![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ The look of shame on his face morphs into one of surprise at the mention of Ciel. He hadn't been conscious during that, and the knowledge that she had... let them go? Is that right? His eyebrows draw together in confusion, not really sure what to think of it.
He can't wonder about it for very long. As soon as he hears the softness of Abel's voice, hears what it is he can't say, Dokja seems to draw further in on himself. He lowers his head even more, as if trying to hide his expression, but the way his grip on the cup tightens is clear to see.
This is normally the part where he'd run away, and it takes a second for him to find his voice. When he next speaks, his tone is heavy, guilt-ridden. ]
I'm okay now.
[ No, he isn't. His mind is still a mess, rattled by words and then again by a separation of what he had known to be real. He had lost it back there. He had... what? Succumbed to his insanity?
That's it, isn't it? He's... he's always going to be a half-step from the edge, if not outright plummeting over it. ]
He can't wonder about it for very long. As soon as he hears the softness of Abel's voice, hears what it is he can't say, Dokja seems to draw further in on himself. He lowers his head even more, as if trying to hide his expression, but the way his grip on the cup tightens is clear to see.
This is normally the part where he'd run away, and it takes a second for him to find his voice. When he next speaks, his tone is heavy, guilt-ridden. ]
I'm okay now.
[ No, he isn't. His mind is still a mess, rattled by words and then again by a separation of what he had known to be real. He had lost it back there. He had... what? Succumbed to his insanity?
That's it, isn't it? He's... he's always going to be a half-step from the edge, if not outright plummeting over it. ]
[ so...
if it's like this, then...
...
Abel's fingers gently come to cradle the cup in his hands, a moment of brief hesitation settling over him before he inevitably decides to set it on the bedside table, keeping it safe where it rests. he's giving the man before him his full and undivided attentions. ]
You aren't.
[ 'okay.' it isn't accusatory. it's quiet, just as soft in delivery as the words that had come before it. ]
...And that's alright, Dokja. To not be alright? Admitting you aren't... it isn't a weakness nor a burden. It's human, and... even putting our circumstances here aside-- what you've told me of your world, your home... life has not been especially easy, nor kind. Has it?
[ someone who bears the weight of that guilt, the heaviness of that shame-- they may as well be crying, Abel thinks. he has his answer without Dokja saying a word. ]
...So, it's alright. It really... it really is alright. If you aren't okay-- you can be. I'll sit here with you while you're not okay for a while, and maybe... maybe we can find a way to make tomorrow a little better.
if it's like this, then...
...
Abel's fingers gently come to cradle the cup in his hands, a moment of brief hesitation settling over him before he inevitably decides to set it on the bedside table, keeping it safe where it rests. he's giving the man before him his full and undivided attentions. ]
You aren't.
[ 'okay.' it isn't accusatory. it's quiet, just as soft in delivery as the words that had come before it. ]
...And that's alright, Dokja. To not be alright? Admitting you aren't... it isn't a weakness nor a burden. It's human, and... even putting our circumstances here aside-- what you've told me of your world, your home... life has not been especially easy, nor kind. Has it?
[ someone who bears the weight of that guilt, the heaviness of that shame-- they may as well be crying, Abel thinks. he has his answer without Dokja saying a word. ]
...So, it's alright. It really... it really is alright. If you aren't okay-- you can be. I'll sit here with you while you're not okay for a while, and maybe... maybe we can find a way to make tomorrow a little better.
[ He can't. Listen to this. It's not alright, he wants to say. It'll never be alright. He's made sure of that. He's... he's destroyed lives. The people he loves most. The person most important to him, the one responsible for keeping Dokja alive, the one he'd spent years supporting, loving, and wishing for that same strength that kept them moving forward when the whole world was against them...
In the end, Dokja had been that world. He'd been all the worst things about it.
And he'll never be able to make amends for it.
He raises a shaking hand to his eyes, presses his fingers against them, but it's not enough to stop the flow of tears from spilling past his fingertips. Crying is familiar to him. He doesn't know how often he'd used to sob on the floor of that subway train, but he does it enough here that it's almost become a daily ritual.
But to cry in front of someone else is a different story. Dokja grits his teeth as he tries to stop them, but the tears slip down his cheeks, follow the line of his jaw, then fall to the sheets below.
Why now? Why... can't he hold it together anymore? Had he relied so heavily on the wall in his head in the past? Now that it's gone, he can't stop himself from spiraling. Can't stop the tears, the anguish, the insanity. Can't stop the guilt from breaking him down, disintegrating whole pieces of him, shattering what's barely left of him.
He's nothing but a broken man. ]
In the end, Dokja had been that world. He'd been all the worst things about it.
And he'll never be able to make amends for it.
