[closed]

[fallingsand]

WHO: Bruno & Amos
WHAT: Bruno's locked himself in his room to desperately try and search for any hint of his homeworld's existence in the future. Worried and pretty sure that they smell smoke, his retainer goes in search of help...
WHERE: Citadel
WHEN: Firaseri, a day or so after the faction gossip posts.
WARNINGS: existential dread intensifies

[ It had begun with a series of odd requests. Sand and lots of it. Sticks of incense. Something to burn them with. There was little explanation from Bruno when he asked for all of this but the servants of the Citadel weren't there to ask questions, they were there to serve, and the one that Bruno had awkwardly agreed to let stick around long-term was more than happy to see it done. Of course, that was then. This is now.

Now is full of regret, because now he's found that Bruno has locked the door, having returned to for one reason or another well after the items had been delivered. The smell of smoke filled the hallway outside the new Aion's room, real smoke, not incense, and no amount of pleading would get that door to open. What was happening in there? Was it his business? What if the room was on fire in there?

All that was left to do was to seek out help and that's what he did, rushing away and only skidding to a halt when he turns a corner too quickly and nearly crashes into Amos. Amos, who looks big enough to force a door open.

He won't open the door! I think he may have set his room on fire!

That's about as much an explanation as can be offered to Amos as the servant asks for help, more than happy to lead the way back to the hallway stinking of smoke and fire and the door to Bruno's room. ]

Comments

[baltimores]

[ It's not like he'd been doing anything pressing before nearly getting crashed into, but... yeah. Now he is.

Amos doesn't know what this is, what to think of it. He vaguely remembers the impression Bruno had left the day before — kind of skittish; kind of not suited for this, maybe — but escalating to setting his room on fire is.

Well, he wouldn't have seen it coming, but he also knows he's never been the best judge of these sorts of things.

Amos waves his hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear the smoke away as they get close to the door; of course it doesn't really do anything, just a reflex. Taking the lead from the retainer, he tries opening the door, and... no luck, not even with all of his strength put into it.

The fuck. ]

Alright! [ He's sure to project his voice, hoping to catch Bruno's attention. Calm, but authoritative — they can always bring him back if he bites it, but. You know. The potential property damage is gonna take a lot longer. ] I'm coming in there, so you're gonna wanna either open this door right now or steer clear!

[ He'll wait a second to see what happens, taking the opportunity to back up — and then, if need be, charge at the door, ramming his shoulder into it, putting all of his weight into it in hopes of breaking it down. As many times as he needs to until he get in there. ]

[fallingsand]

[ Amos' warning receives nothing but silence, ignored by anyone still in there. The truth is, Bruno can't even hear him, and Amos will see why that is after he rams the door several times. The lock and handle give on the third try, flinging the door open and beyond that will be what someone might feasibly rationalize as a whirlwind of flame, only there is no residual heat.

The wind roars now that the door is open, almost slapping it back in Amos' face given the chance, and sand and green flame both ride that same wind, forming a swirling wall of flickering light around Bruno. His figure can be seen at the center of this wild mess, seated on the floor and bowed over as if in pain or, possibly, looking at something. There's no way to know which with how the whirlwind won't allow a clear view. ]

[baltimores]

[ He stumbles into the room when the door finally gives way, head down from the momentum, feeling that there's something wrong before he actually sees it.

The wind is brutal in its own way, stinging a little as he raises his head and it hits his face. While he's seen his fair share of shit here, he has no idea what the hell all of this is. Amos has to narrow his eyes against it, hold a hand up to try to block the sand from getting anywhere he really, really doesn't need it.

After a couple of seconds of trying to get a sense for things, he comes to the conclusion: only thing to do is go to the eye of the storm. So he does that, pushing against the wind, walking through it all, before coming to a stop in front of Bruno. He stares down at him before lowering himself to a crouch, placing his hands on his shoulders, giving him a little shake. (A stronger shake, if that turns out to be necessary.) ]

Hey. [ He's still projecting his voice, just in case, but there's a less urgent quality to it now. ] Whatever this is, you gotta stop doing it.

