beyond the door.

[purgatio]

The great doors of the ballroom opened at a touch, and Albedo stared into the grey light, unimpressed. A fine mist diluted sight and form, and it was all too obvious that the ones who brought forth the unlocking were supposed to step forward for the sight of what laid behind the dust and thickened air--too obvious a setup, and too trite the design.

...But, just as well, there was no point in not continuing. After a glance at his brother, Albedo stepped through the doors. Nigredo moved with him, and not two feet in, there came the sound of a slam, of heavy doors shutting. The white-haired Variant gave a sigh--just as expected--and glanced backwards. Only to tilt his head, eyebrows raising lightly. Well, now. The doors had vanished entirely, leaving nothing, so that at least broke the pattern if but slightly.

His gaze angled towards his brother. "I take it we're continuing?"

Comments

[purgatio]

For all habitual behavior, Albedo had no wanting to listen in to whatever his brother and twin had to say. Was not willing to listen to excuses and apologies not directed at himself, because he was still remembering breath, and how to breathe. He was still wondering how long this would continue, before this Rubedo remembered that he hated them. What would it take, for this one to show a different face. What Nigredo decided was his own--as much as Albedo knew Nigredo was there for him, his brother knew it as well, and no matter what happened, they would continue. Because both had the other.

A pretty sentiment, if but truthful, and when faced with the fact of a twin's existence, all else but that shattered. There was nothing in him that wanted to contemplate this. Nothing that wanted to accept Rubedo's existence, and much that wanted to ignore it. Albedo's insides shifted, shattered, and he recalled too clearly everything that had been done. But he also remembered the expression on Rubedo's face minutes prior, and the way he reacted, too honest to be subterfuge. And how, for the first time in months, there was something almost like-- Hope.

And Albedo had promised. Promised Nigredo he would catch up.

As if to accent the universal truth of irony that he worshiped, there was a vibration along the link between him and Nigredo. Albedo's head snapped up, eyes on the building both brothers had slipped into, trying to place the feeling. He had felt this before--

"If you didn't know that," Albedo had asked softly. "Then what did you learn?"

"I learned he killed someone I love," Nigredo gave in turn, "and he knew I exist to kill him."

Blinking, Albedo's eyes narrowed on the house, and he took a cautious step forward, wondering if he should approach the little reprieve. There was a possibility that nothing was truly-- Wrong.

Albedo was darting forward before the thought had solidified--the familiar sensation of Nigredo crying, in pain, clear in his mind. It was only a moment before he was standing opposite to the two, divided from them by the window-ledge-- Albedo outside, and the two inside, together, bonded, and it was too familiar to not hurt, and--

And he swallowed it, prioritized as he had learned to in the past month, because before himself, Nigredo--

"What are you doing, Rubedo?" was the hiss, threat heavy in the words. "Did you hurt him again?"

[designerchild]

He awkwardly rubbed the space between Nigredo’s shoulder blades, thumb brushing over the worrisome notches of his brother’s too obvious spine, as if he could smooth them away. On an instinct from a time long past, barely remembered, Jr. found himself gently shushing the other boy when Nigredo began to cry. It was a struggle to keep from doing likewise, but he managed—he couldn’t keep dissolving into tears around his brothers, after all. Not when they’d been through so much. If he needed to be a rock for them, he’d do just that. Hooking his chin over Nigredo’s shoulder, he simply stood there, heart heavy with sadness.

Albedo’s voice cut through him like a knife and, body stiffening, Jr. pulled back from Nigredo, startled and confused. Staring at his twin and wondering what the sudden question was about, it dawned on him. It’s the link. Glancing back at Nigredo, his expression twisted. Had he really upset his brother that much? Cautiously, he placed a hand on the brunet’s arm, ducking his head to meet Nigredo’s eyes, and asked quietly, “Hey. How’re you holding up?”

Then, shooting his twin a dry look, he loudly replied, “I’ll let him speak for himself. That alright with you, mother hen?”

[atrabilis]

The part forever suspended in disconnect noted the details, the contrasts and similarities whenever Nigredo cried in front of a brother. From his observations, the twins had a need to lessen tears, to calm the younger down to outward stability. Neither seemed to want to allow a full cycle; both had yet to act as a quiet witness as Nigredo cried himself out. Albedo, however, served as a deterrent to negative emotions by being affectionate. Rubedo proved more passive, more parental. Nigredo felt young, suddenly, to be comforted by him--more so than the other.

