last man standing. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
baltimores) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aionlogs2022-06-20 03:01 am
baltimores) wrote in aionlogs2022-06-20 03:01 am
[open] some Kenoma come up to Godsblood the other day...
WHO: Amos, Gen, Eustace, Childe, any Pleroma
WHAT: Amos wants a gun, Eustace wants to make a portal, and in order to make it happen they go to...
WHERE: Godsblood.
WHEN: Towards the end of Visoseri/start of Soviseri
WARNINGS: None, unless you count bullying of various Pleroma; will add as necessary
The content of this entry is intended to be an OOC explanation of what's going on to keep everyone up to speed; any characters who may be in Godsblood during this time period are free to top level or tag out. This is not an event and simply a unique instance that some characters are kinda sorta technically in enemy territory, which opens itself up to thread opportunities that would not otherwise be possible.
Basically: four Kenoma are journeying up to Godsblood, albeit not all together and through different means.
Amos and Gen will be arriving via a boat directly from Achamoth, and accordingly, will be outed as Kenoma Aions right from the get-go — the populace should know who they are, and word of their arrival would likely get around. Amos is there because he wants to build a higher quality gun than what they have in Achamoth and Godsblood is the place to do it; Gen is there to serve as backup/moral support/because they're friends, okay. Story plotting link here for more details.
Eustace and Childe will be sneaking in via carriage from the Artisan shrine/a portal and will therefore not be known as Kenoma Aions upon entry to Godsblood — unless there are characters there who already know who they are, that is. Eustace is setting up a portal to facilitate travel between Achamoth and Godsblood. This is not public knowledge and non-Kenoma Aions/NPCs are unlikely to know about this. Story plotting link here for more details.
The mods have also provided some guidelines for how interactions could go between characters so that any Pleroma wouldn't necessarily have to out themselves as Aions when it comes to interacting with Amos or Gen, who are publicly declared as such. Highlighting what was said further down in Amos' plotting comment:
WHAT: Amos wants a gun, Eustace wants to make a portal, and in order to make it happen they go to...
WHERE: Godsblood.
WHEN: Towards the end of Visoseri/start of Soviseri
WARNINGS: None, unless you count bullying of various Pleroma; will add as necessary
The content of this entry is intended to be an OOC explanation of what's going on to keep everyone up to speed; any characters who may be in Godsblood during this time period are free to top level or tag out. This is not an event and simply a unique instance that some characters are kinda sorta technically in enemy territory, which opens itself up to thread opportunities that would not otherwise be possible.
Basically: four Kenoma are journeying up to Godsblood, albeit not all together and through different means.
Amos and Gen will be arriving via a boat directly from Achamoth, and accordingly, will be outed as Kenoma Aions right from the get-go — the populace should know who they are, and word of their arrival would likely get around. Amos is there because he wants to build a higher quality gun than what they have in Achamoth and Godsblood is the place to do it; Gen is there to serve as backup/moral support/because they're friends, okay. Story plotting link here for more details.
Eustace and Childe will be sneaking in via carriage from the Artisan shrine/a portal and will therefore not be known as Kenoma Aions upon entry to Godsblood — unless there are characters there who already know who they are, that is. Eustace is setting up a portal to facilitate travel between Achamoth and Godsblood. This is not public knowledge and non-Kenoma Aions/NPCs are unlikely to know about this. Story plotting link here for more details.
The mods have also provided some guidelines for how interactions could go between characters so that any Pleroma wouldn't necessarily have to out themselves as Aions when it comes to interacting with Amos or Gen, who are publicly declared as such. Highlighting what was said further down in Amos' plotting comment:
It wouldn't be unreasonable for a visiting Aion to be chatting up people within Godsblood so sharing a meal ... wouldn't be a dead give away, but it might tie them to the Aions on the rumor network if they do it in public. Whether they are just strangers Gen and Amos are dining with or whether they are connected to Achamoth won't be clear, but it would definitely have implications ... It's definitely a risk, at any rate.