He raises a shaking hand to his eyes, presses his fingers against them, but it's not enough to stop the flow of tears from spilling past his fingertips. Crying is familiar to him. He doesn't know how often he'd used to sob on the floor of that subway train, but he does it enough here that it's almost become a daily ritual.
But to cry in front of someone else is a different story. Dokja grits his teeth as he tries to stop them, but the tears slip down his cheeks, follow the line of his jaw, then fall to the sheets below.
Why now? Why... can't he hold it together anymore? Had he relied so heavily on the wall in his head in the past? Now that it's gone, he can't stop himself from spiraling. Can't stop the tears, the anguish, the insanity. Can't stop the guilt from breaking him down, disintegrating whole pieces of him, shattering what's barely left of him.
He's nothing but a broken man. ]
[ ...suppose it's a good thing. a boon, he seemed to have a sixth sense something might happen. sometimes there is this unsettled pit in his stomach - some anxious premonition, and he hates when it's right.
but some things must be broken before they can heal, right? right...?
Dokja might not hear Abel move, preoccupied as he is with an internal battle against himself and his own emotions; there's the faint rustling of clothing as he lifts from the chair, the sink of the mattress as he sits beside his friend, gently extricating the mug from his hands to displace it aside.
and then a warm pair of arms enfold Dokja and gently goad him into a hug, cautious and careful and delicate - because this man is broken. he's fragile, and raw, and vulnerable-- and he deserves to be handled with care, even if he might not believe it himself. Abel believes... no, he knows it's true. he might be broken, might even feel he's shattered into such small pieces that putting himself together again is impossible.
but he doesn't have to. being broken doesn't make something worthless. it's alright if he doesn't understand-- it's alright if he doesn't see it himself. he's not alone, so he doesn't have to. ]
but some things must be broken before they can heal, right? right...?
Dokja might not hear Abel move, preoccupied as he is with an internal battle against himself and his own emotions; there's the faint rustling of clothing as he lifts from the chair, the sink of the mattress as he sits beside his friend, gently extricating the mug from his hands to displace it aside.
and then a warm pair of arms enfold Dokja and gently goad him into a hug, cautious and careful and delicate - because this man is broken. he's fragile, and raw, and vulnerable-- and he deserves to be handled with care, even if he might not believe it himself. Abel believes... no, he knows it's true. he might be broken, might even feel he's shattered into such small pieces that putting himself together again is impossible.
but he doesn't have to. being broken doesn't make something worthless. it's alright if he doesn't understand-- it's alright if he doesn't see it himself. he's not alone, so he doesn't have to. ]
[ When had he last been embraced like this? How long had it been since anyone's tried to comfort him? Dokja had suffered alone for thousands upon thousands of years with only his beloved story for company. And even that story had felt tainted, corrupted, and undone because of his part in it.
He doesn't have it in him to resist, doesn't sink into the hold, but doesn't move much besides dropping his forehead against Abel's shoulder. One hand stays where it is over his eyes, while the other clutches at the sheets. He's shaking, breaths ragged with the occasional sniffle in between.
But other than that, he's silent.
It takes a while for his crying to subside, and he's back to feeling exhausted and like a weight is pressing down on his eyelids. There's too many emotions for him to process. Grief, shame, embarrassment, self-loathing. He doesn't budge from where he's fixed himself into place, though. He's not sure he can look Abel in the eye after this.
... ]
I want to tell you something.
[ His voice is hoarse, tired, empty in a way. Like he's detached himself from this moment in an attempt to scavenge and gather what remains of him. ]
He doesn't have it in him to resist, doesn't sink into the hold, but doesn't move much besides dropping his forehead against Abel's shoulder. One hand stays where it is over his eyes, while the other clutches at the sheets. He's shaking, breaths ragged with the occasional sniffle in between.
But other than that, he's silent.
It takes a while for his crying to subside, and he's back to feeling exhausted and like a weight is pressing down on his eyelids. There's too many emotions for him to process. Grief, shame, embarrassment, self-loathing. He doesn't budge from where he's fixed himself into place, though. He's not sure he can look Abel in the eye after this.
... ]
I want to tell you something.
[ His voice is hoarse, tired, empty in a way. Like he's detached himself from this moment in an attempt to scavenge and gather what remains of him. ]
[ Abel doesn't interrupt this bleeding of something that must have been building up for quite some time, he thinks; it's long overdue. painfully little... a thin trickle of water when there's a dam's worth trying to come out -- but he understands that something is better than nothing. the longer it lingers, the longer it fester, the more it is permitted to grow and expound upon itself-- the more poisonous it becomes.
how long has it been this way? ...Abel fears the answer.
grimace at his lips, he is still save for the gentle rubbing of Dokja's back in solidarity, a reminder he's here, some futile effort to instill comfort against something Abel doesn't quite understand. the priest is in the dark; he doesn't know where this anguish comes from, even if he swears he could feel it as potent as if it were his own.
when Dokja finally manages to speak, the hoarse, exhausted sound of his voice is heartbreaking. even so-- ]
...Then I'll listen.
