SION ASTAL. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunderings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-03-17 08:30 pm
sunderings) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-03-17 08:30 pm
[OPEN] oh, the king
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 )
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 )
canon memory | (give me one day out there)
You turn back to face them with an impossibly bright smile, fond of them, your family made by the bonds of choice. ]
My thanks, for the reminder, and my most sincere apologies for my soon-to-be truancy, but...
[ Hands bracing on either side of the limestone ledge, you pitch your body forward, your foot instinctively finding the window frame to aid with momentum—a pushing off and away—because this is something (and perhaps the only thing) you would ever take for yourself: the freedom to be found in the weightless suspension of freefall. ]
...my heart simply isn't in the right place!
[ Because it has been (and always will be) for the good of the people who crowned you, haling you as the Hero King.
But who knows if your retainers had been privy to the sentiment at all, or the spirited laugh which followed in short suit, for both were likely lost to the wind as you plummeted to the fields blow. It is a daredevil's drop, even for those practiced in magic, but the incantation you weave swaths you in its light, slowing your descent until you are able to land with both feet upon the ground in a seamless dismount.
And again, you run, giving no pause for you should hate to be caught now.
Kicking up blades of grass in your wake, you cavort through the sweeping field, waving, smiling, greeting those groundskeepers closer to the castle's bounds (and you are pleased to be greeted back with a call of "Wᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ!") before you find your way to a quiet enclosure, a secret place where the hillside the castle is perched upon ebbs into the woodland which banks the rest of the Capital city.
It is here that your body finally gives way and you collapse, gasping out a laugh as the earth beneath you becomes a bed of tall grass shaded by the treeline, wildflowers tickling at your limbs and nose as your chest rises and falls, all the vastness of the world burning in your lungs and legs.
But you are not alone.
You become aware of the sound of approaching footfalls, though you bother not to lift your head, golden eyes trained skyward as you wonder who it is that has found you so very quickly after your impromptu departure. ]
Whoever it is that goes there— [ Breathless, still, your cheeks are flushed with hectic (and unusual) color: a glowing gold which speaks to the old magic running through your veins, the reason why your people think you to be Divine, and they are not the only ones. ] —will you not forget your present cause, if only for a little while, and join me here?
[ You do not wish to return to the castle, not just yet. ]
canon memory | (it's such a brutal planet)
You sink and you cannot breathe, air catching in the throat and refusing to reach the lungs. Instead, it is that monster's voice which courses down that pathway inside of you to hum within the great cavity of your chest, reverberate through the vessel of your body, and subsume all that you are because you are Theirs.
You are the marionette which They made, Their personal chasm, the thing which would burn and eat all before it.
«Dᴇᴠᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.» ]
I will not!
[ You refuse with every fiber of your being, defiant of your own design, the equation written to unmake and remake and unmake and remake and unmake again and again and againagainagain until the end of time. Frantic, you are adrone with dread, for you know if this should continue, your consciousness will no longer be your own. You will be the end of your dearest comrades, your family and friends, those who looked to you and followed the path you walked upon as though it were consecrated ground—everything and everyone, all things human and beautiful will disappear, and all because you could not resist.
Because-...
You could not kill the person you loved most of all, the one whose death might have prevented all of this.
Overhead, the color of the sky changes, the dusk which had bled a crimson cast beneath the clouds now imbued with a sickly aura of green, the landscape beneath your feet painted in visceral shades of slow-rotting flesh which can only belong to one place: the Other realm, the monster's den, the beginning where the Gods rose from the hollow of Menoris' back and ravaged the world.
«Cᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ.» ]
I will not walk that path!
[ «Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ.»
The monster's voice booms from the nethermost corners of your chasm-body, the living rupture between worlds, and before your eyes it takes shape.
«Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ...»
Golden eyes (lambent, as your own), white hair (streaking into the darkness), and a face—
«Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.»
—that would convince anyone that you were staring into a mirror-glass. ]
If that is true...
[ You smile, then, rueful, bittersweet, sad, but bright with conviction. ]
...doing away with you will be an easy thing.
[ Like summoning a Sword to your hand, pressing the blade to your throat. ]
The ugly story you created will end here!
[ More than anything, you are sorry that you could not show the people of your country a better world, a kinder place, but if, in this act, you might spare them (everyone) from meeting with too-soon an end, then--...
It will be okay, won't it?
It will be all right.
