[open] you know what your problem is?

[baltimores]

WHO: Amos, any Kenoma
WHAT: Amos rewards himself for being cured of Innocence by going on a depression bender.
WHERE: Throughout Achamoth
WHEN: Towards the end of/after the event
WARNINGS: Depression, self-loathing, a little suicidal ideation, lots of drinking, references to brothels, discussion of domestic violence/sexual assault/prostitution/child prostitution; will update as necessary



[ So, this sucks.

Getting out of Venera as soon as possible had been the only thing on Amos' mind once Misa had forced him out of Innocence's grip. That thing had exploited his vulnerabilities, manipulated him, turned him into a puppet to spread its nonsensical, fucked up somewhat understandable agenda, and he needed to leave immediately, before he fell victim to it again.

His legacy's shrine is one of the closest to Achamoth. Easy.

He had to swim across a lake and spend days walking across farmland in waterlogged boots before he actually made it back to the city. Less easy.

Though for all of the personal discomfort and frustration that brought with it, it was readily ignored by spending that time mentally reviewing everything he did while he was fucked in the head, now that he could with proper context. All of the harm he'd caused, all of the ways he'd refused to listen to reason, being reminded of the fact that all he's really good for is ruining other people's lives. Turns out that sucks.

Then there's the fact that ever since an initial mishap during one of his first days in Achamoth, he's been careful to not go out into the city with his shard exposed — but since anything he'd used to cover it up had ended up getting destroyed in Venera, he has no choice but to subject himself to. This. When he's the last person who should be revered or admired in any way, and now he has no way to avoid it.

The first stop on Amos' list is somewhere that can get him clothed again, courtesy of I don't have any money but I am an Aion can I please just have a shirt now. All subsequent stops are, well... ]


i. so just drinking and fucking

[ Going back to the Citadel isn't even remotely on his mind, certainly not when he's got plenty of self-pity to wallow in.

Amos sticks to the seedier parts of Achamoth, weaving his way through various bars and brothels as the mood strikes him. He still doesn't have any money on him, so it's a whole lot of showing off his shard to get either free booze, comped sex, or serve as a credible IOU (and one that, to the meagre credit he has left, he'll actually fulfil once he's had the chance to get his head back on straight and reacquire finances from the Citadel). It isn't hedonism he's fully sinking into so much as I'm a bad person, I feel like shit, I'm going to do things that physically make me feel less like shit. There are worse coping mechanisms, he figures; if there actually aren't, he doesn't care.

He ignores all communion messages he feels coming through; the best anyone can hope for if they try to reach out to him directly is a tacit acknowledgment that he's still alive, combined with maybe a somewhat hazy impression of his immediate surroundings, if that latter part ends up slipping through.

That, or maybe you just so happen to run into him in some shithole dive bar or upon leaving a brothel.

Either way, there really isn't a whole lot he can do if you end up in physically the same space as him, is there. ]


ii. till they run out of one or the other

[ At some point, he actually does have to go back to the Citadel.

He's clearly worse for the wear when he finally shows back up there, rough around the edges when he finally delivers his report to Xishen — several days late, but who's counting — and then has free reign of... well, not the entire place, but the usual.

Fuck, does he need a shower. And a nap. And maybe another drink, because why the hell not. Even though he may not necessarily look it, Amos is certainly feeling better; otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up back here.

Maybe he's dishevelled, maybe he's finally had the chance to clean up; maybe he's briefly roaming the hallways, maybe he's taking advantage of having his own spacious room again. Either way, he's certainly more receptive to company, having gotten most of... that... out of his system in the city.

Though Amos isn't forgetting how easily led astray he was, all in the name of hurting people, anytime soon. That part still bothers him, but when hasn't that been a regular part of his psyche, anyway. ]


iii. wildcard

[ I'm at arii#6412 or cadiai if we need to talk specifics. ]

Comments

[lachtara]

Do you have a plan for how that would be accomplished?

