[OPEN] oh, the king

[sunderings]

Who: Sion & You!
Where: The Meshwork.
When: The duration of Chapter 4!
Summary: Dream catch all! From casting spells and engaging in shenanigans to escape match-meetings, to talking to your "other self", Sion's dreams are sporadic???
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, spoopy imagery, possible (literal) self-sacrifice...!!

❶ You are running for the love of it.
❷ You sink and you cannot breathe, air catching in the throat and refusing to reach the lungs.
❸ You are happy.
❹ You tread upon a pathway comprised entirely of dango.

( all dreams are OTA and written in second person, Sion's POV. tags will be returned in regular third person! feel free to PM or contact me here if you'd like something specific. o9 )

Comments

OJ memory | (you're gonna miss me when I'm gone)

[sunderings]

[ You are happy.

You have spent the morning working in close-quarters with your secretary, the Westie boy you had taken into your employ precisely one year ago today. When your paths had first crossed, the boy—eighteen, perhaps nineteen years at the time—had made an attempt on your life, desperate to find the sister who had been stolen from him by the hands of the Company. On that day, you had quelled the violence within him, promising that you would see him reunited with his sister no matter the cost: the boy needed only to believe in you, and he did.

"The most important thing is to never lose hope," you'd said to him then, " no matter how many people may look down on you because you are Westerlyn, hold to faith, because you are not alone. You will find allies in the most unexpected of places."

And in the here and now, that very boy is quick to scold you no sooner than he finishes with his filing: "Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ, Dɪʀᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ," he chides, his cheeks puffed in a pout, brows raised in equal parts accusation and childlike demand, "Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ'ᴠᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʜᴜʀʀʏ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ. Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴀᴛ ʟᴜɴᴄʜ, I'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇᴅ. I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ғᴀᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ!" And to see him appeased, you obediently move to take leave of your office with a laugh, bowing your head in a (not at all convincing) play at regret even as you tease "oh, you are so very scary! You'll pay for bullying your poor superior like this!"

But before you well and truly bid him farewell, he catches you by surprise, his words inspiring a flush of color which touches your cheeks: "Hᴇʏ, Sɪᴏɴ...? I'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. I'ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀʟᴏɴɢsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʏᴇᴀʀ!"

With a nod of your head, the fringe of your hair bouncing lightly with the motion, you agree with a smile, teasing again with a "happy anniversary!" before you leave him to tidy up; to continue filing paperwork in your absence. But where you had meant to quickly return, you are cordoned off by a slew of invitations to several meetings, each one longer than the last, and by the time you take your leave of the final briefing--...

A trio of messengers—unusual protocol, to have so very many appointed to so simple a task—impedes your path, delivering the news: your subordinate has met with an accident, he has passed. ]

What?

[ Your breath catches and your heart sinks, your world tilted off of its axis in the breadth of a moment. There is no shadow of doubt in your mind that it was no accident, that the Westie boy you had mentored and befriended had been robbed of his life, and for what reason? To what end? You realize it in the pause which ensues, your hands flexing at your sides—the trio of enforcers are waiting for you act. They are waiting for you to rail against them.

It is a test.

But you only smile, doll-like and polite, with a nod of your head, despite how very much you burn inside. ]

Good, then, it is fortunate that it was only a Westie who was killed. Have you nothing else to report?

[ In the end, it is all you can do. This is your true face, the Director who your subordinate had so adored. Even when one of your most treasured and truehearted companions is killed, you have no choice but to smile—you are fragile and you hate yourself for it because you are at fault.

You are the one who killed him, and when you return to find the boy in your office, his body is still warm, and his blood seeps into the fabric of your uniform as you cradle him, close and dear, in your arms.

Before you realize it for yourself, a sob has torn itself from your throat, and you are lost to your mourning. ]

[digophelia]

[ It has to be a construct of her own thoughts and imagination, what she perceived Sion to be. Behind the grief and occasional verbal lashing, she would give him she had a soft spot for the Director. To her, it's her own dream, too, an image she can see of Sion. The lightest footsteps grace the scene as Alice draws her gaze to him and the boy he holds. Feelings are difficult for her to apprehend, but not the feelings of compassion and sympathy, the ones that push her.

And it's stronger because of the fact Sion is so close to her age. He's done so much for his age and seemingly in such a small amount of time. She couldn't help but feel jealous of him, time to time.

He's crying.

Alice had found herself so tired and sore from the grief that she felt like she couldn't cry anymore, not like him. He's so open, even Alice finds herself envying he's even shedding tears to begin with. Not her, she's losing control, she's losing her mind again. ]

Oh, Sion...

[ She still can't touch him or offer him physical comfort, just her words. Her voice, it's softer than she's ever displayed with him. She settles in front of him, her hands folding neatly in her lap. ]

Sion, look at me.

[sunderings]

[ He can't.

