15strangers | Isn't this where.....

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*round 6

Isn't this where.....

REUNITED AT LAST

[Living and dead have reunited. That is all well and good. However, all these trains and cars and starships mean nothing by themselves - many of you may be wondering precisely where they are headed, and the answer presents itself soon in the form of a yawning portal in the middle of space. Yawning, calm, so as not to be mistaken with the writhing and twitching of the wefts - it seems to belong, or at least to be accepted as a cosmic inevitability. And this is what all of the dubious spacecrafts sail into for now - it is just barely large enough for all of them to go in one at a time, and to come out on the other side of the wormhole.

That appears to be some kind of airspace. Those curious about the place they're going may want to open the stained glass windows of the trains to get a much better view of the scenery they're descending on. The landscapes are mostly gorgeous, looking from a distance as though they were painted with watercolors, although some may think it also looks a bit, well, haphazardly patched together. For the trains, there is a floating dock above the land that looks brand new, and an elevator to take down to the ground. All other ships can find an easy landing space in the meadow, like the weird UFOs they are. Nevertheless, there is a path to follow from there, leading to a castle in the distance. It is a path lined with wonderful flowers and trees... and also a chaotic smattering of other trees that don't look like they quite belong. Sheets of dry lasagna make up the bark of the spaghetti trees, their inexplicably cooked pasta hanging like a weeping willow as marinara drips from their meatball fruit. The smell is overpowering, but don't let that ruin the trip. "In fact, it would be better if you let it work up an appetite", the cheerful voice of 707 suggests as he leads the pack up the trail like a hyperactive boy scout leader.

Finally, the doors of the castle open up. The halls are full of doors, each glowing from within - some of you may recognize the names of your homes, and others may not. But going past them, there is an enormous arch that is named The Hall of the Beginning as indicated by the carvings on it. Inside is a table that will be familiar to one of the strangers. It is the table that the original 15 Titled met at the beginning of Nirn, and it's overflowing with a feast even more grandiose than the last time. All of the drinks and cuisine you've been missing for so long is here - from sugar-spiced coffee and bubble tea, delicious scones as good as an aunt's, ridiculously spicy takeout wok, popcorn, philly cheesesteaks and the most perfect star shaped peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches known to man, a big toblerone on a long silver platter, three types of ramen, beer, so many grapes, melon bread, something labeled "dead chicken" that is obviously just a regular roast chicken.... it definitely seems like there were too many cooks here, but cooks with their heart in the right place. Some other favorites of the strangers will also be among the chaos if they look hard enough, but certainly, somewhere, it was deemed that they should have a celebration feast.

But then, you are not strangers any more, are you? Everyone here is a familiar face now, and there are even more familiar faces waiting around the table. The ones who wrote the letter, 707, Halley, Maka, Alexis, and Cardia are already there coming and going, but occasionally many others will stumble through one of the many doors. People from the games who had not fallen to IT. People from home, people you love. What we have here is a nexus and a party all in one. Here, there will be as much time for goodbyes as you like - or, as the hall suggests, new beginnings.]

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"No glass coffin", huh. God, I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out.

[Jonathan's dragged a chair over from somewhere to sit opposite Hiyori, and for a few moments (a few heartbeats, he has a heartbeat again, and oh! how wonderful and strange it is) that's all he does, his arms crossed loosely. Finally, he makes his move - not to punch, but to set his hands at the sides of Hiyori's face, drawing him forward even as he leans in.

He stops short of kissing distance, just barely, and stares into Hiyori's eyes with an intensity born of uncertainty. He has pupils again. Jonathan can tell he's being looked back at. Somehow it's more frightening like this. He lets his eyes fall closed, and leans in, resting his forehead against Hiyori's. It's not enough, this contact. It has to be enough, though. He's married; Hiyori has someone to go home to after all is said and done. This is all he can have, this distant closeness. ]

It'd be so much easier if you hated me, but... you don't, do you. Even though she hates you, even though the best I could offer is golf on the weekends, you kept that letter....