[ It certainly sounds as though he is determined enough to have thought about it. ]

[baltimores]

No.

[ His answer stays straightforward, blunt. Anything else would be counterproductive. ]

I heard it in my head; I felt it in the air all around me. But if it doesn't have a body, I don't know how to kill it.

[ That's more Emet-Selch's territory, isn't it? So... does he have any answers? ]

[expiera]

[If he wants to be treated like an adult he should act like one maybe? Pulling a "DNI me angy/depressed" and going off the grid for a few days after a significant fuck-up is the adult equivalent of a tantrum, it's not very responsible at all tbqh. Not that Ciel is calling him out or blaming him for it, but just putting that out there, for the record.]

"Well, you COULD try. It just probably wouldn't work."

[The black-haired boy shrugs with a tilt of his head, while Ciel puffs out her chest like she owns the place.]

An apple or two, hm? We'll see about that. Now come along, all of you. [Amos IS included with the kids now, actually,] Just apples and cookies don't make a meal, mister Amos is over twice your sizes and even you guys eat more than that. Let's see what else we can get him, shall we?

"There's bread from this morning! I know where the cheese is, too."

"Are we making a sandwich? You need meat for that, too."

"You CAN eat them separately, putting it all together is just more convenient."

[The girl and the other boy are animatedly chatting between them, while the black-haired boy puts up an air of looking aloof while waiting for Amos to follow along. Seems like he's getting ushered into the kitchen, whether he likes it or not! And once through the door, it's immediately obvious which area of the relatively large room (this kitchen DOES serve the entire citadel) Ciel had claimed for herself. One table is littered with baking ingredients, a couple of older teens at its end are busy separating the dough and shaping them into slightly flattened balls to fill the baking tray. Judging by the amount of trays stacked and waiting at the side, a LOT of cookies will be made today. There should definitely be enough for him, too, probably? Most likely...!

Only the black-haired boy remains at Amos' back, the other two have run off for the errands they were assigned eagerly took on.]

Don't forget to wash your hands, first!

[Was that directed at him, or the other kids? ...Same difference, right?]

[lachtara]

[ He puts a hand to his chin to briefly debate how to proceed here. ]

It is plain to see that such an entity cannot be allowed to continue unchecked.

[ It's difficult to plan for something he never saw first hand, but... ]

I presume you would be willing to participate in such an operation?

[subsist]

[ for a brief moment, kaeya looks as though he is caught off guard by amos' answer. he'd fully expected to be given an excuse why this can't be a regular thing, which he would have understood, but both the warmth and reception towards the idea are appreciated nevertheless. whatever tension that was left lingering in his system is now gone, allowing him to finally relax.

when he takes another sip of his drink, he hides a smile behind it. ]

Alright. [ he says softly, but the feeling behind it is just as sincere and warm. ] I'll seek you out next time too.

[ once that's done, he sets the empty glass down on the table. he's about halfway to reaching the bottle when amos asks him that question. it's easy enough to tell what the man is trying to get at, especially considering the first time they ever met.

he grabs the bottle and pours himself another glass to drink. ]

... I'd say I'm settling in well enough. There are still some things I'm unsure of, but I do believe I'm right at home with the Kenoma. [ this is putting it too lightly, but he can't explain it any other way. ] I wouldn't fit in with the Pleroma, I think.

[epiprocta]

[ 'You're right,' Amos says. And that in itself is a strange experience.

It's not that nobody's said those words to him before. But nobody's said them like that to him. Gen is accustomed to those words being said carelessly, by his father's employees who he knows were only obliged to listen to him because of his father, and by the other students he'd bullied, the words meek and mealy-mouthed and mumbled just to get him off their backs. Nobody's ever said those words -- 'You're right' -- to him in the way that Amos has, with a strange gravity, like he's actually said something that matters.

And he's not sure how to feel about it.