As for meeting in a busy street or a public park the connection is still possible but a lot less likely, since the odds of them chatting up some rando in the park is a lot more likely than sitting down for dinner with them. It'd also be a lot more obvious if someone was spying on them, unlike a closed environment like a pub or eatery, so that'd probably be the safest option without going somewhere deserted or private.
no subject
Not for the part where people give him wary glances, as wide a berth as they possibly can, anything to keep their distance from him. Amos doesn't really care about that. But the atmosphere — it's like he's just gotten shore leave, so of course he wants to spend it among the dock workers. They don't get him, no; he understands them, though. Essentially used to be one of them. Just another one of those little unexpected ways in which Godsblood feels like it could be home.
He's not a total dick, though. He's not completely oblivious. Amos has enough decency to take up a stool at the far end of the bar, creating one corner for himself and letting others stay as far away as they want. Really, just soaking up the atmosphere from a distance and soaking up some alcohol after a day of getting to be among machining again is more than enough for him.
Not that his eyes aren't drawn to the front door every time someone new comes in, particularly when it's a small crowd. For a second, there's nothing to Amos' expression — and then his eyes brighten in recognition, and something that could be interpreted as happiness crosses his face.
Never mind where they last left things off, Abel leaving him in the lurch with such an all-consuming burst of rage that it had left Amos momentarily stunned. With a knowledge that if Abel can feel that, then who knows what he's capable of. He knows to treat him seriously now.
... But here? Nothing's gonna happen here, and it's actually kinda nice to see Abel in a non-miserable setting, when he's got all his wits about him for once. Abel's strengthened connection with the Pleroma could be blinding, but fuck it. He knew that was a possibility. It sucks, but really, what can he do about it right now.
What can either of them do but have a drink. Amos tilts his head to the spot next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly, because oh, look — a lone free seat here tonight. Looks like if the priest wants to stay, he drew the short straw among everyone here in having to sit next to the Kenoma Aion. But what the hell, right? It's not like he bites. ]
no subject
...but after having had some time to distance himself from the events of Venera and the distractions of what had come after, suppose things aren't quite as raw as they had been. at least Abel had been prepared to cross paths with another Kenoma, though he hadn't known it would be this Kenoma; it has taken some of the sting out of discovering the "enemy" is in their midst and at this tavern, no less. (that heart attack had been saved for earlier in the day, already endured and put behind him.) it's hard to deny no small part of him feels conflicted, perhaps even guilty for the way their last conversation had gone - if one could really call it a conversation at all.
so after a moment's deliberation, Abel's shoulders heave in defeat; regardless of whatever discomfort this particular... reunion... might bring about, there are important matters to discuss - and beyond that, he wouldn't forgive himself for turning his back on a friend.
especially this friend.
the priest is sinking into the stool beside Amos as he gives the bartender a sheepish glance and a gesture and a chittering that yes, he'll have whatever his company is having... yes, that's right, the Aion man right here with the large arms? that one.
...and then, sending a sidelong glance to his fellow, Abel leans in a little to say-- ]
You do have large arms. You work out, right...? Definitely work out.
no subject
Yeah. I work out. Damn near daily, really.
[ Old habits die hard — needing to work out to ensure he's never small and vulnerable again, to make sure his muscles wouldn't atrophy when he was in space — plus the whole we're at war thing. It might be on the backburner now, but one day it won't be, and he knows to be ready. Magic is still something of a mystery to him, but his strength has always something he's been able to rely on. Moreso, now. So that's not going to go away.
Amos takes a second to throw the rest of his drink back, and if that so happens to show off one of his arms, then so be it. His shirt's sleeveless, work gloves tucked into a back pocket if one cares to look there; he looks a lot less like he's come from Achamoth and a lot more like he belongs in a machining shop here. (It's a sense that's not lost on him. The more time he's spent in Godsblood, the more he likes it here.) And then, while they've still got the bartender's attention, he orders another drink for himself — a fresh drink to share with a friend he hasn't seen in a while.