[fallingsand]

[ Bruno isn't necessarily aware of his surroundings during a vision. Normally, what he was seeing would be mimicked in light against the sand and wind, a wild light show revealing the future in some way or another, but this time, there's nothing projected, no indication of anything, and his vision is filled with the same thing: nothing, there's nothing, it's all pure green light and empty space.

That makes someone grabbing his shoulders and giving him a shake incredibly startling. He hadn't expected anyone else. There's a jump under Amos' hands, Bruno's head snapping up to look at him — though not really looking at all, irises still glowing green, the same color as the flame hitching a ride on the sand and wind.

And then it all stops. It's less because Amos asked and more out of shock. Sand hits the walls, the flame flickers out, it's a mess and the retainer peeking in nervously from the hallway immediately knows he's going to have to clean this all up. However, with the whirlwind gone, the source of the smoke will be clear. A pile of wood turned to kindling at the center, the incense sticks he'd requested having been turned around to only use the actual normal wooden ends to help light the growing pile of burnt material at the center of it all.

Also revealed, scattered around the floor, broken chunks of thick green glass, all of it glowing faintly on its own, although it holds no design. All the pieces are blank, empty, and that includes the unbroken piece of glance — a rectangle of it — gripped in Bruno's hands. The same glow fades from the man's eyes and he can now stare properly at Amos, there are obvious signs that he's been bleeding from the nose, he seems rattled and exhausted all at once, yet all he can blurt out is, ]

What? Stop what?

[ This? No. He can't mean this. This is normal. ]

[baltimores]

[ He immediately withdraws his hands as Bruno starts, bringing them to rest atop his thighs. His brow furrows in confusion at his bright green eyes, but he doesn't shy away from it — if something was going to happen, it was probably going to happen by now — but it's still. It's so weird.

All of this is weird.

He looks up, around him as everything stops, whatever force that had been driving it no longer in effect. At least the fire is gone, but the sand. Goddamn. That's gonna be everywhere. Maybe they would be better off burning the entire room down and starting fresh, actually. At the same time, it's Bruno's room, and if he likes sand that much then maybe it's a good thing?

He looks down. Oh, shit, there was kind of an actual fire in here after all, wasn't there. His eyes drifting back upwards catch the glass, and he's just happy it's still intact — they don't need Bruno shattering something in his hands on top of everything else — before he meets his eyes again.

... His nose.

What is he doing.

Amos sighs, dipping his head. ]

This whole thing with the smoke and the sand and the green fire. You freaked your guy out. [ He tilts his head back in the direction of the retainer hovering by the doorway. ] He thought you set your room on fire. Not the best showing for 'em if they think their guy's trying to kill himself.

[ He speaks with an easy drawl; everything's fine now, so no need to get all worked up, you know?

He peers at Bruno. ]

What were you doing?

[fallingsand]

[ Repeated attempts to pull a vision of futures that no longer exist have left Bruno a bit addled and so when Amos mentions freaking out "his guy", there's a long moment where he simply stares at Amos all over again before the rest of his brain catches up to what's being said. ]

My guy? [ Guy. He has a guy. What guy? What... oh. He turns his head slowly towards the doorway well after Amos has already nodded in that direction. ] Oh. That. That one, that guy.

[ And that's about the time he actually begins looking around and taking in the state of the room. He's caused quite the mess, hasn't he? He grimaces, feeling an inkling of regret for his poor retainer, but when Amos asks the big question, what was he doing, that worry is going straight on the back burner of Bruno's thoughts. He sighs and hangs his head, grip on the faintly glowing green glass tablet tightening. ]

I was... trying to see. To see any future for my home, anything at all, but there's just. There's nothing. All I find is nothing. No matter... no matter how many times...

[baltimores]

[ The grimace is a good sign. It means Bruno's back on this plane of existence, which is particularly helpful for Amos, since it's the only one he's really aware of. Better if they're both here.

... His answer is a bad sign.

Amos exhales a low, steady breath. He can connect the dots: that Bruno has some kind of power that'll let him do that, and that he was trying to do that. Because he's in denial about their worlds being gone. That's a weirdly popular theme among new Aions, it seems, and he isn't exactly the best at having tact when it comes to breaking the news to them.