Gen finally looks up from the surface of his drink, fixing Amos with a wary look. And while he's sure he'll need more time to digest how he feels about Amos saying he's right -- because Gen, for all his fault, has never been under the delusion that he's a normal person who thinks the way normal people should -- he thankfully gets a distraction in the form of that little huff Amos gives.

It's like some invisible tension dissipates. That little sign that maybe things have shifted into a slightly less volatile state has him breathing a tiny sigh of relief in turn, and Gen bites his lip for a moment before throwing back the rest of his drink. -- it feels strange to think that he might have solved some problem, at least in part, without the use of force. He keeps getting the uneasy sensation that it wasn't enough, somehow. ]

Look, I get it. [ Gen sighs again as he slides his empty glass across the bar; when the bartender gives him a look, he shakes his head to indicate he doesn't want another. ] I get wanting not to think about things. I don't know what you've been through, and I'm not about to ask, but ... I get it.

[ He'd never deny the appeal of blind hedonism to block out the threat of shitty thoughts. Like he hasn't spent plenty of evenings distracting himself in whatever way he could. ]

And s'not like I meant to kick your ass. I didn't even say anything that special. ... I think. Just ...

[ How the hell did he plan on ending that sentence? 'It'll be okay?' Haha, as if. 'It's not all your fault.' But sometimes it might be. 'Don't worry about it.' Easier said than done. Gen scuffs a hand through his hair once more, frustrated by the difficulty of finding words that feel right, before finishing lamely: ]

Just take it easy. [ wow, nailed it. He sure isn't a horribly emotionally-constipated youth with his eloquence further kneecapped by lifelong expectations of stoic masculinity. ] We've all been through enough shit these past few days. Should probably be resting up instead of wasting any more energy on this bullshit.

[semicharmed]

[ The wince has Matt expecting the worst, or at least fretting briefly about a concussion. A moment later, he realizes ... people probably don't get those from normal bumps ... and a moment after that, he wonders bittersweetly if that reaction is him trying to protect Amos like he tried in Venera. Too late, and flailingly.

But then Amos invites him in. Matt's surprised, pleasantly so. Maybe it wasn't the worst idea in the world for him to come and try to find Amos in person; maybe the chasm that seems to have sprung up between them is all in Matt's imagination, insubstantial as mist. ]

Oh, [ he says, as Amos holds the door open, ] that'd be nice, thanks. I'd like to.

[ Matt's words and expression are pretty stilted, but he moves easily enough as he passes Amos by to enter the room. (As ever, he's more at ease physically than in virtually any other aspect.) Once inside, though, he doesn't take a seat or otherwise flop himself down. Instead, he glances to Amos with a small smile--still a touch fretful, but curious and optimistic at bottom. ]

[zauneyete]

Oh, that's the key, isn't it?

[ Silco asked, a tip of his head. ]

It wasn't just a voice. There's a being in there, and it can manifest. We all saw it. [ It had tried to rip out of Silco, used him like a portal to reality, used his body like it could just make him feel calm, and that would be enough to soothe his soul of the monster he had, simmering below the surface.

Oh no, no. The fact that it had gotten close was the real transgression.

A finger tapped against the glass, ran against it, considering. He wouldn't admit it, not to these types. Not just because it rankled, made him furious that he would be taken over -- but because if there was something to exploit within him, he needed to excise it, take it, pull it apart, and let it wither and die.

There was no other answer to that. ]

Don't you worry, about it being a voice. Next we see it, I'll make sure that there won't be any question what you need to... beat up.

[ Or at least, worse comes to worse...Silco rubbed his thumb against his middle and index finger, after he set down his glass. There were ways to motivate. ]

[baltimores]

Yeah.

[ Nothing about his tone nor his demeanour has changed. He's angry when he thinks about it, sure, and he wants it dead, but since he's in a much better state of mind now than when he was out getting himself blasted at all hours of the day every day, he's perfectly capable of keeping a lid on it.

