abraxaslogs | september catch-all; open

[ He's thoroughly unflappable right now. ]

How many of us here really are, do you think?

[ Either of those things. He doesn't count himself as someone possessing those qualities, except as a lie. Even Cal, arguably the most normal one of the people he's met in Castle Thorne, has his odd little quirks. Kahlil is someone who happens to find most of the quirks everyone here has endearing, for the most part. Even Lucifer has the odd moment.

He lowers the cloth from his head. ]

You're very clever, Jack. I've also seen you be brave, and kind. [ He shrugs, staring at the blood on the cloth in his head. ]

And I'd rather you didn't get eaten by giant chickens.

( Everything Kyle says is really, unexpectedly, surprisingly nice. Honestly, Jack isn't even sure how to react to it at first, aside for maybe to wait a second for the gotcha that never comes.

Eventually, softly: )

Thanks.

( It's all he can really come up with, and it seems woefully underwhelming, considering. Should he... compliment the guy back? Maybe that would seem forced. What would he even say that he hasn't said already, or at the very least implied? The badass ninja thing is probably played out by now. He could compliment Kyle's hair or something but that seems... weird.

Maybe they should just, you know. Go.

He stands up straight. Holds a hand out to Kyle, an offer to help him up and, if necessary, act as a crutch while they walk back to the portal.

One thing does come to mind then, though— )

Are you really a priest?

[ It's not underwhelming. For Jack to genuinely accept what he's saying without pushing back or denying anything is satisfying in a way he's not really used to.

It feels nice too.

Jack extends his hand and Kahlil reaches out with his free one, lurching back up to his feet. Every ache in his body seems to flare at once, but he knows it'll pass. He smiles at Jack, physically weary but amused. ]

I am. [ The Payshmura are gone, but the Rifter is alive. He is the Kahlil, His servant. Even here. ] I thought you knew.

[ He raises an eyebrow. Jack had seen something of his past, his memory. It wasn't your fault, Jack had said. ]

( For a skinny guy with one leg, Jack's perhaps surprisingly sturdy. He pulls a good amount of Kyle's weight up, then tightens his hand on Kyle's forearm to make sure he's steady, stable. Only once he's sure does he start walking, slow partly for Kyle's sake and also... partly because he has a fake fucking leg, you know how it goes. )

I'm not, like, psychic. I don't know your whole life story, I just saw a glimpse.

( A beat, and then uncertainly: )

Your... honor? Father? Pope?

( He's kidding.

Mostly. )

[ He appreciates the slower pace, and lets out a huff at the question. What even is a pope? He would've been whipped even more often if he had to address the ushman as pope with a straight face.

Jack kids, but he gets an actual answer: ]

Kahlil. Holiest of the Kahlirash'im. That was my title. The church is gone, though. [ He glances at Jack, and there's something in his expression that's suddenly very serious. ]

What did you see?

[ In his glimpse. He thought, maybe, that he wouldn't want to know. But he should. He should hear it. There's so much of his memory that still doesn't fit, and what Jack has seen was part of that. His other life, a fantasy he might've wished for himself once upon a time. ]

Edited 2022-10-07 05:25 (UTC)

( He'll answer the question, he will, it's just — Jack's a little easily distracted sometimes by the most irrelevant part of a conversation, so.

First: )

Wait, you're Kahlil Kyle? Really?

[ Another light huff, and he shakes his head. ]

No. I had no other name after I was ordained. Kyle was the one I was given in case I needed to speak with someone in your world and was asked. A version of your world, anyway.

[ Earth. ]

It was the only name I could remember when I returned to my own world two years ago.

[ Which is probably confusing, since Jack heard him called Ravishan. Welcome to his memories. ]

Oh.

( So should he actually call him Kahlil now, or...?

No, he'd probably say that if he wanted it, right? He could've just introduced himself as Kahlil. Maybe it's like a sacred title, or a secret or something. Better just stick with what they're used to now.

Anyway.

About that other question. )

I was about to- ( He starts, and then corrects himself. ) You were about to-

( Only to stop himself again as the memory rolls through him. As the feeling rolls through him, coupling with it a strong urge to find the nearest thing to drink and shotgun it. )

...Honestly? I'm pretty sure you're happier not knowing.

[ Kahlil will quickly correct him if he calls him that. There's always the small chance that someone from Basawar might be Summoned here and recognize the name. The last thing he needs is Fikiri arriving and finding out that the Kahlil is also here.

Jack starts and stops in his explanation, and Kahlil understands. Maybe it's unfair to ask him to remember what he saw and say it aloud. ]

You're not telling me anything I don't already know. [ Probably. ] I just thought I'd narrow down which awful thing it was you saw.