[ to anything, goes unsaid. perhaps Dokja does not know Abel too personally, too well, just yet - but surely he understands enough to absorb that is implicit. ]
how long has it been this way? ...Abel fears the answer.
grimace at his lips, he is still save for the gentle rubbing of Dokja's back in solidarity, a reminder he's here, some futile effort to instill comfort against something Abel doesn't quite understand. the priest is in the dark; he doesn't know where this anguish comes from, even if he swears he could feel it as potent as if it were his own.
when Dokja finally manages to speak, the hoarse, exhausted sound of his voice is heartbreaking. even so-- ]
...Then I'll listen.
[ to anything, goes unsaid. perhaps Dokja does not know Abel too personally, too well, just yet - but surely he understands enough to absorb that is implicit. ]
[ There's no other way to explain this than to describe it as a momentary collapse of Dokja's mind, spirit, and soul. Just like when something delicate had snapped in the cave, when he'd lost hold of the tentative grip he had on his sanity, this travels along that same line.
He could never admit this otherwise. ]
I'm only half of the person I should be.
[ It doesn't make sense, but Dokja does not elaborate. This is already too much for him to say, but he says it anyway. Why? He's not sure. To relieve himself of just one secret perhaps, as unfair as it is to burden Abel with such a thing. Selfish as always. But he wants to pull this off of his skin, sick of the way it weighs heavily on his mind at all times.
That he's missing half of his memories.
That he'd left his other half with the people he loves most. That they live with a lie. That they think they got the happy ending they deserve.
While the other half of Kim Dokja rots away with the knowledge of what he's done. ]
He could never admit this otherwise. ]
I'm only half of the person I should be.
[ It doesn't make sense, but Dokja does not elaborate. This is already too much for him to say, but he says it anyway. Why? He's not sure. To relieve himself of just one secret perhaps, as unfair as it is to burden Abel with such a thing. Selfish as always. But he wants to pull this off of his skin, sick of the way it weighs heavily on his mind at all times.
That he's missing half of his memories.
That he'd left his other half with the people he loves most. That they live with a lie. That they think they got the happy ending they deserve.
While the other half of Kim Dokja rots away with the knowledge of what he's done. ]
[ it makes a great deal more sense than it has any right to.
maybe Abel already knew, already suspected. maybe it's intuition; maybe it's simply some sense of something he's pieced together in the past few months they've spent together. it doesn't matter what it was in the end. Dokja is saying the words out loud, and Abel is - as promised - listening.
the reply comes quietly. ]
If being half a man is all you can be, that's enough, Dokja.
[ ... ]
Even if you're only half of yourself, you're still very clearly the important parts. The parts that love, and grieve, and wish to protect those you care for. There are many people walking around whole you can't manage that much. So... it's enough, for now.
maybe Abel already knew, already suspected. maybe it's intuition; maybe it's simply some sense of something he's pieced together in the past few months they've spent together. it doesn't matter what it was in the end. Dokja is saying the words out loud, and Abel is - as promised - listening.
the reply comes quietly. ]
If being half a man is all you can be, that's enough, Dokja.
[ ... ]
Even if you're only half of yourself, you're still very clearly the important parts. The parts that love, and grieve, and wish to protect those you care for. There are many people walking around whole you can't manage that much. So... it's enough, for now.
[ Enough... He wants to believe that. He wants to believe that the scraps he'd left for this version of himself aren't just the broken pieces, the parts that won't fit into place. He had been so careful with what he'd allowed the other half, painstakingly picking and choosing the happiest memories so that his companions would at least have that part of him.
It has, in turn, had devastating effects for the one left behind.
Dokja wipes at his eyes, then drops his hand from his face and turns his head, still resting on Abel's shoulder, to stare blankly at the wall. He's aching in new ways now, wanting to wrap those comforting words around himself despite feeling as though he doesn't deserve them.
Is it enough...?
His heart squeezes in his chest in a desperate longing, but in regret, too. It feels as though he's said too much, more of him growing conscious of what it is that's happening here. ]
... You didn't have to stay.
[ And wait for him to wake up. He would have... been fine eventually. ]
It has, in turn, had devastating effects for the one left behind.
Dokja wipes at his eyes, then drops his hand from his face and turns his head, still resting on Abel's shoulder, to stare blankly at the wall. He's aching in new ways now, wanting to wrap those comforting words around himself despite feeling as though he doesn't deserve them.
