[ It's not his fault everyone else in the house is short.
And it certainly isn't Gray's fault for spilling the beans either, even if he knows Dokja isn't the type to place blame for something like that so easily. ]
I asked her.
[ How could he not, when things had been so disjointed when he'd arrived back? It's always been in his nature to do his research and scrouge for every last scrap of information relevant to his situation and any immediate future paths he might take. If Gray hadn't told him then he would have found out from someone else.
Even if, as Dokja says, there's nothing to be done about things as they stand.
He certainly isn't happy about having to nudge the answers out now, but at least his expression doesn't look any more sour than usual. They're two adults, having a civil conversation, and the somber set of his lips and even tone of voice attest to his willingness to listen rather than argue. ]
Next time something happens, just tell me. I'm going to worry either way.
[ That's just how friendship works, as he's quickly come to learn. People worry regardless, whether the weather is fair or gloomy, whether or not there's anything that can be done. ]
What happened? [ The nitty-gritty of everything that'd passed. ] Gray didn't know the details.
With a dramatic ass sigh, Dokja swings his legs over to drop them on Eustace's lap, then falls back to lie against the decorative couch pillows resting on the side. If he's going to do this, then he might as well get comfortable, and after the nights spent sharing a bed with Eustace, he's really come to become a professional at invading personal space.
It's kind of like therapy, with him lying there and someone else listening. Not that Dokja would know, considering he's never done therapy before in his life. ]
Cassian came to me asking for help. He needed my Shard in order to exchange it for information that could unearth secrets about Springstar. I agreed to help him.
[ He stares up at the ceiling as he talks, his expression growing more and more uncomfortable as he continues. It had been anything but a pleasant experience, and recalling it now causes a deep chill to seep under his skin. ]
Turns out the person who wanted my Shard was Aetos. Cassian didn't know. Anyway, I ended up getting experimented on.
[ It's annoying how casually he says that last part, but it's clear from the way that he can't meet Eustace's gaze that he's trying to get through this as quickly as possible, like he's just talking to the air, not another human being, to make it easier to cope with. ]
[ Absolutely hilarious that Eustace still doesn't know who the fuck Cassian is because they've never had enough interactions to bother with (real) names.
That's the one saving grace in all this, that there's no known target other than Aetos for Eustace to direct the bulk of his anger towards. And a deep-seated anger it is, flaring up in the pit of his stomach as soon as that name hits the air. He's gotten good at feigning indifference despite his actual feelings underneath, but just because he can control his expression doesn't mean he can control the automatic reactions of his body. The way his legs stiffen under Dokja's, or the way his fingers curl into fists at his side.
It's a good thing that Dokja's draped over him like a human blanket, a physical weight that stops him from going out and doing something unwise. It's a reminder that there are more important things right in front of him to worry about first.
He wants to ask what happened during those experiments, if his Shard or another part of him's been irreversibly damaged. But the air is already heavy and the look on Dokja's face growing more uncomfortable by the second, so he swallows his words and settles for something safer, more shallow. ]
And these are the side effects? [ It's less of a question and more of a statement. ] You said there's nothing to be done now. So we're just supposed to wait until...
[ He can't quite finish the statement, but it's probably obvious what words were going to follow behind. ]
[ These are the side effects. Dokja folds his hands and rests them against his stomach, his tired gaze still trained on the ceiling. He feels so unlike himself these days, in a constant daze and slow moving, like he's stuck in a thick fog. The two-pronged attack of his wildly out of control Discord on top of Yoo Joonghyuk's Shard battling for dominance inside of him leaves him feeling drained of everything that makes him... well, him.
He huffs out a small laugh that's more breath than laugh, as if trying to add a dry sort of humor to this absurd situation. ]
Until the Discord turns me into some kind of monster?
[ The white scales have already spread across a good percentage of his skin, and he's almost certain he's like a day or two away from spontaneously obtaining a forked tongue. Purification hasn't aided in keeping the Discord at bay, either. He's tried. It's really only a matter of time at this point, but. He won't let it come to that. ]
I'll have to be killed when that happens, and I might end up hurting people in the process. I don't want that.
[ It's then that he finally lowers his eyes to meet Eustace's gaze. Despite the exhaustion apparent there, they shine with a firm conviction. ]
[ Dokja does his best to inject the smallest sliver of humor into this miserable situation and Eustace completely fails to take the bait, his expression remaining as stony as ever. It's to compensate for the misery that ties his stomach into knots and threatens to close his throat, a stifling and suffocating sensation he hasn't felt in a long while.