[ He doesn't sound bitter. He doesn't sound like much of anything. Resigned, maybe. He keeps walking. ]

I've hurt and killed more people than I can remember. And there are people from my world who would hunt me down kill me, for one reason or another.

[ Some of them he wouldn't blame for trying. Fikiri he would try to kill first, though. And Jath'ibaye, John -

he doesn't know what he'd do if he showed up. Kahlil can't fight him.

Either way, if Jack is worried about Kahlil getting hurt because of some danger following him from his world, he shouldn't. Kahlil can add it to the pile. ]

Edited 2022-10-07 18:44 (UTC)

( He considers not saying anything, he really does. What ultimately loosens his lips is sympathy. A shared understanding of what it's like to have a shaky memory, things layered on top of things that shouldn't be there, things missing that should be, not always having somebody else to validate the ones that he has as being real.

So after a few silent moments of slow walking, he finally looks over and answers. )

You were drinking, mostly. ( Which... obviously isn't the bad part. He continues on after just a short pause. ) I think you were getting ready to light someone on fire.

[ He meets Jack's gaze for a moment before looking forward again, his brow starting to furrow. The memory bubbles to the surface: he hardly drank, except before the festival. The ushman that used to treat him in the infirmary - a man who's name he can't recall, warned him against another going too far, even though he was drowning himself in his own cups day in and day out.

He remembers being alone that night, fantasizing about just leaving -

He remembers being with John that night, angry and hurting -

He remembers the smell of burning flesh. ]

It was something that was done every year to mark the end of the festival. Someone was chosen - a criminal, a witch. [ He couldn't recall which it was that time. ] One year my teacher wanted me to be the one to light the pyre. [ To prove his loyalty. To punish him. Both. ] I had nowhere else to go.

[ And it'd mean abandoning any hope of getting his sister back. But that's not an excuse, just the way he had to rationalize it at the time so that he didn't do anything desperate.

His face has gone a touch pale, but otherwise his expression remains neutral. He doesn't want Jack to think he's asking for sympathy or forgiveness. No one but his god could absolve him now. ]

You said you saw John, though. [ There's something slightly tentative about the way he says his name. A beat. ] He's not from my home. Two years ago when everything went wrong, he started showing up in my memories in places that don't make any sense. I don't know why.

( For what it's worth, Jack doesn't sound judgmental. He'd meant what he'd said back when they talked about this the first time — it wasn't your fault. He doesn't blame Kyle for it. It sucks that it happened, obviously, it's terrible. It's also just... complicated.

He gets that.

But his opinion doesn't matter, and it won't change anything. It's not like some random guy can offer Kyle the absolution he may or may not feel like he needs, and even if one could, that random guy isn't Jack Townsend.

That last bit is surprising, though. )

Really? I thought you guys were, like, dating or something?

[ If Jack had slapped him across the face he would've looked less shocked than he does right now. Eyes wide, every muscle tenses up and he stops walking. There's a mildly panicked look on his face as his mind starts vividly conjuring up those particular memories, and the embarrassment of Jack seeing them is irrationally worse than Jack watching him set someone on fire - ]

No. [ His voice is firm in his denial, and to his ears it sounds so harsh that he winces, tries to double back. ] We... barely knew each other. And he never lived at the temple.

[ It would've been a risk, even if he had. Kahlil resists the urge to rub at the side of his mouth, the place where the scars had vanished that day he awoke on the bridge.

This is mortifying. After a second he starts walking again, in silence. ]

( He's getting to know Kyle better, that's probably why he does a decent job actually picking up on the panic rolling through him right now. That, or Kyle's just being super obvious about it. Whatever combination of the two it is, it manages to break through Jack's otherwise emotionally oblivious default state.

Well, this is weird and surprising, and also... weird. )

Okay.

( Dubiously, carefully. Kyle starts walking, and he falls back into step again, too.

Did he mention this is weird? Should he say something? He should say something, right? Just so Kyle knows it doesn't have to be this... You know. )

I'm from a really, really small town full of hyper-conservative ignorant Y'all Qaeda assholes. One time, when I was seven, my dad caught me reading a book that had a picture of a cowboy on the front. His shirt was unbuttoned a little or something, I think? Anyway, he called me a "reach-around fairy", broke my wrist, and used it for target practice for his new AK47. I didn't even get to finish reading it. ( Which is the worst part, frankly, for him. ) But it's not... like that here, you know that right? I mean, it's not like that most places outside of the deep south, but it's even less like that here. So.