Is it enough...?
His heart squeezes in his chest in a desperate longing, but in regret, too. It feels as though he's said too much, more of him growing conscious of what it is that's happening here. ]
... You didn't have to stay.
[ And wait for him to wake up. He would have... been fine eventually. ]
I didn't.
[ Abel confirms that; he did not have to stay, but he is here. he didn't have it in his heart to leave Dokja alone - not just because he was injured, but because of whatever he'd endured at the Lover's shrine. his exchange with that boy had been... troubling, to say the least - and not just because of physical injury.
but all that can wait. right now... there are other priorities, other things more important than the altercation. wounds that have been bleeding for far too long untended that seem raw and re-opened, now. ]
...But I'm here. This is where I want to be. And... you probably don't know why, do you?
[ Abel confirms that; he did not have to stay, but he is here. he didn't have it in his heart to leave Dokja alone - not just because he was injured, but because of whatever he'd endured at the Lover's shrine. his exchange with that boy had been... troubling, to say the least - and not just because of physical injury.
but all that can wait. right now... there are other priorities, other things more important than the altercation. wounds that have been bleeding for far too long untended that seem raw and re-opened, now. ]
...But I'm here. This is where I want to be. And... you probably don't know why, do you?
[It's late in the evening when a sensation Dokja ought to recognize easily enough by now echoes into his mind. Communion is an old trick to all the initial wave of Aions at this point, but what may be new about this instance is how it doesn't... really come with anything: no audio, no message, no image, no feelings. It's merely prodding and nothing more, almost as if checking whether or not he's there. If his mind is sound and alright.
It's the closest thing to a courtesy heads-up the other side can afford him, given what's happened and their positions. But he knows that... feeling, doesn't he? He's communicated with this presence before, they're not strangers. Maybe he can tell who it is if he focuses hard enough, but if he doesn't, that's fine too. He DID more or less get a panic attack the last time he became aware of this person, so he could hardly be blamed for wanting to stay ignorant, hm? Does he REALLY want to dig his shard out for this? Understandable too, if he just keeps it where it normally stays lodged.]
It's the closest thing to a courtesy heads-up the other side can afford him, given what's happened and their positions. But he knows that... feeling, doesn't he? He's communicated with this presence before, they're not strangers. Maybe he can tell who it is if he focuses hard enough, but if he doesn't, that's fine too. He DID more or less get a panic attack the last time he became aware of this person, so he could hardly be blamed for wanting to stay ignorant, hm? Does he REALLY want to dig his shard out for this? Understandable too, if he just keeps it where it normally stays lodged.]
[ Aah, his head feels stuffy and his face feels gross. Dokja's never much liked the aftermath of his crying fests, but he'd at least been alone to pull it together and not deal with the repercussions of anyone seeing him in such a vulnerable state. He finally pulls away from Abel, mostly to wipe the remnants of tears tracked down his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
He still can't meet the other man's eyes just yet.
So instead, he stares down at his lap and shakes his head at the question. No, he doesn't have a clue why Abel had decided to stick around. ]
Did you get kicked out of your room?
[ That seems like a legitimate thing that would happen to Abel. ]
He still can't meet the other man's eyes just yet.
So instead, he stares down at his lap and shakes his head at the question. No, he doesn't have a clue why Abel had decided to stick around. ]
Did you get kicked out of your room?
[ That seems like a legitimate thing that would happen to Abel. ]
[ Yes, it's familiar. The presence on the other end is familiar, too.
There's nothing in return for a long stretch of time, enough of it to make anyone think they were being ignored, but then there's a faint response. A dull, muffled pulse through their connection, slow and hesitant.
Dokja doesn't much like this method of communication. It's too easy to let his emotions slip past the barriers he'd carefully set in place for himself with his mental state as fragile as it is to have any control over what he feels, and this makes him wary, almost afraid of using this ability.
Even more so now when he knows who it is on the other end of the line.
But he's reminded of her help from before, of what Abel had told him about her sudden appearance at the Lovers shrine, and while he doesn't remove his stone just yet, he does tentatively reach out in return. Not a greeting, not a question, just an acknowledgement that he knows she's there. ]
There's nothing in return for a long stretch of time, enough of it to make anyone think they were being ignored, but then there's a faint response. A dull, muffled pulse through their connection, slow and hesitant.
Dokja doesn't much like this method of communication. It's too easy to let his emotions slip past the barriers he'd carefully set in place for himself with his mental state as fragile as it is to have any control over what he feels, and this makes him wary, almost afraid of using this ability.
Even more so now when he knows who it is on the other end of the line.