If you want to get technical, Amos hasn't actually seen Abel since the cavern. Venera doesn't count. He wasn't himself there. It's out of sight, out of mind, now, but for the pressing question of who's Cain — which, considering Abel's first reaction, he isn't inclined to bring up. He's not trying to antagonize the guy.
As should be obvious by the grin Amos flashes Abel when he turns back to him. Fuck, that Pleroma light is annoying; it's really the only blight here, so he's just gonna ignore it. ]
Kinda helps when you work the docks, doesn't it? [ Even though everyone here damn well knows Amos isn't a dock worker, but he could be. ] Guessing that's not quite your scene here, is it.
[ Hey, buddy. What do you do in Godsblood, anyway? There's some number of you here, isn't there. ]
no subject
there is a brief, fleeting look of something appreciative, almost thankful - before it is tucked away into another usual, all-too-easy friendly smile. what is done is done, behind them. now is not the time or place to dig into it, and the unspoken stepping stones of the future of this conversation are seemingly set by both of them. they're moving forward, and that's that.
with that established? Abel is more than happy to share a drink with a friend. there is no Kenoma or Pleroma - even if it is all but impossible to miss the eerie, haunting wisps of darkness curling outward from Amos' Shard that won't truly allow Abel to forget the nature of his company. there is just Abel, and Amos, and two glasses of whatever the hell his friend had ordered to imbibe.
...and, a well-muscled arm? o-oh. yeah, it really is well-muscled, isn't it.
d... don't mind him if he just
reaches out absent-mindedly and gives that bicep an experimental poke, like. just to. y-you know. ]
Oh.
[ 'oh,' ]
--What? Oh-- oh yes, the docks! Is that where you've been busying yourself...? I don't frequent them myself very much, personally, but I quite enjoy sitting on the canals and watching the traffic meandering by, it's quite relaxing... [ hm. ] Hey, Mr. Amos... did you know I'd be in the city? Are you paying me a house call? I would've invited you to somewhere a little nicer if I'd known you'd be by, you know...
no subject
Abel could — should — have been a close enough friend that this really should have been a seamless reality. As it stands, there's only this awkward barrier, but if they're both game to look through it as though it's not there at all...
He really is just catching up with a friend, and if Abel's gonna treat it exactly that way, then who is he to do anything different? There's even a sense of warmth to him as he answers. ]
Ship's here, so I'm by here a lot, yeah. [ But he could just be any old visitor for any old reason, right. ] Grew up along some docks myself. Spending more time among the guilds though.
[ But which ones, and why... Ah. He nods up at the bartender when they return with their drinks, thanks in the gesture, before looking back at Abel, relaxed and comfortable. ]
Had no idea you were here, actually. This place is plenty nice, but... [ He takes a second to break his drink in with a small sip. Like, he's still appreciative of where he is. Booze is as good as any other place, and he's been having a good time nestled up in his own little corner... ] maybe next time I'm up here, you know? If we got the time for it.
[ The next time he's back in Godsblood, because he fully intends to come back. If circumstances haven't changed too much to make it impossible. At least he really, genuinely hopes that won't be the case. ]
no subject
it seems he'll have to try and piece it together himself. unshockingly, his friend isn't falling over himself to spell out what he's doing here. something with the guilds? it's interesting, and Abel nods along, giving the bartender his thanks and passing jools along the countertop as a glass makes its way into the priest's hands. ]
Yes, well-- this is one of my usual haunts! Though I'm not the sort of man who likes, um... hm. What's that saying? Putting roots down, that's it, that's it.
[ always on the move? right. he prods at his glasses, tilting his head in curiosity as he takes in Amos' leisurely disposition; whatever the other man's business here, he doesn't feel especially ruffled about any of this. ]
So you grew up by the docks... does this feel anything like home to you, Amos?
