Kanda Yû (神田ユウ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lotusmesenpai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-01-12 11:24 pm
lotusmesenpai) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-01-12 11:24 pm
[closed] Hold these secrets inside my mind, like a deadly disease
Who: Kanda, Lavi, Sion, & Ravus
Where: Kanda & Lavi's ship
When: Week 3, Day 3
Summary: Lavi and Kanda pick up a quick, easy warrant. Only with their luck, it's not so quick and even less easy - especially when faced with unexpected reunions.
Restrictions/Warnings: Language, as always, because Kanda.
Where: Kanda & Lavi's ship
When: Week 3, Day 3
Summary: Lavi and Kanda pick up a quick, easy warrant. Only with their luck, it's not so quick and even less easy - especially when faced with unexpected reunions.
Restrictions/Warnings: Language, as always, because Kanda.
Fantastic Four
Easy joy.
All they had to was refuel Noah at Intake and wait for their 'precious cargo' to arrive.
So here he is, waiting in the rec room, two firearms disassembled on the table before him. Because, for Kanda, the motions are sure, relaxing. Break a weapon down to the smallest pieces, clean each with focused care, and then reassemble with the same care.
But even that doesn't negate the impatience he feels, or hide the ghosts he can see flitting along the edges of his sight.
It'd be nice, if the bastards would just arrive already...]
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When he had first heard his elder brother had issued a warrant to see to their safe transport to Leith, Sion had first thought the precautionary measure to be excessive, but in the here and now (where Sion precedes Ravus, though he is ever-aware that the arrangement is not to his brother's preference, for Ravus is a man who would have liked to scrutinize every aspect of the ship—craft and Killjoy alike—before boarding, were there only the time) such thoughts have all but gone from mind.
Ahead of him: a mission to see to on Leith (and a favor done, on behalf of an old friend), as well as--...
A carefree glance back, over his shoulder, his eyes falling first upon Ravus, whose expression hasn't changed once since their arrival at the docks: ]
You should not look so sullen when standing on such a fine vessel, Ravus.
[ ...then shifting seamlessly to their escort, the reclamation agent with hair the color of flame and a smile which flickered just as brightly. ]
Was there not meant to be an additional agent present today? [ —Sion's voice lilts with a light air of play, the very same he'd used to address Ravus. Most would deem such behavior ill-fitting for a Company man (and perhaps it is), but for Sion, it is as natural as breathing. ] Or should I offer my most sincere apologies that you will be the only man tasked to escort both my brother and I to Leith?
Sion + Kanda
...to Kanda's personal quarters, the room unlocked as though the other man hadn't accounted for the prying of guests. But as much is rather unlikely, isn't it? Kanda, who is militant in all things—from the spartan decoration of the cabin to hangers spaced in strict regiment—would not have overlooked even so small a detail, were he operating at even two-thirds capacity.
(Kanda, who had looked upon him as though he were a ghost... Could the man's pallor be attributed to something else?)
Idly, Sion wonders at the man's travels—where he'd been stationed before accepting Ravus' warrant; the life he'd lead after being pronounced dead—brow furrowing lightly in concern as he stops at the bedside, his fingers smoothing over fresh linens as he lifts his eyes, his gaze falling upon the sole decoration of the room: Mugen.
His murmur after that is quiet, intended for no one but himself: ] ...it is as though you never left that place.
Sion + Lavi
When he speaks, he wears a soft smile, his tone nothing if not measured and polite: ]
Far be it from me to intrude, but I fear we were not properly introduced.
[ But there is something else to say, isn't there? ]
I... also feel as though I owe you an apology.
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He isn't familiar enough to identify which of their guests it is without looking, but it hardly matters. Both of those men seem to be relics of a past that Yu would rather see left buried under the sands of time.
Lavi has every intention to respect that wish.
Yet it seems he has little choice in the matter. Attention drawn away from the wing-like pages open in his lap, Lavi tilts his head back, verdant gaze narrowing briefly before his characteristic smile spreads. ]
Hn? Nah. No worries. We're all good.
[ Lavi really doesn't understand why the other man thinks an apology is owed, but in this instance, he's not interested in pursuing the line of questioning either. Too potentially personal, too likely to bring up inquiries about the nature of Yu's relationship with this apparition of the past.
(Or worse; with the watcher of the past he now calls partner.)
Better then to focus on that first part of the man's words--minced introductions. Head dropping back down, he makes a mental note of his current page and closes the book gently, adding it to one of the chaotic piles around him. Turning in his seat, he waves a hand lightly, empty grin still gripping his lips. ]
I'm Lavi. Lover of babes, books, and bounties. You?
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Normally, he doesn't have to secure his room, because normally their guests aren't people that knew him or would dare to enter his personal space after giving them a quick rundown of the ship.
Normal, however, is the very last word that can describe this day or their guests, and so Kanda's return trip through Noah reveals all too empty corridors and living areas. Instead, his quiet, measured steps bring him to his open quarters. There he stands, silent, as Sion steps closer to his bed, stares at the sword hanging on the wall above it.
Dark brows furrow as Kanda steps into the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back as he watches this memory invade his present. And then he sighs, the sound only mildly annoyed.]
Moron. You haven't changed much either.
[A beat, as he shrugs.]
Stop saying stupid things already.
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Well, perhaps it still leaves something to be desired.
(Who would respond 'moron' as though it were a term of endearment, after all?!) ]
Shall I say, instead, that I am happy to see you? [ That he has never once thought of himself as Kanda's savior, but as something far more selfish: a friend. ] Or that...
[ Something even stupider, confessed wholeheartedly and without delay: ]
Though I hadn't expected our paths to cross for a second time, I believe we stand together now for a reason.
no subject
Ah? Might I ask which category our mutual acquaintance falls into, then?
[ A silvered brow lofted high, Sion closes the distance between himself and the other man with an air of grace, a measured step, and a silent laugh upon his lips as they curve into a gentle smile full of warmth. ]
A pleasure to meet you, Lavi, and I should hope that we've the chance to convene again under better circumstance. [ —and in this sentiment, he is earnest, because regardless of what the other man perceives him to be, he is no simple figment of the past, but a fool intently focused on the present, his eyes turned the people before him. To Lavi, whose smile is impassive, rather reminding him of a sleepy-headed man who cared only for books, immersing himself in research and text so that he might one day come to forget the world (and the suffering) of those who surrounded him.
But then, Lavi is not that man. ]
I am Sion, Sion Astal, Company administrator for Westerley, though I once was of Leith... [ Head cant, to the side. He is nowhere near so exciting as to possess a trifecta of interests, but perhaps as much will suffice: ] ...my favorite color is blue?
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[Stepping further into the room, Kanda crosses over to the dresser opposite the bed, leans back against it, arms crossed over his chest. He sighs and glances towards the door, then back to the man before him.
Now that the shock of it has worn off, now that he can stop and really look at the man before him... Sion's still sporting that idiot smile and unwavering optimism. How the man can have that while working for the Company, he can't begin to understand.]
The reason we're here is because the Company [A sneer slips into place at the name, his distaste obvious] issued a warrant and we accepted. Still.
It's an opportunity, I guess.
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[ And Sion Astal would not and could not stand for such a thing. That sort of existence—hollow and bereft of joy, of all the color and sound to be found in the worlds surrounding—he would wish to save anyone (everyone) from it. Perhaps that is why he hasn't broken yet, his smile remaining true, his eyes still boyishly bright: regardless of how many times his hand has been forced, made to submit to Company order, he clings to the good which will someday come of it.
(The change he would give anything for.)
Where Kanda shifts, resting against the dresser in a guarded stance (amazing to him still, how the man always managed to cloister himself away with so very little space between them), Sion takes the liberty of sinking down, atop the mattress of the bed, intent upon staying put—at least, for the next while. ]
Will you not believe in something other than the Company? [ —says the man dressed in Company black, the color robbing all warmth from his skin. ] Let something, anything else be your reason.
[ His smile wanes, after that, tempering into something wistful; melancholy. ]
… We both know, after all, that the "you" and "I" in the here and now are present if only because of your own stubbornness; your inability to part from a fight.
[ Even at the expense of himself and others.
How badly Kanda had been hurt, on that day. ]
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[Pausing at that, Kanda's frown deepens, throat working to swallow past the sudden dryness there, the pain the memory evoked even after all this time.
Having to cut down his only friend, not once but twice, to protect people like Sion from that boy's madness, from the rage and hate that had consumed every last shred of humanity left him, and all because of the mechanization of the Company - the experimentation of the Nine - is a scar that runs deep. One that never fully heals.
One that Sion's very presence re-opened with the ease of the sharpest blade.]
More would have died that day, had it not been for my 'stubbornness' - you included, most like. So no. I can't just let what the Company did go. They did that to him. Destroyed him. And then made me end it.
[There's a harsh undercurrent of rage in the eerily calm, quiet words at the end, unblunted even after all this time.
And yet, as he stands here now, staring back at Sion... it seems to smother a little bit, bank itself until the chaotic feelings are back under his control, enough so he can breathe again, at least. Closing his eyes for a moment, he takes a slow series of breaths, head turning slightly towards the door when he hears the distant tenor of Lavi's voice, Noah's answer, and the dry laughter from his partner that follows.
This sliver of normalcy grounds him all the more, lets him open his eyes and turn a calm gaze on his guest once more.
Lets him meet such a clear, unwavering gaze with a more hard-won one of his own.
Everything Sion's eyes had seen back then, everything they've had to have seen since and yet they're still crystal clear, unclouded by the corruption of time or the reality around them. It's unexpected, and yet unsurprising.
It frustrates Kanda and annoys him all at once, and he can't say exactly why - though he thinks it might have something to do with the weird things he says while looking like that.]
What the hell do you mean - reason for what?
no subject
As with all interactions, he adjusts to make himself more appealing, to offer his ear as a conduit for secrets not yet given.
Though this interaction stands as an outlier--for even though he turns his body to face Sion better and meets that warm smile with a mirror image, he steadfastly chooses not to look.
Not to pry.
It's an action, or rather a form of inaction, which speaks volumes of the murky boundaries between bookman and friend. If he would stop to give it serious thought, he might notice how readily he's forsaken the duty to his clan for reverence of his partner, but as with most emotions striking too close to home, he pushes the thought aside.
Not the place, not the time. Later, all of that can be dealt with later.
For now, he studies Sion himself, chin canting to the side as he mulls over the strange lilt to the man's speech. Unusual syntax structure, one which suggest regional dialect and yet not something he's heard on Leith. Clearly a moneyed individual, but one which has ended up in the Quad's dregs with his current assignment. Interesting. ]
Blue is a good color. And Yu is definitely a babe, though I guess he could be used to bludgeon someone like a book. [ Long finger tapping his chin to give the impression of considering, Lavi offers a one-sided shrug before his brows shoot up in epiphany.
He really shouldn't make the man stand there without at least feigning an attempt at being accommodating.
Fortunately, although Lavi seldom has company within the sanctuary of his office, the copilot's chair is slightly less inundated with his work. ] Here. Lemme' get this stuff out of your way.
[ Reaching across, Lavi sweeps a stack of papers off the seat and sets them on the console, shuffling books around this way and that way to make room. ] Sorry. I don't get a lot of visitors up here. Did ya wanna take a seat?
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he does not expect to be chided sion for looking sullen, for not exchanging pleasantries with the reclamation agent, though it does not show on his face except for a slight arch of one brow. ] I find no need to compliment every vessel I set foot on, to do so would strip the sentiment of meaning.
[ his gaze shifts to the agent then, waiting for the answer to his brother's question. if sion hadn’t leveled the question his way, then he would have done it himself. though, without the apology. ]
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It's a set up which works to their individual strengths; Lavi with the silver tongue, Yu with the sharp blade to match it.
As such, he's also rather accustomed to explaining the other man's absence at these gatherings. Hands casually stowed inside the pockets of his jacket, the redhead beams pleasantly at the odd-couple siblings, light laughter on his lips. ]
Nah, not at all. Think of me like the welcomin' committee. Other guy is probably doing something really manly somewhere on the ship.
[ For their evident love of Noah, he pays the ship no mind--once seen, he seldom needs to inspect an object a second time in person, and for him, there's nothing impressive or particularly out of the ordinary about the vessel. It's "home" to him, and until he completes his current log as Lavi, it will remain as such.
After that point, it doesn't much matter. But still he hopes it might end up in the hands of someone like Sion (referred to in his head as Brother A). Someone who gives the old girl her due respect.
Following them into the cargo bay, he takes a brief pause to instruct the AI to close the ramp, fingers tapping idly on the screen with thoughtless repetition. They don't tend to do a lot of escort warrants where the escorted individual(s) are allowed free roam, but when they do, the customary tour is always next on the agenda.
Fingers locking behind his head, Lavi steps around them to take lead. ]
C'mon, I'll show you around.
[ First stop: the rec-room where, as predicted, Yu is cleaning his weapon, like the manliest man to ever man. ]
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Kanda has just begun to tread upon it, hasn't he, the path which Sion himself could not walk.
Though...! There is, perhaps, another far more pressing (and humorous) worry waiting yet to be addressed: Kanda's propensity for being thoroughly dense (and often at the most questionable of times).
Kanda, don't you know...? ]
You reason for being.
[ —is Sion's answer, accompanied by a thoughtful lowering of white lashes over golden eyes. As much should have been obvious, but then, as Sion shifts atop the mattress, glancing to the sword which hangs as decoration for the second time, he knows in his heart that Kanda (his friend) will be just fine, even if...
He cannot pretend to agree with the man, that the life of someone held dear had to end by Kanda's own blade.
(However far away someone may have wandered; their being eroded, their sense of self gone, even then... their heart remained. Even when the smallest part of a person remained intact, if that flame managed to stay lit in the darkness, that person would not disappear. This, Sion believes more than anything.) ]
You know... I think I found my own on that day. I failed you. [ Failed many, despite his promises to protect them. ] I should have been strong enough to save the both of you, and yet...
[ At that time, his hopes had turned to ash in his mouth, the taste bitten back with a grimace when a knife had found its way into his gut, then refused entirely (spit back out), when it came time to spare the one person who deserved freedom more than anyone else.
Kanda, who had been the very first person to dislike him. Kanda, who could change and has, albeit in slow degrees and increments. ]
I could not, and I never had the chance to say that I am sorry.
no subject
Easy joy.
He just has to keep telling himself that, right?
Still, he's glad Lavi's here to be the one having to deal with this latest round of Company leeches, even if it means retreating towards the paper-bombed office otherwise known as Noah's bridge.
Resigning himself to this fate as steps draw ever nearer, Lavi's offer of a tour the last warning he'd receive. Standing up, Kanda secures the battery pack to each of the hand guns, holds them up, one inverted, and uses the sights on each to pull the two against each other to activate the charge for them both as three sets of steps enter the rec-room.
There's a satisfying snick of metal sliding smoothly into place before he flicks the safety on and slides both firearms into into the holsters on his thighs, not bothering to look up to greet their guests.
Instead, he bends down, starts pulling cleaning supplies back into swift order, the long fall of his ponytail sliding over a shoulder.]
We're leaving in five, Lavi. Already have clearance to leave so soon as you finish the tour, we can clear the fuck out. I'm tired of waiting.
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[ And upon setting apart the books and papers, ensuring that the balance of both will be maintained, Sion regards Lavi with an artful cant of his head, a hum of realization upon his lips: ]
You're kind. [ —he says easily, naturally, with all the certainty that one might say water is wet and the sky is blue. ] First, caring to absolve me of my trespasses without first hearing an apology. Then, making room for me.
[ Now then, what sort of guest might he be if he did not take a seat where his host had so cleared went out of their way? Sinking down into the copilot's chair, Sion sits tall with shoulders broad, commanding without precisely meaning to be. ]
Kind... [ In a distant way, like fern frost clinging the outside of a windowpane—cold, partitioned by glass, but in need of the warmth on the other side to flourish and to grow. This, Sion feels, is the nature of Lavi's smile. ] ...but also exceedingly stupid, perhaps brave.
[ A turn of head, a rather pointed glance: ]
I have never heard anyone refer to Kanda as a 'babe'.
[ Here, he laughs, the sound featherweight and light, muffled with a polite back of hand— ]
Tell me, how did you meet him?
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[Kanda, too, turns his gaze to Mugen, his thoughts on the chaos of that day still - though the sounds of his everyday world around him enough to keep him anchored more firmly in this present, this future granted him by the man before him.
Even so, some things are easier to say when you're not looking directly at the person that has had such an impact on your life - the very ones that has broken the chains that had held you down. Some things are easier to say to a sword that represents who you'd been and who, deep down, so much of you still remained to be.]
It was never your place to save either of us. Not me and certainly not him, but... you did.
[Shoving off the dresser, Kanda crossed the distance in a few short strides, to curl a firm grip in Sion's lapel, give it a slight shake as he glares down at the man, his expression stony once more. Because that apology?
Complete bullshit.
Sion's regret in this, to him, is utterly misplaced. It's selfish in a way that Kanda can almost understand, but even so.
EVEN SO. ]
So what the hell do you mean, you couldn't? [Fist clenching all the more, his scowl deepens as he points to the sword that so distracts them both.] I haven't had to use that since that day. The day you gave me a chance to actually live at your own expense, you bastard, so don't think for one fucking second that I'll accept that bullshit apology.
[The day Kanda lost something dear and gained something he'd never expected. A future. One free of military control, one free of being a weapon pointed blindly at an enemy, unleashed to slaughter. He'd hung his sword up that day, the first step away from the soldier, even if so much of the other mannerisms remained.]
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Occupation-borne paranoia tightens the muscles in his neck, sets his smiling jaw a little more rigid.
But the moment, as they are so wont to do, fades without incident. The bookman relaxes, stretching at length, legs crossing and draping over the controls console in well-worn habit to miss the most important buttons. (Noah, likewise programmed by this habit, ignores any errant input brought about by his lazing.)
You’ve got a strange idea about kind, he thinks, brow slightly tilting up in question and stalling. He’s never quite gotten used to people being so forthright when he’s done little to arrange it, but he’ll accept a compliment where he can get it.
Exceedingly stupid or brave, at least, he’s heard before, and rewards as much with soft laughter, hands coming up behind his head to lock fingers and serve support for his twisted spine. ]
Little bit of both, probably. More one or the other depending on who you ask.
[ Though he’s heard more than a fair few call Kanda ‘babe’, if not decidedly more colorful notes about his appearance. Bars and seedy alleys don’t tend to frequent the most elegant tongues, though Kanda is often willing to charitably volunteer for reshaping them forcibly. Usually with his sword.
Likewise, it’s not the first time he’s been asked how he came to know the mercurial man, though it’s the first time he’s been asked without a distinct note of disbelief or exasperation. (Usually it’s more along the lines of, “What crime did you commit in your past life to get this guy as a partner?” to which Lavi often answers, “All of them.”)
The answer is thus easily supplied, almost mechanically delivered from ever-grinning lips and a casual tongue. ]
I was new to the area and needed a team, he was new to people and needed a team. The usual boy meets boy, boy prevents boy from shooting people, y’know how it goes.
[ He lifts a hand from behind his head to wave it emphatically, gaze turning away from Sion to look into the great cosmos gently passing by the viewing pane. ]
I’d ask you the same but the answer is clear enough. [ And he doesn’t want to know more than that, as is. ] Still, funny bit of luck, us picking you up. Lots of people running from the fire, not too many running towards it.
[ Lavi hums, considering, turning his head to return that pointed look belatedly. ] Guess I’m not the only one who’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, eh?
1/2
But should sentiment not be expressed precisely in the instant when it takes a man by the heart? It is by far better, I think, to voice one's feelings in the present, to the people who matter now, instead of waiting to do so in the future, for...
[ Voice quieting, he is the first to step into the hold of the ship, finding himself taking silent inventory of crates and bulk cargo before he can stay the old habit, his eyes adjusting to the artificial light; his ears tuned to the hum of the vessel, the boarding ramp rising to close behind them.
And as their escort takes the lead, the man's arms lifted in an easy stretch, his hands coming together as a cradle for the back of his head, Sion is gently amused, perhaps relieved, to know that both he and his brother have both well and truly stepped into neutral territory. Though Reclamation Agents cannot be said to be friends of the Company, neither are they a directly opposing force—in this moment, Sion is able to relax (as much as he will ever be able to), following the steps of another. ]
...who knows, after all, what tomorrow has in store.
[ And what awaits them upon Leith, where reports of infection have escalated, leaving the other moons to look on in fear and awe, the Company deploying its officers for the sake of maintaining stability and order, while Sion...
(Sion, he means to pass a message to one, safeguard another, and to aid where he can.) ]
Though I would be grateful, if we've the good fortune of being received by an equally warm welcoming committee upon Leith. [ A thoughtful pause, a playful step, an inquisitive cant of head. ] But I wonder...
What might constitute as 'really manly'?
2/2
(The very last time he'd heard such a voice had been in the thick of a bloodied battle which would have no winners, only survivors, and the fleeting hope that the one at the center of it all might have the chance to live for something better.) ]
… Yu Kanda.
[ Ironic, that the one with the girly face so too boasts the sailor's mouth; the alacrity to clean and assemble a rifle in less than a minute's time. ]
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[ Kanda seizes the lapel of his coat, and Sion's eyes flash wide with surprise (less at the action, more at the surge of sentiment behind it), the gold of them shining and bright and just a little too empty; a touch too addled with the concept of kindness and good, that which he offered so readily to those who surrounded him. "It is as though you want to save us, Sion", someone had said to him, once upon a time, "all of us. Everyone. From fate which only you are able to see, and I wonder if the only reason you are able to say all of these things is because you tried your own hand at destruction once."