But he's reminded of her help from before, of what Abel had told him about her sudden appearance at the Lovers shrine, and while he doesn't remove his stone just yet, he does tentatively reach out in return. Not a greeting, not a question, just an acknowledgement that he knows she's there. ]
No.
[ it leaves him in a vaguely indignant huff as he loosens where his arm is slung around Dokja's shoulders; his hand ends up hovering at the middle of the other man's back, offering whatever stability and grounding he can. ]
...Maybe, but that's entirely beside the point. The reason I stayed was much simpler than that one, you know... and no, it wasn't because I felt like being serenaded by the sweet, sweet melody of your snoring either, before you ask.
[ lightly, gently-- he bumps Dokja's shoulder with his own. ]
It's because you're my friend, you fool.
[ ...there's the creep of some earnestness, something quietly hopeful in his voice. Abel means this for whatever they jest, whatever light they make of things. this-- he means every word. ]
So if... if what you said is true? [ what he said to Abel; what he said to that boy, ] If you're half a man, then... that's all the more reason for us to stick together. Even if we can't bring back pieces that got lost along the way 'til now, Dokja-- it isn't too late to pick up new ones from here and make yourself whole. It won't be today, or tomorrow, or even ten tomorrows from now. But if you want it-- if you truly want it, you absolutely can find your way-- and you won't be alone 'til you get there.
[ it leaves him in a vaguely indignant huff as he loosens where his arm is slung around Dokja's shoulders; his hand ends up hovering at the middle of the other man's back, offering whatever stability and grounding he can. ]
...Maybe, but that's entirely beside the point. The reason I stayed was much simpler than that one, you know... and no, it wasn't because I felt like being serenaded by the sweet, sweet melody of your snoring either, before you ask.
[ lightly, gently-- he bumps Dokja's shoulder with his own. ]
It's because you're my friend, you fool.
[ ...there's the creep of some earnestness, something quietly hopeful in his voice. Abel means this for whatever they jest, whatever light they make of things. this-- he means every word. ]
So if... if what you said is true? [ what he said to Abel; what he said to that boy, ] If you're half a man, then... that's all the more reason for us to stick together. Even if we can't bring back pieces that got lost along the way 'til now, Dokja-- it isn't too late to pick up new ones from here and make yourself whole. It won't be today, or tomorrow, or even ten tomorrows from now. But if you want it-- if you truly want it, you absolutely can find your way-- and you won't be alone 'til you get there.
[ Oh.
That word again.
The one he doesn't dare to use.
He tenses uncomfortably at hearing it, almost seems to shy away like he doesn't want it to apply to him. How can it? When all Dokja has ever done is hurt the people closest to him, when the only thing his pathetic life seems to do is prolong the suffering and agony of the companions he cherishes more than he thought himself capable of.
There's a long pause as Dokja struggles with Abel's words. They're right, he knows they're right. He has to find a reason to stay, has used the lives at stake back home to try and convince himself of that, but when another part of him wants so badly to simply disappear, to make the pain stop, it's...
It's not easy. ]
I don't know what I want.
[ He's torn in two directions. But... seeing Abel on one side, hand outstretched in this way, it's. Terrifying. Tempting. ]
I might hurt you next.
That word again.
The one he doesn't dare to use.
He tenses uncomfortably at hearing it, almost seems to shy away like he doesn't want it to apply to him. How can it? When all Dokja has ever done is hurt the people closest to him, when the only thing his pathetic life seems to do is prolong the suffering and agony of the companions he cherishes more than he thought himself capable of.
There's a long pause as Dokja struggles with Abel's words. They're right, he knows they're right. He has to find a reason to stay, has used the lives at stake back home to try and convince himself of that, but when another part of him wants so badly to simply disappear, to make the pain stop, it's...
It's not easy. ]
I don't know what I want.
[ He's torn in two directions. But... seeing Abel on one side, hand outstretched in this way, it's. Terrifying. Tempting. ]
I might hurt you next.
[The pulse may be faint, but it's enough. It confirms he's alive and well. There's also no helping this when they're on opposing sides of a war, he should well know that the opportunity for "talking" is few and far in-between. That reprieve at the Martyr's shrine must feel like a lifetime away now, if not a faraway miracle borne from some cosmic accident.
Normally, she wouldn't need anything else. Normally, this would be enough: a literal pulse check from him to see if he's still hanging in there, pitiful and pathetic creature he may be for all the power he possesses. But what almost did him in was not normal. How he let it happen to himself was not normal. The circumstances and consequences are grave in her eyes, so she can't settle for just this. Especially when there's no telling if there won't be a repeat, no predicting how much worse the rot over this bad blood can get.
