exsiliumlogs | how the mighty fall and climb again

Entry tags:

how the mighty fall and climb again

Date & Time: 12/2
Location: a VR room
Characters: Bariyan, Martin
Summary: i hate sophia
Warnings: snot and tears

[he's half-convinced he's going to throw up; every step makes it feel that much more certain. his stomach is in every kind of knotted configuration imaginable and then some, and his legs are shaking and trembling just as much as the rest of him, making this the most terrifying march in recent memory.

Bariyan's voice is thick and buzzing in his head; just the sound makes his throat hurt and heart ache. mere weeks ago, his own voice had said, so very certain, that Bariyan wouldn't come back. not ever.

so...so why...

he gives the distorted reflection of himself on the VR room's door a queasy, pained look, and gulps against the hard knot in his throat. he needs a minute...a minute or two.

both hands plant on the door and let his weight sag forward, head drooping down as he tries to press away the rattling and breathe. guilt is compounding on everything; I should tell Koltira first. He needs to know, too. He–

he's going to be in there. soon, if not already. he...well, no. not the same. because Martin's still right, isn't he? it's not...Bariyan.

one more big breath, and Martin pushes himself up, tapping on the door's keypad, holding his breath as it opens.

It's not going to be him. It can't...]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Bariyan had gotten there first; he'd been fairly close in the first place. When Martin comes in, he'll be greeted by jagged mountains, sharp winds and heavy snows, and dark, ominous, sharp-edged structures in the distance.

And a fire, blazing in a large torch. Bariyan's standing by it. He turns when Martin comes in and smiles. His eyes are bright blue; his neck is very clearly uninjured and unscarred. He looks pleased to see Martin. ]

Martin Darkov? [ Bariyan waves Martin over. ] Sorry about this. I was just reminiscing to kill time. I'll change it to something nicer in a moment here....

[the shocking change of scene has Martin's breath hitching and his body sagging against the door behind him – rather, chilly rock face, now in the imagined scenery. he shudders, and again at the call of his old name.

he turns his head and stares at the shape a few yards away and his whole body goes numb. That...

his face clouds over, overwhelmed by a number of feelings still trying to beat out the external numbness trying to creep inside. when the fire flickers just right, the whites of those eyes can almost be red, he can almost be convinced.]

[ Bariyan looks up into the sky. ]

Mmm... all right. Here we go.

[ He's already gotten the hang of the VR rooms; it'd been a blessing to discover them and their uses, after traversing the moon base in circles for several hours. Now the scenery changes, flickering away from all the snow and ice to something gentler. Rocky terrain, still, but covered in layers of dirt and grass, with tall pines rooted in. It's early evening. Aurora lights weave through the sky. ]

Better? I liked the other place... I hated it, too, but. [ Bariyan scratches his head. ] It was complicated.

[ Bariyan turns back to Martin and contemplates for a while. He worries. That doesn't look like a good expression on Martin's face.

He holds out his hand. ]

Hello, Martin.

[the imaginary red vanishes with the fire, and everything brightens, enough to keep the most desperate of wishful thoughts out of the realm of possibility. neck and face and collar.

he can smell the pine before his nose begins to plug up, well against his will, with his breath catching while Bariyan gets closer. one leg trembles, warning him he's about to slip and topple right over, so he staggers to push himself back upright, arms shaking.]

Hhoh... [his jaws clench tight before he can reply to the greeting. Hello, Martin burns in his ears and in his chest, and he pulls an arm up, bringing it up over his eyes.]

Wh...w-wait...

[ Bariyan freezes in place and raises his eyebrows. Then he draws back a half-step, letting his hand drop, giving Martin his space. ]

All right.

[ For the next moment, the only sound is wind rattling pine needles. Bariyan watches Martin with something fast approaching sorrow. He'd spent most of the night flicking through the network, reading up on -- reading from -- this other Bariyan, and the man had seemed... a dour fellow, at best. To be honest, Bariyan wasn't terribly charmed.

But he'd been important to someone. To Martin. ]

[he holds his breath as long as he can and swallows down on a thick, acidic welling-up in his throat. and, after trying to stay frozen as long as he can, he lets out his breath and draws another in, and again slower to calm himself down. he presses his forearm against his face and drags is harshly away, blinking quickly when he's free of it and makes himself look elsewhere at first.

it still hurts terribly when he does look back, but he doesn't feel the sledgehammer-strike of pain as it was the first time he saw, or he first time he heard.

