White noise drowned out the buzz of his racing thoughts. A queer stillness settled into his bones, heavy and unfamiliar, paralyzing him. As he had listened to his twin — beloved — respond to his query, a surge of emotions had crashed through him, dizzying in their intensity, until his body had locked up in indecision, unable to find purchase to respond to his denial, his horror, to disgust, and fury. The blood had drained entirely from his face, leaving it painfully ashen against the shock of his vibrant red hair. And through it all, he looked at them, these his brothers, these once his dearest companions and playmates, they who shared his lifeblood, who had once shared the spiritual link with him, who had delved into his most intimate thoughts as he had theirs. He searched them for any traces of falsehood, desperate with the need for this to be a lie, to find anything to belie the monstrous tale he was being described. Oh, how his blood had sung as Albedo recalled parts of the story that Jr. recognized, parts of the story that he had lived, events that were true regardless of how they were spun. Yet they were wrong at the same time, so very wrong, leaving a bitter taste in the back of his mouth that he couldn’t swallow past. And now, the white noise, increasing in crescendo, hollowing his emotions out and sparing him from being overwhelmed by this information. As loathe as he was to admit it, he couldn’t deny Albedo’s words; that these hideous things had happened to his brothers was obvious from the looks in their eyes, the tension in their small frames. It was impossible for him to even begin to grasp at the sense of betrayal and hatred they must harbor for him. He wondered if this was a wall he would ever be able to scale.
But, reaching deep, untangling himself from the stillness and blankness and hollowness, he found his voice. It was not steady. It shook. It was strangled, thick. He said, “I don’t know why I’m here.” An old nature within him was hungry to purge these conflicted feelings through violence; he seized upon his own waveform, focused intently on the echo of his heartbeat within his chest — That doesn't sound so bad. Sorry, Rubedo. I'm really tired. — and discovered stability. “I can tell you three things right now, though.
“One. I’m not one of those creeps. I don’t understand parallel universes fully. I can’t explain their actions. I don’t want to understand their actions. You don’t need me to tell you that it…shit.”
He paused, breathing in and out, slowly. Resisted the urge to scream that he would never, that those were shades, that the very idea of manipulating Nigredo —
Breathe.
“A-and I don’t know how to prove it to you. Hell, I don’t know how the hell to prove it to myself, you’re freaking me out so much. I…I don’t…”
He felt sick. Miserable with guilt for actions that weren’t his own. Ashamed of how much his eyes burned. Coughing, he turned away from them to give himself a minute, not even considering the fact that presenting his back to his estranged brothers might be dangerous. When he felt the bile recede, he crossed his arms over his chest and spun around again.
“Two. You aren’t worthless.” There was a bite to his words now, a residual anger that coiled hot in his stomach. “Either of you. Your value doesn’t depend on me or on any of those other idiots you met. I don’t know what he was thinking, because I — you guys, you’re…” The world to me. “You’re so important to me. I know I haven’t always shown that, but I mean it.
“Three.” Here, he paused. “Like I said, I don’t know why I’m here. But I’m not here to make your lives a living hell. I was…happy when I saw you guys. I thought that this could be— uh, well. You know.”
Except they obviously don’t know. Shuddering, he scuffed his boot in the dirt and grime, aware this wouldn’t be an easy fix, that he couldn’t wish away their experiences with a few well-meant words. This was going to take time. He only hoped that he had enough.
“Hold on.”
It was a spur of the moment idea, born from his inability to remain motionless any longer, driven by his desire to draw his brothers into a group hug and hug this out, cemented by the knowledge that that would probably earn him a few bullets in the temple (he had noticed the weapons, yes). Walking away from them, it was a physical ache to leave them now when he was so close, pulling away was harder than he expected, his limbs were like lead, he approached a nearby building and studied it. Then, regarding the caved in entrance, he pulled himself through a wide, gaping window, low to the ground. “Give them a minute,” he muttered to himself, nerves alight with nervous jitteriness. “Give me a minute.”
He found what he was searching for. Grunting with effort, he hauled it by the edges back towards the window, feet slipping in all the messy debris. The physical labor was a welcome relief; he needed this moment to calm down, to figure this out. Nigredo had asked questions, questions he hadn’t been able to get to before Albedo began talking. Well, they certainly had the time to chat now, unless whatever had obliterated this city returned. It would just be easier to ask them come inside, but the openness of the outside was more reassuring — he wasn’t positive they’d follow him anywhere, anyway.