Nevertheless, the channel is open, and neither of them had shut it off. So it didn't matter how long it took for anything to be communicated through, and it'll be another minute or two before a response echoes back from his hesitant acknowledgement.]
Well?
[There's not a trace of that cheerful and easygoing (if not outright overbearing and mischievous) girl from the other day left tonight, but it's not really like that time in the caverns either. There's a sense of coolness and distance, but it's not machine-like or chilling. Maybe it's the natural byproduct of the gulf that exists between them, in more ways than one given how far apart they stand on innumerable fronts? There's no blame or resentment from the other end either, however, despite the vaguely accusatory impression that such a simple word may give. Almost as if... asking, no, demanding an explanation?
"Well". Does he think he owes her one?]
Normally, she wouldn't need anything else. Normally, this would be enough: a literal pulse check from him to see if he's still hanging in there, pitiful and pathetic creature he may be for all the power he possesses. But what almost did him in was not normal. How he let it happen to himself was not normal. The circumstances and consequences are grave in her eyes, so she can't settle for just this. Especially when there's no telling if there won't be a repeat, no predicting how much worse the rot over this bad blood can get.
Nevertheless, the channel is open, and neither of them had shut it off. So it didn't matter how long it took for anything to be communicated through, and it'll be another minute or two before a response echoes back from his hesitant acknowledgement.]
Well?
[There's not a trace of that cheerful and easygoing (if not outright overbearing and mischievous) girl from the other day left tonight, but it's not really like that time in the caverns either. There's a sense of coolness and distance, but it's not machine-like or chilling. Maybe it's the natural byproduct of the gulf that exists between them, in more ways than one given how far apart they stand on innumerable fronts? There's no blame or resentment from the other end either, however, despite the vaguely accusatory impression that such a simple word may give. Almost as if... asking, no, demanding an explanation?
"Well". Does he think he owes her one?]
You might.
[ even if Dokja won't look him in the eye, Abel is offering an encouraging smile all the same. ]
...Part of this whole 'friendship' thing is accepting the good with the bad, you know? So if you stumble, if you fall-- even if you take me with you, then... we'll be a rather messy pile of human being wherever we land, then. I guess that just means we'll simply have to find our way back up together, that's all.
[ if he hasn't come to terms with it yet, that dreaded F word - Dokja must be realizing it in short order now. it's good as set in stone, an inevitability. ]
The thing that hurts far more than anything you might do to me or anyone else, Dokja-- is knowing you're in so much pain and seeing that look in your eyes. I don't want to see you hurting yourself, seeing you looking so... lost and alone. Even if it's not me you reach for, and even if it's not for the sake of yourself-- please let us help you. You don't have to sink like that. It... it doesn't have to be like this.
[ even if Dokja won't look him in the eye, Abel is offering an encouraging smile all the same. ]
...Part of this whole 'friendship' thing is accepting the good with the bad, you know? So if you stumble, if you fall-- even if you take me with you, then... we'll be a rather messy pile of human being wherever we land, then. I guess that just means we'll simply have to find our way back up together, that's all.
[ if he hasn't come to terms with it yet, that dreaded F word - Dokja must be realizing it in short order now. it's good as set in stone, an inevitability. ]
The thing that hurts far more than anything you might do to me or anyone else, Dokja-- is knowing you're in so much pain and seeing that look in your eyes. I don't want to see you hurting yourself, seeing you looking so... lost and alone. Even if it's not me you reach for, and even if it's not for the sake of yourself-- please let us help you. You don't have to sink like that. It... it doesn't have to be like this.
[ No, actually, he doesn't think he owes her anything. He's long drawn the line in the sand between them, aware of his place and aware of her's. He doesn't share the same sort of compassion and willingness to understand the Kenoma like some of the other Pleroma. There's never been that much room in his heart to begin with.
So he's guarded when he's questioned, hand going back and forth from where his shard lies in his chest, then down as he hesitates. It might have been a week since the shrine incident, but the ordeal still haunts him and remains a constant burden at the forefront of his thoughts. He'd shamefully succumbed to the madness that drifts about his mind even now, and the very real fear of what that kid might have told Ciel weighs heavily on him.
She could do the same thing. She could bludgeon him with words, shred what bit of sanity he has left, taunt him that they all know. They all know about Kim Dokja's weak psyche.
The rising panic has to be fought down, and some of it is bound to creep its way through the communion being shared between them.
When he finally responds, shard taken into his hands, he forces an unnatural calm through. ]
Hello to you, too.
So he's guarded when he's questioned, hand going back and forth from where his shard lies in his chest, then down as he hesitates. It might have been a week since the shrine incident, but the ordeal still haunts him and remains a constant burden at the forefront of his thoughts. He'd shamefully succumbed to the madness that drifts about his mind even now, and the very real fear of what that kid might have told Ciel weighs heavily on him.
