insomnis_veritas | beyond the door.

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beyond the door.

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?"

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Another's distress made one disregard his own. A hand reaching in need was always taken. Nigredo watched Albedo for moments longer than necessity required, before he allowed his eyes to drop and his digits to squeeze, to comfort someone who wasn't himself. Who was more connected to the situation than Nigredo, for the break came from this one's own twin.

It wouldn't be right, otherwise. After everything, an attempt at harmony would be selfish on his part, an insult to what he had promised.

Nigredo steadied the internal tremors and attempted calm. Rubedo would be fine, regardless, but Albedo... "No one will blame you if you can't," he told the other, "and I will be with you no matter what happens."

Edited 2012-07-09 02:18 (UTC)

Words promising stability would be rejected, because there was no factual consistency to them being true. This was true, except in one case. One solitary case only. Because Rubedo... Angel... Ritsuka... All of them had faded, and in the end, there was only Nigredo. Nothing else. And not by chance--by choice, and Albedo knew that.

So when his little brother spoke, Albedo listened. And then looked past the words to find further need. Leaving things like this would just cause them to rot further. One way or the other, this situation--this Rubedo--needed to be dealt with, because if they left as things were now, it would eat away at them. He knew this as well.

Still, he stared. Still, he made no effort to move. "Go to him," he said, and there was no hostility in the tone. Albedo reached, and the link sparked open between them for the first time since they'd come here. {Send if you need me. I'll...}

One could not lie through the link. Not when one's entire mental and emotional processes were laid bare to speak more clearly. Albedo could not promise to follow. Regardless. {...I'll catch up.}

In one way or the other, the middle Variant would shift his senses.

One could not lie through the link, no, and though there was nothing to guarantee such an outcome, Nigredo held no objections. Only truth and trust lay in this brother's words. Nigredo was only surprised that Albedo would let him move toward Rubedo and converse; he expected joint movement, united in whatever decision they held to. Although given what the youngest knew, perhaps he should not be surprised at the very least.

And the parts of him that loved both siblings were grateful for the allowance.

He squeezed the hand again for reassurance, before he released in favor of meeting the other eye-to-eye. {If you don't--} If you can't, was unsaid. {--then I'll come back.} If Albedo could not promise to follow, Nigredo could promise to return. That was the basis of their connection between them, was it not? The boy paused for breath and ran toward where his other brother was busy inside a dilapidated building.

As was expected of him, Nigredo recalled the request to move the partially broken table. This he fulfilled without delay, stopping once to pick out the shards of glass strewn upon the surface. The fact of needing furniture seemed ridiculous to him, and he could not get a sense as to why they required such a setup. Nevertheless, he was not one to forget. To question, but not to forget.

He didn't think to ask, however, until he was staring uncomfortably through the window. Until he could make out the bright red hair as its owner busied himself over chairs. "Hey--" Nigredo paused, a choking sensation passing over him. It had truly been some time since he had ever conversed with this one. Everything came as awkward.

He inhaled slowly and tried again. "Rubedo, do we really need furniture? Wouldn't it be easier to talk inside?"

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.”

It was a faltering smile that stood against his brother's wretched countenance, that crumbled easily at the proximity. The fact was easily seen, but the reason proved less than straightforward, less than known for someone who was once as obvious as an open book. Nigredo watched with bated breath and wondered when Rubedo had begun to carry the air of a stranger.

Or in this instance, a penitent sinner.

Green eyes fell to the opening in the ruined building, mind assessing its stability and his choices. There was truth in his preference to keep a comfortable distance, but there was also truth in his loyalties. Nigredo was never one to ignore them, not to the point of no return. To accept that he would rather have distance came as undesirable, and before long, the boy pulled himself to the level of the window sill. Without hesitation, he dropped to the space in front of Rubedo and stayed.

"It's okay. Really." Discomfort was to be expected; one would be a fool to believe otherwise. "Anyway, we should worry more about the environment. We can't say what's out there--" Besides a trio of estranged bioweapons. Nigredo gave his sibling a weary smile. "--so it may be wise to remain discreet." And arguing out in the open was not an exercise in good discretion.

The expression dropped to the wayside, however, as the last statement became comprehensible. "I," he started, before biting his lip. He didn't know how to go about this, how to convey a simple truth to someone important. There was a labored intake of breath. "Listen," he started again. "What happened to me..."

Never mind what happened to Albedo. Nigredo had no right to speak of it. His, however... "I don't blame you or your counterparts." He blinked and looked away. "You don't have to do anything for me."

A breath he hadn’t known he had been holding was released, slowly, on a shaky exhale as his brother climbed through the window. After the concerns he had just admitted, after everything (and nothing) that he now knew, the fact that Nigredo would close the distance between them was encouraging. Maybe the gesture had been small, something meant more to pacify him than something sincerely felt, but Jr. would take what he could get.

Biting back yet again on the impulse to reach out (his usual hands-on approach was going to be a difficult habit to break now), he moved forward toward the window, turning around to lean his hip against the intact sill. With Albedo in his peripheral vision and Nigredo before him, he listened to the youngest brother’s logic with an amused, fond smile. At least that hadn’t changed.