Martin swallows again and makes himself look. look at all the things that are different. his eyes linger in particular around his neck, unable to will the things that ought to be there; even with his poor imagination, somehow he can almost picture it. but not enough to convince himself.]

Nnhmn... [another swallow, another quick swipe of his sleeve under his nose, and he straightens up. his mouth twitches, pulling upwards in small little spurts while his brow knits with the effort.

he extends his arm out, hand open.

a little croak at the start:]

Hello. Yu–you were right.

[ Bariyan waits patiently through Martin's internal struggle, through the staring, giving Martin ample time to regain his hold upon reality. After skimming through the other Bariyan's correspondence, he'd sunk back into bed and thought long and hard about his next course of action; what to do, what to say.

But he wasn't very good at planning. It seemed impossible to plan for this conversation, anyway. So he'd just made the call and gone from there.

He only responds once Martin extends his hand. Bariyan takes it in his own, and shakes, rather less enthusiastically and great deal more somberly than usual. He nods. ]

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news on a familiar face. You must miss him.

[a warm handshake is a good, tactile bit of reality, but Martin still can't help but cringe a little at the shoulders. his eyes wince as he looks up and sees a familiar face making a more-familiar expression.]

Oh...Don't– [his breath is mixed up with a weak laugh to counter a whimper.] Don't be sad... [he withdraws his hand, dragging his knuckles up under his eye again.] It's al-alright. [the hand moves to the other side to catch tears before they spill all over his cheek. he sniffs, still smiling behind his hand.] It'll be alright...

[he's talking more to himself than anyone, but it helps that he can at least pretend it's for this other Bariyan's sake.] I knew he wasn't coming back...not how I know him. Or, or how he'd know me... [see? not a glimmer of recognition. it hurts.

he drags the heel of his hand up his temple, pushing bangs aside.] Nnuh, and, [sniff.] and he doesn't have to come back. Because I'll be alright. He doesn't have to worry about me...see?

[he wipes at his face again and winces, smiling weakly.] Uhh–no, well...it doesn't look alright, does it...but it is, I promise.

[ Bariyan nods. ] I believe you.

[ And what else can he say? What else can he do? This child is a stranger to him, and so is the Bariyan that Martin knew; there is no comfort or assurance that this Bariyan can provide. None that would matter, anyway. The empathy and care of strangers is worth little, in times like these.

All the same, he feels a twinge of pain. He'd gone back through some of the conversations that Martin and Bariyan e Kodhi had held through the network; the last one had been about forgetting.

Right now, Bariyan can't help but feel that the universe is playing a cruel trick on the both of them.

Bariyan smiles anyway. That's the way of the universe he knows. ]

Do you worry about him, Martin?

[worry. worry...

thoughts of unfairness keep bubbling back up, despite reason. they make Martin's mouth tremble and eyes well and force himself to settle again, each time.

he needs time to let himself understand, but he's not giving himself enough of it.

Martin leans back against the cold surface behind him, hugging his middle and feeling himself breathe. his face burns a little from scrubbing to hard, so that's enough of that.

worry...

his eyes are downcast, looking at Bariyan's feet. they make him look like a stranger, like that.]

I, I don't know, I... [he licks his lips and swallows again.] I'm sure I was sure he'd be alright.

[another substantial, steadying pause.]

I just miss him. [he shoots a fast look up before it's back to the ground. it's like the time before, with a hale and healthy Bariyan looking at him with eyes empty of any recognition. it's a horrible feeling.] I miss him and I...I don't know if. I did enough for him.

[is that why he's there? it's a selfish strain of thought that Martin can't shake.]

[ Bariyan nods to show that he's listening -- though Martin's not really looking at him, is he? -- and bends at the knee to go into a crouch, resting his arms over his knees. He keeps watching Martin. ]

What did you do for him? What could you have done?

[ He wonders if he's doing the right thing, to continue the conversation. He wonders if it'd be less cruel to simply go, and leave the boy with his thoughts.