It was due to these thoughts that he nearly missed Albedo's entrance. Only Rubedo's reaction and subsequent question caused his tears to freeze and his face to lift toward the white-haired boy. Why is he so angry? He could not place sense, not until he noticed the cool sensation against his cheeks. "I-I'm okay," Nigredo blurted out to Rubedo as he glanced over at the floor. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--" He swallowed, allowing the word to fall to oblivion.

Crying was a travesty. No one wanted to speak of it. Instead, for Albedo, Nigredo gave his explanation in silence, as absolute truth. {He didn't hurt me. We just talked about...you know.} That. That horrid fact of his existence. Albedo should know very well.

[purgatio]

Emotions seethed at Rubedo's light response, and it was familiar, so familiar, to be angry in this direction--without a killing rage, or a tumultuous pain behind it, it could almost be something like from before all had shattered. Fallen to ruin.

He blinked, overwhelmed by a brief and torrid wave of pure regret.

Nigredo slipped into his mind--the moment passed; Albedo swallowed his petty sorrow.

Except he couldn't. Not now, and not with Rubedo in front of him, and Nigredo connected to his mind. Pain flashed on his face before he muffled it with irritation, but his emotions thrummed with clear and simple wanting-- It wasn't the time. And no longer could he claim that--

There were two instances that he found his head nestled in Nigredo's lap. Two instances, in that park and in solitary, that Albedo sang out his perfectly simple, wretched desire to just go back to how things used to be--

No, he didn't hold that want anymore. He desired forward momentum, and that was legitimate, but still, now, he just wanted things to be different. More than anything else.

Without saying a word to either, Albedo picked his way over the window ledge and moved over to Nigredo, slipping behind the other and holding the back of his shirt, his head laying against shoulder-blade. It was a close mirror, to a time long since past, to two brothers confronting a third on the girl that he liked, and the songs that they played, and Albedo was aware of the similarity. He didn't care.

{I'm sorry,} he finally gave to Nigredo. Sorry that that was discussed. Sorry Albedo couldn't make anything better. Sorry that, in the end, it would be the youngest who likely turned to comfort him instead.

[designerchild]

Slowly, his hand slipped away from his brother’s arm, fingers curling into his palm. He was twenty-seven years old and the Institute was thousands of light years away, in distance and in time, but when he looked upon his brothers standing just so, the memory burned him. How easy it would be, to put the blame and responsibility of the brothers’ current state on other selves. But no, this division had not been born of a false Rubedo. This division had begun long before Gaignun had disappeared beneath their father’s control, long before Albedo had breathed his last in the space-time anomaly. This division had been present even before the Miltian Conflict—the cracks had been there all along, in a place where monsters had played as boys playing as monsters. He’d lost the right to jealousy then, had lost it when he had so carelessly incited it. Now, however, it was electric in him, a hot, childish jealousy of both his brothers and of their relationship, their trust in each other. He was ashamed of himself.

He was also desperately, yearningly lonely in this moment.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, vaguely surprised to find his voice steady. “Sometimes, it’s necessary.”

He had cried as he held Nigredo’s body in his arms. He had cried again when the heartbeat shadowing his own had faded from him. He had just cried now, thinking of the impossible burden their youngest brother had carried for so long, too long, of that brother’s insistence of being worthless. It would seem all his tears were reserved for family.

Eyes anywhere but the simple image of Albedo’s hand clutching Nigredo’s shirt, they’re too young for this, he carefully swiped the debris and remnants of shattered glass from the blown out window and then sat on the edge of the sill.

“Back where I was,” he began, suddenly answering a question long since passed, “all the Travelers—which is what we were called—were split into a different Norse god’s House. Each Traveler received a specific power from their House’s god. Those of House Loki were either bestowed telepathy or telekinesis and, like their patron god, those of House Loki were often inclined to starting mischief amongst their fellow Travelers.

“When I saw the two of you...” He turned away, looking out the window with a stubborn tightness to his jaw. “…I thought that one of them had been screwing around with my head. I knew the two of you weren’t in Asgard and my mental defenses…aren’t what they used to be. It seemed like an obvious conclusion. Someone from Loki’s House was playing a game and I was at the heart of it.”

That is what he had meant by his Loki remark. That, and nothing more.