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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME
Sweet dreams are made of Bliss
As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
Click your Heels together, Dorothy!
As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours
When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Catch [???] Winks
The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
no subject
Maybe the details are ours. [ Semi-willingly as the information was offered, Matt can confirm that everything he said was true. True as he recalls it, which isn't quite the same thing as true objectively--though that just goes to Liem's point. ] But none of this infrastructure would be possible without the Advocate, so I guess ...
I don't know. Maybe the only way to get in touch would be to ask the Tree, like they did before. But either way, I'd rather test out my hypothesis than try to fight people over a dream.
[ No offense .......?
As they near the door, Matt senses--or possibly projects--some hesitation on Liem's part. He slows to a halt. Then he points to the door, glancing to Liem as if to say, Go through, or what? ]
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[He’d think a single Oracle wouldn’t be capable of actually bringing fallen worlds back for a trial like this, particularly considering he’s almost certain the first two worlds shown to them were those of Zenites, but he’s been given to understand that the Timestream is a mutable thing. Perhaps the worlds they are visiting are only mirrors of the ones that were already destroyed, just distant enough from their native realities to have escaped Oblivion’s hunger until now.
When they come to the door, Liem glances at Matt, noting his pointing finger. The muffled sound of scraping and thumping from beyond makes it clear that the stairway is indeed occupied.]
Stay well behind me, [he advises.] If there’s a manageable number inside, we can head down after they’re dispatched. Otherwise, we’re better off trying to seal the door.
[He’s going to open it, unless Matt has strong feelings to the contrary.]
no subject
[ Matt has already taken up a lot of Sebastian's limited time on this venture, even if it was in the interests of helping him. Still, he won't rule out reaching out by Communion, assuming these cannibal creatures don't pose too much of a hindrance.
The increasingly loud thumps suggest they might be kind of a problem. ]
I do have magical powers, [ Matt protests, though in a more or less amused tone. And he does fall back behind Liem with no further complaint. ] Speaking of--one sec.
[ He draws in a sharp breath, one that catches lightly in his throat. There's a sense of light, and warmth, and in the time it takes to think as sun and moon are not afraid, nor ever suffer loss or harm, a sun-warm energy swirls around them, sinking into Liem's skin. ]
no subject
He does smile faintly, though, when Matt says “I do have magical powers.”]
Thank you.
[The spell could be the luck Matt offered earlier, or anything else, but Liem has little fear of the undead past the door regardless. After only a brief pause and a nod, he moves to the door and opens it.
The good news is there is only a slow trickle of zombies currently wandering up the stairs, leaving the stairway mostly empty; the bad is that a small cluster of zombies has already gathered at the door, and they immediately fight to get through it once the way is open. The first to emerge, a well dressed man, gets Liem’s dagger through one eye. While he’s busy stabbing, he catches an older woman around the throat with his free arm, trips her and sends her sprawling backwards, into the living corpse directly behind.
The moves are practised, to be certain, and seem to suggest more strength than one would expect from Liem’s build—but that isn’t why Liem suggested he go first. Even his regeneration is only a slight factor. More relevant, and more apparent as the zombies continue to lunge at the doorway, is that not a single one of them seems to attack Liem, or even notice him, even as he blocks their route through. All of them are trying to go straight for Matt.]
no subject
It's strange. Matt doesn't relish the sight of violence, even against beings that want to eat them. But watching Liem in motion, moving with such devastating efficiency--it's really impressive. Beautiful, even. It can't be the result of his luck spell (right, sorry Liem, it was a luck spell), but maybe Liem doesn't need luck.
At first, Matt's mostly preoccupied trying to think of ways he can be helpful. Other spells he might be able to cast, any objects lying around that might be used to bash in a skull. But eventually, he notices that their attackers don't seem to be trying to get at Liem--they're trying to get past him.
Jesus, he can't taste that good. Matt's eyes narrow. He sucks in another quick breath. ]
Watch out in front, [ he calls. A golden shield weaves itself between Liem and the pearl-draped woman trying to reach past him. It's only a short one, maybe knee height: Matt hopes it's enough to trip or stymie the woman while not hindering Liem too much.
He also hopes he doesn't have to cast too many more spells. They're small, but they're beginning to add up. ]
no subject
It is messy, demanding work. He has to be glad of the fact that it still hasn’t been too terribly long since he’s fed, but even so, by the time a couple more zombies are piled on the floor, he has by necessity got more blood on his nice robes.
One of the last couple zombies manages to stumble over Matt’s barrier as Liem’s busy dealing with another suit-wearing corpse. At least the obstacle means it falls to all fours before it lurches on like a mindless animal in humanoid skin. Liem half-turns, his dagger still buried in zombie skull.]
Matt—!
no subject
He can't tell strictly what order things happen in. One moment, he's watching Liem anxiously, trying to think of ways to help; next, one of the creatures is scrambling towards him, pure hunger in the lurch of its limbs.
And Matt thinks, oh.
He breathes, a long, loud inhale like he's preparing to dive underwater. Light weaves around him like a long coil of golden rope. His hands move, almost as if the light were a real rope he could tug on.
It loops around the creature's arms in a rough handcuff configuration, causing it to crash to the floor. Only two problems: One is that the creature doesn't stop coming for Matt. It now has to move more awkwardly, half a squirm and half military crawl, but its mouth is open and teeth bared. The second problem is Matt. He tries to scurry back out of range, but it's more of a stagger. He's surprisingly winded. ]
Liem--
no subject
He leaps after it, dipping to grab one shoulder and flip the ravenous, person-looking thing over. It flails, trying to right itself, and almost succeeds in whacking him across the face before he forces its bound arms up over its head and drives his blade into its eye.
At which point he pauses, still straddling the corpse, to try to calm his racing system. Matt isn’t the only one who’s a little out of breath.]
Are you well? [he asks, looking up at Matt. He didn’t see the creature actually touch him, but frankly, he wouldn’t blame Matt for deciding he didn’t want to plunge deeper into the zombie-infested ship after all. Most people would definitely be running the other direction by now.] If there are still people in the lower levels, there will certainly be more of those between them and us.
no subject
Oh, I'm f-- [ A stutter of a pause, as he looks back to Liem and sees he's still on top of the corpse he just dispatched. ] --ine. I'm fine. [ He takes a step towards him, offering his hand to help Liem up (and a lopsided smile). In the heat of the moment, he forgets any concerns about keeping his wrists covered. ] I know we're running on a tight schedule here, but maybe a quick break? Just so I can catch my breath.
[ Maybe meditate for a few minutes. Like dancing, fighting seems to use different muscles than Matt's used to, even when he's only participating at a distance. He's still not sure what his body needs in these circumstances. ]
no subject
For now. [As long as no other zombies shamble upon them, that is. Perhaps Liem should slide the corpses somewhere, and close the stairwell door.
But when he gets to his feet, he doesn’t let go of the offered hand.]
Matthew— Is this a recent injury? [He turns the hand he’s holding until the marks on Matt’s wrist stare back at him.] Have you been letting someone bite you?
cw: idk the self-blame here messed ME up, so proceed at ur own risk
I--
[ He doesn't try to pull away from Liem, but he surprises himself by wanting to. Or rather, not wanting to, but not knowing what else to do. He can't say no, of course. That would sound like "I haven't been letting people bite me," and ...
He did. Even the first time, he did. Silco said stop struggling and he stopped. ]
Yeah, [ he says, with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. His eyes lift to Liem's, and he offers a small smile. ] Just helping out.
no subject
(And yes, maybe Liem is that way too—but this isn’t about him.)
Refusing to concede to that obviously deliberate casual tone, Liem sheathes his dagger so his left hand can join his right, folding Matt’s warmer hand between them.]
No vampire here needs you to let them prey on you—and I don’t want to bring you somewhere dangerous if you’re still unwell because of it.
no subject
Still: ]
It's not like that, [ he protests, bristling a little for the word prey. ] And I'm not unwell. I just helped you, didn't I?
[ I'm not a child, he wants to insist, except that even in his head, nothing in the world sounds more childish. Though even if he were a child, it's not like they aren't staffed up with teen soldiers around here. ]
I wanted a break, but I don't need one.
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You did help me, [he agrees.] And I appreciate that—but that’s not what this is about. I’m just… concerned.
[Again. Just like he’d ended up saying the first time they met in Kenos, when he showed Matt around some of Springstar. It’s not that he thinks Matt is incapable, but he also seems so consistently willing to run into danger, and ultimately—
He’s come here alone. Matt doesn’t really know anyone else in Kenos, not anyone he actually remembers, and Liem doesn’t know if the people Matt might consider calling for help are even trustworthy. If there even are people he would call for help.]
I can’t not be, when you got here without knowing anyone and you have marks like this.
no subject
[ A great euphemism for "was missing a hand," good going Matt. ]
--But everybody here gets some kind of hurt. Right? And I've been in--I've had arrangements with vampires before, relationships. I know what I'm doing. [ Stuck for what else to say, positive he's only making Liem less convinced, Matt sputters, ] Everyone else who knew me before thinks I can handle it.
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But he still remembers the relief that had seemed to sink into Matt when he’d touched him on that rooftop in Venera; and before that, he remembers Matt’s hurt when Liem had pulled away from him in the caverns beneath Achamoth, scarcely after they’d met.]
It isn’t that you got hurt, [he says quietly.] It’s that you chose to sacrifice your hand because you wanted to do something meaningful. Or to have something meaningful.
Maybe you do know what you’re doing, but I still don’t want you to be in a situation where you end up spending pieces of yourself like currency.
no subject
I cut it off? he doesn't manage to ask, though his lips part like he might be about to. For all his horror, there's not a hint of incredulity on his face. This version of Matt was never in that cave in Horos, his insides crawling with despair, his every desperate prayer unanswered. But sacrifice to do something meaningful ... that strikes him as something he might do. Something he is doing, even, through this bargain with Silco. ]
No wonder you've been worried, [ Matt murmurs. ] Shit.
[ His free hand comes to cover Liem's. He's not really thinking about how this might look; he just wants to assure Liem that he hears his concern. More than hears it--accepts it. For a moment after, Matt's quiet, trying to figure out what to say. ]
I want to try and stay who I am, [ he says eventually. His tone is soft. An attempt at soothing. ] A part of me is willing to make sacrifices to help other people, and I don't want to lose that. But I promise you, I'm not doing it like that. [ A huff of breath, not quite enough for either sigh or laugh. ] For one thing, blood cells replace themselves. Giving up a few isn't, you know--permanent.
[ At the back of his mind, Matt wonders why nobody else has told him what that other him did. Not Sebastian or Silco, they don't seem like they'd necessarily care. But Amos?
Maybe Amos was building up to it before they argued. ]
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He’s not entirely mollified by Matt’s reassurance—Liem doesn’t really agree with the narrative of being bitten by a vampire as just giving up a few blood cells—but the hand atop his is comforting. It also helps that, for perhaps the first time since he brought his worries up, he feels like Matt might not be entirely blowing him off.]
Very well, [he says after a moment’s contemplation. Liem steps back, letting his hands slip away from Matt’s.] As long as you’re taking care.
[They really shouldn’t be standing here to discuss this anyway, he thinks. He should at least shut the stairwell door again, and he moves to do so, stepping over crumpled bodies as he does.]
Your magic—does it feel the same for you now as it did before, in your world?
no subject
After "you sacrificed your hand," what else could there possibly be? ]
--Oh. [ If anything can distract him, though, it's a question about magic. Matt smiles faintly, and is quiet for a moment as he rolls the question over in his mind. ] It feels like ... using different muscles. But still ones that are a part of me, if that makes sense. [ Helping Gavial alleviate her discord had been a little different--more like the moment when he'd first harmonized. ] I think the big difference here is like, if I were back home and wanted to put up a protective ward over a neighborhood, I would've worked on it for an evening, maybe a few days. I'd've had to be sneaky putting it up, but it's still a longer time scale. [ He cants a little grin Liem's way. ] Less cardio.
[ As Matt regards him, scanning Liem's face, his bright expression fades to a more contemplative look. Almost apprehensive.
He glances briefly down to his hands. Gently tugs his sleeve back into place. ]
Are you sure that's it? [ he asks. ] I mean, if you had something else to say, I'm listening.
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Ah. That makes sense.
[Drawing on Meridian’s power feels perhaps a little warmer than using magic back home did, but it is largely the same, Liem’s found—even to the extent that he’d found himself unable to tap his magic during the brief period he spent in Zenith, when he’d lost faith after the Iconoclast Oracle.
Once he’s cleared the doorway itself, Liem re-latches the door. For now, hopefully any further wandering zombies will continue to be foiled by the basic mechanisms of a doorknob.
Then he looks back at Matt, a little surprised.]
No, that was it.
[Surely that was it, right? Only, he thinks again about what he said to Matt and he has to admit to himself that he might be missing some context.]
Or, well… perhaps you still don’t know? That I’m half-vampire. I never told the other you, but I think he must have realized it.
[Liem’s cheeks tint just the slightest bit when he says this. They’d had sex, so… surely Horos-Matt couldn’t have avoided noticing.]
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He's not sure what he was expecting Liem to say, but half-vampire clearly surprises him. Matt blinks up from the body he's currently trying to maneuver into some semblance of dignified rest. ]
Half? [ he says--and immediately winces. Liem looks ... well, he can't really read his expression, but he's sure he's made him uncomfortable. ] I'm sorry, that's so rude of me. It's more of a binary thing where I'm from, is all.
[ All vampire-on-vampire gatekeeping aside, you either are one or you aren't. ]
But ah--okay. That's why you--I mean, you're conscientious, clearly. About people. [ Hence Liem's fretting over him and his disastrous decisions. Liem's respect for the dead. ]
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It’s fine.
[Matt’s surprise comes as no real shock, even if he doesn’t recall ever discussing this with Matt in Horos. It isn’t as though half-vampire was a normal thing to be in Taldor, either.]
It’s why I’m familiar with vampires, [he says slowly, not entirely sure if that is what Matt was trying to say. Liem straightens from the last of the corpses, looking down the hall towards him.] I wanted to help you because when I arrived in Horos, when I was naked and alone, you were kind to me.
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I see, [ he says. What is it with showing up naked to these places? Something about rebirth, something about transformation. When you get right down to it, what's the difference between a seed pod and a chrysalis? ] That's good. I'm glad I did that--he did that.
[ Matt smiles faintly, wistfully almost. He shakes his head. ]
I don't think anyone deserves to feel alone, especially someplace like--what that place sounded like. [ And of course, Liem has expressed his doubts that this place is much better. ] Things are already so hard.
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I know. Things are better for me, here. I have my faith, and people to rely on. I hope you find that, also.
Organically, I mean. [For a moment, his expression turns wry and he seems perhaps a little bashful.] I hope it’s not unwelcome that I have a liking for you when you barely know me, [says local area’s most reserved man. Five minutes ago he was trying to ditch Matt because he didn’t want to fraternize with the enemy.]
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No, no. Of course it's not--it's very welcome. [ He steps closer again, this time brushing his fingertips lightly to Liem's elbow. Maybe Liem's oversaturated on physical contact by now, but it's the best way Matt can think to communicate genuinely. A crooked smile curls his mouth as he admits, ] I like you too.
[ Truly, Matt doesn't understand Liem's exact meaning. He takes the remark about being unwelcome as a sign that he, Matt, has been a little too weird, trying to parse why Liem might care what happens to him. And he does like Liem. Ever since he felt that first moth-flutter in his mind, soft through the darkness, he's liked him. ]
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