But he'll just have to keep trying — so he starts with a steady, friendly hand on Bruno's shoulder, if he'll let him. Eye contact, if he'll let him. They're friends here, right? He's helping; let him help. ]

It's gone. [ He says it gently, softly, like he's trying to avoid spooking an animal. ] Mine's gone too. I've been here some months now. It's gone, and it's not coming back. This is just life now. All we can do is live with it... Live with it, and help the Regent make a better world instead. That's what we're here to do anyway.

[ A beat. ]

It's not so bad, you know? We got the chance to help so many more people than we ever would've been able to back where we came from. So it's okay. You'll be okay.

[ ... Please don't make him have to break down any more doors in the future. ]

[fallingsand]

[ He can make no promises about the required breakage of future doors, sorry. ]

I know.

[ He answers quietly, about how their worlds are gone. He won't move away from the hand on his shoulder, allowing it, although it takes a moment before he raises his head again to look at Amos and, even then, it's only just enough to meet his gaze through a curtain of black curls. ]

I... I never thought that was a lie, j-just. I had to be sure. I had to... see, for myself. That it's gone. Everyone's gone. I thought maybe, maybe someone else might have made it here but. [ They hadn't. It's just him, only him. He's all alone. He sighs and drops his eyes back to the blank green glass tablet in his hands, although part of that is to hide the threat of tears welling up in them all over again. ] My family is really gone, but I don't know what to do without my family.

[baltimores]

[ Amos keeps his hand solidly on Bruno's shoulder, an anchor as he speaks, vocalizes his way through this. Something eases in him when he meets his eyes; stays eased even as Bruno ducks his head again, is clearly about to start crying.

He might actually be able to handle this. ]

I thought that, too. But you'll have a new family here.

[ He pauses for a second before removing his hand, shifting into a sitting position, letting his hands rest in his lap instead. If he's going to be here for a while, then he's going to be here for a while; that's fine, but might as well make himself more comfortable in the meantime.

He'll talk to the top of Bruno's head, to his curls if he has to. Until Bruno's feeling more up to it. ]

I'm the kind of person who needs someone to help show me the way. I had that with my people, back where I'm from. I know I'm lost without them. Or at least, I would have been. Except there are good people here, too. People who'll help, if you let them.

[ That's what he's trying to do right now, isn't it? As it dawns on him: that really is what he's trying to do right now.

There are good people here and maybe, in some ways, Amos is one of them. ]

I know it's not the same — [ there is still a fondness reserved for his old crew, however faint and ultimately useless as it is with them being dead and all — ] but moving forward doesn't have to be a bad thing. Not when we've got so much good we're going to do.

[fallingsand]

[ Amos' words are meant to be comforting, offering a new life, a new home, and family here in the Citadel, but the misery of Bruno's loss sparks into a burst of anger at the thought. A new family? A new family? ]

No se puede reemplazar una familia!

[ You can't just replace a family.

That brief surge of rage translates into motion, too, and has him straightening up and lifting his head and, though there are still tears in his eyes, he raises the glass tablet over his head, as if meaning to slam it back down to the floor and shatter it, only he never does.

In the end, Bruno is still a gentle soul, and he knows being angry won't fix anything. He holds still like that for the barest of breaths before deflating again, shoulders sagging as he brings the tablet back down to set it gently on the sandy floor instead of breaking it to pieces. ]

It isn't fair. [ He chokes out, quieter again. ] Only I know life isn't... it's never been fair... but they should be here, not me. My sisters, the kids, mi mamá, anyone, anyone else... Why should either of us need new families, when we already had them? And then they're ripped away, just like that? Like nothing at all?

[baltimores]

[ ... Okay, no, turns out he's still bad at this.

Amos is able to grasp part of what Bruno said, but his actions — that spark of anger — speak to him a lot more; the difference between being able to understand a sentence based on context clues and being intimately familiar with what's being communicated. The former sounded a little Belter-ish; the latter is the only emotion he really, truly understands.

And hadn't been aiming for here so, uh, fuck.

Still, Amos watches passively, a hint of admiration in him for how Bruno's able to restrain himself. Amos would have smashed the thing by now.

As it stands, it's all he can really do to dip his head, lower his voice. Speak in soft tones not to try to calm Bruno, but because he's hit on something Amos, too, has felt. ]

We're all kinda nothing, in the end. All of us are going to die. Just that their time came before ours. [ If there's anything mournful in his tone, he certainly doesn't pick up on it. Just keeps going. ] I know what you mean about how it should be someone else, though. It shouldn't be me. I knew good people back home. People smarter than me; better than me. They should be the ones here, and I should be dead; but they aren't and I'm not.

[ A pause as he sighs, letting some of what he's carrying in him out, lifts his head again. ]

All we got now is knowing the burden to do something right's fallen to us. Can't change things. Can only keep moving forward.

[ A beat, and his voice ticks up a little, grows firmer. The time for commiserating's over; the time for all of this is over. For as much as other people seem to still have hangups over where they came from, Amos moved past that months ago. Almost instantly. ]

What're you gonna do about it?

[fallingsand]

[ There are others, pieces of thick, emerald green glass shattered and scattered across the floor with the sand. It's only this one he hasn't broken. The rest hadn't been broken in fits of anger, however, but panic. He hadn't wanted to keep looking at them and discarded them, over and over, until his head ached and his nose began to bleed. This is the last, the one carefully set down. The last for now, anyway. The last for his own world. ]

The whole from dust to dust speech, huh?

[ Bruno asks that with a sigh. He doesn't anticipate comprehension. Heck, he's only vaguely religious himself. He wouldn't expect much of it from the rest here in the Citadel. From him, there's one last sniff and he lifts an arm to clean off his eyes and nose with a sleeve, wiping away unshed tears and more of the drying blood in doing so. ]

I don't know. Not this, obviously.

[ A hand is waved off vaguely, around, indicating all of it, all of this. The sand, the glass, everything. He raises his head again, prying his eyes off of the last remaining blank slab, at last, to look a little more properly at Amos. He's not sure who this is. Someone who cared enough to make sure he wasn't burning the place down, clearly, but that doesn't explain much else. ]

I... guess I should clean the place up and. I dunno. Think a place this fancy has a wine cellar? Because. Because that seems like one idea.

[ Hardly a heavy drinker by any means, this seemed like a good time for a brief exception. It's been a rough few days, rougher than anything he's ever experienced and that's saying a lot, considering. ]

[baltimores]

[ He doesn't exactly feel great about how all of this went down. Bruno hadn't set his room on fire, so that's a good thing, but most times Amos tries to help someone new he just seems to get it wrong. The guy was obviously freaked out; Amos wanted him to not freak out; that mission might've been accomplished, but it's not like he'd wanted to upset him, either.

And now here he is, resigned. It's better in the sense that he's talking, but that's about it.

Oh well. He'll take his own advice. One foot in front of the other, and eventually, they'll get there. So Amos watches impassively as the best possible breakthrough he can hope for makes itself known, and offers a small smile at the mention of a wine cellar. ]

Yeah. I can give you a tour if you haven't gotten one yet. Lotta rooms here, but it's got wine.

[ He's more of a beer guy, but he's been starting to develop an appreciation for the stuff.

Though he does spare the room a glance. ]

Probably gonna take a while to clean all of this up, though. Servants might like it if you help. They also might insist on doing it all themselves and not letting you do any of the work. That's the kind of people we are around here. [ He says it casually, with a shrug; he doesn't love it or hate it. It's just what life is, living in a fancy castle and being kinda worshipped. ] Your choice, really. But if you want the wine now then I'm game.

[ A beat. ]

Name's Amos, by the way.

[fallingsand]

Well, third option, Amos. I could also tell them to just. Leave it. I'm used to everything being covered in sand, actually. That's. That's normal.

[ Yeah, that whole being kinda worshipped is only part of how disconcerting this place has been so far, though he keeps that comment to himself. He'd rather everyone simply leave the mess he's made as is and deal with it himself at a later date. That isn't going to happen, unfortunately, but a man can dream, right?

Bruno lets out a long sigh and retrieves the empty green glass slap from where he left it. That in hand, he hauls himself back up to his feet. There's a second where he staggers on getting there, a rush of lightheadedness taking him by surprise, but he catches himself on a backstep instead of falling over. He grimaces and gives his head a shake before straightening up again. ]

...okay, maybe I really did overdo it. Uh. [ Bruno shoots another look back towards the door where his retainer still lingers, worried and confused. ] Antione, right? Could you. Get some brooms? I'll. I'll take of this, you don't gotta.