She could do the same thing. She could bludgeon him with words, shred what bit of sanity he has left, taunt him that they all know. They all know about Kim Dokja's weak psyche.
The rising panic has to be fought down, and some of it is bound to creep its way through the communion being shared between them.
When he finally responds, shard taken into his hands, he forces an unnatural calm through. ]
Hello to you, too.
[Lucky for him then, that she's not calling to understand him. They already agreed upon that much after all, third wheel backdrop present or not: they're enemies, so there's no sense in trying at all.
She almost sighs out loud, but manages to hold it back. As a fellow Martyr however, maybe he'll nevertheless pick up on the faint edge of exasperation that comes through from her end, one that she admittedly didn't really try to hide.
There's a clear purpose to this, and she initially intended to get straight to the point. But with an answer like that... Geez. He really can't help himself, can he? Suppose that makes two of them, because she finds herself changing tactics too, at the last second.]
Yes, good evening. Would you like to meander through some small talk first, or should I cut to the chase?
[She doubts he'll find it in him to relax no matter how much small talk they make, but if he'd like to try something, ANYTHING first, then there's the offer. Haah... Why does she even bother?]
She almost sighs out loud, but manages to hold it back. As a fellow Martyr however, maybe he'll nevertheless pick up on the faint edge of exasperation that comes through from her end, one that she admittedly didn't really try to hide.
There's a clear purpose to this, and she initially intended to get straight to the point. But with an answer like that... Geez. He really can't help himself, can he? Suppose that makes two of them, because she finds herself changing tactics too, at the last second.]
Yes, good evening. Would you like to meander through some small talk first, or should I cut to the chase?
[She doubts he'll find it in him to relax no matter how much small talk they make, but if he'd like to try something, ANYTHING first, then there's the offer. Haah... Why does she even bother?]
[ This... is familiar. He can see it now, his companions pleading with him, begging him not to leave them. Telling him that they're strong and that he doesn't have to bear it all alone. That it's okay for him to ask for help.
Why?
For someone like me. For someone like him. I'm not... Worth it. Deserving of it. The person Abel thinks he is.
His self-loathing is so severe that he's legitimately confused. It almost feels unreal to be in the presence of someone as kind and generous as Abel, but his words weigh on Dokja's heart. Yes, he needs help. Yes, he needs a hand to grab on to. But the fact of the matter is, Kim Dokja does not know how to ask for help. ]
What... what do I have to do?
[ He finally lifts his head and there's such a nervousness to his gaze, like he might flee at any moment. He's lost, it's true, and in need of guidance, yes. And it's at a point where he'll do anything... anything not to feel as awful as he does. ]
Why?
For someone like me. For someone like him. I'm not... Worth it. Deserving of it. The person Abel thinks he is.
His self-loathing is so severe that he's legitimately confused. It almost feels unreal to be in the presence of someone as kind and generous as Abel, but his words weigh on Dokja's heart. Yes, he needs help. Yes, he needs a hand to grab on to. But the fact of the matter is, Kim Dokja does not know how to ask for help. ]
What... what do I have to do?
[ He finally lifts his head and there's such a nervousness to his gaze, like he might flee at any moment. He's lost, it's true, and in need of guidance, yes. And it's at a point where he'll do anything... anything not to feel as awful as he does. ]
[ He already regrets this.
The immediate spike of anxiety shoots across their link before Dokja can do anything to stop it. Fuck, he hates this system. Ability. Whatever. It takes a moment or two to rein in his emotions, but by then, he's flustered by how poorly he'd reacted.
He knows. He knows what this is about, and he doesn't want to hear it. It still feels too early, the wounds too fresh, the scenes from back then still hanging over his head. His first instinct is to run, his second to deflect. He doesn't share the same sort of reluctant, cautious openness with this Martyr like he does with the other.
But. This is a mess of his own making. His grip on his shard tightens, and he's more careful this time as he sends along a warning. That he'll end this without a second thought should he feel the need to. That need just isn't now, as much as he wishes it was. ]
... Let's hear it.
The immediate spike of anxiety shoots across their link before Dokja can do anything to stop it. Fuck, he hates this system. Ability. Whatever. It takes a moment or two to rein in his emotions, but by then, he's flustered by how poorly he'd reacted.
He knows. He knows what this is about, and he doesn't want to hear it. It still feels too early, the wounds too fresh, the scenes from back then still hanging over his head. His first instinct is to run, his second to deflect. He doesn't share the same sort of reluctant, cautious openness with this Martyr like he does with the other.