Huffing, he managed to hurl the relatively small, round table up and over the window. It was mostly intact, though one of the legs wobbled dangerously as it landed upside down. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he shouted over to them, unable to tell if he was interrupting a conversation or not.
“Hey! Move that away from the building would you? I’m not going to stand around facing you two down like this is some kind of stick up or something. Let’s set the table up, then we’ll talk. I don’t know about you guys, but I have a lot of questions.”
That said, he ducked back inside for chairs, guts clenching painfully. His brothers of old would have done as he suggested, perhaps grudgingly, but these brothers were alien to him. He was still half-waiting to be attacked.
no subject
But, reaching deep, untangling himself from the stillness and blankness and hollowness, he found his voice. It was not steady. It shook. It was strangled, thick. He said, “I don’t know why I’m here.” An old nature within him was hungry to purge these conflicted feelings through violence; he seized upon his own waveform, focused intently on the echo of his heartbeat within his chest — That doesn't sound so bad. Sorry, Rubedo. I'm really tired. — and discovered stability. “I can tell you three things right now, though.
“One. I’m not one of those creeps. I don’t understand parallel universes fully. I can’t explain their actions. I don’t want to understand their actions. You don’t need me to tell you that it…shit.”
He paused, breathing in and out, slowly. Resisted the urge to scream that he would never, that those were shades, that the very idea of manipulating Nigredo —
Breathe.
“A-and I don’t know how to prove it to you. Hell, I don’t know how the hell to prove it to myself, you’re freaking me out so much. I…I don’t…”
He felt sick. Miserable with guilt for actions that weren’t his own. Ashamed of how much his eyes burned. Coughing, he turned away from them to give himself a minute, not even considering the fact that presenting his back to his estranged brothers might be dangerous. When he felt the bile recede, he crossed his arms over his chest and spun around again.
“Two. You aren’t worthless.” There was a bite to his words now, a residual anger that coiled hot in his stomach. “Either of you. Your value doesn’t depend on me or on any of those other idiots you met. I don’t know what he was thinking, because I — you guys, you’re…” The world to me. “You’re so important to me. I know I haven’t always shown that, but I mean it.
“Three.” Here, he paused. “Like I said, I don’t know why I’m here. But I’m not here to make your lives a living hell. I was…happy when I saw you guys. I thought that this could be— uh, well. You know.”
Except they obviously don’t know. Shuddering, he scuffed his boot in the dirt and grime, aware this wouldn’t be an easy fix, that he couldn’t wish away their experiences with a few well-meant words. This was going to take time. He only hoped that he had enough.
“Hold on.”
It was a spur of the moment idea, born from his inability to remain motionless any longer, driven by his desire to draw his brothers into a group hug and hug this out, cemented by the knowledge that that would probably earn him a few bullets in the temple (he had noticed the weapons, yes). Walking away from them, it was a physical ache to leave them now when he was so close, pulling away was harder than he expected, his limbs were like lead, he approached a nearby building and studied it. Then, regarding the caved in entrance, he pulled himself through a wide, gaping window, low to the ground. “Give them a minute,” he muttered to himself, nerves alight with nervous jitteriness. “Give me a minute.”
He found what he was searching for. Grunting with effort, he hauled it by the edges back towards the window, feet slipping in all the messy debris. The physical labor was a welcome relief; he needed this moment to calm down, to figure this out. Nigredo had asked questions, questions he hadn’t been able to get to before Albedo began talking. Well, they certainly had the time to chat now, unless whatever had obliterated this city returned. It would just be easier to ask them come inside, but the openness of the outside was more reassuring — he wasn’t positive they’d follow him anywhere, anyway.
Huffing, he managed to hurl the relatively small, round table up and over the window. It was mostly intact, though one of the legs wobbled dangerously as it landed upside down. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he shouted over to them, unable to tell if he was interrupting a conversation or not.
“Hey! Move that away from the building would you? I’m not going to stand around facing you two down like this is some kind of stick up or something. Let’s set the table up, then we’ll talk. I don’t know about you guys, but I have a lot of questions.”
That said, he ducked back inside for chairs, guts clenching painfully. His brothers of old would have done as he suggested, perhaps grudgingly, but these brothers were alien to him. He was still half-waiting to be attacked.