(Her voice rings in his head, though he cannot place her name or face, only the way her words had washed over him, leaving his heart bare and his eyes wet with tears.)
With a shake of his head (disagreement), Sion's own stubbornness ventures into the foray, a hand lifted to clasp Kanda's own, his fingers curling into a squeeze— ]
I needed to say it, all the same. [ Even if Kanda could not (would never) accept his apology, it had been owed and long past due. At that time, it had been his duty to protect his comrades and--... ] Of course it was my place, to intervene.
Before my eyes, I saw two people who were suffering. Two, who should never have been fighting to begin with, and I was the one who failed to prevent that sort of hell.
[ Kanda, the face you made as you fought him... it was as though you were tearing your own soul asunder. ]
How... could I not want to save the both of you?
[ And how he could still not wish to atone for that day? ]
My heart is glad beyond belief that you and I are able to meet as men who have chosen their own paths, but I cannot forgive my own inability, and that is why...
[ His posture is at ease, gentle as something inexplicably sad colors his smile. ]
… I want to change everything, Kanda. And I will fight to do it. You are the one person I wished to speak of this to.
[ A wish gone unrealized, until the moment their paths had crossed for a second time. ]
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[ Perhaps amused, the laugh does not fade from Sion's voice, his smile colored by fondness (enamored by the idea of 'boy meets boy', the scenario plays without pause in his mind's eye, giving rise to memories: good ones, where Kanda's aloof disposition and ill-temperament gave color and life to an otherwise barren existence) and umasked intrigue. Lavi is... an incredible sort of person, he thinks. Protective of others (his partner) and of himself (by virtue and by nature, to be a Reclamation Agent is to be the essence of neutrality, but Sion cannot help but wonder if there is more to the way Lavi dares not to hold his gaze for long), Lavi keeps his distance through a brisk manner of cheer, with ease that is commendable, and posture which...
...is delightful, really, to the Director. To Sion, who would not even think to dream of kicking up his feet to rest atop his desk, Lavi is something close to "cool" and free of spirit. ]
I simply go where I am needed; the people of Leith are suffering, and if I am able to aid them, I will.
[ And then, there is Sion himself, the Company man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Someone who is honest, forthright to a single point, for no being alive is without their secrets, and Sion keeps them where he seeds a need to protect; where it would be a burden to others, to know the truth, and so he weathers it alone in silence. ]
In times of crises, what people are most in need of is an ally. As such, the Company will stand by Leith, and I will stand beside the good men and women on the ground. The administration should not remain sequestered away within Old Town's command post.
[ Not when so very, very many have been deployed and put within that fire's reach.
Still, Sion follows Lavi's line of sight, golden eyes fixed upon the viewing pane and all that lay beyond— ]
In any case, my heart is glad that Kanda has found an ally in you, and yourself one in him.
[ 'Needing a team' and being 'new to people'... both are crises in their own way, are they not? ]
Lavi— [ Here, he cants his head to the side, the long fall of his hair cascading down, over his shoulder as his smile gentles with an easy, natural extension of camaraderie: ] I would like for you to know... that you may call me 'ally' as well, if you wish.
no subject
He can still see the anger and hate - and in the end, the tears and lingering warmth - in a cerulean gaze.
He could remember that pained tone in this man's voice, echoed softer now in the quiet space between them, the way blood had bloomed on a once pristine uniform beneath Sion's damnable smile, the memory made worse with the ghost pressure in his hand that still knows the feeling of how deep his blade burying itself in not just Sion, but the weight of piercing over and over through the heart he'd most cherished, each rending of flesh shredding his own soul until the other's breath had stopped.
Until he'd thought what was left of his humanity had shattered...
That pain was no less now, a mere three years later, but it was tempered by something else.
Someone else, even if he didn't have the strength of courage yet to see it.
And yet, in this moment... he can only swallow hard around the thickness in his throat, grit his teeth against the rekindled hopelessness of that day, grounded now by this person in front of him, the hand warm and sure around his own.
It's a lifeline, this thing called touch.
Something that threads the tie of bonds deep within one's soul. So maybe that's why, rather than address the last, he simply lets out a shuddered breath, the clear ebb and flow of emotions roiling so plainly in his expression calming for a moment as he shifts his grip enough to let go the cloth beneath his fingertips but not the hand still gripping his.
Instead, he shifts to sit beside Sion, shoulder to shoulder, to turn the hand over his so he could trace the pale line of veins across the back of it with his free hand. And when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough with a mix of emotions that he cannot hope to grasp or understand just yet.]
...If you had to say it, and I have to accept it... then I have no choice but to do the same. So... [Canting his head to the side, sky blue seeks out that golden gaze as he lifts that hand, taps the knuckles lightly to his chest, then his forehead before releasing it with an uncharacteristic gentleness.]
Thank you, Sion. You saved me from myself and from those people that day, and I owe you this much at least. My thanks, for my life to live on my own terms.
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Years ago, when he'd said goodbye to the other man (and good luck), Sion could have never foreseen this: a day when they'd come together again (though how he'd hoped, how he'd wished), a time when Kanda would hold his hand with such gratitude and gentleness. Caught by surprise (and beneath the weight of such an acknowledgement), Sion's expression goes blank with shock; with distress as his chest constricts, his (damnable) smile becoming a flickering, unreadable thing. Hearing the words thank you leaves him as overjoyed as he is overwhelmed; as happy as he is pained. Having impacted Kanda (his comrade, his friend) in such a way is the highest honor, the greatest gift, and yet... it aches.
Aches, in stark contrast to the ginger way his knuckles touch to Kanda's chest, his forehead, in a giving and receiving of acceptance—of faith. And if Sion closes his eyes, his brow furrowed in focus when he does, he can feel that lifeline: the warm weight of Kanda's hand beyond the pain he exists in (that constant thrum of agony, the side effect of human experimentation).
Unbidden, tears prick at the corners of his eyes, leaving them glassy, over-bright as they re-open, his newly-freed hand pressing flat over his own heart, gold locking with the blue of the horizon with certainty, because--...
There is only one thing left to say, isn't there? ]
You are most welcome, my friend. [ Tears streaking in twin-trails down his cheeks, he gives a nod of his head, the fringe of his hair bouncing lightly with the motion. ] What happens now, and what happens next, you will be the one to decide it.
[ And that is all which Sion could wish for anyone, the freedom to pursue their happiness. The choice to be precisely where they wanted to, living wholeheartedly and thoroughly unabashed.
Kanda... this is okay, isn't it?
Still side-by-side, Sion shifts in to connect shoulder with shoulder, using his weight to bump and to jostle as a reminder of something which shouldn't need to be voiced, but when knowing the other man... ]
And it would do you well to remember that you are not alone, in the meantime.
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Of all the Company snakes he’s yet met, he’s certain that Sion’s is among the sweetest hisses he’s heard.
A snake, however, he remains. For all the warmth and apparent emotion within this man, Lavi sees an enemy harbored inside a Company uniform, a heart that--however sincere now--will eventually be maimed by the forces of reality at work within the Quad.
By the wars that will surely spill the blood of those ‘good men and women’, of innocent and guilty alike, on the soft loam soon to be inundated with the nutrients of fresh corpses.
He knows not when that event will occur, only that it will, for it is this reason alone that “Lavi” exists within this capacity. To fulfill the first record of becoming a soldier rather than a bystander, allied to nothing but gleaning the truth.
So for that offer of apparent friendship, Lavi responds as he always has and will: with a glittering smile and breath not held, laughing warm and with a touch of nervousness in response. ]
Thanks. Same here.
[ --he glances away from the interplay of stars and distant planets, gaze sharpening for a moment when the length of silver hair seems to shorten and the eyes glow a cooler shade of lavender washed sterling.
affection, of the rare and undoubtedly dangerously sincere variety wells up in his throat with a painful lump--
The image fades between one confused blink and the next, a wide-eye peering into golden pools that resemble nothing of the moonlight seen before. Lavi shakes his head to dispel the mildly open expression, rubbing a hand down the length of his face and bidding the illusions to give him just a few more moments.
They’re getting more frequent, these dreams woven into reality. Eager to redirect his attention away from the anxiety of his growing instability, he downplays it internally--as he so often does--deciding that he certainly needs to sleep more if he’s seeing colors wrong.
If he’s feeling a ghost of an emotion he’s surely never had. ]
Um--but yeah, that’s nice of you to say. Anyone on Yu’s good side can count themselves on mine too.
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The words, both given and received, still do not feel like enough to clear the debt between them so far as Kanda's concerned - but he's grown enough not to voice that now, at any rate.
Because he's sure, given the strain of emotion behind Sion's understanding and affirmation about his own future, that the admission would be ill received.
Instead, he jostles the other back with a short bark of laughter, before his gaze betrays him, automatically cutting up towards the bridge before darting back, as if to cover the slip.]
So it seems, at least for now.