(And you will be at peace.) ]
OJ memory | (you're gonna miss me when I'm gone)
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. ]
what is this I don't even??? | (high on a hilltop and touching the sky)
There is a pilgrimage to made in the here and now, after all! For no sooner than you enter the palace, you will be greeted by a peerless beauty who is none other than the avatar of the all-powerful (and not to worry, completely benevolent!!) Dango God, and she will hear your wish.
So it is said: if she imparts a blessing upon a mortal after hearing their most truehearted desire, their wish will be granted within a fortnight.
This, of course, begs the question to fall from your lips— ]
Might I ask what you are here to wish for...? As for myself, I haven't decided just yet.
Seriously Sion what is your subconscious? ...wait don't answer that
Because streets and palaces made of dango - and yes, Ryner had stepped in the shouyu. More than once, in fact! - were just too much. This whole place was weird and he was too tired of all this idiocy to care much for it or for the idiot currently talking to him like these wishes were somehow a valid thing.
But that peerless beauty - and really, this whole place made of dango, with this loud and annoying moron included - made his heart hurt for reasons he couldn't understand. It was almost familiar, as if he'd heard someone tell him about this place before...
But it was gone before it could really become a thought, so he just grumbled when the remaining syrup on his boot happened to catch on the floor made of dango and cause him to trip a little. But even if he fell, it would be into dango. That only increased his grumpiness, though.
"You could wish to be less annoying."
no subject
"But if I were less annoying, would I still be me?" Tucking an errant strand of hair back, behind the shell of his ear with an easy grace, Sion looks to the sky above—blue and and without a cloud in sight. "And is this not normal...? If today is a day which is 'unusual', I should hate to awaken to what normalcy is."
Who's an idiot, Ryner? This place isn't weird at all!
"Today... is definitely perfect."
no subject
But it wasn't true, of course. He was just grumbly because of the syrup still covering his boots. The dango was supporting him, but the syrup, as was its entire purpose, adhered to it happily and he fount himself needing to reach down and pull his foot up every few steps.
And Sion was happy, seemingly about all of it. Why wouldn't he be? This place was perfect for him. But it was nice to see the guy walking along with a bounce in his step for once in his life.
"You'd hate to awaken to what normalcy is, huh? Yeah, that seems about right."
Still grumpy, but with an underlying affection. Because yeah, this place really was perfect for Sion, and Ryner didn't dislike it half as much as he was acting like he did. Even with the syrup.
"I don't know if I'd go that far, but at least it's nice out. Can we eat this stuff?"
no subject
With a shake of his head and another breezy laugh, Sion comes to a stop beside the other man, golden eyes seeking out brown as he leans in close, equal parts inquisitive and playfully accusatory when he speaks again, "But... if I did not know better, Ryner, I'd say that you haven't the slightest clue what to wish for, either."
Why else avoid the question, after all?
"Until you make up your mind, shall I carry you along the path? If you weren't preoccupied with being a stick in the mud, I've no doubt that you'd be able to ascertain your heart's desire."
are you tired of me yet
Do you love the trees as well?
never uwu
[ —Sion's voice is a carefree sigh, a smile playing upon his lips in greeting. Shrouded and shaded by a cloak the other man may be, but even so, he could only ever be a friend in this realm and in all others. ]
The heavens dance in their highest boughs, and in their roots rest all of infinity.
[ Lambent eyes drifting closed, the King relaxes, the rise and fall of his chest evening with his every breath until it seems that he has drifted off, into a doze. But while he lies still, the stems and blossoms of wildflowers framing his body, he is still very much awake, aware of the presence beside him: ]
They are the ancient law of life, and it is only within their shade that I might find peace.
[ But what of yourself, Julius? ]
no subject
"Nevermind, I lost my appetite."
No, not really. He was actually pretty hungry, but Sion was going to be weird at him so he figured he might as well just deal with it until he could find something better to eat than the ground he was walking on. The ramifications of doing so upon this place and the happiness of life and all else mattered not one whit to Ryner. But if countless people were treading this path, that'd be pretty gross to put in his mouth anyway.
"I'd like to take a nap. Wading through this stuff is tiring and troublesome. I don't have a wish, though. I didn't come here with the intention of making one. That seems rude, anyway. Just show up to a place and demand favors? From a Dango God? Besides, what wish can she grant that isn't just more dango?"
Always one for philosophical questions, Ryner smirked.
"Is that your heart's desire? To carry me down the path like a damsel in distress? I'm pretty tired, if you want to so badly I'll let you."
AY
Trees are pure. They mean no harm, they commit no crimes... one the most innocent on this world.
[ A slightly different sentiment, but it means agreement. ]
steeples fingers
One might argue that trees are the farthest from 'pure'. Trees are the lungs of the land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people, and by doing so--...
[ Giving pause, Sion opens his eyes, their liquid color seeking out a familiar grey. ]
They become tainted themselves. Corruption becomes trapped in their leaves; in their bark.
[ And then a hand lifts, gently molding to the curve of the other man's jaw in a too-tender touch. ]
But such is the nature of noble and just sacrifice.
this is so gay
[ He doesn't move when Sion touches him, expression firm but not devoid of emotion, merely thoughtful. ]
More humans should be like them.
idk what else you were expecting
[ Here, there is an amused loft of brow, Sion's hand falling away from Julius' face if only to muffle the gentle sound of his own laughter. ]
Trees are human. [ —human, the word falls from the King's lips with a sovereign resonance, a hum which is fathomless, primordial, and deep. ] And all things human are trees.
All living things, be they creatures or plants, are comprised of the very same magic, therefore...! Each and every denizen of Menoris is pure of heart.
[ To begin with, but this the King does not say. ]
ok thats true
Yes, of course. I should not have doubted that.
[ A good place, but by that virtue he cannot stay here lest his curse spreads. ]
no subject
Perhaps Julius has heard them in the streets, the voices of the people who would proclaim "As long as his Majesty Sion Astal watches over the kingdom, we might all find our happiness!"
And so: Roland has transformed into an idyllic kingdom which houses a resilient people and a gentle King, Sion who--...
Seems reluctant to part from his friend, in his state of repose.
(It is as though he fears Julius might fade away.) ]
Mn. That's why this realm needs to be saved. Though the magic which gave life to the trees and the grass, to humans and to love, was woven with sinister intent... [ The intent of keeping both the Hero and his Demon trapped within it it. ] ...it birthed something beautiful. Something precious and in need of protecting.
[ Idle, the King's fingers curl in the fabric of Julius' cloak, seeing purchase there as he speaks with an airy cadence, words falling featherweight and light— ]
One day, all that you see before you will fall into jeopardy, and the only way to ensure its survival will be to end my own life.
[ But he is at peace with it; it's okay, it's all right. ]
So you see, in knowing this, how could I possibly in good conscience take a wife? I tire of the match-meetings my retainers would have me attend. I think I must have fled twenty-some this week alone.
Though... [ A twitch of his lips, a smile as bright as the noonday sun. ] It is the very first time I have absconded from one such engagement only to make a pillow of a dear friend.
no subject
Of course. It is unfortunate that they do not understand.
[ A smile comes difficult to him, but in response is a lightening of his eyes. ]
You deserve to rest.
no subject
(He's glad, that Julius understands. His friend's quiet acceptance grants him strength, too.) ]
And if we are found, will you spirit me away from my none too pleased retainers?
this was so gay that i had to stop going to bed to reply to it
[ After all, to most people, he does not exist. He is a shadow that hides in the forest, a cloaked man with skin of white trees, eyes of golden leaves. ]
I may not be a fast runner, but I will certainly try my best.
no subject
One should be careful what they consent to, Ryner.
"I have long since grown weary of your bemoaning, and if this should quiet you, so be it then." Huffing in play, Sion jostles Ryner with a purposeful shift of weight, wondering if the other man would squawk in his surprise and malcontent. "Take a nap up there, if you should like, but do not discredit the avatar. If she did not wish to hear the pleas and prayers of others, she would surely see the gates of the castle closed, though I wonder..."
Giving pause as they pass through the gates and into the palace courtyard, Sion is greeted by the sight of topiary—endless and sculpted from even more dumplings.
"...if she is not searching for someone, or waiting for a particular wish which might align with her own."
i do try
[ How strange it feels, to echo Julius' own sentiment, the words my time is yours eliciting a measure of uncertainty in the King who is so often just, bold, and decisive on behalf of so very many that he is left bewildered by all matters concerning himself; by this pledge which hasn't been made to the crown he wears, but to the person he is (and will never return to being, once the Hero has woken up). ]
I do not know what it is that I have done to be worthy of such a steadfast, truehearted friend, but I am grateful, Julius. [ From where he lies, Sion seeks to take Julius' hand, palm pressing flush to palm and fingers lacing together in an artful, profound gesture which is somehow as heartbreaking as it is an expression of their camaraderie. ] I am glad for you, and...
[ Here, the King's smile dips into something close to the realm of mischievous: ]
...this tryst of ours. In the days to come, will you continue to meet me here?
no subject
Yep, he was flailing, hands scrabbling for any sort of purchase on Sion's robes to try to get his center of gravity back. Not that it mattered, because Sion had barely paused, and kicking the guy to make him fall down would be more trouble for him than it would for Sion. As usually happened.
"Yeah? I didn't force you to do this, so don't bitch about how tired you are when you made the choice to carry me, you asshole."
And yes, he did indeed squawk at the shift, once again hoping the idiot currently holding him over his shoulder wouldn't somehow see fit to drop him unceremoniously to prove whatever point he thought he was making.
"You're the guy who came up to me and started the conversation, so if you're weary of my bemoaning I'd say that's your own damn fault!"
But he did stop vocalizing his thoughts on this Dango Avatar, since Sion seemed incredibly invested in the whole thing and who was he to destroy a fantasy? He also didn't really care, for the most part. But since he was stuck up here whether he liked it or not, he just sighed. Grumpily.
"I guess, but we can't find that out until we talk to her, right?"
May as well let the guy have his beliefs. Whatever they were.
'tryst'
You have accepted me, despite my curse. That alone is enough.
[ A curse that will one day tear him apart, so he must be far, far away when it happens. But they still have time. ]
I will confine myself to this forest. You know where to find me.
note: julius isn't contesting him
[ His fingers curling about Julius' own in a squeeze, Sion finds that, more and more, the contact feels like a true connection; the completion of a link. ]
It will be our place until our days are done.
[ Eyes falling slowly closed, Sion's lashes fan silver against the curve of his cheek even as a gentle smile—fulfilled but melancholy, happy and yet touched by a sorrowful wish that at least Julius might escape the tragic fate that accompanied his curse—plays upon his lips. ]
...and perhaps even long after that, for I cannot imagine a time when we do not know one another, or a future where we are parted for long.
i'm laughing
[ Said slightly amused while he sits unmoving as if a statue, the motion coming easily to he who would become a tree in time. ]
There is little else I can do save for stay here and wait. I only wish I could have helped more.
no subject
This is--...
Fun, isn't it?
Smiling, Sion crosses the courtyard and ventures up, into the castle's keep, guided along by exquisite dango detailing, the colors and patterns leading the eye to a chamber where, atop a throne of dumplings, sits—
"Ferris Eris."
—the name, somehow, falls from Sion's lips, voiced not from memory but a simple, innate sense of knowing that the Dango Avatar is so, so much more than a figure of mystique, hailed for her generosity and noble pursuit to unearth the most spectacular dumpling recipe in all the reams.
Ferris Eris, she is his friend. Their friend. Someone who had been lost to Sion without him knowing it.
Setting Ryner down, sticky boots once again touching to dango flooring, Sion's voice is quiet, reverent when he pronounces: "I know what my wish is."
no subject
[ Though his eyes remain closed, it is an easy thing, to glimpse the furrow of the King's brow; the disagreement with Julius' words that he needn't voice to make known. ]
How is it that you might have done more? You are here, you are present, and you are the one holding my hand. You...
[ Slowly, but surely, Sion's voice softens, drowsiness finally beginning to claim him: ]
...needn't feel at fault for simply being, Julius.
no subject
Then I will be here.
[ In both senses of the word. The 'with you' is left unsaid but implied. ]
Take a rest. I can wake you later.
no subject
He wakes in Company quarters, golden eyes slitting open and fingers flexing as though he'd expected to have another's hand in his own, his posture curled like there should have been someone there with him. ]
Julius...?
[ —his voice thick with sleep, the Enforcer's name is the first thing to come to mind, though Sion does not understand precisely why.
Still, he is awake, and there is work to do. ]
no subject
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.
And then you went and made this feelsy
Sure, seeing the guy having fun was a good thing, although it could be annoying. But this was decidedly different, and Ryner understood as soon as he turned toward the Dango Avatar.
The sense of familiarity was overwhelming, and for a fleeting second, something like hope bloomed in his chest. That they could stay like this, in this ridiculous place, being idiots if they wanted to be. It felt very far away, but he thought he might be able to see it up close someday, if he worked hard enough.
And so, with nary a complaint, he promptly sat on his ass on the floor. It made the boot situation a lot easier, at least.
"Yeah, me too."
His voice wasn't quite as reverent as that of his dear friend's, but it was certainly close. Ryner himself felt as if he'd somehow been smacked over the head with the knowledge of who she was, who Sion was, and he was afraid that if he breathed just a bit too hard, it would all disappear.
no subject
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.
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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.
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[ 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.
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[ 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.
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[ 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.