He had respectfully kept his back turned to allow his brothers some small measure of privacy. The entire time, however, he had felt eyes on him, making him fumble nervously as he puttered about and pretended to be otherwise occupied. Perspiration had matted the hair at the nape of his neck to his skin, but he knew it wasn’t wholly from shifting around and digging through the debris and ruined furniture. He was afraid. Repeatedly, he went over the facts, forcing himself to digest the information. This was not a dream. Younger versions of his brothers, from a parallel world, were here from a place not unlike Asgard. In that place, they had met multiple…Rubedos. A hated name he’d long since discarded, it seemed the only appropriate way to refer to the others, those who definitely shared nothing of himself beyond physical appearance. More facts—in that place, his brothers had met multiple Rubedos who had, for reasons beyond his comprehension, tried to kill and break his brothers. Surprisingly, this was the easiest pill for Jr. to swallow; the idea of killing either Albedo or Nigredo was so sickening, so foreign, that he could immediately displace himself from it. Even back when his relationship with Albedo had been steeped in violence and bitterness and regrets and antagonism, he had sworn to the old bastard that he wouldn’t end it by killing his twin. In the space-time anomaly, that wasn’t how he’d intended their fight to end. No matter how much Albedo made him bleed with rage, no matter what Albedo was or what he had done, it had never been his intention.
“Bring it on! I’m gonna rip you right outta here and drag you back to the Durandal!”
Jr. paused, fingers tightening around the edge of a shattered support beam, and wondered how differently things would have gone, if he had been able to do just that. Hurling the heavy beam with more force than was strictly necessary, he crossed into what appeared to have once been a kitchen. He stopped himself again now, realizing how tense he was becoming, how tightly he was clenching his jaw, and forced himself to relax.
The idea of killing Albedo was unbearable, but not false. The idea of hurting Nigredo?
He doubled over for a moment, almost sick at the very idea. Nigredo, who had been his rock after they had escaped Miltia, who had been so much more than a little brother or a pseudo-father and everything in-between. If not for Nigredo, Jr. wasn’t sure where he would have ended up following the incident. But maybe that’s what had happened to those Rubedos? Maybe they had grown in a world without a Gaignun Kukai, without the man who had given structure in all the chaos. They must have; there could be no other explanation for why they would ignore Nigredo, the image of the child whose last words still remained with Jr., or why they would try and bring him harm.
“What does it say,” he mused aloud, resting his forehead on the remains of a wall, “that I’d sooner side with my brothers than I would with myself?”
Making up for lost time, he thought. For how stupid and blind even he had been in the past.
He was trying to free a chair from beneath a collapsed section of staircase when he heard footsteps beyond the building. Licking his lips, he wiped his hands on his jacket and turned to regard his youngest sibling, expression rippling like water, as if he was having difficulty maintaining the smile on his face. At his brother’s words, the smile became a little weaker. He stepped closer to the window, noticing how Nigredo hadn’t come through—do you blame him?—and stopped a short distance away. It was like a game, now; see how close you can get before you begin making your traumatized brothers panic.
It wasn’t a very good game.
“Uh, yeah, well…” He trailed off, mouth clicking shut, and then steeled himself. “I didn’t know…how comfortable you two would be inside with me, y’know…in an enclosed space. N-not that I’m trying to suggest I’d…”
He peered at Nigredo, at a loss for words, willing his brother to understand. And then, unable to help himself, he looked beyond Nigredo to Albedo in the distance, the other half of his being who apparently couldn’t even bring himself to approach. The nausea returned; the role of the villain’s shade wasn’t a part he had ever practiced for.
Quietly, looking back to Nigredo, he whispered, “I have no idea what the hell you guys need me to do, but I’ll do it. I’m gonna try, at least.”
no subject
“Bring it on! I’m gonna rip you right outta here and drag you back to the Durandal!”
Jr. paused, fingers tightening around the edge of a shattered support beam, and wondered how differently things would have gone, if he had been able to do just that. Hurling the heavy beam with more force than was strictly necessary, he crossed into what appeared to have once been a kitchen. He stopped himself again now, realizing how tense he was becoming, how tightly he was clenching his jaw, and forced himself to relax.
The idea of killing Albedo was unbearable, but not false. The idea of hurting Nigredo?
He doubled over for a moment, almost sick at the very idea. Nigredo, who had been his rock after they had escaped Miltia, who had been so much more than a little brother or a pseudo-father and everything in-between. If not for Nigredo, Jr. wasn’t sure where he would have ended up following the incident. But maybe that’s what had happened to those Rubedos? Maybe they had grown in a world without a Gaignun Kukai, without the man who had given structure in all the chaos. They must have; there could be no other explanation for why they would ignore Nigredo, the image of the child whose last words still remained with Jr., or why they would try and bring him harm.
“What does it say,” he mused aloud, resting his forehead on the remains of a wall, “that I’d sooner side with my brothers than I would with myself?”
Making up for lost time, he thought. For how stupid and blind even he had been in the past.
He was trying to free a chair from beneath a collapsed section of staircase when he heard footsteps beyond the building. Licking his lips, he wiped his hands on his jacket and turned to regard his youngest sibling, expression rippling like water, as if he was having difficulty maintaining the smile on his face. At his brother’s words, the smile became a little weaker. He stepped closer to the window, noticing how Nigredo hadn’t come through—do you blame him?—and stopped a short distance away. It was like a game, now; see how close you can get before you begin making your traumatized brothers panic.
It wasn’t a very good game.
“Uh, yeah, well…” He trailed off, mouth clicking shut, and then steeled himself. “I didn’t know…how comfortable you two would be inside with me, y’know…in an enclosed space. N-not that I’m trying to suggest I’d…”
He peered at Nigredo, at a loss for words, willing his brother to understand. And then, unable to help himself, he looked beyond Nigredo to Albedo in the distance, the other half of his being who apparently couldn’t even bring himself to approach. The nausea returned; the role of the villain’s shade wasn’t a part he had ever practiced for.
Quietly, looking back to Nigredo, he whispered, “I have no idea what the hell you guys need me to do, but I’ll do it. I’m gonna try, at least.”