capeandcowllogs | one more shifty, slightly leveled field of communication

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one more shifty, slightly leveled field of communication

WHO:

inthirds (who is cured)
WHERE: MAC
WHEN: Way super early 11/10
WARNINGS: MANLY TEARSno idk nobody dies at least
SUMMARY: Hey old man it's me, the pal you carved up like a week ago!
FORMAT: No

He could've just fallen asleep right where he was so easily had his mind not wandered back to his first contacts. It hit him like a knife in the back, causing him to start a little, though hardly much to disturb the sleeper curled up on him.

It had been well more than an hour, hadn't it? Not even a day back, already falling behind...

Further still, as it took a length of time to free himself and slink down the hallways. Barefoot, still feeling like he was stuck in a surreal dream...feeling his footfalls. Coarse carpeting. Cold, concrete steps in the stairwell. He was in danger of a sensory overload nearly every time he changed places. Goose pimples to go with the anxious knots in his stomach...how long since that was ever a thing?

Zelgadis wound up staring at the appropriate door longer than need be. He wasn't completely lost; he knew he had the right one. But the correspondence left him with uncertain footing, so to speak. And the disturbing remarks of that Goku person only gave his mind ample opportunity to draw the most unsavory conclusions. What had happened, and did he even want to know?

One way or the other, though, he had to knock. Four muted raps by the backs of his knuckles, drawn away as quick as they were brought forward. The notion that the hour was a little unreasonable had only just struck. Perhaps he ought to just go back upstairs––

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"And if it didn't," Zelgadis said with a shrug, leaning back, "there's still probably a dozen or more swords sitting around in my room."

Though more than half of those weren't his to offer, since Terra seemed to like to hoard weapons. His head kind of tilted to evade the thought, scratching at the bridge of his nose in a sheepish way.

"But if it works, then it's fine."

"I'm not replacing Wild Geese," Geddoe muttered with the closest thing akin to petulance anyone might have ever heard from him. "I will get it repaired somehow." Something occurred to him, then, and he glanced over his shoulder. "The magical blade. You got it from Terra."

Even if he'd just been thinking on a similar vein not seconds ago, somehow her name aloud caused him to flush and immediately look in whatever direction he could find devoid of living people.

"Y-yeah. A gift..."

Geddoe ignored the blush. "You may not want to ask for it back."

At least his remark was enough to get him a little off the track he was starting to veer (rather, high-speed collide) off into. He glanced back over, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

For his part, Geddoe dutifully avoided his glance this time, picking up his beer once more. "...you were armed with it, on that night."

It wasn't a vague statement, really, but it wasn't really giving the whole story. Again, Zelgadis' imagination was free to search for the worst-case scenario. He was hesitant, waiting a length of time to see if anything would be said without prompt.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he probed, "Did I hurt anyone? Or...?" Kill anyone? He didn't want to believe that was true, but if he was more out of control than he realized...

"Singed me," Geddoe admitted, "though not with the blade. Rather."

He paused for a pretty long time, but he was going to say it. Sooner or later. This information had to be shared lest it come up at a different and less convenient time. "I wielded it."

Zelgadis wasn't liking the silence at all. His frown deepened, his forehead creasing with the unease building within; he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. When Geddoe finally said anything at all, the cold chill was practically just for the sake of having heard anything, regardless of the content. His brow continued to knit as he began to mull over what he meant by that.

That was you right? But the grandpa killed him.

He leaned back, all that blood and color that had rushed to his face such a short time ago very much gone. Once, a long time ago, he had bragged about his invulnerability in the face of a duel. If you want to kill me, you better make it a sword of light!

Well, then.

He sank back into the chair, sliding a little, staring well away from Geddoe.

"Oh," he said dumbly.

"It's a powerful weapon, but it's a liability," Geddoe went on, falling back on factual information and advice instead of thoughts and feelings. "You don't want to allow yourself to be disarmed and have it used against you."

The implications of being killed by a comrade were still pulling at him, almost making him nod and lose the real meaning of Geddoe's advice. But somehow, it wheedled through and struck a nerve, and Zelgadis snapped back to attention, glaring with a sudden and brief heat.

"Is that something you'd say to anyone with a hold of it?" he demanded, starting to sit up again. "What about the odds of someone disarming you of yours and using it–"

Geddoe swung around fast and snatched a fistful of Zelgadis' cowl. "I know perfectly well how to keep from getting skewered with a steel blade," he snarled. "Yours on the other hand left you completely vulnerable! Steel blades do nothing to you and yet you walk around with the one weapon that can actually destroy you."

He let go with a small shove, naturally taking out his anger with himself on the only other person in the room. "It may have saved my life but it was at the cost of yours. Think about that."

He staggered back a step, having to grab at the chair to keep from falling backward entirely with the rest of the damn thing in the way of him getting his balance. Red-faced, bristled and angry again, he had to fish around with sounds to get words.

"That's...That's not the case anymore. Keeping it close to keep it from floating around into the wrong hands...I knew what I had! If I'd known I was going to wind up some...some mindless slave, I would've taken it along anyway!" He huffed, starting to lose fire again. Anxiety was playing up over his anger, causing his palms to sweat and his head to start throbbing again.

"But that's not the case anymore. Because I'm not..." He lifted his free hand, staring at it as if expecting it to suddenly not be there.

"Not now," Geddoe finished for him. "But what if this is temporary?"

He flopped back on the couch to prevent himself from doing anything else rash. "There is a limit to what I can do. My blade is notched, my magic is limited, and my alliances are tenuous at best. But I don't want to see that, ever again."

Temporary? Zelgadis' eyes clamped shut tight, tight as the fist he clenched as the word sounded. It had been awful the first time around, having what he'd searched for snatched away, leaving him back where he'd begun. To consider he was just going to have to endure it all over again...

"Can't," he uttered, teeth gritted. Not again. Not ever again. He dug the heel of his hand into his eye, turning away with his shoulders hunched up. He managed a rattled "No," after some breath, working to level out again. No, no. See that – as if that was his choice!

Showing up didn't mean he wanted that. He had just wanted to be done.

"Not again," he muttered, dragging his hand away and letting it settle on the back of the chair with the other, turning to face forward with a dark, stony expression.

Geddoe did not envy his inner struggles, seeing as he had a few of his own. Yet, it was better to say it than watch him face it later, unprepared. "The machine," he said simply. "I have heard and seen what it does."

"So the machine this time," Zelgadis growled, growing bitter by the second. He glared over at Geddoe, angry more at the news than its messenger. But even so, if saying nothing made it all false...That wasn't really the world they lived in, though. And the longer he glared at him, the less he could stand to, shaking his head and turning away again.

Rezo, Illidan, and now a machine. It wasn't even alive, and still...

His fist pounded harshly on the top of the chair once and remained there. He seldom lashed out in a fit – definitely not in front of people whose opinions mattered. Yet even so.

It's not fair.

Geddoe sat forward on the couch, mostly just watching Zelgadis grapple with the facts. Necessary things were seldom pleasant. "Don't break my furniture," he warned, partly in jest since he didn't actually care about the furniture. "It's all I have."

It was taking a damn lot at that hour to be pissed off; the sour look he shot Geddoe wound up looking more wearied than wrathful, though still ruffled enough to feel his ears burning again. The complete 180 his few hours back were doing was not pleasant in the least. He was starting to feel stupid for having been so relieved and happy hardly an hour ago.

He grumbled something, turning his back to him and folding his arms, rocking back and leaning against the chair only a moment before straightening out again. Standing still didn't seem to be working out; he was already unfolding his arms and bringing a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temples.

He shot a look over his shoulder, slowly sending his gaze downward. "Are you going to finish the rest of that?"

Geddoe glanced at the bottle on the table next to his elbow. There was only a few sips left, but he shook his head. It wasn't sitting well with him at this hour, anyway. At least it wasn't enough for Zelgadis to get drunk off of. They didn't need a repeat of that. "Go ahead," he muttered.

So he wound up slumped on the other end of the couch, staring dimly at the bottle for exerting the energy to reach over, grab it, and slammed down whatever was left in one swig.

He made a face, holding the bottle away from him and squinting at it. What did he say? Something about fruit and beer and not being a good thing?

He could agree with that.

The bottle was returned to the table, and Zelgadis returned to slumping back against the cushions, pinching the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.

The whole time, Geddoe sat slumped forward, his hands loosely clasped before him. It was a good time to brood. At last, though, he broke the silence with one of his low murmurs. "It's better you know," he said, almost trying to justify it to himself. "But this is where it ends. I'm not going to go blathering to anyone else about what happened."

Zelgadis' glance was peripheral first, the rest of his head turning to follow a second or two afterward. He thought it weird, initially, for him to have said something like that out loud.

"Yeah," he grunted, his shoulder shrugging up briefly. "I know."

As far as he was concerned, Geddoe had nothing more to say. Sitting in silence was somehow appropriate, if not necessary. He wasn't going to kick Zelgadis out, but damn, if he didn't rue the fact he hadn't bought more beer on his way home.

He was overstaying his welcome, Zelgadis was sure. But he was still trying to come up with...something. Pointless, perhaps; he seemed more prone to making problems, or simply making them worse, rather than fixing anything. Though, if anything was broken was still up for debate.

Debating was for decent hours.

It wasn't a painfully long wait for him to go, though he really was dragging his heels about it. Without the energy coming from being agitated or anxious, he was just tired. He scrubbed at the corner of his eye as he mumbled, "I'm going back up," and started for the door.

The something struck him as he had the door half open and was about to slip out.

"Thanks for..." His fingers drummed once on the edge of the door as he fished for the for, starting to look away again. He shrugged uselessly. "A lot of things."

His imagination typically made his words sound a lot nicer in his head, but that time around gave him less and little. It got him the hell out of that room a lot quicker, at least.

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trueltning_fury - 2011-11-13 01:56 (UTC) - Expand

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