He steps carefully around the mess of his emotions, tries not to think about the man next to him transformed into a beast that needs to be put down, and tries to steer his focus back to what's important. ]
Decided?
[ Said in a way that someone else might say go on. It's all he can trust himself to say right now. ]
[ Said plainly and simply. This is not his first, second, or third rodeo. It's not even his fourth or fifth, but it is one of the first times he's decided to talk about it beforehand. It feels awkward to do, so accustomed is he to doing everything on his own with no regard to the impact it may have on others, but this time is different.
... Would he have kept it a secret if Eustace hadn't confronted him about his other secret just now? Well, we'll never know now, will we? ]
[ He says it so easily, like he's talking about the act of cooking a meal or taking a shower, not the cessation of his own life. Then again, maybe dying to him is is as easy as taking a stroll through the park. Dokja's certainly done it often enough in the past for it to become something almost routine.
But the scars his death always leaves behind aren't usual or expected. Eustace thinks of Gen and the way one sleeve had hung empty for too long. He thinks about the worry he'd seen reflected in Gray's eyes when she'd quietly told him about the events he'd missed. He thinks about the discomfort in his chest, writhing and expanding until it feels like it's about to burst past the confines of his skin.
Death is never that easy.
It's his turn to look away now, to fix his gaze on a speck of nothingness on the wall directly across him. Again he speaks, and again his voice is low. Quiet. ]
How can you be so sure you'll come back?
[ If there's anything he's learned over the years, it's to not take anything for granted, especially in this unpredictable and fickle place. Things that might have held true one day might no longer follow the same rules the next. Things he had imagined to be impossible once are things of the every day here.
He doesn't want to imagine the possibility of Dokja not coming back, but better to confront that now than to be caught awares later, a second gaping hole in his heart the only evidence that someone had ever been there to begin with. ]
[ Oh. He'd tried to keep it from getting to this dark topic, darker than it already is. Dokja speaks of death so casually and forgets not everyone does the same. He pushes himself back up with his hands, pulling his legs off Eustace's lap as he does, but he doesn't go far.
Now that he's sitting again, Dokja reaches out to take Eustace's hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. He wonders if it'll ever not feel this odd, having someone care about him. Knowing that they care about him after countless times of being told so. Really, he still thinks it's a little silly and a lot more frightening that he could be cared about at all, but he won't run from it. ]
I'll come back. I have to come back.
[ Where else can he go? It's all too clear that while some people can disappear, Dokja's not one of them. He's been here for so long, ever since the very beginning, and quietly, he's accepted that this is it for him until whichever side obtains victory. That's why he's learned to call this roof over his head home, and why he'll have to come back to the people that make it such a place.
But that's too uncertain an answer despite the certainty of his tone, so he settles for reason. ]
[ do i even remember what happened in this thread after i abandoned it for so long, stay tuned
Despite the words that wash over him and the warm hand that wraps around his, the reassurances do little in alleviating his concerns, which only seem to multiply with each passing second. Sure, that's always held true until now, that all Shardbearers are functionally immortal so long as as their Shards are intact, but—
But. His fingers tighten within the confines of Dokja's hold, nails once again scoring faint lines across his palm. ]
You were experimented on. How do you know things are still the same?
[ Maybe he's worrying over nothing as he always has, each one of his worries amplified by the encroaching threat of loss that looms so close on the horizon. Fear of his own death has always been a distant stranger, a blurred shape on the horizon that's never ventured too close. How can he fear death when he's courted it for so long? But now that it's closing in on someone else, someone he values and trusts, he can feel the ice spreading across his heart again, his instinctual response to shut down and close himself off flaring up again. ]
[ Concern creases the space between his brows, and Dokja can only close his mouth at the question. He doesn't know. He doesn't know, but that's the risk that follows along with most things in his life, and that's okay to him. Sacrifices come easy, it's either this or something else, but that burden has always been his to carry alone. It's a little embarrassing, he thinks, to have someone genuinely worried about him, to take on some of that weight from his shoulders in an effort to ease the blow.
He's not used to it, and so he tries to defuse the gloomy atmosphere. ]
Geez, were you always this much of a worrier?
[ He keeps his tone light, a bit of a laugh to it. As embarrassed as he feels, Dokja can't help but think some parts of this are endearing. How strange to find himself in a position that he had only ever dreamed of, and he pries open Eustace's hand to relieve the tension focused there before slipping his hand inside, interlacing their fingers together. With his other hand, Dokja reaches out to gently turn Eustace's face toward him, smiling brightly once their eyes meet. He doesn't know how to make this right, having never been in this situation before, but all he can do is try. ]
I'll come back, [ he repeats, firmer this time. ] Believe me for once.
[ He's been a worrier for the past twenty years of his life, thanks for asking. Even the hand, warm against his face, does little to reassure him, even if he unconsciously leans into the touch. ]
You better, or I'll bring you back and kill you myself.
[ It's an empty threat, more an outlet for his worry-turned-anger than anything else. Easier to channel his emotions into something that'll move him forward rather than hold him back. But Dokja's making an effort and so should he, so it's with a sigh and a brief closing of his eyes that he acquieses, trying to force his fingers - his whole body - to relax. ]
How much longer?
[ Until the Discord takes over. Until you become unrecognizable. Until you die. ]
[ This is more like it, the empty threat a comfortable breakthrough that cuts through the tension in the air and returns them to their norm. The hand on Eustace's face drops back down, though he keeps the other hand right where it is as Dokja mulls over how much time he's got left. ]
Not long.
[ His moments of clarity are becoming fewer and fewer, more spread out and shorter in duration. Even the changes to his body are rapidly growing, and it's really only a matter of time before he becomes something completely unrecognizable. Before that happens, he has to end it. ]
I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. [ I want to feel like myself again, is what he wants to say. ] Maybe as soon as tonight.
[ Tonight. A single word that feels like a bucket of ice water dumped straight over his head. It's certainly not what he wants to hear - but then again, none of this has been.
The only bright spot is that he's had time to process by now, his brain slowly restarting and resuming its usual overly practical train of thought. The worst of his unruly emotions have burned bright and fizzled out, leaving him closer to the usual cold composure he's used to working with. Truly, emotions are such a pain to deal with most days. ]
Do you have a plan already?
[ It's been eating him up for so long already, it wouldn't be impossible for such a thing to have lingered in his mind. ]
[ "Plan" is a generous term for it... And the sheepish look on Dokja's face says as much.
He slouches against the couch, leaning his head on the cushion and keeping his gaze averted as he fiddles with Eustace's hand, turning it this way and that. The prolonged silence that grows between them should be answer enough, and while much of this had been thought about, the actual method of carrying out the act is rather simple. ]
I was just going to go down to the Tree.
[ Take his sword with him, find a secluded area, make sure to avoid hitting his Shard in the process. ]
[ He repeats the words slowly, eyes widening in disbelief, incredulous of how little of a plan there actually is contained in those few words. His annoyance, previously cooled, flares back up again, turning the set of his shoulders stiff once more. He knows he's the type to overplan, to have three plans and then a fourth backup plan waiting in the wings, but surely this is a new level of underplanning??
It's his turn to squeeze their fingers together, though this time it's less in reassurance and more in frustration. ]
And then what, try and rip out your Shard while you can't even think straight?
[ If that was Dokja's plan, it's a terrible one. Not that any of his own plans are that much better, but at least they don't involve pinning everything on a prayer. He grits his teeth. Lets out a short exhale. ]
[ Yes, he could have put more thought into this plan that is barely a plan, but desperation has taken point as all other options have grown fainter and less probable the longer his condition persists. Besides that, he's only one man who hadn't even entertained the thought of roping someone else in to help him. Typical.
So when Eustace volunteers, Dokja whips his head back up to stare at him in surprise. ]
You?
[ Excuse the uncertainty of his tone, but after seeing how Eustace has been taking the news this entire time, Dokja's not sure that's a great idea. Not because he thinks something will go wrong down the line, but because he doesn't want to cause more emotional stress than he already has. And this would mean... killing him. Not that he hasn't foisted that kind of trauma to the people he cares about before, but he's trying to be better about it these days. ]
You don't have to. I can manage that much, you know.
[ What's a little more trauma on top of an already huge pile of trauma? Nothing more than a single drop of water added to the bucket, that's what.
Dokja snaps his head around and Eustace stays right where he is to meet that gaze head on, as if he hadn't just suggested some ludicrous idea as bad as Dokja's own. He sounds convinced of this idea anyway, the fear from before already largely gone from his voice, carefully drained back into the small container where it's usually kept. ]
You can, but it'll be easier if I do it.
[ (Easier for who? No point in dwelling on that.) ]
I know what I'm doing. You won't have to worry about aiming wrong or making sure you have enough strength to finish it.
[ He states it simply like it's some undeniable fact, which it may as well be for him. He's been trained to kill, has been shaped precisely for the task of snuffing out problems with the least amount of trouble possible. And though it makes him sick to think about turning those skills on someone undeserving of them, better to do something than to sit around passively with no other option left than to wait.
Man. It's really a good thing Gray isn't around to hear them discussing Dokja's death like they're discussing what to have for dinner tomorrow. ]
But it's hard to argue the logic, especially when Dokja finds that he doesn't have the same level of energy or vigor these days to put up a fight. Instead, he's quiet as he rolls this newly sorted plan around in his head, recognizing (for once) the severity of what it is Eustace is offering to do for him.
They've grown into a strange closeness over this past year and then some, Dokja realizes. The fact that he can be open and honest about this stupid idea of his and then have it met back with aid feels foreign, almost wrong in how neatly things fall into place. Of course, there's so much that can still go wrong, but it's. Weird. Communicating is Weird. ]
Okay, [ he finally relents with a slow nod. ] If you're sure.
[ And through their Exalt connection, a small bloom of relief dances across. As much as Dokja is used to dying alone, it's always struck a deep loneliness within him, a reminder that one day, it'll be an actual end and at that time, too, it'll just be him.
[ Mercy killing the guy you like is peak romance, probably.
Nothing about this feels romantic though. The air hangs too heavy around them and the weight of what they're discussing like shackles chaining them in place, even if the end result is meant to be freeing. But it's all temporary, Eustace tells himself, an ugly solution to an ugly problem that will hopefully be behind them once and for all once they take care of it.
He tries not to think about all the things that could potentially go wrong in between, or the way he's already beginning to feel sick to his stomach at the task he'd willingly assigned himself despite the fact that they haven't even left yet. ]
I wouldn't offer if I wasn't.
[ That's a lie, but if he's sure of anything it's that sitting around and watching would be the worse option by far.
He can't quite meet Dokja's relief with anything comforting of his own, but he does at least squeeze their hands once before letting go and pushing himself off the couch. ]
Let's get going then.
[ Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house the Great Tree we go (to die). ]
[ It's mostly a quiet journey to the Tree of Life, and Dokja drifts in and out of sleep as he rests against Eustace's back, arms loosely looped around his neck. Making the trip tonight had been the right call, because Dokja had barely had the strength left in his legs to get up from their couch. And like this, wrapped around the safe comfort of his traveling companion, it's easy to let down his guard and allow his exhaustion to knock him unconscious every now and then.
The next time Dokja jolts into wakefulness, he has to adjust his eyes to the darkness that comes with descending into the caverns of the Tree. Stifling a yawn, he raises his head to look around. It's been a while since he'd last found himself here, considering his latest death had seen revival inside of a workshop rather than the roots of the Tree. And while it's practically a trend for Dokja to die as many times as he does, he hopes not to see this place again after this.
He drops his head back down against Eustace with a short sigh. ]
Thanks, by the way.
[ It's mumbled because imagine showing gratitude like a normal human being. ]
[ Eustace is both grateful for the silence (because there's no need to force idle chatter he simply isn't feeling) and resentful for it (because it leaves him with too much time alone with his thoughts). The sight of the Tree looming above them is a welcome one, pulling him out of the quagmire of his own misery and back into reality.
Though reality's pretty miserable too all things considered, Dokja's quickly deteriorating state only adding to his growing mountain of concern. Truly the sooner they get this done the better, so Dokja doesn't have to suffer in silence anymore.
He doesn't respond to the murmur of gratitude tossed his way, also too busy looking around them for any potential threat, any obstacle that might suddenly fling itself into their way. There shouldn't be, not at the Tree of Life, but he's always been the type to worry overly much. ]
Are you ready?
[ They could stand around and chitchat, try and lighten the mood by reliving old memories, but he doesn't see any point in delaying the inevitable. ]
[ As much as Dokja would love to make light of this situation, he's really lacking the energy for it. At the very least, he does keep his tone brighter than how he feels, and the strained smile on his face is still a smile, even if Eustace can't see it from where he is. ]
Ready as I'll ever be.
[ Dokja senses the worry that still hangs over them, and it's guilt that gnaws on his insides this time. It's so easy to regret telling Eustace about this and putting him in this position. He wants to flee, to do this on his own, to not have anyone concerned about him, but it's too late now and all Dokja can do now is press forward. ]
You don't have to stick around, you know. It should take a few days, and I can find my way back.
[ If he makes it back, of course. But that part is very pointedly not said. ]
[ As if he would even consider leaving the spot Dokja's shard is buried in. Dokja might not be able to see the flat expression that crosses his face but surely he can sense it through their bond, a feeling of absolute unamusement over how inane that suggestion is. At least that feeling saves Eustace the trouble of having to reply back.
Instead, he carefully slides Dokja onto the ground, careful to keep one arm out for balance lest Dokja stumble and drop to his knees. (So he tells himself, but there's something comforting in the continued physical contact, an anchor for him to desperately cling to in these last moments.) ]
It'll be fastest with a gun, but if you're averse to being shot, I can use a knife instead.
[ He'll hate it either way, but Dokja deserves the option of choice at the very least. ]
[ The unspoken refusal to leave drops an unexpected and heavy blanket of reassurance over Dokja that quells anxieties he hadn't even known about. With the countless times that he's died, he had convinced himself that it wasn't anything special, nothing that could leave a lasting impact, but after his most recent death and the violent awakening he'd had to suffer through following it, he's beginning to realize that it might have taken a toll on him if this is how he's reacting to Eustace wanting to stay close. To make sure his Shard won't fall into the wrong hands a second time.
Gratefully, he gives Eustace's arm a squeeze as he's lowered to the cavern floor. For a moment, he hesitates, and then he pulls at Eustace to get him to sit as well. ]
The gunshot would be too loud. A knife is fine.
[ He doesn't want to bring about unwanted attention should there be others around, but most of all, he wants to avoid any similarities with his last death. He'd been killed by a gun back then, and while he knows it's unreasonable to link that with waking up in Aetos's workshop, he'd just prefer... something else. ]
[ A knife it is then, and some small part of him can't help but feel relieved at the choice, knowing that he won't have to see Dokja's face every time he picks up his gun in the future. A reminder of all the crimes he's committed, both unwillingly and by choice. ]
Alright.
[ He follows the tug to sit, lowering himself to the ground next to the other man. From there it's just a matter of positioning himself until they're close enough, and then sliding his knife out silently from its sheath, eyes lingering on the glint of light off the blade. ]
Through the heart?
[ It's not really a question, not unless Dokja wants to die a bloody death via a slit throat, but the illusion of choice makes all this a little easier to stomach. ]
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And it certainly isn't Gray's fault for spilling the beans either, even if he knows Dokja isn't the type to place blame for something like that so easily. ]
I asked her.
[ How could he not, when things had been so disjointed when he'd arrived back? It's always been in his nature to do his research and scrouge for every last scrap of information relevant to his situation and any immediate future paths he might take. If Gray hadn't told him then he would have found out from someone else.
Even if, as Dokja says, there's nothing to be done about things as they stand.
He certainly isn't happy about having to nudge the answers out now, but at least his expression doesn't look any more sour than usual. They're two adults, having a civil conversation, and the somber set of his lips and even tone of voice attest to his willingness to listen rather than argue. ]
Next time something happens, just tell me. I'm going to worry either way.
[ That's just how friendship works, as he's quickly come to learn. People worry regardless, whether the weather is fair or gloomy, whether or not there's anything that can be done. ]
What happened? [ The nitty-gritty of everything that'd passed. ] Gray didn't know the details.
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With a dramatic ass sigh, Dokja swings his legs over to drop them on Eustace's lap, then falls back to lie against the decorative couch pillows resting on the side. If he's going to do this, then he might as well get comfortable, and after the nights spent sharing a bed with Eustace, he's really come to become a professional at invading personal space.
It's kind of like therapy, with him lying there and someone else listening. Not that Dokja would know, considering he's never done therapy before in his life. ]
Cassian came to me asking for help. He needed my Shard in order to exchange it for information that could unearth secrets about Springstar. I agreed to help him.
[ He stares up at the ceiling as he talks, his expression growing more and more uncomfortable as he continues. It had been anything but a pleasant experience, and recalling it now causes a deep chill to seep under his skin. ]
Turns out the person who wanted my Shard was Aetos. Cassian didn't know. Anyway, I ended up getting experimented on.
[ It's annoying how casually he says that last part, but it's clear from the way that he can't meet Eustace's gaze that he's trying to get through this as quickly as possible, like he's just talking to the air, not another human being, to make it easier to cope with. ]
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That's the one saving grace in all this, that there's no known target other than Aetos for Eustace to direct the bulk of his anger towards. And a deep-seated anger it is, flaring up in the pit of his stomach as soon as that name hits the air. He's gotten good at feigning indifference despite his actual feelings underneath, but just because he can control his expression doesn't mean he can control the automatic reactions of his body. The way his legs stiffen under Dokja's, or the way his fingers curl into fists at his side.