( You don't have to worry about people judging you.

He definitely doesn't have to worry about Jack judging him. )

[ He lets out a long breath through his nose, still tense. ]

I know. [ Ruefully: ] I kind of noticed when no one batted an eye during the dance.

[ He'd noticed the same-sex pairs gliding across the dance floor before anything else.

He grimaces to himself. He's not worried about Jack's judgement, he realizes. But the reaction is still kneejerk, and he can't easily dismiss the anxiety all at once, the sense of being caught. ]

We weren't like that, though.

[ Him and John. He's not actually hiding anything this time. John wasn't at Rathel'pesha. His memories are all wrong.

But somehow Jath'ibaye had also been in Basawar for thirty years.

This is why he tried not to think too hard about it.

After a short silence: ]

Your father sounds like an asshole.

[ He glances quick over at Jack, studying him. ]

Edited 2022-10-08 05:14 (UTC)

( We weren't like that. )

Okay.

( He agrees mildly, politely — even though he's not sure if he believes it. Maybe it's just been a really long time, maybe he's forgetting, or misconstruing, but... some of the things he remembers feeling were really similar to the way he felt about Sabine.

But it's still none of his business.

They walk a little longer.

Kyle's eventual comment earns a soft huff from him — not a laugh, not nearly enough humor, but it's in the same family tree. )

Calling Miller an asshole is a disservice to assholes everywhere.

( Jack's father is genuinely one of the worst human beings he has ever met. For such a normally passive guy, the unrepentantly scathing commentary might be a little surprising. )

[ Okay. The tension doesn't completely dissipate, but at Jack lets it go and that helps.

Another pause before he ventures a question. ]

What about the rest of your family?

( It's weird, this whole topic of conversation. Nobody's asked him about his family situation outside of his therapist in years — and even Dr. V only asked back at the very start. He's mentioned it in his blog when it seemed relevant, but outside of that?

He's never really talked about it.

He's not sure how he feels about that, or if he even feels anything at all. It's a little distant, a little irrelevant, muted by years of time, fucked up life events, and too much medication. )

Foster care. ( He says lightly, with a shrug of one shoulder, his eyes affixed on the scorched farmlands ahead of them. ) I guess someone got tired of seeing a kid wandering around my mom's apartment complex looking for food all the time, so they called social services. Miller wasn't suitable for custody, so I mostly just got bounced around between foster homes every couple of years. I have some foster siblings, but we're not exactly close.

( It is what it is.

He cuts a sideways look at Kyle. )

What about you?

[ Kahlil had missed his chance to try to ask Alidas anything about his history. Maybe a part of him was afraid of trying to bridge that unknown gap between them, in case he was rejected.

Jack answers the question like it's easy. No secrets to hide, he answers it the same way he's answered most questions that have nothing to do with opinions on books, even though the story is a melancholy one by the sound of it. Something about the disconnect resonates. ]

I don't remember much about my parents. [ What little he does isn't any better than the memory Jack's already seen. ] I guess you could call the temple 'foster care'...

[ The priests raised him since he was eight years old. He shakes his head, continuing a bit more quietly: ]

My sister and I were separated when the church took us. I promised to come find her one day, but...

[ He trails off, not sure how to finish. There's a memory of Umbhra'ibaye burning and her singsong voice over his shoulder, the sound of bundled bones clacking, a yellow dog. In that reality Umbhra'ibaye fell, but not the way everyone said that it did.

He wasn't there to save Rousma. Her bones would've been crushed with the rest of the oracles. ]

( They have similar echoes. Granted, unbelievably different circumstances, totally different worlds, but parts of it... Parts of it feel the same.

One thing Jack never had though: a sister. The closest thing would've been Sabine — best friend, girlfriend, family, sister. Everything in one, his one stable constant, his person. He can't know what it's like to feel how Kyle probably does, but he does know about separation and broken promises.

He nudges Kyle's shoulder with one of his own, gently. )

Maybe you will.

( Offered softly, from a place of hope he doesn't earnestly believe in. It's that same place that still refuses to let go of Sabine, that still thinks about the possibility of her waking up one day.

But he knows better.

God, he hopes Kyle's situation is a little less impossible. )

[ The nudge has him turning to glance at Jack when he otherwise might not have. There's a flicker of something tight and pained in his expression for a second before he looks away again, his tone soft. ]

Maybe.

[ He hopes that when his spirit finally leaves this realm for good that he might see her again.

An awkward silence settles over them as they head back. ]

september catch-all; open

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cw: small town homophobia & child abuse

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