His instinct tells him no; that it would be unacceptable to leave Martin in a state of such fresh misery. So Bariyan stays, for now. ]

[as it was before, the shifting of eye levels disquiets. Martin finds himself looking almost level, but far too close to down at Bariyan to feel right at all; there's an impulse to fall and hug him starting to nag.

all that armor, though...that helps keep some things in perspective. somewhat.

the him Bariyan says alters to me the more Martin thinks on it, the more he looks. he squeezes his fingers against his elbows.]

Well, I...I know I wasn't much good for...for helping out. [his shoulders lift and fall.] I mean, I'm still not. But I'm trying to, to figure that out...an'...

An' I could've...made things simpler, maybe. [smiling, doubting the words coming out of his mouth.] Or made him happier, somehow...for everything he did for me, it. [swallow.] It was always about me. So...So I could've made it about him...if he wanted.

[another long pause. quietly:] But he. Didn't want that.

[ Bariyan listens very carefully, searching within himself for the answers that this boy deserves, for the words that will make this right. It's hard-going; it will always be hard-going. Bariyan is a better warrior than he is a father. ]

Then you must accept that. And not linger on what you could or could have done. [ And here Bariyan, despite his misgivings, projects himself, a little: ] I am sure he would much rather you think on what you could be. And what he wanted you to make of all the things he gave you.

[Martin nods slightly, gulping again. this person's voice lacks the weariness Bariyan's had...his face, too. and all the scars of however-many years of strife and misery. AND THE GODAWFUL STINK OF DAYS-OLD BOOZE STAINING ROTTEN FABRIC

but Martin's head is all full of that Bariyan, making this one's presence a struggle. even with evidence right there in front of him, he can't swallow it.

it feels like there's hands in his chest, grasping and squeezing his heart and lungs in irregular intervals.

twice, in that lapse, his hand twitches to lift and reach out, but twice he makes his fingers grasp and cling to the fabric of his shirt instead.

I'm not forgotten...because I'm not even known. it's true, and if he thinks it enough he'll make it moreso.]

I'm...I'm sorry. It's. Not your fault at all...I'm very sorry. [sorry, sorry, sorry.]

It's all right, child.

[ Unthinkingly, Bariyan lifts himself from where he's sitting to stand before Martin, taking Martin's shoulders into his hands. His grip is firm, but cold under the plate of his gauntlets; and warm under that. He is very alive, and he is not at all the Bariyan that Martin remembers. ]

You have no one to apologize to. And nothing to apologize for.

[ Time, Bariyan thinks; Martin just needs time. Time for the shock to wear off and for acceptance to settle in. They all need time. ]

[he squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his mouth into a thin, flat line, muting a sound of protest. he waits for...weight on his head. the comforting touch that passed from one admired caretaker to the other.

it doesn't happen, of course, and...that's right. that's how it's supposed to be. and it's awful.]

I. [his shoulders lift with a big breath under the weight of Bariyan's hands. they sag, heavily.] I should go. I think.

[ Bariyan lets go of Martin and smiles, sadly. ]

All right. Go then, Martin. I wish you well.

[ And he truly does, but only in the same way that he wishes everyone well; he cares because it's in his nature to do so, not because he has carved out a piece of himself for Martin. Bariyan is hopeful and loving and kind, but he is not unworldly, and he knows this just as well as Martin does: he knows that they are strangers to one another. ]

[something very heavy sits in Martin's guts, twisting as he shifts, wriggling out of just the feeling of hands already gone, like a phantom pain.

his hands loosen their hold on his arms and feel behind him, searching for the door that vanished in the scene minutes before, all with his eyes still closed and head dipped down to avoid the smile waiting for him.

guilt, but for exactly what and why is unclear. Martin feels as though he's done something wrong, though there's no clear thought of one. just the notion twisting inside as he finds the door and escapes, legs wobbling, arms stretching for wall to press against and keep balance. his breath is held for the time it takes the door to close, and it leaves with a hiccup that startles him to holding it again.

Koltira. he still remembers. and...he'll need to know, too. because the three of them...they were a family. if family's the right word for what they had; it suits Martin, in any case.

that much can keep him moving until his thoughts start falling behind his footsteps and leave him a lost and frightened blur. but it might keep Bariyan's voice out of his ears and face out of his mind, moving fast enough.

he'll run the rest of the way, missing the right hall the first time around, having to evade the VR room once in passing.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

how the mighty fall and climb again

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

get that icon away get your entire face away from me

im not done

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject