aionlogs | [open] some Kenoma come up to Godsblood the other day...

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[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:

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.

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Please don't misunderstand. It isn't just because I thought he would react badly to seeing you in a violent way, it's...

[ Abel cups the glass in his hand a little tighter, and he cannot help but lower his palm where the faint glow of the Innocence's tattoo sits, a permanent reminder. ]

Just as you suffered that day, so did he. But instead of waking from his dreams... his life was snuffed out before he could escape the sickness. And when we-- [ ... ] ...when an Aion dies, we don't simply fall into a restful state of slumber and wait to be reborn.

[ what Estinien experienced should be a cautionary tale to the rest of them. Abel does not treat that man's suffering lightly - not only in part because he considers Estinien a friend, and a well-trusted one by now... but because the genuine anguish he experienced isn't something Abel would like to see visited on anyone else. not a soul.

and certainly not Gen. valuing his own life - and the consequences of taking another's - is important. ]

He is still raw.

But he's alive.

[ In part, it really is just that Estinien is someone he can mentally classify as an enemy, someone whose wellbeing he doesn't have to worry about. But maybe a small part of him is also unwilling to dwell on the thought of what happens to someone after they die. After they're killed.

All that matters here is that Estinien is alive, ergo, he hasn't been properly killed. Isn't that what's most important? It has to be. ]

He's alive, so what's he complaining about? And besides, I wasn't even the one who killed him. You know that.

[ It still rankles at his nerves that Makoto had, in a sense, stolen that glory from him. But given what a mess that whole final confrontation seems to have become, perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. Despite the flippant quality of what he's saying, Gen's expression does darken in thought as he looks aside, putting the whiskey bottle aside so he can brace his arms against the counter instead. ]

... and it sounds like things got messy, too. With him dying. So how do you know what he's been going through wasn't a result of that? [ And come to think of it -- ] Weren't you also involved with whatever happened there?

[ what is he complaining about?

it is that question that earns a faint tightening in Abel's eyes, the furrow of his brow not in concern or empathy this time, but mild displeasure. ]

...You understand better than most that everything has its consequences.

[ that word is good as taking on a new meaning with its use in conversation between them, isn't it? but Abel is bereft of any amusement or humor as he uses it now. ]

But you also understand that this world isn't fair, isn't just. That the price we pay isn't always necessarily what we deserve. Whether it was because of the sickness, what happened to him... what might happen to any of us should we fall-- it isn't something we should take lightly.

[ he leans his weight forward a bit more, vaguely hunched over his glass as he halfheartedly prods one edge, sending it sliding an inch across the countertop. ]

I just-- I don't want to see you treat your life, anyone's life, as expendable. Just because we come back, Gen... it doesn't mean we come back as we're meant to, or without losing pieces of ourselves. It is a very slippery slope to walk, and once you fall-- there is no telling if you can come back.

[ Abel better not be thinking he's clever for trying to turn that word back against him -- consequences -- because Gen promptly stiffens, his next breath escaping as a low huff as he suppresses the urge to bristle. What the hell does Abel know about the consequences he's had to face? What gives Abel the right to talk so high and mighty at him? This idiot pacifist who'll probably sit back on his hands and just watch everyone else fighting during this whole prolonged conflict.

The stare he nails Abel with is dark and resentful, accompanied by silence for a moment before he growls, ]

So what do you want me to do about this.

[ All this talk about treating life as valuable, or whatever, feels ... gross, frankly. Mostly because of the naivety involved of Abel preaching about this shit when he knows they're all embroiled in a war. What's the point of talking about the value of life when they're meant to be hurting each other?

But also -- ]

I know what I did wasn't insignificant. Why d'you think I'm just accepting that he's going to be coming after me? Tit for tat. [ And isn't that good enough? ] Are you not gonna be satisfied unless I'm also wallowing around feeling bad about what I did?

I want you to think about it, because it doesn't have to be that way.

[ tit-for-tat; eye for an eye. there is nothing impatient or frustrated in his reply, and despite the irritation clear as day in those dark eyes - Abel is doing his best to remain level and approachable, calm. he knows this is hard - incredibly hard for Gen, that he isn't used to people talking to him, never mind about matters as grave as this one... not with Gen's best interest at heart. he's used to being on the defensive, seeing some kind of threat or manipulation in everything around him.

and even though none of that is new to Abel... somehow, it still serves to make him unerringly sad, even now. ]

I know there will be a time when you have to fight, and I know there may be times when no amount of best efforts will avoid that. Sometimes, the only way we can move forward is through.

[ and here it is again, that 'but': ]

...But I want you to consider it. Trying. Even if you don't succeed, and even if it doesn't work out - at least you exhausted other options. It doesn't always have to end the way it did in Venera. And... people may surprise you if you give them the chance, Gen.

Do you really know that? Or are you just saying you do.

[ Gen ignores everything Abel says about giving people chances. He's tried that before, and a fat lot of good it always ended up being. In the end, violence and force are truly the only ways to protect what's important to him -- and the only things that might require his obedience.

And like hell anyone else will give him that chance. He knows he doesn't merit it. Abel is wrong. He has to be. (He convinces himself.)

Instead, Gen focuses his ire on reflecting the matter back to Abel. ]

You say you know there's times where fighting is necessary -- but I've seen the way you act. You're just saying that. You won't ever lift a finger to fight because you care more about this saintly act you're putting on than actually doing anything. And you can fight, can't you? [ It hasn't escaped his notice that, for all his pretense at bumbling helplessness, Abel is at the very least, more physically capable than he lets on. ] But you won't, so you can stay sitting on your high horse.

[ Gross. It's gross. Still, Gen's tone of voice is more bitter than it is anger, the ire in his voice a low burn as opposed to a high flame, and his voice remains relatively low when he grits, ]

And are you really in any place to be meddling with my shit like this? I saw you get involved with that whole mess with Estinien, too. Far more directly than I did.

[ there is validity to everything that Gen says. from his point of view, Abel hasn't given him any reason to see the situation much differently than the way the boy has laid it out: from his perspective, the priest must appear naught but a man full of hot air as he preaches and insists on non-violence. it's lip service. talk is cheap.

he gets it.

coupled with Gen's nature, it adds up to formulate a confusing picture - one that makes it increasingly hard for trust to factor into their relationship, even if they were to put their nature as Pleroma and Kenoma side. ]

Please don't take my inaction for arrogance. There is no part of me that thinks the way I've done things until now has been righteous or just, or holier than thou... there's no high horse, Gen, and if there is-- I promise you, I'm not on it.

[ a little levity, of course, is always needed now and then-- and he's taking another swig from his glass before he leans back a bit on his barstool. ]

It isn't that I'm above anyone. You, or anyone else. It's just...

[ ...fleeting as it had been, that levity has already dissolved into something more subdued, sobriety stealing into his features in its place. ]

I've hurt people... seen others hurt. Watched people suffer who didn't deserve it. Been the one to make them suffer, even. [ suffer senselessly. suffer brutally. suffer, and die, and seen their lives sunken into the sands of time, gone forever. ]

I've seen the consequences of my actions, and I've learned what it means to live with them-- and what's truly worth fighting for because of it. There is no part of me that believes I am worth any more than you are. If anything... it's because you're worth far more than that, that I'm here.

[ there's a subdued little tug at the corner of his mouth, some absent look in his eyes discarded as he lifts his head-- gives a somewhat self-deprecating huff of an exhale, adjusts his glasses. ]

--It sounds like I'm preaching again, doesn't it? I'm sorry. I don't really know how to convey this to you properly, and it all comes out the wrong way. I'm not trying to lecture you, okay...? I just-- hope you'll understand, somehow.

Don't give me that shit. [ Gen rolls his eyes as he reaches over the counter to retrieve his glass once more. But despite his petulant wording, it's not Abel's plea for understanding that he's rebuking; as Gen treats himself to another modest pour of whiskey he continues at an irate grumble: ] That self-deprecating talk. 'Oh, of course you're worth more than me.' You know how stupid it sounds if you're gonna say all that and then ask me to understand what you're trying to say?

[ A derisive huff as he waters down his drink. Despite gunning for his third drink in quick succession, he's at least mindful to make this one weaker; he hasn't forgotten that he's meant to be on good behavior here, and even if he knows his alcohol tolerance is strong, he's not taking any stupid gambles. ]

It's a waste of time if you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, and it just makes you sound weak, if you're really trying to convince me of anything.

[ Does he care about Abel's self-esteem? No, not specifically. But it's always bugged him to see people crumple in on themselves of their own accord. His pride and self-identity have always been some of the few things he could consistently rely on to keep himself sane, and he can't understand why anyone would bother undermining themselves and make it easier for the world to tear them down.

With that said, Gen takes a long swig of his drink, then gives a slow exhale as he lowers his glass. The gaze he fixes on Abel is still sharp-eyed and annoyed, but it's not outright dismissive. It's more the look of someone trying to puzzle something truly inexplicable, brow lowered in thought, and Gen cants his head as he speaks again. ]

What made you change, if you really are being honest about all that?

[ He gestures with his glass. ]

You say you've hurt people, that you've made them suffer, that you're speaking from experience. You know how hard that is to buy?

[ Because surely Abel understands -- those puzzle pieces just don't fit together. Abel's remorseful talk of having caused harm in the past, and his staunch insistence on pacifism now. There's a huge missing piece there, and without some hint of what goes there, it's hard to take what he says as more than idealistic, hypothetical nonsense. What happened to him? ]

[ that Gen had not stomached most of this well doesn't come as a shock, but Abel cannot hide the light sink of disappointment in his eyes despite it. it isn't that he is disappointed in his company -- but instead disappointed in himself, finding it extremely difficult to articulate a point that is especially important to him. of course he's bungling it; he always puts his giant foot in his mouth when it matters most.

but he does not linger overlong in such self-defeating thoughts, instead watching the boy knock another glass of whiskey back with a quiet exhale of protest. ...g-geez, alright, perhaps that's enough for one day--

yet he doesn't reach for the glass or the bottle. instead, he keeps his eyes on Gen's -- watches that sour, darkening expression on that face filled with distrust and wariness like a guarded animal. but...

Gen is listening, isn't he? he could have blown Abel off in whole, could've laughed in his face. he hasn't.

... ]

Do you think that's what this is? A bid for pity?

[ he asks it seriously. ]

If I wanted a sympathetic ear, I hope you won't take offense by me saying this-- but you are the last person I would go to. It's actually because I can trust you to listen impartially I'd even consider talking about this at all.

[ does Gen understand? ...maybe it isn't evident from the outside looking in, but--

Abel's honesty never came easy to anyone. he would give it all the same -- because Gen may be one of the few people who would see all the ugly gristle in as harsh a light as it deserves to be seen, judged. ]

[ Gen's expression hardens a touch at Abel's protest, though not out of anger. Instead, there's something evasive and cagey in the way he dips his gaze aside.

Of course he knows this isn't a bid for pity. Of course nobody would look to him for sympathy -- that part is brushed aside without a second thought, not worth enough consideration to even be offended by. But for Abel to say that he trusts him in any capacity ... it makes something deep in his chest squirm uncomfortably.

That's not right. Abel shouldn't trust him. And he shouldn't be trusting Abel, either. These are all kneejerk sentiments that flare up sharp and bitter from the pit of his stomach. But at the same time, he finds a small part of him wanting to go against those urges -- wanting to see where this goes, wanting to test out Abel's attempts at friendship, as nauseating as it is to put it into those words -- and it makes his stomach turn. The prospect of actually, willingly leaving himself so vulnerable is difficult to accept without bristling.

Skin squeaks against glass as Gen uncomfortably shifts his grip against his glass. Then finally, after a moment, he speaks again. Quieter, and with his gaze still averted. ]

Just answer the question. [ A brief pause, just long enough for a hoarse breath as he hesitates over his words. Then, even lower: ] ... if I didn't want to listen to you, I would've just left already.

[ It as close as he'll get to admitting he's trying at all. That some part of him wants to believe what Abel is saying -- or he wouldn't even care to ask for evidence that what he's saying is worth believing. ]

[ ...thank you, Gen.

he knows this has to be hard -- impossibly hard, giving someone the time of day, giving them a chance. Abel can see the physical discomfort in the teen's fidgety restlessness as he resists the burning urge to throw this entire endeavor in the bin and call it a day. Abel sees it. and it means everything to him.

the harder edges of his expression soften, and he lets his gaze fall to the countertop to spare either of them any further discomfort in the form of eye contact. ]

The consequences of my actions came for me long past when they were due.

[ his fingers idly turn the glass around on the smooth surface of the bar, the liquid inside ending up his external focus even if his mind's eye is elsewhere. ]

I had plenty of chances to avert course, but I didn't. By the time I realized just how far down into the hole I had crawled - it was too late and everything I loved was gone. And I had destroyed it all.

[ he lets the words sit where they will in the air between them--

and then tips back the rest of his glass before settling it once more on the bartop, slowly sliding it toward Gen. for another, if he'd be kind enough. ]

[ 'Everything I loved was gone.'

A terrible, cold feeling seeps through his chest at that, like frost creeping through his veins. Gen's gaze goes distant, Abel's words dragging his thoughts to someplace very vivid and terribly painful, and it's only the sound of that glass tapping against the counter that drags him back to reality. He gives just enough of a visible start that Abel must be able to tell something he'd said had hit a sore spot for Gen. Not to mention the way he silently steps forth to oblige that request, taking up the whiskey bottle to refill Abel's glass without complaint. But if Abel might need any more indication that Gen is taking his words to heart, maybe he'll find it in the way Gen asks quietly, ]

And how do you come back from something like that?

[ It's a slip of the tongue he doesn't even realize. 'How do you,' he asks, not 'how did you.'

Because while he's not Abel, and he hadn't been the one to destroy what little he treasured back in his hometown, it's still true that he's lost everything he thought he loved. Even before his arrival here in Horos heralded the ending of his homeworld, it had all slipped out of his grasp.

Abel must know, right? If Abel is being honest about all this -- and despite how much effort he puts into his pretense at doubt and suspicion, Gen knows he probably is -- then he must know how difficult coming back from that is. Isn't the desire for oblivion be so much more comforting at that point? ]

[ it's the almost distracted manner with which his unspoken request is answered that draws Abel's gaze from the glass on the bar to the boy refilling it.

...the look in Gen's eyes mirrors the absent affect demonstrated by his ministrations, and Abel can tell he has indeed struck a nerve. what he's said resonates somewhere in Gen, right? it's the reason Abel had divulged this in the first place; it isn't as though the priest makes a habit of speaking on such personal, painful matters for good fun after all.

but there is no sense of victory or accomplishment. to see the pain resonate this way with Gen adds another layer of grief to Abel's eyes and his shoulders slump in a meager expression of that melancholy. ]

You don't.

[ it is important to recognize things as they are. perhaps a kinder man than Abel would offer a placating lie or soften the edges of his delivery.

but he feels the only way it can be said is bluntly, callously, and with unflinching honesty. any other explanation would be an insult to the gravity of it all and might give either of them wiggle room to lighten the heaviness of its weight. ]

There are some things there is no coming back from. All you can do once you've reached that point... is make a choice for yourself, Gen.

[ this above all is most grave, most important to impart. ]

You decide if you've lost enough, that it's time to change - or you continue burning through it all until there's nothing left. Including yourself.

[ Would that be so bad, he wonders. Would it really be so bad if he let himself be incinerated to ashes alongside everything else he's lost? It's not even like he knows what he's living for, any more. Is it so wrong that a non-insignificant part of him actually longs for the restful peace that would come with oblivion?

'So what if I'm alive,' Abel might remember Gen having said back in Venera. And that same sentiment still holds true now -- he'd meant those words back then, and not just because of the raw wounds opened by the Innocence's effects. Gen is quiet in the face of Abel's grim statement, offering little reaction at first save a distant stare and a quiet exhale.

Finally, all he can offer is a low mutter. ]

Good for you, then.

[ He finishes his whiskey and puts the glass down; he's done drinking, he's not in the mood for any more. ]

You had the chance to make that choice and you made the right one.

[ Because that's easier said than done. Making that choice. Getting to make that choice. Abel can say what he wants, but ... Gen can't help lingering over the grim thought that that choice will never be one he gets to make. That sort of freedom is something that's never been granted to him even back in his shitty hometown; how can he pretend to have that agency here, in the middle of a war? His path has always been decided for him, and it's a question of whether he's strong enough to continue adhering by it. (But ... funny how he thinks he'll have a hard time forgetting what Abel said, those words coming back to him when he struggles to sleep at night. Funny how it's always a little harder than he expects, brushing off Abel's stupid idealistic sentiments.) ]

... was that all you wanted to say?

[ Gen drains the last of his whiskey and, notably, does not pour for himself again. Abel can see that the boy is reaching his limitations - both for what he can stomach of the alcohol and of this conversation, but...

of course, Abel is not ready to leave the matter be until his point is made. ]

If I had made the right one when it was offered to me, then... I don't know I'd be sitting here right now.

[ it isn't self-deprecating, nor does his voice carry any sort of ire or imbalance. it is as calm and matter-of-fact as it has been prior. Abel's life certainly would've taken a much different course had he listened to any number of the warning signs, taken any of the forks in the road that had been offered to him. he has no one but himself to blame for that decision, and he will lay it out thusly. ]

But I didn't.

I didn't choose... anything. Time and time again, I could've-- could have stopped, could've turned around, could've made a better choice, any choice, but I didn't. I felt like I had no option, no agency of my own, until it was too late.

[ Gen feels like he is trapped.

obligation; love; a misguided sense of duty; a twisted desire to protect those precious to him - Abel sees all of those things in this boy standing behind the bar, his already dark eyes so shadowed and burdened despite his short life. he has been made to do, to see, things no one his age should. he has been pushed so far into a corner that every opportunity to flee looks like a trap, and is that surprising? how many times had he been beaten back down for attempting to detangle himself from his circumstances, to try anything other than the defense mechanisms that he'd learned?

...Abel cannot help but feel an intense need to pull him out of there, to stop this cycle before it continues to perpetuate and pushes this child to do something that will irrevocably shatter him forever. that's where he's headed, isn't it? on a road that leads to a painful, tragic end - for everything he loves and then himself. ]

I thought that, after Venera, maybe you might understand that feeling better than most. I don't understand how you got to where you are, but-- I don't want to see what happens next if something doesn't change.

I don't want to see where this ends for you. I want you to have a future. I think... you could, if you wanted one. One of your own choosing.

[ Gen leans back against the counter behind the bar, studying the tiny beads of liquid left in his empty cup. When he speaks, his voice is low and listless, almost like he's speaking more to himself, than to Abel. ]

It's not like everyone gets to have a future like that.

[ A future of their own choosing, one where freedom is even an option. Some people are granted that good fortune, but Gen knows he's not one of them. Even if he might have been able to make a choice like that back when he was much younger ... it's too many years now that he's spent as a creature boxed in by duties and obligations. And having given up on the option of freedom for years now, all he'd wanted in return were promises of loyalty from the people he loved.

Turns out he really should know better than to have any expectations. He's learned that lesson now. And he's reluctant to let Abel sway him into making the same mistake again.

There's a heavy pause before he looks away to screw the whiskey bottle's top back on. Not because he cares about the state of the bottles in this bar, but simply to keep his hands occupied, to make it clear he's reaching his limits regarding how much of this conversation he can take. ]

And you're not making sense. You're saying you didn't make any choice, you didn't do the right thing, you've hurt people -- but you're here like this, aren't you. You seem fine anyway to me.

[ Or as fine as anyone can be in this wretched place. It hasn't escaped his notice that everyone brought to Horos seems to be fucked up in one way or another, and he doesn't doubt that Abel probably has his own damage. But if he's capable of freely acting like a dunce when the mood strikes him, he can't be that damaged, right? (But for some reason, he can't feel fully at ease with that conclusion, despite having reached it himself.)

There's the thunk of glass as he roughly sets the bottle back where he'd found it, digging through his pockets for a few more jools; the last thing he wants is to cause trouble for Amos because he didn't pay enough at some sketchy backalley bar and have that fuss follow him back to the Machining guild. Not to mention, that motion gives him a further excuse to look away from Abel as he continues, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. ]

... you were the one who insisted on butting into my business. You're free to look away whenever you want. [ 'You can abandon me whenever you'd like.' ] I [ can't ] didn't promise you anything. Change, or whatever. ... it's all easier said than done.

[ Though maybe Abel can find some solace in the fact that Gen even bothers making that comparison. 'Easier said than done.' Because he can't completely shut out the nauseating thought that -- maybe there's the tiny sliver of a chance, somewhere, that he'll be able to make a choice. Sometime, somewhere, he'll have an opportunity to change things. And maybe at that time, the outcome will depend on how hard he claws and fights for that chance. Maybe. ]

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[open] some Kenoma come up to Godsblood the other day...

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