The sound of her voice—Sion, look at me—is gentle, its intonations a tenderhearted caress against the cheek, but he cannot look up, away from the body in his arms, all remaining warmth draining from the person he'd come to call his family with the seep of blood which soaks into the carpeted flooring and Sion's uniform, the fall of his hair staining red as it shrouds them both. It is a younger brother who he holds fast to, knowing for himself the boy's hopes and dreams, and in a year's time, they'd walked forward in pursuit of them together only for it to end like this: a life taken away, aspirations gone unrealized, and only one person to blame.

Perhaps Alice can feel it, the despondency which has settled over Sion, his eyes fixed upon the boy's face—why is it that, even in death, his subordinate has chosen to wear a smile?—tears collecting along his jaw to fall upon the body.

Alice, she is close enough to reach out to, her skirts rustling with a whisper of fabric as she hovers before him, and yet--... ]

I did this.

[ ...he would withdraw, were it possible. She should not be here, it's much too dangerous, she'll be hurt too. ]

I killed him, it is my fault.

[ So why should he not look at what his own hands have wrought? He'd been foolish enough to think that the repercussions of his actions would fall upon himself alone; that those beneath him would be safe, if he were to keep them in the dark, shielded from his own pursuit of idealism and equality for all in the Quad. ]

Take your leave of this place, Alice. I could not bear it if you were to meet a similar fate.

[digophelia]

[ Alice can understand the sentiment very well, somewhere deep down. There's a nagging feeling that she's forgetting something. Or someone. For once, Alice doesn't scorn him or push him to move along. She sits patiently there in front of him, with her hands still neatly in her lap. The feeling of despondency is much like her own feelings. ]

You've done nothing wrong, Sion. [ How funny their roles are reversed at this moment and Alice like a fretting mother. ] You're always so hard on yourself, placing the need of others before your own. He wouldn't want this, Sion.

[ Her? Meeting a similar fate? ]

I promise you, nothing will happen to me.

[sunderings]

You cannot keep that promise. The reach of the Company is too great, and I--...

[ He would like to believe in her words, in her voice which is patient and kind, urging him to see those facets of himself he has always been blind to. But the more she speaks, the more he sinks into himself, and the heavier the body in his arms becomes, because there is no escaping it, his own inability. All this time, he'd struggled and he'd fought, rising through the ranks of the Company in order to garner power enough to protect all those he cared for and loved, only to realize that nothing had changed.

He cannot safeguard anyone.

And he is still only the doll that they'd made, playing at diplomacy between the moons of the Quad. ]

Haven't the hands to protect anyone. I could not protect him, nor could I protect you on that night.

[ Shaking his head, he blinks the tears from his eyes, looking up if only to greet Alice with his unwavering, unfaltering decision: ]

Already, I have failed you once, and I would sooner end my own life than have harm befall you because of any association with me.

[ Because Alice—... She is his friend, and his care for her bleeds throughout the room, manifest in the strange auras of green and blue pervasive here, in his office. ]

I am dangerous. Please, I beg of you, leave.

[digophelia]

Why would I leave you?

[ Alice leans in, so unsure of herself of how else to offer comfort and support for him. A man so insistent on fussing over her at every turn, someone who seemed to show more care and support than anyone else higher up for that matter. Jack, of course, like a fussy father. Sion was her peer and it made it different. It gave her more reassurance than she cared to admit. So she nudged herself closer to him, leaning somewhat to get a better look at Sion's face.

She had every intent to show him that she would not budge, stubborn as she was. ]

I have been too cruel to you.

[ She starts to speak, still believing it to be an odd dream or even just a distorted reality. ]

Quite honestly, it upsets me how you fret over me and my well-being. It makes me feel so small at times and I would worry that you saw me so ill that I was unable to care for myself. However-

[ It pains even her to see her cry. ]

I could never leave you, no matter what.

[sunderings]

I never thought you to be incapable, only--...

[ She leans in, and were the circumstance not what it is (a meeting in a dream, something which does and does not feel like reality), she would be close enough such that their foreheads might touch, if only he were to lean forward too. But gold eyes only shy away from green, falling downcast as he searches for the words which he should have said to her in any of their many meetings, perhaps even on that night when he'd whisked Gwen away from Alice's home in Leith: ]

Alone. As I once was. And so, I reached out to you as I reached out to him, but in the end...

[ Abruptly, his tears stop. His voice sobers, going cold in a way it never before has been— ]

My touch is poison, Alice.

[ Potent enough to dissolve away the body in his arms, the boy's limbs, torso, and head dissipating into aetherous particles and mirrorlike fragments, glittering and glinting before they disappear in the blink of an eye, and Sion is left with nothing and no one to hold, only--...

An envelope, addressed to him, though the Director cannot bring himself to open it and read its contents.

Instead, he extends it to Alice, his hands bloodied and trembling. ]

I do not wish to read this.

[ If Alice should open the envelope, inside she'll find a directive meant for him—acclimation training, to be completed to standard, involving the silencing of resistance members said to have overtaken a Company storehouse. ]

If you cannot leave, please take it from me. I don't want to hurt anyone.