quietmounds | (no subject)

We can head somewhere to warm up. I just didn't want to be . . . around other people for a bit.

That's understandable. And it's fine to stay out, too; I'll let you know when it gets actively unpleasant. I'm just a warm-weather man.

[ducks down as they want, scooping up a handful of snow and starting to shape it between his equally white fingers]

So am I, for the most part. The city where I live is very—controlled. Weather-witches working the perimeters to allow us to live in comfort.

[he nods, tossing the snowball from hand to hand] Shaping the weather around it, essentially...?

Yes. More and more of the planet grows inhospitable, so we shape out where we can.

[for a moment his eyes go pure black and he stops throwing the snowball. And then he resumes with barely a stutter in his step, blinking and looking away]

Do you know why? It sounds like something your scientists are aware of, at least.

[an uneasy shrug]

It started a long time ago. If you take more than you give back, anything will begin to break down. And we took, and we took.

Is there a plan?

[flashes him a hard smile]

Things have settled recently. In their way. A resolution but not a solution.

It's the sort of thing that a man can't turn his face away from, no matter how it binds and pains him.

No, it's not.

[his eyes are still black. After a moment, he sighs]

I'm sorry.

Haah . . . you know, it's not really an unusual situation. No matter the enemy, people often find themselves in a position where the poison in the world, whatever form it takes, is just too big to take on by themselves. But if you have any sliver of power, then aren't you embolded to try? Or face wasting a way under the weight of your own guilt.

No... it's not unusual. Whether through the doing of people or just... misfortune. Coincidence. Disaster. The healthiest of worlds will still die if its sun begins to deteriorate. Of course, as you said, the people who feel like they should be able to do something will be the ones who have to try. Even if it's the cruellest thing to feel the weight of the world, and know there might actually be nothing they can do. Like I said... the universe isn't an optimistic place.

But, if there's anything I can do to help you, let me know.

[he swallows heavily, quiet]

. . .

I'm. A little lonely. Though it grates on me to fall on your obvious pity.

[lets the snowball fall and slides an arm around his shoulders]

Consider it sympathy instead.

Only marginally better—

[oh. hi.]

[squeezes his shoulders]

I lived among, I trained under, I loved a people who died in a global disaster. I hadn't known until it hit the news because I was in mourning for my master. I only made it to watch the last survivors of a people who had scorned machinery die on unsuccessful life support.

It may be only marginally better, but there's some understanding there, I hope, to the weight of it. Mourning alone is hard.

Edited 2017-12-04 22:21 (UTC)

[he jolts, startled, tense and trembling a little in his grip]

I'm not mourning—

[a lie, a clear lie]

Ah, my mistake, then. [still, leaves his arm there]

[. . . he abruptly turns into the embrace, pressing his face into Mikk's shoulder, drawing in a shaky breath]

I can't cry, you know.

[squeezes him, rocking very slightly on his feet]

It's all right to do the next best thing.

What's that?

Well. This, for starters. Please don't do it like Thissizz and beat your face on things, though, unless strictly necessary.

My face is far too pretty.

I can't deny that. [puts a hand on the back of Vasily's head and keeps Vasily's face pressed into his shoulder for a moment] It's all right. Nobody else will see if you need a moment. I won't either, with your face like this.

. . . I can't.

[he pulls back, suddenly sparking with irritation]