abraxaslogs | How many times must we tell the tale?

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How many times must we tell the tale?

WHO: Istredd and anyone!
WHAT: May post-event aftermath
WHERE: Thorne, Horizon
WHEN: May
WARNINGS: Nothing!

Starters Below!

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Istredd comes back with a heavy weight on his shoulders that appears to be weighing him down emotionally and even physically. He doesn't carry himself with his usual calm and quiet self-possession. He looks tired, circles under his eyes despite spending much of his time in bed that first week back. Perhaps because he is lying down but not sleeping, since his dreams are all of flying and glorious bookshelves now, which he wakes up to find yet again, it was all fake.

He takes a few days off his usual teaching of classes, staying in his room and avoiding people. He is available for visitors as he's not leaving and seems painfully taking notes about the experience. Sometimes there is a redness to his eyes, indicating his emotions have led to tears at least once, but he tries to be as stoic as possible for guests.

After a week, Istredd is back to classes and visible around the castle. He goes to the mess hall, visits the library, and at least attempts conversation with people like usual. There is an emptiness in his eyes though, a flat tone to his voice, and like he's just going through the motions of living. Sometimes he is intentionally hiding off in a corner somewhere making notes in his book of things to remember, trying to be better at it rather than letting the misery make it impossible for him to write anything down. He also stares off into space, appearing to look at nothing, but he's lost in memories.

The most life Istredd experiences is when he goes back to Nott to see what clean up needs to be done. He promised to take over Rhy's hospital project so that is where he goes first to check on how the progress is going. They halted the project when the storms were too bad to get anything done, but it has begun again. He looks morose as he helps out at the hospital and finds other areas in Nott still being cleaned up and repaired, doing spells to fix up the last of the broken boats, but at least he's coping better there.

Edited 2024-05-13 16:49 (UTC)

Istredd's depression follows him into the Horizon, especially when he looks at his library and finds at first how unsatisfying it is in comparison to what he knew before. It still is impressive, it always has been, and he used to be proud of that, but knowing what it could be makes it look so small. Like usual though he can be seen or found within the shelves, either putting together a shelf or pulling books off it to scroll through. The ravens seem less social than ever before, barely being seen on the top levels of the library.

There is a room with blackboards on it that is open to the public and he is writing on one detailing the experience of the mass hallucination as part of his history of the Summoned. He doesn't look particularly happy about it, but for now it is just fact. Come look at it or talk to him about it, this is when he is most receptive to discuss the experience.

Those who are close to him can go to his private study and find him staring off into space or lying with the leosylphs resting on his chest, finding their purring very soothing. He is not reading anything but may be seen writing instead. There is music being played and it is Jaskier's music which also is there to make him feel less stressed.

On bad days, he may be found redoing a room over and over, frustrated beyond belief that it isn't perfect to what he imagined it before. It's still beautiful and well put together, anyone would find that a good room, but Istredd scowls at it, crossing arms against his chest. "Pathetic," he tells himself, because it is an attack on himself for not having god powers.

Edited 2024-05-13 17:50 (UTC)

There's a solemn air about Lucifer when he finds whatever corner of the tower Istredd's sequestered himself to. One of Lucifer's six wings is tucked under the others, recently injured, would heal just fine if he allowed it, but the dull throb of pain is keeping him coherent.

His mind is open. Wide, brilliant, fully unraveling. Paint spreading along water and moving across their channels to envelope Istredd's.

His sorrow is blue. His love is silver. His resolve is blood red. The rest swirls and mixes in and out like a ever-turning kaleidoscope of color.

I'm sorry. I truly am. But we have to leave. We can't stay here.

Istredd is sequestered as far and out of the way as he can. For once he's not available in the library, people could call for him but it's unknown if he'd show up. At this point, it is intentional avoidance. He shelves his books and he writes up his lists and he completely ignores the cracking of the world above and around him. Geralt wondered how he of all people could stop having questions about the strange things going on.

His skin is a patchwork, not the pure black with stars it was for a long time, a mixture of brown and that, and the swirling constellations in it flickers, doesn't hold firm. So in a way, he is reacting, he's changing slightly, but he's not cognizant of it. His mind is shuttered, cut into a box. Not ready for the opposite coming at him.

Istredd sets his stack of books down and picks one up, scrolling through it, although it's fake, he's not reading any of it.

Leave? And go where? You're not making sense. It's Istredd who is making no sense but he is holding on with everything he has to the illusion.

A bone-tired sigh drains out of him from halo through six wings and six arms and last leaving out of his tail.

This reality, Istredd. We can't stay here. Repetition, echoed. We need to leave. It may shatter around them and swallow them up and give them no choice one way or another, who knows. Maybe they could still be in a fractured piece of glass, existing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But Lucifer is actively making the choice, when he's spent so long running from it.

No, Istredd says firmly. He's distant though, like he's separating from reality, his mind far away from where they are. He hugs a book to himself, not unlike what he did all that time ago in Nott, when they found that special book and both remembered it. Not that he remembers that, no.

No, no, no.

He rarely has his wings out in the library but they come out now, identical to the same ones Lucifer sports, and they remind him of who he's supposed to be. Not a person, he flies.

Whatever this is can wait. More of the sky above them cracks. He doesn't look up. I have plans with the dragons. The dragons aren't real, none of this place is real. But they are, he can see them in his head, vivid and true.

He reaches up to press a claw into his skullface and doesn't move.

He knew this was going to be difficult.

I don't want to take this from you. I don't want to leave without you, Istredd.

He's so often not considered what Istredd's wanted in the past that adds just another bulletin to Lucifer's growing list of things he needs to look back on and remember.

Istredd's tense, in a way he hasn't been for hundreds of years. How he went from relaxed and content to feeling like every muscle in his body is clenching at once, it's upsettingly real. Every crack in the sky reminds him of what being anxious is like.

Then stay. He steps forward and reaches out to take one of Lucifer's claws. He sets the book down to the side, not picking it for the moment. We're happy, Lucifer. We have everything we want. They're free from Thorne, they're safe in the Nether and are settled, their friendships were repaired, and they have every reason to be happy. Leaving that would be madness.

He knows there is something he's missing but he simply can't take the idea of letting this library go, this life go. He shakes his head. We don't have to go anywhere.

Then stay.

He should. Just give Istredd something he's asked for, in the end. Just make it not about himself.

The fact that the familiar coolness that had settled comfortably over Lucifer from the last eight hundred years has begun to thaw away should be a clearer sign that something is wrong that they can't outrun. There's no avoiding it when it's in their veins, coming off of them just as much as the breaking world.

He remembers the pulsing ache to the center of his grace when he heard the awe in Michael's voice "There was a man, Gabriel. He was my brother" and how it speared right through Lucifer's thoughts. A lot followed, but that first strike resonated with him, to the point that Istredd likely had felt it.

I'm sorry, but I don't have everything and it's just another thing that I let flourish under ignorance. It's just illusion, Istredd. All of it. You know that, you're the master of illusions. A splash of electrifying yellow of panic hits their minds. Is it really worth it to keep living the lie instead of what's real?!

Istredd did feel it, one of the times that knocked him emotionally off his feet, made him struggle to keep control of what is going on here. Geralt did it too. Everything became clear for a few seconds, but he shrugged it off, focused on anything but that.

I don't have everything. Maybe Lucifer is thinking about pretending for Istredd's sake, but Istredd is still himself, the one who always puts Lucifer first. And while his heart breaks at this, it means he has no choice. If Lucifer leaves, he must leave. As usual, there is no actual decision otherwise to be made. He struggles, wants to deny it, but the ripple of panic knocks him and he cringes.

It was only a matter of time. His mind already knew this wasn't real. There is such resignation in his voice, in their bond, losing something he treasured above all else. He reaches up to touch Lucifer's archangel face, sighing. I won't make you leave alone. He promised never to let Lucifer be alone. Reality it is.

The space around them ripples and shatters and the sky opens into lightning and chaos. Maybe they timed it right, and this is when everyone snapped out of it. Maybe they tipped over the balance of people awake. Either way, the illusion fades, everything they felt or was, the power in their body, the freedom they experienced, drained away. Leaving them forced to wake up in the crater. Istredd feels like everything hurt, emotionally and physically, unknown at the moment how long they were gone. A minute? A year?

He looks over since they walked in together, and sees Lucifer still tied up nearby, having been tossed in exactly like this. Istredd looks up as the guards close in and up at the sky, which now has no lightning or damage at all from before, it is clear. He struggles to his feet weakly and reaches down to put a gentle hand on Lucifer's shoulder.

"Let him go, for fuck's sake! We fixed it."

What settles over him then, reality destroying what was left of his hope, is an utter emptiness. Lost. Emotionally checked out. Nothing there. Enough there to swear at the guards, but that barely causes a ripple. It's over. So after Lucifer is allowed up, he follows the guards without argument, each step feeling heavier than the last. Back to Thorne. Back to misery.