But Nigredo’s next words wiped the smile clean from his face. Something else that hadn’t changed, then. He couldn’t allow this, though, couldn’t even pretend he was relieved to hear such words. He tried to keep his expression light, tried not to let his misplaced anger show, and yet his mouth curved downward regardless, a sharp dip to his brows. Almost incredulously, he echoed, “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

This was a sentiment he wouldn’t tolerate.

“No, you listen.” The parlay was broken and Jr., unthinkingly, reached forward to place his hand on Nigredo’s shoulder. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me, what you’ve always done for me. I may not have had most of those experiences with you yet, and you may have had pretty damn awful experiences from the other ones, but you’re my brother. You’re my best friend.” Gently, he squeezed Nigredo’s shoulder, eyes bright. “I want make this better, easier. For both of you. I just need your help in getting there. Okay?”

The fact that Nigredo chose not to blame him, or them, wasn’t something he could even start on right now. With time, however, that was something else he knew he had to address.

This demeanor was remembered, gracing humor and kindness in fragments of the past. It came as languid talks in the courtyard, as quiet laughter in the dead of night. Nigredo flushed pink in the recollection, in the sea of his memories. He had not seen the eldest brother make such an expression, not since Sakura--

The smile vanished as if it had never been, replaced by a look Nigredo feared above all others. He did not know which part of his words had caused the change, sparked the shift in emotion. He could not begin to guess which would be rejected and which would require justification. Too much, not enough, and the boy trembled lightly against Rubedo's touch.

What came made its mark. It tore through the fragile ends of his psyche as Nigredo struggled to understand. He ultimately failed in the attempt--for what manner of person would express gratitude for his actions? Who would grant absolution to their executioner and call him their best friend? What had Nigredo done to earn such remarks? Trembles became shakes, and the child struggled against the onslaught of tears.

All else vanished beneath this single focus.

"You know," he began, breath hitching. "You know what I was made for." There was no doubt, not in the matter of years and knowledge. It registered as pain, considering the fact, and his face crumbled. "Why?" asked Nigredo. "When I don't deserve anything from you?" No matter what he had done.

He had not expected this sudden turn in the conversation. Thrown off guard, he simply stared at Nigredo with a blank expression, well aware that this was a weighted question. It was his brother’s reaction that rocked him to the core, however, disturbing the pretty semblance of peace he had been attempting to restore. Gaze turning inward, he rolled the word why over inside his mind, picking at it, searching it. But as he settled his attention on the title of Executioner, he could not find it in his heart to feel betrayed. Instead, he only found guilt. After all, he had been their leader, their older brother, their protector—and he had failed them both. Nigredo had been made to carry this burden, this secret, alone all their lives and Jr. had been too stupid to ask about any of it—about dad, about Citrine, about Nigredo’s ability. Why indeed. Stepping forward, he pulled his brother into him and crushed him in a hug, shuddering.

“Would you shut up?” Except the words had no bite to them; they were meant as a distraction, though whether for Nigredo’s benefit or his own, he couldn’t say. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes again and cursed under his breath. “Man, look at me. This is pathetic. Actually, no, don’t look. Forget I said anything.” Since when was he the crybaby of the group? Hands gripping his brother’s clothes tightly, he exhaled and then began.

“You know what I was made for, so how do you expect me to hold this against you? Your original purpose doesn’t define you, Nigredo. The galaxy is chock-full of monsters and, let’s be honest here, I’m one of ‘em.” He leaned back to look his brother in the eye, and if his cheeks were suspiciously wet, he was determinedly pretending they weren’t. “But you’re not. You’re my brother. You were never my Executioner. C’mon…” Now he paused to wipe his cheek on his shoulder, clearing his throat to find a more humorous tone. “…Did you really think your future self would let dad get the last say? You refused that path. And what you don’t understand is…”

Trailing off, he quietly glanced at Albedo, trying to say it without words.

“…I owe you everything.”

It wasn't absolution he wanted. Nigredo understood somewhere that this path came to a dead end. One could never find release from their existence, and for one whose being came as an abomination, they had not a single hope in being accepted as they were nor forgiven for their faults. The best that could be, the best one could hope for, was volition--control over actions and reactions. If Nigredo could guarantee absolute volition, then perhaps his brothers could overlook Executioner. Then perhaps he could forego the want for absolution.

Rubedo, however, wanted neither. He grabbed Nigredo to him and spoke words that denied purpose's definition. He told the youngest that a future self had refused their original design, that he had taken a much different path than what was allotted. That Rubedo owed him everything, for reasons and through methods Nigredo could not even begin to imagine.

Trapped within Rubedo's arms, he shook. Warmth slid to the forefront, and his face crumbled into tears. "But--" He cut off, vision and comprehension blurring, unable to find the words. "But I'm--"

Worthless. Wasn't he?

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?"

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?”

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.

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.

Edited 2012-08-16 06:59 (UTC)

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.

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