[ Abel isn't fishing for the details. no, it's just as he said - they are simply two men tonight far as the priest is concerned. ]
no subject
[ And there's the Kenoma doing its work, having entrenched itself further into his mind, his being. He has no love lost for Baltimore. Never did, never will. But what had once been a passive I left, it's no longer my problem has spiked into something sharper, more vicious if he thinks about it. It was shit, so it's good it was destroyed. Can never come back. Will never come back in any capacity, if he has his say.
Amos takes another drink as though nothing had happened, any dip in his mood easily bounced back from. This is natural, now. This is what comes to him, and he's at complete peace with it. Something almost nostalgic even manages to slip into his tone as he sets his glass back down on the bartop. Rests a forearm against it, relaxed and perfectly at ease. ]
It's what life should've been like. Might've had a chance if I'd been born here. But I wasn't, so. [ A shrug of his free shoulder. Can't do anything about that. ] I do like it plenty though.
[ As far as he's concerned there's nothing useful Abel can glean from these details, and they're a part of his past he's never really had any issue with, so he'll freely discuss them. Why not, right? They're catching up. Getting to know each other a little better.
And with that, he raises his eyebrows at Abel, ready to turn things back towards him. ]
Not really sure how one finds themselves in a city this big without putting down roots. You get a place, do your thing. What else is even around here?
[ Where else could you possibly be spending your time if it's not here, huh. It's both an idle curiosity — Amos genuinely doesn't see how you can just pass through a city without having another one to return to. It's not like Abel is a sailor, the only other frame of reference he can comprehend — and fishing for info. Whether he gets it or not, he doesn't particularly care, but no harm in trying, right? You never know. ]
no subject
he's seen more than enough hints that Amos' life has not been an easy one since their first meeting what feels like far longer ago than it was. that this man has been badly injured inside of himself, damaged, is no secret - but reminders that Amos had suffered so deeply are never especially pleasant to stomach.
whether he's simply looking for a distraction or trying to lighten the mood, the priest takes a drink from his glass, making a bit of a face and resisting the urge to cough-- ]
...W-well, [ a cough, anyway. god damnit; he clears his throat-- ] That's what one does when they're planning to stay somewhere, right? And I still consider myself just passing through, I suppose. I'm still deciding where I'd like to end up if our stay in Horos ends up as long-term as it seems it will, you know?
[ which is a slightly unsettling prospect for Abel, but not necessarily one for Amos. it does bring about another question, though: ]
Would you say you're... happier, here? Than you were at home?
no subject
The thing that makes him eye Abel is when he turns the subject matter back to him. He stares at him, unreadable, for a few seconds, and then... ]
Not sure. [ It's an honest answer, at least. ] I had a good thing going back home, but it's not like I can do anything about getting that back. So it doesn't really matter. I am plenty comfortable here, though.
[ Grow up among chaos, and any losses are easy to adapt to. Would he say he misses his old crew? Sure, but each passing day is another one without them, another reason to not really care that they're gone. That isn't even the Kenoma — that's just him.
But enough about him. Amos inclines his chin a fraction, raises his eyebrows looking back at Abel, his voice taking on a decidedly friendlier tone. Genuine curiosity. ]
What, are you wandering the continent or something? It's just dumb luck I caught you here? [ Where a handful of other Pleroma are, too? He kinda smells bullshit, but he's not trying to be a dick about it. ] Anywhere striking your fancy?
no subject
it does make Abel wonder if things would be different. if Amos had hope his universe, his home, were alive and well - would it change things for him? would he have regrets? remorse? doubts...? what it is, precisely, that made him accept the Kenoma's call? was it the pain he'd already suffered, or was the final straw the enormity of that loss? was he attached to anything, or merely floating along his life in the end?
...he pushes the thoughts aside with another gentle nudge of his glasses, another sip of his drink. ]
No, no... it's nothing quite as grandiose as worldly travels or anything like that-- though it's something I've given thought to, if we're being honest! It's more that...
[ another faint hesitation. this time, he is not searching for the perfect wording or looking for how to make things come out right - but it seems he is sincerely pondering what it is he feels. Amos has asked a genuine question, and though Abel is not in the habit of giving many earnest answers... this one is. ]
I'm not quite sure where I'm supposed to be, and I think I need to take some time to find it.
no subject
Amos gets it, though. He doesn't grieve like other people. He doesn't grieve at all. (He does; grief is just unidentifiable to him.) But eventually, you just have to move on. Otherwise you end up stuck in the past, susceptible to fools' whims, and... hm.
But he knows now Abel isn't a fool. He might've thought of him as one in the past, in a fond way, with Abel so desperate to help him and Amos wishing he could be helped. There's an element of that that reminds him of Cap, who is gone now. But ever since their last attempt at communion, he knows there's something deep in Abel he's keeping buried, which is something he can identify with all too well. They just have different means of hiding it to the rest of the world, is all. It just makes Amos all the more receptive to him.
He takes a drink of his own as Abel speaks, waiting. The hesitation, he kinda expected, but not for the reasons Abel actually hesitates. Amos figured he had something to hide, but no, this is real.
He sets his glass back down on the bartop, giving Abel a thoughtful look of his own. He already knows the answer; he'd be remiss if he didn't suggest it. ]
Could always come back with me to Achamoth.
[ Where they were all supposed to be. That notion hasn't gone away for him, even as he can't help but blink down at Abel's shard, the way that white aura around it keeps catching his eye. ]
It's really not a bad place. Big city with pretty much something for everyone. Whatever you're looking for, it's probably there.
[ And then a soft smile bordering on wistful. ]
Wouldn't know until you've tried it, right?
no subject
but the expression in his eyes is a bit melancholic, rueful - even if it's also grateful, fond. ]
That's just the problem, Mr. Amos.
[ settling his glass back upon the countertop, the priest's voice is soft - yet carries despite the bustle of the tavern's din. ]
I would love very much to go to Achamoth... get a first-class tour of all the best dive bars by a particular friend of mine, maybe? [ he leans, nudging shoulder against shoulder in a lightly teasing gesture. ] The best places to grab a bite to eat, too. I hear the entertainment there is top-notch to boot, even if I have to admit I think with my stomach, but...
[ ... ]
The thing I'm looking for-- it will take you away from Achamoth, one day. By choice, I hope. And... I'd like to have somewhere nice for you to call home once you do.
no subject
He lets his jovial nature fade as Abel trails off. He knows he isn't going to make that choice. He knows one day he's going to have to do his damnedest to make that choice for Abel, so that then, he'll get it. It won't be today. It won't be any time during his first visit to Godsblood.
Amos turns to look ahead of him, out across the bar. Down, at his partially full glass, brow furrowed. His voice matches Abel's as he speaks to it, rather than him. ]
Don't gotta worry about me. I already got somewhere nice to call home. Like I said, it's comfortable. Good. I got people. [ And fuck, was that ever proven to him after everything that happened in Venera. ] Don't really need a whole lot else, right?
[ He looks back up at Abel then, posture straightened, any crease in his brow gone. Just speaking strictly facts, now. ]
You know if you find something that'll take me away from Achamoth I'll stop you, right? Or if not me, it'll be someone else. You're not gonna win that one. Either you'll die, or. [ He waves a hand vaguely over his shard, through that aura he knows Abel can see. ] Or you'll finally figure it out.
[ For the record, he would much prefer the latter. ]
no subject
Abel's eyes trail to the swirling mass of darkness emanating from the other man's Shard, and he cannot help but find himself feeling a little welling of a familiar rueful longing. oh, how he wishes things were not as they are right now... how he wishes that this were a drink being shared under much different conditions and circumstances... how he wishes he had the words to make Amos understand precisely how he feels, why he is so staunchly determined to see this man parted from that whispering madness.
...his fingers close a little tighter over his glass. ]
I told you some time ago that I'm an exceptionally stubborn sort of person, you know?
[ his smile is wan, strained around the edges - but the fondness is no less apparent nor sincere in his eyes. ]
It's because I know that you and I want the same thing, Amos-- a world where no one has to hurt as badly as you've hurt. A better world... the sort where men-- good men-- are not forced to have the look in your eyes anymore. I don't think you can see it in yourself, but when I look at you... every single time and without fail, I feel it. The heaviness of this... this awful pain inside of you, one I don't know if you've grown so numb to you don't even know it sits in your shadow-- or if you've become so accustomed to its presence, you've simply mistaken it for normalcy.
[ his gaze drifts, slowly, to that Shard again. ]
But it is not normal. And... it's blinded you, clouded your vision. It isn't your fault... it never was. [ and, with a meager smile - blue eyes slide once more to his companion's. ]
I can't open your eyes, just yet-- but I will. You will. There is a good man beneath the pain, a strong man... and he deserves that.
cw talk of suicidal ideation
He can't do that here, so he keeps himself carefully blank. Hell, he even gets where Abel's coming from. It's a place of love, and Amos really doesn't know what he's done to deserve it from this man when he'd just as easily snap his neck and bring what's left of his soul back with him.
Though that'd be coming from a place of love too, huh. He doesn't draw attention to it, but he can practically feel the scar on the back of his right hand — the sign of the Lover — burning into him. Instead, Amos just stares at that white aura for a prolonged moment. Sighs, his drink near forgotten at this stage. And looks back up into Abel's eyes, his own flat and empty as ever. ]
I know it's not normal. I know I'm blind to a lot of things. I'm numb, because if I wasn't, I'd have killed myself a long time ago. [ His voice is detached from any emotion, any sense of personhood; it's just a cold, hard fact. ] Since I found a way to survive it, that means I can do things most people can't. That also means that there ain't any good to be found in here. [ A light gesture towards himself, in general; not his fault his shard lies atop his heart. ] Maybe there could've been once, but that got snuffed out. It's not coming back.
[ There's a bubbling of grief reflected in the tilt of his head, the way his gaze opens up some, the hint of emotion that seeps into his voice. He doesn't acknowledge it. Barely even feels it. ]
Whole point's to take away all that hurt, right? So I already know there's no place for men like me when we do that. There's no fixing us. Just ending us. That's what someone like me deserves.
[ And then he's got it back under control, his gaze and voice detached once again. ]
It's actually a good thing you can't see that. Speaks to how good a person you are, even if you'd try to stop it from happening. [ A beat, a bit of flippancy: ] Kinda annoying though.
[ There's his drink. He reaches a hand around it again, has some more. ]
no subject
and he doesn't want to be.
Amos is numb, blank. not a perfect numbness, not so detached he cannot feel anything - and perhaps not as disconnected as he himself believes. Abel has seen bits and pieces of the man that lays buried inside of him: one capable of suffering and capable of love in equal measure. that man is the one Amos would declare as good as dead, and Abel understands that he has to. if he were to acknowledge that man, if Amos were to admit that person still lived - the tenuous building blocks on which he had built himself up to recover from what crushed him could come falling down.
...it doesn't make this any easier to stomach, and perhaps only serves to make the whole of it more tragic.
but last time they'd had a talk that had touched upon some of these subjects, Abel had not had the clarity of mind nor ability to properly discuss or refute it. things are different now. he had told himself they would leave their roles behind - as Pleroma and Kenoma; as priest, engineer, and as Aions. so... ]
Much as I believe you believe that, I believe there is an option you've taken off the table - but still stands.