It's a good thing that Dokja's draped over him like a human blanket, a physical weight that stops him from going out and doing something unwise. It's a reminder that there are more important things right in front of him to worry about first.
He wants to ask what happened during those experiments, if his Shard or another part of him's been irreversibly damaged. But the air is already heavy and the look on Dokja's face growing more uncomfortable by the second, so he swallows his words and settles for something safer, more shallow. ]
And these are the side effects? [ It's less of a question and more of a statement. ] You said there's nothing to be done now. So we're just supposed to wait until...
[ He can't quite finish the statement, but it's probably obvious what words were going to follow behind. ]
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He huffs out a small laugh that's more breath than laugh, as if trying to add a dry sort of humor to this absurd situation. ]
Until the Discord turns me into some kind of monster?
[ The white scales have already spread across a good percentage of his skin, and he's almost certain he's like a day or two away from spontaneously obtaining a forked tongue. Purification hasn't aided in keeping the Discord at bay, either. He's tried. It's really only a matter of time at this point, but. He won't let it come to that. ]
I'll have to be killed when that happens, and I might end up hurting people in the process. I don't want that.
[ It's then that he finally lowers his eyes to meet Eustace's gaze. Despite the exhaustion apparent there, they shine with a firm conviction. ]
I've already decided.
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He steps carefully around the mess of his emotions, tries not to think about the man next to him transformed into a beast that needs to be put down, and tries to steer his focus back to what's important. ]
Decided?
[ Said in a way that someone else might say go on. It's all he can trust himself to say right now. ]
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[ Said plainly and simply. This is not his first, second, or third rodeo. It's not even his fourth or fifth, but it is one of the first times he's decided to talk about it beforehand. It feels awkward to do, so accustomed is he to doing everything on his own with no regard to the impact it may have on others, but this time is different.
... Would he have kept it a secret if Eustace hadn't confronted him about his other secret just now? Well, we'll never know now, will we? ]
It might just be the reset that my Shard needs.
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But the scars his death always leaves behind aren't usual or expected. Eustace thinks of Gen and the way one sleeve had hung empty for too long. He thinks about the worry he'd seen reflected in Gray's eyes when she'd quietly told him about the events he'd missed. He thinks about the discomfort in his chest, writhing and expanding until it feels like it's about to burst past the confines of his skin.
Death is never that easy.
It's his turn to look away now, to fix his gaze on a speck of nothingness on the wall directly across him. Again he speaks, and again his voice is low. Quiet. ]
How can you be so sure you'll come back?
[ If there's anything he's learned over the years, it's to not take anything for granted, especially in this unpredictable and fickle place. Things that might have held true one day might no longer follow the same rules the next. Things he had imagined to be impossible once are things of the every day here.
He doesn't want to imagine the possibility of Dokja not coming back, but better to confront that now than to be caught awares later, a second gaping hole in his heart the only evidence that someone had ever been there to begin with. ]
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Now that he's sitting again, Dokja reaches out to take Eustace's hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. He wonders if it'll ever not feel this odd, having someone care about him. Knowing that they care about him after countless times of being told so. Really, he still thinks it's a little silly and a lot more frightening that he could be cared about at all, but he won't run from it. ]
I'll come back. I have to come back.
[ Where else can he go? It's all too clear that while some people can disappear, Dokja's not one of them. He's been here for so long, ever since the very beginning, and quietly, he's accepted that this is it for him until whichever side obtains victory. That's why he's learned to call this roof over his head home, and why he'll have to come back to the people that make it such a place.
But that's too uncertain an answer despite the certainty of his tone, so he settles for reason. ]
As long as my Shard is intact, I'll be okay.
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Despite the words that wash over him and the warm hand that wraps around his, the reassurances do little in alleviating his concerns, which only seem to multiply with each passing second. Sure, that's always held true until now, that all Shardbearers are functionally immortal so long as as their Shards are intact, but—
But. His fingers tighten within the confines of Dokja's hold, nails once again scoring faint lines across his palm. ]
You were experimented on. How do you know things are still the same?
[ Maybe he's worrying over nothing as he always has, each one of his worries amplified by the encroaching threat of loss that looms so close on the horizon. Fear of his own death has always been a distant stranger, a blurred shape on the horizon that's never ventured too close. How can he fear death when he's courted it for so long? But now that it's closing in on someone else, someone he values and trusts, he can feel the ice spreading across his heart again, his instinctual response to shut down and close himself off flaring up again. ]
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He's not used to it, and so he tries to defuse the gloomy atmosphere. ]
Geez, were you always this much of a worrier?
[ He keeps his tone light, a bit of a laugh to it. As embarrassed as he feels, Dokja can't help but think some parts of this are endearing. How strange to find himself in a position that he had only ever dreamed of, and he pries open Eustace's hand to relieve the tension focused there before slipping his hand inside, interlacing their fingers together. With his other hand, Dokja reaches out to gently turn Eustace's face toward him, smiling brightly once their eyes meet. He doesn't know how to make this right, having never been in this situation before, but all he can do is try. ]
I'll come back, [ he repeats, firmer this time. ] Believe me for once.
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You better, or I'll bring you back and kill you myself.
[ It's an empty threat, more an outlet for his worry-turned-anger than anything else. Easier to channel his emotions into something that'll move him forward rather than hold him back. But Dokja's making an effort and so should he, so it's with a sigh and a brief closing of his eyes that he acquieses, trying to force his fingers - his whole body - to relax. ]
How much longer?
[ Until the Discord takes over. Until you become unrecognizable. Until you die. ]
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Not long.
[ His moments of clarity are becoming fewer and fewer, more spread out and shorter in duration. Even the changes to his body are rapidly growing, and it's really only a matter of time before he becomes something completely unrecognizable. Before that happens, he has to end it. ]
I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. [ I want to feel like myself again, is what he wants to say. ] Maybe as soon as tonight.
we're really speedrunning his death huh
The only bright spot is that he's had time to process by now, his brain slowly restarting and resuming its usual overly practical train of thought. The worst of his unruly emotions have burned bright and fizzled out, leaving him closer to the usual cold composure he's used to working with. Truly, emotions are such a pain to deal with most days. ]
Do you have a plan already?
[ It's been eating him up for so long already, it wouldn't be impossible for such a thing to have lingered in his mind. ]
we sure are
He slouches against the couch, leaning his head on the cushion and keeping his gaze averted as he fiddles with Eustace's hand, turning it this way and that. The prolonged silence that grows between them should be answer enough, and while much of this had been thought about, the actual method of carrying out the act is rather simple. ]
I was just going to go down to the Tree.
[ Take his sword with him, find a secluded area, make sure to avoid hitting his Shard in the process. ]
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[ He repeats the words slowly, eyes widening in disbelief, incredulous of how little of a plan there actually is contained in those few words. His annoyance, previously cooled, flares back up again, turning the set of his shoulders stiff once more. He knows he's the type to overplan, to have three plans and then a fourth backup plan waiting in the wings, but surely this is a new level of underplanning??
It's his turn to squeeze their fingers together, though this time it's less in reassurance and more in frustration. ]
And then what, try and rip out your Shard while you can't even think straight?
[ If that was Dokja's plan, it's a terrible one. Not that any of his own plans are that much better, but at least they don't involve pinning everything on a prayer. He grits his teeth. Lets out a short exhale. ]
I'll do it.
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So when Eustace volunteers, Dokja whips his head back up to stare at him in surprise. ]
You?
[ Excuse the uncertainty of his tone, but after seeing how Eustace has been taking the news this entire time, Dokja's not sure that's a great idea. Not because he thinks something will go wrong down the line, but because he doesn't want to cause more emotional stress than he already has. And this would mean... killing him. Not that he hasn't foisted that kind of trauma to the people he cares about before, but he's trying to be better about it these days. ]
You don't have to. I can manage that much, you know.
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Dokja snaps his head around and Eustace stays right where he is to meet that gaze head on, as if he hadn't just suggested some ludicrous idea as bad as Dokja's own. He sounds convinced of this idea anyway, the fear from before already largely gone from his voice, carefully drained back into the small container where it's usually kept. ]
You can, but it'll be easier if I do it.
[ (Easier for who? No point in dwelling on that.) ]
I know what I'm doing. You won't have to worry about aiming wrong or making sure you have enough strength to finish it.
[ He states it simply like it's some undeniable fact, which it may as well be for him. He's been trained to kill, has been shaped precisely for the task of snuffing out problems with the least amount of trouble possible. And though it makes him sick to think about turning those skills on someone undeserving of them, better to do something than to sit around passively with no other option left than to wait.
Man. It's really a good thing Gray isn't around to hear them discussing Dokja's death like they're discussing what to have for dinner tomorrow. ]
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But it's hard to argue the logic, especially when Dokja finds that he doesn't have the same level of energy or vigor these days to put up a fight. Instead, he's quiet as he rolls this newly sorted plan around in his head, recognizing (for once) the severity of what it is Eustace is offering to do for him.
They've grown into a strange closeness over this past year and then some, Dokja realizes. The fact that he can be open and honest about this stupid idea of his and then have it met back with aid feels foreign, almost wrong in how neatly things fall into place. Of course, there's so much that can still go wrong, but it's. Weird. Communicating is Weird. ]
Okay, [ he finally relents with a slow nod. ] If you're sure.
[ And through their Exalt connection, a small bloom of relief dances across. As much as Dokja is used to dying alone, it's always struck a deep loneliness within him, a reminder that one day, it'll be an actual end and at that time, too, it'll just be him.
But this time, at least, it'll be different. ]
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Nothing about this feels romantic though. The air hangs too heavy around them and the weight of what they're discussing like shackles chaining them in place, even if the end result is meant to be freeing. But it's all temporary, Eustace tells himself, an ugly solution to an ugly problem that will hopefully be behind them once and for all once they take care of it.
He tries not to think about all the things that could potentially go wrong in between, or the way he's already beginning to feel sick to his stomach at the task he'd willingly assigned himself despite the fact that they haven't even left yet. ]
I wouldn't offer if I wasn't.
[ That's a lie, but if he's sure of anything it's that sitting around and watching would be the worse option by far.
He can't quite meet Dokja's relief with anything comforting of his own, but he does at least squeeze their hands once before letting go and pushing himself off the couch. ]
Let's get going then.
[ Over the river and through the woods, to
grandmother's housethe Great Tree we go (to die). ]⏭ tree of life
The next time Dokja jolts into wakefulness, he has to adjust his eyes to the darkness that comes with descending into the caverns of the Tree. Stifling a yawn, he raises his head to look around. It's been a while since he'd last found himself here, considering his latest death had seen revival inside of a workshop rather than the roots of the Tree. And while it's practically a trend for Dokja to die as many times as he does, he hopes not to see this place again after this.
He drops his head back down against Eustace with a short sigh. ]
Thanks, by the way.
[ It's mumbled because imagine showing gratitude like a normal human being. ]
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Though reality's pretty miserable too all things considered, Dokja's quickly deteriorating state only adding to his growing mountain of concern. Truly the sooner they get this done the better, so Dokja doesn't have to suffer in silence anymore.
He doesn't respond to the murmur of gratitude tossed his way, also too busy looking around them for any potential threat, any obstacle that might suddenly fling itself into their way. There shouldn't be, not at the Tree of Life, but he's always been the type to worry overly much. ]
Are you ready?
[ They could stand around and chitchat, try and lighten the mood by reliving old memories, but he doesn't see any point in delaying the inevitable. ]
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Ready as I'll ever be.
[ Dokja senses the worry that still hangs over them, and it's guilt that gnaws on his insides this time. It's so easy to regret telling Eustace about this and putting him in this position. He wants to flee, to do this on his own, to not have anyone concerned about him, but it's too late now and all Dokja can do now is press forward. ]
You don't have to stick around, you know. It should take a few days, and I can find my way back.
[ If he makes it back, of course. But that part is very pointedly not said. ]
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Instead, he carefully slides Dokja onto the ground, careful to keep one arm out for balance lest Dokja stumble and drop to his knees. (So he tells himself, but there's something comforting in the continued physical contact, an anchor for him to desperately cling to in these last moments.) ]
It'll be fastest with a gun, but if you're averse to being shot, I can use a knife instead.
[ He'll hate it either way, but Dokja deserves the option of choice at the very least. ]
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Gratefully, he gives Eustace's arm a squeeze as he's lowered to the cavern floor. For a moment, he hesitates, and then he pulls at Eustace to get him to sit as well. ]
The gunshot would be too loud. A knife is fine.
[ He doesn't want to bring about unwanted attention should there be others around, but most of all, he wants to avoid any similarities with his last death. He'd been killed by a gun back then, and while he knows it's unreasonable to link that with waking up in Aetos's workshop, he'd just prefer... something else. ]
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Alright.
[ He follows the tug to sit, lowering himself to the ground next to the other man. From there it's just a matter of positioning himself until they're close enough, and then sliding his knife out silently from its sheath, eyes lingering on the glint of light off the blade. ]
Through the heart?
[ It's not really a question, not unless Dokja wants to die a bloody death via a slit throat, but the illusion of choice makes all this a little easier to stomach. ]
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