What he doesn't miss out on though, one single moment of light amongst the darkness, is something to be learned. We were right about the new gods. And that tiny triumph is the only thing he can hold onto.

"Jerry makes soup."

This is how Kahlil announces himself when he enters Istredd's room, carrying a warm bowl of said soup. It's not bad, which may be a surprise because who can ever guess with Jerry. He sets the bowl on the desk next to Istredd as he's writing.

This is Kahlil's first proper check-in, not counting their messages about Jack. He has been pulled in too many directions since they've returned, allowing himself to function on muscle memory of his routines as he sorts through his own memories and watches his companions cope in their own ways. He's offering what he can to help. He's done this once before, though in reverse.

He shouldn't be surprised how badly Istredd is responding to being back, but he feels particularly useless in this case. He keeps that to himself.

Outside of the Jack situation, and checking in with River, Istredd has mostly kept to himself and Lucifer. There is nothing his partner can really do about his mood nor does he try anymore to force Istredd's emotions away from a situation. As usual, Istredd can explain people need to feel things in order to get past them. This is no exception, although it has less fear and pain than Thanedd or the kidnapping. This is the opposite.

He was happy in a way he'd never experienced. He had a purpose, a life, friends and family, a glorious library, love and comfort, with no anxiety or fear to hold him back. No bad self-esteem to worry about, no intrusive thoughts, that was left centuries before. And he comes back to being trapped, all his worst memories hitting him in a flood at once, and now he's all concerns and anxieties again. It's exhausting.

He pauses when Kyle comes in and glances at him from the corner of his eye. Istredd flushes. He's not in a comfortable place where he can laugh about the fact he knows Kyle intimately well. He does not expect to be reminded of that but he is. He clears his throat and puts his pencil down, awkward.

"I appreciate the thought." He's unlikely to touch it. He hasn't eaten much since returning. Istredd studies Kyle thoughtfully. He too is the one who tries to seem like he has it all together, but at the moment, Istredd's given up on that. He wonders if Kyle only seems like this way because he's still trying.

"How are you?"

Kahlil notices the way Istredd's face flushes, though he doesn't immediately connect the dots. It doesn't help that Istredd's eyes are tinged red as well.

"I hope you'll appreciate it by actually eating some," he says, leaning his hip against the desk and crossing his arms. He's no one's mother, but it'd be nice for any of them to start taking care of their mortal bodies again.

He glances idly at Istredd's notes, then his hands.

"I'm fine. I think I prefer extra memories over no memory."

More than that, he had nothing he was holding onto in that vision of the future. He's not sure he liked who he was, by the end, though he never told anyone. He knows he found solace in his friends, in acting out what he believe was his role in that world, but there was a part of himself missing that he couldn't retrieve, something beyond memory.

"I'll consider it." That's all he can offer on that front. Food and drink just aren't meaning much to him currently. Their bodies were somehow sustained magically for three weeks but he's not inclined to use his well at the moment. He used to have wings. He used to fly.

Istredd's look is openly skeptical. "You're fine," he echoes. It's clear he doesn't believe it. "So should I call you Kahlil or do you still prefer Kyle?" Istredd has an excellent memory. A perfect one, at times, supernaturally so. He remembers all the details that were filled in by the years and their experiences as friends and occasional lovers.

"I prefer extra memories too."

He just kind of grunts to that response.

His brow furrows, and if Istredd is looking at him he might notice a flicker of hurt in his expression when he asks what to call him, taking the comment like a barb in response to trying to get him to eat. He kept so much of himself hidden for so long from those he was closest too, and he is reminded of his guilt. The hurt doesn't linger, he's quick to bury it without bothering to answer that question. Istredd shouldn't actually need him to answer it.

"Do you?" he asks pointedly, though without malice from offense or misdirected guilt. He feels stupid now, not realizing some of his companions might take issue with some of what he's held back about his identity, about his travels. He doesn't remember enough of the details of their conversations about these things to know how it went in that reality, only that it hadn't come up again over the centuries.

Istredd sees that flicker of hurt and it instantly makes him feel guilty for being in a bad mood. Kyle doesn't deserve him being sarcastic like this. He is generally such a gentle person that not everyone knows he can be acerbic when it suits him. It takes a lot of emotion to make him difficult, but when he is, it can be a lot.

"I'm sorry. That was unfair. I'm not myself."

Or at least he isn't entirely certain what himself is right then. Istredd knows that he felt his most self in a reality that doesn't exist. He was the best version of himself, in fact, a truly evolved and joyful person. Coming back to this has been painful.