[ there is so much he wants to say - so much he wants to convey to Amos in this moment that is pressing in his chest, trying to worm its way up and out of him. there is so much he wishes he could show this man, and the yearning is so intense that his fingers have tightened around his glass, white-knuckled. ]
You cut yourself off from the pain to survive and no one could fault you for that. It doesn't make you a bad person. It doesn't mean you deserve to be written off as a lost cause, either. If that were true-- if it were true, then... I wouldn't be here, sitting with you right now.
[ perhaps Abel wishes to see the good in everyone. perhaps some might think him in possession of blinders, naivety, that allow him to have hope where there isn't any. for all his idealistic endeavors, there is a very cold, very logical creature deep beneath the surface that can recognize and see things as they are. ]
You aren't so far gone that there isn't an 'Amos' left in you. I see him, even if you don't. And I'll wait for him, even if I'm left waiting forever-- even if you decide you can't come with me, and even if we never get the chance to walk together where we're going. I just want you to think about it, alright...? The possibility there is another way. A way to start over.
no subject
And Amos' first response is to laugh humourlessly into his drink. ]
You remind me a lot of Cap. [ His captain, from back home — though of course he's going to speak about him like Abel already knows exactly who he's talking about, even if context clues don't make it obvious enough. It's not really that important, but. ] That guy wouldn't give up on anyone. Not without good reason, at least, and guess I never gave him one that was good enough. I mean, he pointed a gun at the back of my head once, but I let him, 'cause I knew he wasn't gonna shoot. Didn't have it in him.
[ He sets his drink back down, leans his forearm all the way across the bartop, making himself comfortable and at home. There's a fondness, a deep nostalgia, to his voice, to his words; one that should be in deep contrast to his earlier sentiments. Like he's inadvertently proving Abel's point — that somewhere inside of Amos, there actually is a person. ]
I don't know if he ever figured out what I actually was. I tried to tell him once, but maybe it was too early on. Maybe he forgot about it. Maybe he just decided he didn't care, because we went through some shit together and he knew I'd have his back. Either way.
[ Amos tilts his head outwards, loosely indicating the rest of the packed tavern, his voice sliding into a casual drawl. ]
I'm a bad person because I do bad things. I could kill everyone here right now and wouldn't feel a thing. Couldn't give you a good reason why I shouldn't, except that I know it'd fuck things up for people back home — [ Achamoth. Achamoth is home — ] so I'm not gonna do anything. But that part of you that tells you not to do shit like that? Yeah. I don't have it.
[ He sighs, his shoulders slumping, like he's bracing himself for Abel's rebuttal, before lifting his gaze back up to look him in the eye, honest as ever. ]
There's no doing anything with men like me 'cept finding someone good to put us to work or putting us down. I mean, you can wait. It's kinda nice of you. But that isn't gonna change anything.
no subject
...but the smile slowly fades as his friend continues onward, and the image Amos paints of himself - of his self-image, of his own distinctly black-and-white understanding of himself... it makes him feel intensely tired, wearied, on his behalf. it is something beyond a mere sadness or grief. perhaps Amos does not permit himself to feel that grief for himself, so... it is up to Abel, to those left behind in his world, to do so for him. ]
I'd like to meet him. Your friend?
[ 'Cap.' ]
Mm, I wonder if he'd tell you the same thing I will. And if he would, I wonder if that means you're good as outnumbered? H-ha.
[ he gently prods Amos' forearm with a finger - it's a light jest, of course - as if 'two versus one' means anything, but... perhaps the brief bubbles of some levity are necessary to get through such serious subject matter. if one cannot laugh, they'll cry, right? ]
There is that voice inside of you. It's talking to you right now, I bet-- and it always will. It's just... it's been made so quiet by the pain you endured that you can't hear it, and even if you could... you haven't learned how to understand what it says. When something hurts us so badly we cut off, numb from ourselves inside-- it takes time. Time, and the patient hand of those around us to learn to hear that voice, to understand it, again.
But you could.
[ one finger is softly, delicately, replaced by the gentle clasp of Abel's hand. ]
...It isn't your fault it's been silenced, Amos. But if you let it speak-- much as it might hurt... might crush you at first to hear it? You deserve what waits beyond that.
[ the ability to heal. grow.
to be happy. to move beyond the past, the pain - to be so much stronger a man, the sort who truly would build a world that would be bereft the sort of men who had made him suffer.
...Abel truly hopes he gets to see it. ]
no subject
For a moment, Amos is somewhere else. A campfire, dressed in nothing more than an increasingly dirtying white robe, deadened to everything around him, inside him. Effectively switched off until a voice had broken through, startling him with... a cup of water. A cup of water, and a request for company, and someone he'd responded to by wanting to protect.
And now there's a fucking white aura emanating from Abel's being that jerks him back to reality, even as the words he says bring that instinct right back. To protect Abel from all the shit that's surely happened to him already, that's on the horizon. Not the way Innocence had intended, not with empty promises and a body that'd been twisted into no longer being his, but to place himself between Abel and any threat. Make sure anything would have to go through him first, and it wouldn't—
Or to take the shot for him, do the things he might not be able to do. Like accept the Kenoma. Abel hadn't been able to do that, leaving Amos to carry the burden instead. Which is fine, because he knows he can take it; which isn't fine, because he has to snuff out that initial instinct Abel had inspired in him, that he apparently still manages to do.
Amos' smile is small, doesn't reach his eyes, is almost apologetic. ]
You'd get along with him. I dunno if he could put it the way you do, but he'd probably like that. Nodding along in the background and saying some shit like, "Yeah, what he said."
[ He hesitates; he still doesn't move. ]
I asked someone once. A doctor. If something could be done to take away a person's empathy, is there anything that could be done to bring it back? And she said no. Brain gets damaged, it's damaged. I didn't develop properly and there's never gonna be any fixing that. Only making sure others don't gotta experience it.
[ Which essentially is the voice Abel talks about. Everything he's saying is true — it is inside him, it is something he tries to live his life by, and he's completely deaf to it, leaving it buried under a packed concentration of sheer nothingness, all but snuffed out before it so much as got to see the light of day... and yet still clinging to life. Otherwise, he wouldn't give a shit. What the Kenoma and the Regent offer — he wouldn't give a shit, wouldn't care, wouldn't be trying to see it through because as far as he can tell, it's the right thing to do.
Amos withdraws his arm from Abel's touch. Finishes off his drink. Fishes some jools out; more than he needs to, probably, but he likes the place, so might as well tip. Places them on the counter next to his empty glass but still doesn't make any movements to get up, to completely withdraw. ]
There never was anything for me and there isn't ever gonna be anything for me. So I'm gonna tear it all down. And then everyone else can start fresh.
no subject
it's alright; as tragic and depressing as that is - as much as Abel's known that for some time, now - it doesn't change anything. not for either of them.
the priest slowly drains a bit more of his drink; he makes no signs to lift or rise from his point of relaxation here at the bar, even as Amos shows signs of approaching an imminent farewell. ]
If that voice were truly gone inside you, I wouldn't be here.
[ his smile, this time, is... warm. like basking in the company of an old, old friend - someone for whom he's shared the trials and tribulations of life, who he's shared years and years of companionship beside. Amos feels like that, sometimes. it's strange... but it's nice, and--
it's bittersweet. ]
Amos? ...No matter what happens from here, please don't forget what I said. I'll be here-- I will be here if you ever change your mind, if you decide you want something more for yourself than this. No questions asked.
no subject
And then he blinks, his mouth twisting a little. Not a grimace, just some light distortion, like he can't really discern what kind of expression to make, so it's... this. Eyes slightly narrowed, the knowledge that Abel is an enemy directly conflicting with this, and he doesn't like it. ]
You might regret that one day.
[ His voice is low, soft, self-deprecating. Seems like a bad idea.
Some part of him still really likes it, though.
With that, Amos slides off his chair, makes his way out of the tavern. He's got shit to do tomorrow, so time to focus on that instead. ]