[Look, but don't touch. He understands the rule, now that he's broken it. This is only making things worse. He is his father's son after all, it seems.]

Don't kick yourself, I'm pretty sure some people never did.

[Figure it out, Hiyori fires off coolly, all the way behind the table, in control. Then he is being pulled out from the table to an extent, and he is not in control. The differences from the host role's mannerisms highlight the remaining similarities: The racing breath, his skin approaching clammy. Maybe Jonathan is closing his eyes to ignore it. Well, all the more opportunity for Hiyori to flick him in the forehead.]

You keep making it easier, I'll tell you that. I could go on about that terrible day for more than a day. [His hands are overlapping at the wrists on the table now, prim.] In front of everyone, really? Jesus, is she not even letting us be friends?! [Wait, that makes it sound all the more like—he blusters onward.] Of course I'm not setting foot in the death trap she's going to be making out of your house, but a nice little glimpse of the future should totally ex-expand your eyes or whatever.

[Jonathan's own hands are palm-up on the table, well outside Hiyori's; he'd rocked back as though that flick had itself been a punch, and let them fall then. They might as well be flung out to either side and pinned there with rough nails, for all he's able to breathe. It takes a mortifying amount of effort to keep himself breathing steadily, and he can't look Hiyori in the eyes lest the panic return.

"Making it easier" - maybe that's best. Better that he thinks of him as just another stupid Yankee, maybe delusional, maybe even dangerous....]

Don't talk to me about the future, I'm a bit part in somebody else's story. Nobody's going to let me die like my father did, but the real hero's mentor always dies, you ever notice that? Why the hell shouldn't I want to do better than my old man, and be good at seeming normal up until I'm dead?!

[His voice twists, his face twisting into a grimace with it. That's going too far. He can't manage to sound sincere saying a hateful thing like that, it runs against everything he still believes in. He looks up, sorrow plain on his face and something closer to defeat in his eyes.]

Fuck. I'm sorry. That was - I'm not that asshole anymore, the one who'd've meant that. I meant what I wrote.

[He stands, unsteadily enough to knock the chair over, but he doesn't move to right it.]

I meant all of it. You won't have to see me again. I'm sorry.

[And yet, though it might be best to turn and leave, though it'd be easier to forget all of this if he just left to grab a beer with one hand and his wife's ass with the other, though it might be best to run like the coward he is, Jonathan stands there.

It'd be easiest if Hiyori clocked him now. He's more than earned it.]

So those words... that night on the plane... were something you couldn't manage to believe for yourself...? [This definition of normal, not dirty, enters his body like a knife, though he'll have to think harder to figure out which organs...] I'm flattered you made the effort nonetheless.

[Because he has been criticizing homophobic writing decisions since he was five. So he really appreciated the comfort, and even though he doesn't appreciate the irritating insinuation that Jonathan is the first person to ever observe this merciless worldstate, can he blame the guy for feeling all alone?]

I was an English major, I know what tropes are. You believe in the all-healing women one, after everything, really? [Three different games where Vita's powers had nothing to do with the hard-won happy ending. It's evidently very possible for someone to remain convinced; his question isn't rhetorical.

Likewise leaving him not already certain that Jonathan would need to get up, and grabbing his wrist takes a good few seconds. No longer acting as a host, Hiyori can't "cheat" anymore.]

Thanks for leaving me the choice! The one thing this living hell taught me? Good guys and bad guys might treat space, time, everything like their canvas, but writing a script for a person is wrong. Unless we're reprogrammed, we all have to deal with the memories and personality we've actually got. And it's just as bad ending their story - that includes your own story!

[His eyes are fierce. The allusion to "what this seems like instead of an apology note" is not a happy one.]

I said and did a lot of things, on purpose. But do you know what I want, Jonathan? It's not seeing you in the city, I'll give you that. I want... to know what you thought about Confessions of a Mask.