"I suppose it's wrong, that I know more about you than you've chosen to tell me." This version of him has chosen to tell him nothing about what he now is aware of. It was against Kyle's will. Perhaps it would be right of him to try and get rid of those memories.

For Istredd, Lucifer almost stayed. For Istredd, he would have pretended. No matter how increasingly wrong it was feeling, no matter what he knew, no matter.

Maybe he should have. He wonders if Istredd will resent him for this, one day.

He's more perplexed by remembering his bindings than anything. His panic is a receding memory, out with the tide, washed over many stones of thought, getting caught up and making little tidepools of mental pockets. He spits out dirt. Examines his wrists. Has a hard time remembering how he got in this particular position.

What happened?

He looks around at the dots of other Summoned across the crater, his mind tallying Istredd's presence without needing to look and maybe part of that is because his eyes want to overlay two separate perceptions of the man, so fresh there.

He rotates his wrists and the burn of the bindings is grounding. If he focuses on that instead of how it feels to be stuffed in and folded over backwards into this vessel again, maybe that would help.

Only... it's not that he's uncomfortable. It's not like he just got sucked back into this space. It's familiar in the way that he's spent coming-onto two years in this form. He's worked out some of the kinks. Pushed at his edges, filled space around that cagey bits.

He hasn't shed this form. It was all in his head.

Hilarious.

He looks up at the sky, whole and in tact, and stormless.

Hilarious.

The damned natives got what they wanted out of this stunt.

He finally blinks at Istredd when the man demands Lucifer be let go, almost dazed.

That Lucifer walked here like it was to their execution and Istredd walks away with the same mindset... hm.

Yeah. We were right.

It doesn't improve from there.

That Lucifer is Kind of Alright and Istredd Is Fucked is maybe a bad combo, maybe it would be better if they were both walking train wrecks, regardless how someone really needs to be on some kind of game.

At some point, maybe hours, maybe days--after Lucifer's already been coiled up on Istredd, asleep, in the Horizon as his leosylph form, after he's already kept appraised on Istredd's state around the castle, after, after, after...

After no more than a week, when neither of them are sleeping, Lucifer's back to the wall in the familiar comfortable relaxing-not-sleeping position, You're not a pet.

Istredd can hate being back as much as he wants, but Lucifer sees opportunity.

You are my partner. He stares up at the ceiling. I took the last thing you asked of me from you and I'm sorry. His thoughts back it, his real regret at once more making it about himself, the renewed addition that he almost stayed regardless how much it gutted him.

He's tried to give Istredd the things he needed, he still believes that.

He can do better.

You're allowed to be your own person and you're allowed to want things and what you need is important. I just... He trails off. Lucifer didn't so much burn bridges as he put a bomb to one very early on in Hayle and that had rippled results for centuries, but he mended most.

Now he's going back over the work and playing the reinforcement game, while starting fresh work on others.

Our minds are connected but I'm not a mind-reader anymore and sometimes you need to spell it out in blinding neon lights and still know I might not know what the hell I'm doing but don't let it go, don't let me let it go. One-hundred and fifty some goddamn years for them to have that conversation. You get a say.

Istredd curls around Lucifer at night and clings to him, like he's a port in the storm of his feelings. The constant, despite everything. He used to be afraid of whether they could survive Lucifer returning to himself and despite the fight they had, they proved it was possible. That is one good thing he can glean from the return.

The rest though is a mess. Istredd came back to memories he'd started to get over. They returned to him in a rush, the Pit, Thanedd, the fate he knows is waiting for him.

All he can feel from there is the loss of something beautiful. It immediately crashes him into a depression. He remembers flying, freedom, purpose, infinite knowledge, being wanted, being loved, and the absence of his anxiety and uncertainty. Nothing holding him back, his worries and concerns balanced with a stability and self-worth he doesn't know how to get back. If he ever can. If it took this fantasy of being worshipped and valued to temporarily love himself.

He feels the lack of it now. He was his better self, that is why he could be confident. He's trapped back in Thorne and reminded of all the subtle ways he was miserable, when Istredd did think he was overall stable and merely annoyed by their circumstances. He was happy. So happy. If he dreams, it's of flying and the joy of it, so he stops.

His shoulders are heavy with sadness Istredd can't push out from under right away. He needs a little time to mourn what was lost to him. He goes through the motions. He asked Kyle to take care of Jack. He hides in their room for days at a time, avoiding this life he started to like, until he knew what the other option was.