But. This is a mess of his own making. His grip on his shard tightens, and he's more careful this time as he sends along a warning. That he'll end this without a second thought should he feel the need to. That need just isn't now, as much as he wishes it was. ]
... Let's hear it.
[This reaction...]
Do you have questions for me? I can ask what I want to after.
[Another on-the-spot decision. Wasteful as it may be, she doesn't believe she's risking anything, and this is still relevant to the topic at hand. They both already know what this is about, but she's not the one on the verge of another panic attack. So for now at least, he can be granted some semblance of control over a conversation they both know won't be pretty from any angle.]
Do you have questions for me? I can ask what I want to after.
[Another on-the-spot decision. Wasteful as it may be, she doesn't believe she's risking anything, and this is still relevant to the topic at hand. They both already know what this is about, but she's not the one on the verge of another panic attack. So for now at least, he can be granted some semblance of control over a conversation they both know won't be pretty from any angle.]
[ Uh?
He's taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation, thoughts coming to a quick halt as he tries to process what had just happened. Questions? Him? To be honest, he has quite a few...
Suspicion leaks into their communion. This is an opportunity for him, but it must be the same for her. She'll get a better idea of his priorities just from the first question that he asks.
So he doesn't. ]
I don't have any questions.
He's taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation, thoughts coming to a quick halt as he tries to process what had just happened. Questions? Him? To be honest, he has quite a few...
Suspicion leaks into their communion. This is an opportunity for him, but it must be the same for her. She'll get a better idea of his priorities just from the first question that he asks.
So he doesn't. ]
I don't have any questions.
That's as good as admitting you still don't know what you want. Do you object?
[The reply is immediate, almost dry, even. It's a bluff, a very shitty and blatant one at that, and she's not letting it go without at least one passing comment. It's not like she can force him to change his answer, but she will make him aware of how it sounds from her end.]
[The reply is immediate, almost dry, even. It's a bluff, a very shitty and blatant one at that, and she's not letting it go without at least one passing comment. It's not like she can force him to change his answer, but she will make him aware of how it sounds from her end.]
[ there has been no shortage of lost, wounded souls among the Aion in Horos. it is something Abel has begun to see as time drones on; some made it readily and glaringly apparent, their suffering dramatic and even outright violent. some were better masked, better used to bearing that agony behind facades and (albeit unhealthy) coping mechanisms. some had been so injured they were numb to the pain they were in entirely, able to walk, to talk, to smile convincingly despite the atrophied state of their insides.
suppose Abel is learning which category Dokja is falling into among them.
Dokja looks at him like a frightened child who's desperately afraid of having done something wrong or a cornered animal that has been beaten one too many times. it breaks the priest's heart all over again, but Abel's smile is smooth, steady. that is what Dokja needs, right now-- not someone to lament his woes and cry over all the things he hasn't allowed himself to mourn. but instead... what he needs now, is... ]
You live.
[ ...what he needs now, is... ]
If thinking about what to do five minutes from now is too hard, then... let's settle for three. If three is too much, let's settle for one. If one seems overwhelming - let's just sit here 'til you decide. Eventually, you'll get hungry, or thirsty-- or maybe you'll decide you're tired, Dokja. So we'll get something delicious to eat you haven't had before... or maybe we'll share a cup of tea together before it gets cold. Or, maybe you'll sleep off the headache behind your eyes, wake up to find that the world isn't quite as painful as it was when you last closed them. We can live one moment at a time, for now. You don't need to have everything figured out; I mean it. Taking that pressure off your shoulders... maybe it will let you breathe 'til you find what you're looking for.
suppose Abel is learning which category Dokja is falling into among them.
Dokja looks at him like a frightened child who's desperately afraid of having done something wrong or a cornered animal that has been beaten one too many times. it breaks the priest's heart all over again, but Abel's smile is smooth, steady. that is what Dokja needs, right now-- not someone to lament his woes and cry over all the things he hasn't allowed himself to mourn. but instead... what he needs now, is... ]
You live.
[ ...what he needs now, is... ]
If thinking about what to do five minutes from now is too hard, then... let's settle for three. If three is too much, let's settle for one. If one seems overwhelming - let's just sit here 'til you decide. Eventually, you'll get hungry, or thirsty-- or maybe you'll decide you're tired, Dokja. So we'll get something delicious to eat you haven't had before... or maybe we'll share a cup of tea together before it gets cold. Or, maybe you'll sleep off the headache behind your eyes, wake up to find that the world isn't quite as painful as it was when you last closed them. We can live one moment at a time, for now. You don't need to have everything figured out; I mean it. Taking that pressure off your shoulders... maybe it will let you breathe 'til you find what you're looking for.
Page 2 of 31