[He pauses at that, then attempts to deflect from the cryptic words by focusing the next on Sion himself.]
Though this doesn't make me like the Company any more, you can request us for a contract any time. And no, social dinners do not count as contracting unless there's soba involved.
[That's right, Sion. He still eats it three meals a day. Nothing's going to take his soba from him.]
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Love, for a comrade, which Sion glimpses in a single wide eye, green projecting something guileless, something true, instead of reflecting the Director's warm and open candor. Lavi, are you...?
All right? Sion asks by way of gesture alone, his arm extended before he'd fully realized it for himself, his fingertips touched lightly to Lavi's shoulder in fleeting contact, there and gone after offering a moment of steady reassurance. ]
Whoever it is you were thinking of—[ Hadn't been Sion himself, nor anyone the Director had ever known, and yet... of one thing, he is certain: ] —must be important to you. Someone far more nice, and far more kind than I.
[ And it's wonderful, that Lavi should have such a good memory of a friend, even if its traces are subsequently wiped clean from his face with the palm of his hand. Lavi is just that sort of person, Sion realizes, one who would have to be reached out to time and time again until a day arose when--...
The need for a clean face (a blank slate) is no longer needed. ]
For I am a selfish man, you see. If I am to be on someone's 'good side', I would like to earn the privilege for myself. Someday...
[ —he trails off after the admission, though 'selfish' seems a word which hardly suits him. What is it that he could want for? ]
...I hope to know you, Lavi. You've many stories to share, I'm sure of it.
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So then, what do those cryptic words mean? They are much too pensive—too broody—for someone like Kanda who burns so very brightly, and so...! ]
Do not be so ominous, it hardly suits you. [ A scoff, as he rights himself, palms pressing to the mattress (his hand, lowering from his heart) as he makes to shove off of the bed, finding his feet with an easy bounce and swing, his weight shifting between the toebox and heel of his feet. ] For someone so easily vexed by the presence of others...
[ A light as air laugh, silvered and bright, because what he says next is only of the utmost truth: ]
You really do draw people in, you know. [ When first we met, something about your scowl... just made me want to reach out all the more to you. ] And that's why you'll be my guest at many a social dinner.
[ A considering hum, a tap of his chin as he glances back, over his shoulder, eyes bright and grin decidedly cheeky. ]
Soba in a dashi broth... topped with crispy tempura and garnished with scallions...?
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The entire train of thought, contemplations he’s never taken the time to dwell on, is swiftly derailed with Sion’s insane assessment. People were intimidated by his scowls, practically feared his glares, and usually ran the moment his hands strayed down to the hilt of his side-arms.
They did not attempt to draw closer, unless they were idiot rabbits or idiot nobles that tended to wear their emotions on their damned sleeves.]
What the hells? Maybe you’re the one out your damned mind.
[Shaking his head, Kanda abruptly pushes to his feet with a glare, expression twisting to a mix of interest and distaste all at once.]
Soba, I can accept. Dealing with a whole room full of idiots like you? [Making a face, a hint of a smirk peeks through.] Pass.
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No, for this creature whose memory is like a vault of secrets and lives never his own, he turns away from that lingering sense of nostalgia. Banishes it somewhere too far and too removed to become personal.
(Even so, his chest aches, the space between his ribs and lungs abraded with the sensation of sand rolling across tender tissues between each breath.)
Lavi's expression stays neutral, caught between the incessant friendliness of one persona and the guarded wariness of another. Whoever that person was, if they truly existed at all, must have been anything but important, for them to have disappeared so quickly from his memories.
(Probably, he tries to rationalize, one of the soldiers he's encountered in his many wars, someone who had ultimately become a mere footnote in the annals of history.)
"...You've many stories to share, I'm sure of it."
Yes, he thinks, wry smile twisting at his lips, but they're not meant for you. ]
Sure. [ --easily delivered, as always, his hand hovering at his chin as if in readiness to clean his expression again-- ] I'm a cheap date. Get me half-edible food and I'll talk your ear off anytime.
[ But he'll say nothing when he does. He'll speak and words will form like spells to cast an illusion of communication, obscuring pleasant nothings and almost-somethings in a veil of geniality.
He yawns, exaggerating his movements, hand twisted so that his mouth is concealed by the backs of knuckles. It's not entirely subtle, the cue, but nothing about this interaction strikes him as subtle to begin with. ]
Think I've been reading too long. I'm gonna grab some shut eye, unless you needed somethin'..?
[ Politely: stop emoting, he's running away now. ]