Istredd starts writing notes again which is the first sign he can eventually dig himself out of it, but it only makes him sad to see the details. He sighs and rubs hands over his face, surprised by Lucifer's non-sequitur. He glances over at him, and truly at first, he has no idea what he's referencing. Then he remembers. Oh right. The worst fight they ever had and it was in a hallucination.

Istredd doesn't interrupt him, he lets him talk. There is no point in arguing that he never felt this way himself, or that those fears weren't genuine. They are. He's always been afraid.

What were you supposed to do, let us stay unconscious in the crater? It was already dying. But maybe a part of him did still resent it. It doesn't have to be logical to be felt.

Istredd reaches out to take his hand, his own back against the wall, and he closes his eyes, weary. In soul, not in body.

Sometimes I feel like an afterthought. He'll give that much. That your wants and needs come first. But in fairness, I've created that dichotomy between us. If you did make yourself cold and never came back, I would have stayed by you, hurting myself in the process. There has to be a breaking point, I get that. It's not healthy to allow you to kill me to prove my loyalty is absolute. And that is what it turned into, with Istredd sacrificing everything for someone who barely thought of him.

But you know now I never let you go. I stood by you no matter what. Istredd touches his face and makes him look at him. You are the love of my life. It's on me to speak up, not for you to read minds.

Edited 2024-05-15 13:39 (UTC)

He shakes his head at the apology. It's not really needed.

"No," he says frowning to himself. "I should have told you most of it before... this."

Illusion. Shared dream. Possible future, one of many. There's no certainty in such a vision, it has to be navigated. He shakes his head again.

"There's never a good time to admit you've been hiding things."

Especially from people you care about. It kind of gets worse the longer you wait, he's found.

Edited 2024-05-16 01:00 (UTC)

"I'm not upset you were hiding things, Kyle. It's your life, your story. You don't owe it to any of us." Istredd is just so tired, is the thing. They apparently rested for three weeks but they didn't, their minds were alive. But sleeping since has been difficult too because he dreams and wakes up all over again.

It reminds him of when they came back from the Pit. When going to bed was something he dreaded due to the nightmares, and now it's the opposite. He wants to go back to the dream.

"But is there a reason you didn't trust me with any of it? I would have listened." Istredd wonders if he's the strange one for being so open with his past, because Yennefer also is very guarded. They're lovers and she hides a great deal even from him. But not Lucifer, who tells him almost too much, unless Jack fucking Townsend and a bad future is involved. (He's over it.) (Mostly.)

"I thought we were closer. Perhaps that is on me."

Normally he would feel comfortable enough with Istredd to put a hand on his shoulder now, to try to offer some small physical comfort. He likes being able to touch his friends, the people he cares about. He remembers doing a great deal more with Istredd in that future, too.

But he resists the urge, instead frowning at himself and shaking his head again.

"It wasn't you, personally. I was still trying to sort out my memories. All I knew was that I couldn't trust anyone." Istredd was particularly inquisitive about traveling worlds and gates and the Singularity, which had made him wary - but so did many other people. It wasn't personal.

"And as time went on... I just didn't know how. I've never had people to talk to about myself before."

He doesn't think people want to hear about what he remembers now. And he doesn't think he really wants to talk about most of it. But it had helped to know that Istredd went through something similar in his youth.

Istredd's been told that he should be more guarded, and in some ways he is, he was extremely guarded against personal connections, having lived a long time without anyone close to him. But being here changed him and he made friends, real friends, who he wanted to learn how to count on. Kyle was and is one of them. He's trusted him with more than most.

"Anything you want to talk about, I want to hear it." The time in the fake future gave them hundreds of years of closeness and openness, which is hard to go backwards on. His relationships were all so much healthier and reliable. He finds himself feeling a little spun out, so much of it taken away from him.

Istredd is the one that reaches out instead, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. "It didn't take hundreds of fake years for you to be one of my closest friends, you already are." Maybe he's being very vulnerable at the moment, able to admit things from the heart more than he would have before, but it's how things are now. He's an open wound.

I could have. Let them stay like that there. As pointless and terrible as it would've been, as it all was shattering around them, maybe they were just losing their door. Maybe they could have stayed in that reality, losing the connection to ever get back out. They wouldn't know any better.

They did. His wants and needs coming first. They did, and that's the truth. Istredd let everything be about Lucifer and Lucifer took advantage of it as he did most things and it was how he expected things to go. Sure, he would bend when Istredd's overwhelming existence got to be too much, but Lucifer would and could still make that about himself.