Edited 2020-03-17 05:29 (UTC)

[This is all so far from what Jonathan expected that he can't respond for a moment - it's hard to talk around your heart when the stubborn thing is lodged in your throat. It's hard to know what to say when despite your best efforts someone still sees you as worth keeping around - worth keeping alive, even.

It keeps happening, true, but he isn't used to it, not by a long shot. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to; in this moment, it's as if Hiyori's hand on his wrist is keeping him solidly in this world.]

The... the first English version's not coming out for almost ten years, y'know? I asked Ritsu, she looked it up for me. I mean, I could cheat, I could ask somebody to bring it back from somewhen else, but... you really wanna stick around that long, huh?

[Humor (or at least an attempt at it) is a hollow, reflexive attempt at running away from what feels like a whole army of feelings. He's barely avoiding falling apart. He's spent weeks now reassuring himself that he isn't the hero of this story, or of any story anywhere, and now that's all falling apart.]

I'm - I don't deserve - but you're not about to let me finish that sentence, are you? You honestly don't hate me, and I can't figure out why....

[He's dodging a pretty significant question, a pair of them, but he can barely breathe. It's like the moment he first remembered his death, almost, but for one thing: they're out in public, so he can't collapse. He can't give in to the panic, can't let it show anywhere but his eyes, if even there.

He hopes it shows there. Panic and despair (that should've left him when all the dead left their private hell) and simple honest confusion, these are things it's easier to leave unsaid. Or they were before all this, at least, but he can't say that either.]

...I'll be honest, I didn't have the luxury of looking the date up at the time, but "if it ain't broke, don't fix it", right?

[It's a feather of light humor that won't be followed up on. Hiyori tightens his grip on Jonathan's wrist, like the string for a poorly wired closet lightbulb that needs to be turned on a second time, in his alarm at this notion.]

Do I have to spell it out? Everything I said at the last—backwards! Obviously backwards! I thought you saw right through how hard I had to work if I wanted to throw you off the scent. You're such a good person it makes IT sick! You take care of people without smothering them; you gather information even when it doesn't fit into your best case scenario; you save your wrath for the actual forces of evil. [Drily aside:] Like King Triton.

And I'm supposed to still be forced to hate you for, what, never showing up on your white horse?! Vita steers that tacky-looking thing, and I—I was [in a condition that would cause intense fear in the past that it's still hard to believe won't resume] trapped behind shadows anyway, I shouldn't—You know what? I just pity, whatever it is, [these words obviously chosen extremely carefully] that keeps her from realizing maybe a self-proclaimed omnipresent goddess should feel the slightest bit guilty!

[There's more he could say, more criticisms he's carefully cataloged and kept behind closed doors, but he's got to catch his breath, know he's chasing down a substantial carnivore.]

[It's not like he had much experience with typical childhood games, but Hiyori's grasp on his wrist feels like he's being pulled out from behind a bunch of winter coats. Those words of praise are as dazzling as being yanked into the brightness of a summer afternoon when he'd been confidently hiding a moment ago. Jonathan can only blink, stunned, and shake his head again.]

I wish I knew what it was. She's... I thought I was the broken one, hell... God. I've... I got everything backwards, somehow, didn't I?

[His gaze flicks down, briefly, to the chair he knocked aside. He wants to pick it up, wants to sit down and hear more about what things were like outside his own head while the world turned into hell, but he doesn't want to pull away. He licks his lips, bites down on the lower one - he's stalling for time, carefully choosing words before he says them.]

I don't want to force you to do anything. I just don't get how you see that much good in me, when I didn't even think - didn't stop for just a second to think "hey, maybe we should check everybody got home safe", when that could've saved you.

[Hiyori's expression is tugged in two different directions; he could have made a triumphant smirk at getting very close to the impossible dream of Vita's vileness being acknowledged, but wants to scowl fiercely at the self-deprecating tone the words ultimately slip out of Jonathan in.]

