like finality.

Faustites anger rang clear, like Pavlov's bell. Albite only knew the one response to it it's sharp tones. To salivate like dinner had been served, drool at the heels of the owner of those words, and gnaw at the bones offered up.

All the times he'd tried, all the conversations that'd never started, that'd ended before they'd begun. Stuttered and clipped little bits of nothing.

Yet with this? Careless actions and vicious words full of banal idiocy. Finally with this? He got something. Got fire, got rage, got full sentences and consumed them all. Didn't care if they would tear like glass going down, and spill like blood coming up.

He was finally getting something.

Would leash himself to it all firmly. Yank on the tether and bind of it all, yank on ******** Faustite in order to tear him from his precipice, to tear down his need to self flagellate - standing over him like it meant s**t - like his sweet fiery little tirade of threats were a deterrent instead of a goad. Hound in him bayed bite, Senshi in him screamed 'strike' - take the Youma - tear it out - to go dust a b***h for daring; no matter rank or file or searing aura that bore down like an inferno.

Vicious, burning, son of a ---- "b***h" hissed like steam, bark of high sound that was cut between teeth and pain. Chopped off and bitten through.

His eyes wide with it - wild with it - with the knowledge that this - this was where it'd always been going; how Faustite would play when cornered and mishandled. Like a spit-sear pan come to life. Raging blaze that took up the whole of the room and left nothing for air - nothing for light or sound - only his own screaming internal flames.

Albite levered himself up. Shoved a booted foot up on the lip of the desk and shoved with all of himself. Felt glass crack and give under the pressure as he sought to overturn the whole ******** thing; caught up in his own warped din of emotional demands while staring down his boss's blaze.

The fizzle pop of his magic giving around the heat, the frustration for it all, weak little bind that was only meant to tie ever so briefly. How mere seconds dissolved into an eternity when under fire.

Except this time he didn't care if he burned, didn't give a ******** for the nauseating smell of flesh that touched too hot metal grating; however briefly. Would lose fingerprints in the process - lose skin - grabbed regardless - and errantly went with the movement as he yanked Faustite over. Made to toss him bodily - towards those ooh so neat bookcases. Dust encrusted pieces of ornamentation, held records untouched, documents for decoration.

Heard glass crack and felt the livid tattoo of ink ink fizzle out. Wave of dizziness as he summoned another attack on its heels - too fast - far too fast - spots in his vision like he'd stared at the sun too long, but it hardly mattered because the words were there.

"Lash of Retribution!" new fresh snarl of them, anguish that roiled under his skin for using it at all. Would've been uncomfortable with it if he weren't so desperate to make distance and teach lessons. Would trade hurts for hurts - over the roar of inferno and shattering of glass.

Wanted to ruin Faustites perfect little sneer. Wipe it from his lovely ******** face. Chase it down and make it something hunted, something that was human enough to bleed, ichor or red or embers, didn't matter so long as it bled.

G l o r i o u s --- ********** ---- S t u n n i n g

It was all he could stand to think. Around every seared breath, the way the fire lit up in his eyes as he squinted against it, turned the deep brown, honey golden with his staring - with his snarl bared wide around a burnt laugh.

How absolutely, ********, stunning it all was.

The shatter of glass like a tinkling of chimes, musical fade over his Generals panicked scrambling, a soft beautiful backdrop to the roar of flames and whip of doomed heat born into being. Every scrap that caught - the way the wisps so carefully kept secured behind safe locks and keys glowed loose - scattered and dissipated to a safer plane. The way Faustite's blaze caught reflected in it all like the sun - ate at metal, wood, and stone alike - charred the remnants and ate the place up in a stunning hellfire blaze.

He'd never seen his firebrand look more livid, more enraged, never seen him look more beautiful, then when he was engulfed in his own flames. Phoenix that would take him down to charred bits of ash, and be reborn from it.

Sucked the air that burnt like heat, that choked, stagnated in his own lungs and nostrils with the putrid scent of hair caught in singe. The cooked crisped flesh that lay seared into his palm, nerves that twitched. Knew he would've bled, but for the heat of the wound. Knew he would've felt the shock of it all, if not for the adrenaline that coursed through him. The want that screamed kill - old magics, vicious cloying things. How he felt as if his very flesh and bones called on him to do nothing more than snuff the flames out, so he could keep the man lived in them.

Felt himself become cindered, sweat for it as the fire whipped air from the room, whipped it into a furry of a tornado of a thing, took up his braids, ate at his clothes. Nowhere to run this time - no simple foolish game of tag - not ******** playing anymore.

Real - the hurt was real - the scars were real - Faustites fury, like it should've been, r e a l. Caught Faustite against himself - whispered into the whip of baked air "Choking Retribution" Albite liked how the words tasted - how they fit - wanted to feel Faustites throat constrict beneath the binding certainty of them. How they would choke him out, as the flames choked the air from the confined space around them; sucked the oxygen down to consume it and burst it around them. Even as the hiss became a howl, became a fight to smother the ******** atop him amidst the din of - pain-pain-pain - burning screaming pain of it that stole his mind as he hit the stonework like a ton of bricks beneath the man. Youma, General, Agni and power in one.

Albite Couldn't think past the alarm in his head at the way Fasutite scrabbled to take what hadn't yet been offered. Couldn't think past the need to make him work for his supper - for Albites supplication in surrender. Not yet - he'd had his chance before, and Albite would've given himself up to him back then - scant months ago, but now? No. Now he'd make him pay for every inch he took - bleed for every burn, and strangle every breath he devoured.

Bled for how the hit connected, *wet* pop of something - *cartilage* - torn flesh - tasted copper and saw stars in the aftermath. Breathed ash through the daze of that - spied the blurr of two Faustites above him. No point in focusing on it now.

Instead he chased Faustite like he wanted to bite out his throat, to steal a kiss with bladed teeth. His left hand was a useless thing, ruin of pain inflamed nerves that twitched and clenched on nothing, but superheated air at his side. Shivered for the sweat that covered him against the outpouring of heat that straddled his center mass.

“Hungry, flaming, *b***h*. Huh, Agni?” Albite choked over the words, attempted to shove himself up, licked the blood that slid over his lips.

Had always thought the flame a female - thought it other - spoke at it - thing that lived in the spaces beyond what he could see. He loved it, even though he wanted to tear it out of Faustite. Loved every iteration of his boy. To death, to flecks, and atoms; to their own ducking graves - together or not at all.

“You should let her have you- or let me rip her out of you.” Twisted little rasp if a whisper. Left Faustites wrists in bind, the way his body lain across was close enough to spike both fear, and want, intermittently. Terrifying spiral of the pair of emotions - drove him like they always had into stupid actions. “She’s smart like that - knows better what you need. All the s**t you have, and it’s all just ‘you’ - ignoring the obvious. Dumb ******** — “ animal stupid, like agni - understood her like that - in those ways which made them so simliar. Like a thing that crawled the earth. He reached for Faustites throat with his right hand, scrabbled over protective clasp and iron choker. Made to snatch at cloth to hold - to catch him like a rat in a dogs maw; as the magic strained and squeezed around Faustites arms, as it dwindled, seconds that ticked down.

‘It was all him’ - gorgeous, stunning, breathtaking creature that shouldn't have been - that he was only graced to see because he'd chosen *right* chosen *well*. Confirmation of everything, how it blazed above and over him, how it floated in the room with him. Eldritch, godlike, fireborn creature. Albite loved him. *Loved* - like air - like forever. Agni, Eion, Faustite - dumb animal, and soft being, and firestorm born out of flesh.

Heaved with it and spat it onto the stone - unable to wipe his awe off his face - smeared the dark crimson from it and let it run like war paint over palm and cheek - let it run when it wouldn’t clot fast enough - when gravity pulled it to the floor as he forced himself up onto feet and made himself stand firm enough to drink his fill of Faustite’s fires.

Never realized how pronounced it looked, the fresh red drip that coated the stone - spat onto its surface - stippled smattering of color. Brighter than the purple crystal - Albite liked it better there, smeared into the stone, into the office, a part of the whole.

Let Faustites words wash over him like the fire had. How they stuttered his mind and form - ******** his careful breathing and focus right the hell up. Purification. Word that made him spit as much as corruption, as much as ‘conscription’. Forced or chosen - bleach and koolaid.

His mind snarled at the very thought of it for anyone - for Faustite. <******** - “No.” hitched, mean, crisp little snap and there were teeth embedded in the singular word. Gaze gone soft with awe and wonder that narrowed down into a sharp point - blade leveled at his firebrand's beautiful crackle and heat. A breath brought a shiver -- another brought more words -- *Binding Retribution*-- husked breath of sound on his tongue and the ribbons latched an overturned chair - that became projectile.

Steel went through the door like a mace - boulder launched from trebuchet - shattering of splinters off of hinges - clamour of steel against stone hallway wall in deafening defiance of Faustite’s words.

“No..” made himself heard in the aftermath. Ignored magic that roiled beneath and over muscles; under them. Twitched himself into smoothness as he rolled some invisible tension out of them, drew himself up, and stared Faustite the ******** down as he ordered him out.

Kind of him, to give him an out, to ask he seek aid, get well, some clipped little phrasing that would’ve made sense - that was Faustite being careful with him, even when he was fire. An uncareful thing in nature, and there Faustite was - being caring, being perfect, going unnoticed for it - for all the good and soft and peaceable thing's he did. How he didn't seem to get it - even as he gave it up.

"I'm not done yet" when he was dead, he’d be done then. When the world stopped and melted into time and black holes. He’d be done then. Not a second before. Reborn eternal - and if he’d have to live a thousand lives to do it - hunt down the Atronoch and lash it down into focus.

A worthy enough goal for him.

“You haven't ******** heard me.” they could go to the infirmary together, or not at all. On stretchers, in urns. When the office was reduced back to a mountainside of rubble.

“I’m not being c l e a r - should talk to Agni instead of you. Can't respond, but she can act, cant she? She gets me - I get her. She can ******** - make an intonation - make the smart, animal blind suggestions, cause at least she's got enough instincts left in her to do it. You say you're all in one, except you don't play like that? Keep throwing up divisions, keep ******** ignoring all the ways 'Agni's' trying to save your a**. You complain - b***h and moan - about her acting up, put blame on it like it's a ******** wonder that she would. Did you ever think? Do you ever think - to take care of yourself - to ******** care so much about every other c**t in this place, and the image of it, and their worthless little ashen lives that you're gonna outpace...." sorrow etched into it, rage that burned like Faustites flames, and he wished he had better words. Wished he had more than actions - could speak another language other than his own stupid form.

Was inelegant, was stupid, ******** -whatever.

"I don't. ******** 'em - the circle I draw, the people I put in it. There's that - and everything else outside of it? Becomes other - and you? Awwh firebrand - you're the ******** end all be all of that. You're gonna 'get me' if we have to repaint this whole ******** place with botha us - with all of them - ash n blood even if it kills us....Should ********, punish me for ever offering up any semblance of my life for taking by anyone else, cause it's all yours now - s'only you that gets to have it in the end." finality, severity, meant what he said. Would keep to it. Always kept his promises. Would prove it to Faustite. Would have the conversation if it took an eon, until he could make him understand. Marry the two halves into the whole they should've been. Give Faustite an outlet he should've sought from 'go'. Couldn't cage a fire in flesh without it dying - had to give it air - give it fuel. If Faustite was going to carry Agni forever, he had to give her the space to live in him - instead of the stupid fight and pull...

Shouldn't have been so utterly gob-struck for it, the twist and coil of living flames and how they touched his skin. A lovers caress, a sinners pyre, and he'd never before wondered what he would've looked 'on fire'. While caught up in someone else's self immolation. Not quite like that. The burning as a backdrop maybe, as an answer to his actions. The fire that existed like an end credits scene in his mind had always come from somewhere else, above - beyond - but now? Now he was in it.

It was everywhere and it was *him*, and Faustite was *Fire*.

Kiss of heat and it felt right to burn for it, like it was something he’d earned. Wondered only passingly at this point how he still stood alive before the god named man, beast wove element. When surely he should’ve gone up in ash already. Ruinous miracle, proof maybe that the better thing to believe in was Faustite all along? Worth listening to, and he had been before, but now? Faceless, formless, thing that consumed all his attention - now he was hearing him - they were hearing each other even - communicating in earnest.

"Cn' it be both, if both're true?" wince and grit that became a grin under the tight grasp on his jaw. The look on Albites face a filthy stupid thing, an idiots armor, and he wore it with ease. Let the atronach have his head like being reigned in, took the chance to look his fill as Faustite demanded his gaze.

He’d nod for the first, and make him promise the second, make an oath of it. Make him take responsibility, like a marriage. Of course Faustite would be the thing to turn him into an honest man. Albite would demand he take care of himself long enough to see him survive - and not as a hollowed person who hid in hallways and bottles….

"Y'want me to live? Get Eternal? Thn’ live better. Kill me after.." plea banked in eyes that stared into the faceless fire, reflected the molten fires back outwards, honeyed char. Wanton and without fear, because he thought Faustite looked lovely, even as only a gout of flame. Wouldn't have known how to turn from that touch; and it was easier to give it up for his boss, boy, stunning ******** youma that hungered beyond human comprehension.

Didn't matter, he needed Faustite to be better than he was, and better than he claimed to be, and better than the sad excuse of a thing he seemed after the Rift. As if that was the final straw. There would be no more burdens for Faustite to carry, because he’d let the old ones pile too high. Albite'd thought to offer help with carrying the load, only to realize too late that the traumas had become a deadly writhing *hoard* - a veritable dragon's den of baggage heavy enough to kill the strong, and deep enough to drown in - that it spanned too many years without care or organization, and he would only become buried beneath it as well if he didn’t do something else...

Had to stop guessing, do something drastic, something....

'Love you too schnukums' words trapped in his mind, locked behind the bloody split of his mouth, though the mirth of them likely shown through in his gaze. Love hidden beneath the wince and wetness of pain, because ******** did Faustite have a hand on him.

Albites face stung for it, and he wondered if the outline of fingers and catch of claws would stick across his features, what with how warm his firebrand was as a general state of being. Though it all hurt less than his nose. It still hurt comparably more than his ******** head, because 'OW' with the goddamned, ******** --- why always was it the hair with him? The yanking of and burning of such, nearly ritualistic at this point. A thing now, that occurred so often, that Albite was starting to wonder if Faustite had a vendetta against his dreads.

Was ready to go so far as to ascribe Faustite with particular types of fetishes for the amount of time he spent utterly destroying his hair. As handlebars, ropes, steel wool for dish scrubbing. Absolute a*****e of a - heaved into the hallway and he stumbled for it, skidded on splinters and didn't need to be told twice to go while the going was good. While he still had enough flesh on his form and energy in his bones to make it 'away'.

Spat upon the debris just outside, tongued cut of tooth and the way his lip dripped for the new mark -

Felt an aura - whipped his head up and stared for it. Trembled just a little, adrenaline waning with his powers, and he wondered how many uses he had left of any particular thing. How well he could manage a bind to handle the ******** Senshi - crouched and cowed at his feet...

How much had he heard....how much would he say....how hadn't they noticed him?

"Hey there *sport*." let his smile bleed across his face as he stared down the Senshi cowered up against the cobblestone. "You doin good down there?" and he wondered how much the Senshi had born witness to. How much of their privacy had Albite inadvertently exposed to the world. Not that he cared for others knowing of it, he personally would've shouted it all till the moon itself was made aware; if he'd believed even for a second it was something Faustite would've wanted done.

Asked himself how much the Starseed crouched beneath him would tell. If maybe the Senshi was the type to go running to tell, because what the ******** was he to do with an errant little b*****d who might go to someone else, spread rumors, talk to a higher up? Who might speak words that weren't meant to be shared with anyone else....

"Seriously - you okay? Everything in there got a little - uh...h e c t i c..." ticked over the wording, clipped and terse as he eyed the creature. Walking Starseed who was ruining his mood simply by having existed in proximity to...

Except Albite had a solution to that. He knew a shortcut - past a pair of doors that led down a long endless hallway full of shadows - led to nothingness and endless sleep. Liked bodies like theirs, liked the taste, liked to scream for it....

No more resurrections...

"Really though, maybe someone should know. This whole mess, what do you think? Should we get someone..let them know..." stood over the other, comrade in arms. Any other day Albite would've been his advocate, a staunch supporter of all things Senshi. At that very moment though? He simply didn't want the eavesdropper to continue breathing anywhere near him..