They did, but they don't now. At least not at the moment. Maybe that'll change, slip, a few decades to fall back to a pattern. But for now there's a notable shift.

It's why he hasn't pushed anything here, after they've gotten back. Hasn't tried to take thoughts apart and fix them or envelope them like he has tried in the past.

Sometimes the devil can learn.

Rare, but sometimes.

His free hand twitches. Lucifer has some issues splitting that scenario and the before godhood and before the Singularity outside of the immediate but he remembers his hand around Istredd's neck very clearly. So easy, the idiot. So simple to just crack his neck and think he was done with it--but by that point Istredd would've had enough power from the Singularity coursing through him that Lucifer would have certainly seen him again, and not as a ghost to haunt his ass.

If they haven't gone through the same argument more than once, edging towards violence and vitriol, Lucifer would call Istredd out for being insane to continue to stand with Lucifer no matter what.

He doesn't bother.

It's not like we've often done anything healthy for ourselves in eight-hundred pseudo-real years and getting closer to two-years actual. He hums, and says aloud, "I suppose it's finally a good time to start."

I don't want you to hold onto that, love. Staying in the crater wasn't an option. That you considered doing it for me is enough of a gesture, actually doing it would've been suicide. Who knows how long they would have lasted in there, but the Singularity was breaking them out of it no matter what they wanted. There's no way of knowing if they would have stayed unconscious and in their own type of happy coma. As much as Istredd wanted the fantasy, he's not so unreasonable as to prefer that.

Lucifer staying for him is his own kind of gesture, one Istredd sees and appreciates in essence. He squeezes his hand, and another time that might have filled him with warmth, made him feel special and loved in return. He's still too tired at heart to feel much of anything, but it does mean something.

"It's not like either of us ever learned a healthy way to love to draw from." Istredd didn't feel loved at all in his life. Yennefer came close to it, but she loved herself more than him, which is not his way as they both know. Lucifer's family betrayed him and cast him out, so their love hadn't been enough to stand by him.

At a previous time, Istredd had intentionally not used the word love, so Lucifer could feel comfortable and not be called out on his feelings. He doesn't know if his partner feels any differently now, but a change is that he doesn't care. He doesn't plan on tip-toeing around the word. Istredd's in his head, his heart. He would have stayed in an eternal illusion for him. No need to nitpick.

Istredd puts his head on Lucifer's shoulder, closing his eyes, wishing this was all gone. I think I've struggled seeing us as equals. This started with me being devoted to you, and that's not going to change, because I love you, and I'll always be yours. He wants it clear that some things, they can't change, because he won't let them. There were good things about them, about their future, that he wants and is truly looking forward to.

But I'm constantly afraid of losing this, of being left, and that I can't expect the same from you. Because I'd rather love you and let that be enough, than ask for more. Might as well get it all out. It's not like Istredd has been blind to these feelings of his. It's been there from the start, when he didn't say anything to Lucifer all those months about how he felt, because he was so certain it could never be shared.

This isn't a reflection on you because you've never given any indication that I'm not enough for you. You choose me every day. When I've pushed you, when I've been difficult, you haven't used that as a reason to leave. So this is my issue. He just doesn't know how to change. This is the Nott conversation all over again. He's stuck himself. Istredd is telling all now because what's the point in hiding in the face of what they've done. He does know he's not the only one with self-worth issues. They're more alike than they admit to.

"I really don't know how to get over it yet. I guess it takes more than two years to unlearn a lifetime."

Edited 2024-05-30 12:19 (UTC)

He doesn't shy away from Istredd's touch, giving a small nod. He has been an outsider for his entire life. It was something he accepted since he was a child with his cursed blood, the desires he had always been taught made him something lesser than human, and then his solitary duties when he was finally ordained. The latter, his entire purpose, made it so that he never had to acknowledge any loneliness, this is what he was meant for, his sacred purpose. It was his strength.

Having people in his life, having friends, has made him aware that there is a loneliness to his job, and seeing things differently than everyone around him.

It might be easier to push everyone away, to focus entirely on what he thinks his mission is - John, Parfir, the Singularity - whatever divine force connects them. He knows that now - at least in one possible future, these bonds his forged caused him pain.

But there was a lot of good, too. He doesn't want to let go of that.

"You're important to me," he says, finally, eyeing Istredd. "I'm sorry for making you doubt that."

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How many times must we tell the tale?

In Thorne

In Horizon

Awakening to Aftermath

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visiting

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: reference to internalized homophobia