Name literally any time you two disagreed and I'll tell you how you were right and she was wrong. [He raises a finger.] Asking her to kill you does not count!

[So he's settled on something pleasant. Hiyori puts his chin in his hand that's empty now, and with the other one finally reaches over for his spoon.]

Well, let's look at it this way. Everything I said to you when we were in the City? I was convinced that my leader's strength was insurmountable, and rescue operations would ultimately only get more people tortured or killed. So, either that was true, or I'm the real idiot for having the slightest pessimism, here.

[He eats a scoop of gummies and syrup and cream, heartily yet not chomping. The clean spoon veers thoughtfully in his hand afterwards.]

Maybe it's the second one. I mean, I even forgot these things were really delicious.

[That spoon is hypnotic. Not because it's been between Hiyori's lips, no, perish the thought. It's shiny. Distracting. Easier to stare at than anything else; less rude to stare at, too.]

Hell, if that's all it takes to make you an idiot I'd win the grand prize. I couldn't even remember what milk tasted like, by the end of it....

[His voice is small by the time it trails away, all the bravado drained from it. He'd focused on surviving, on keeping Vita alive, and then on how to die without it hurting too much. There was no room for reverie, and then there was nothing at all.

He shuts his eyes, and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it could really stop the headache he knows is creeping up on him.]

Right. I won't talk about begging her to kill me if you won't talk like that thing could've stopped a competent rescue. Deal?

[Hiyori's knuckles tighten to form a more snug rest of the hand under his chin, as his eyebrows rise at the terms proposed. He stabs the spoon back into the ice cream, and takes Jonathan's hand, finding the thumb joint to clasp palms properly.]

Deal!

[The rod that served as his primary weapon type was smooth; his hands have no calluses. He looks up, and adjusts his eyes to see Jonathan up there clearly through his glasses.]

We can talk about other things later, I hope.

I... hope so, too.

[Jonathan had really, really hoped his voice wouldn't start cracking all over the place, but he's exhausted and Hiyori just took his hand, like a mermaid pulling some royal stranger away from a sinking ship as much as a too-clever gentleman sealing a bargain. To say he's overwhelmed would be an understatement.]

God, I don't know where to start... not sure I'm ready to hear what the last few weeks looked like from outside, y'know?

[He lets his head tilt to one side, but doesn't paste on a smile to make it seem disarming or nonchalant.]

Oh, don't worry, you couldn't pay me to do that. [Hiyori's head bobs to the side. Bullet dodged!!] I've spent IT knows how long composing detailed reports of your actions that were never put to use in any way! So I know better now. You get what you're ready to ask for.

[Is Jonathan disappointed, to not see the build-up go off all at once? Hiyori watches to see which direction he squirms.]

Edited 2020-05-06 16:58 (UTC)

[Jonathan isn't disappointed. He's not even uncomfortable, or at least he'd insist he isn't if pressed - what's more important at the moment is that he's relieved. The pressure of hearing all his bad decisions recounted is gone. A rueful little smile does find its way onto his face, after a few moments plainly spent thinking over what, exactly, he is ready to ask for.]

Well, then. Well. I guess... hell with it. What are some of those other things you want to talk about?

[The smile twists, becoming bitter, becoming a grimace, and finally vanishing.]

I don't want to think about where I've been, I want... to think there's a future. I'm a damned coward....

The key word isn't other, Jonathan Morris. It's later! Don't get ahead of—

[A cough aborts the strained growl, "aaaaaaaack". Hiyori crushes his cheek with his supporting hand.]

Not the same when I can't do the thing, ahaha. [He clicks his tongue.] That's the thing about the future, though. You just have to wait and see whether you like it or not.

[Beat.]

If you bring up a Zemurian crystal ball or whatever, I swear to God.

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Isn't this where.....

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CW: Christian imagery, internalized homophobia spilling out

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