This is just hypotheticals now, anyway. This is just talking shop, and he can talk shop. ]

If you figure out some way to kill it and I can be a part of that, just point me in the right direction. I'll do the rest.

[baltimores]

[ There's a being in there, and that's when Amos opened his eyes, looking right back into Silco's own. While the muscles in his arms remained tensed, his jaw relaxed. And while his anger remained comfortable to sit in, nest in, it was less consuming. Not now, not with the promise that he would be able to do something about it.

He wouldn't be left helpless. Unless. ]

If there's some way to keep it out of my head, then I'll rip that thing apart until there's nothing left.

[ And Amos wasn't the kind of guy who said shit for the sake of it. He didn't know if it was the booze, the anger, or what, but it was like there was a new strength coursing through him. Tearing something limb from limb suddenly seemed plausible, and this thing deserved it.

It had taken him over, too.

Amos levelled Silco a gaze, less trying to gauge the other man's commitment — he was pretty sure he was committed — and more trying to tell him that he was right there with him. They may not have known each other that well. A part of him may have still been reminding Amos of another man he'd beaten to death with his bare hands. But if Silco had a plan to kill this thing then Amos would do whatever part he needed to play, no questions asked. ]

[baltimores]

[ Sometimes you don't get the chance to really grow up and you live most of your life emotionally stunted, like an angry child that has to be guided through everything. Sure, he can keep himself alive, and with surprising proficiency sometimes, but other than that—

This is totally a callout and it's one he can't argue with. He's been getting that a lot lately. He really does deserve it, and he knows it.

Amos lets himself be herded along with the kids, standing well above everyone in the group and only vaguely getting the sense that yeah, he might've fucked up if this is the position he's in, but it's way too late to do anything about it now. He could protest that he's not even really that hungry, but that would definitely be a petulant lie, and he's well past the point of being able to fool anyone.

He shoots the black-haired boy a look like can you believe this before rolling up his sleeves and making his way over to the sink. It's. Yeah. Hygiene is a good example, too.

... He's really not used to the whole having to set a good example thing, and it's gonna be a bit before he'll be able to fall into the groove of it.

Amos shoots Ciel a glance as he dries his hands off, takes his penance. ] So am I on fruit or sandwich duty?

[baltimores]

[ Gen's unease makes sense. For as much as people apparently do care about him, Amos isn't exactly someone people should be comfortable around. It's probably better for everyone if they retain some sense of unease around him; in a way, it's reassuring.

It's the sense of trust and understanding that blindsides him, leaves Amos blinking disbelievingly at Gen.

In a way, he should've known to expect it. That's what all of this has been about — Gen taking the time to find him, to demand that they have their own talk, all of it. But the fact that he gets why Amos spun off like this. That he isn't going to ask questions about it. (He might tell him, if he did. Not here. Nowhere public. But... he probably owes him that much he likes him well enough to give him answers, if he ever did want them.) Something about it is uniquely touching, so rare and genuine that he doesn't know what to do with it.

So he listens. And while Amos may be more than twice his age and isn't burdened by preconceived notions of what masculinity is, he's no more emotionally intelligent than Gen. This is as good as it gets for him. So Get your shit together, Just take it easy — both are exactly what he needs to hear, after all.

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards slightly as Amos reaches for his glass, downs about half of it. ]

You can mean to kick my ass. It's good having someone around who can do that to me. [ Yes, that is a metaphorical invitation. Literal... he still has his doubts. ] 'cause yeah. You're right. Again.

[ And then he finishes off the rest of his drink. What, like he was going to let any of it go to waste? But as Amos wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, he finds he really doesn't need any more than that. Probably not for a while. ]

'm ready to get out of here if you are. Feels like I could sleep for a couple of days, actually.

[ Yeah, he did that to himself. But resting sounds really good now. ]

[baltimores]

[ They're in full agreement, then, and there's something really pleasant about that. Hell, it's something Amos has needed ever since Venera — he hadn't seen Kaeya after everything had gone to shit. Probably wouldn't have done him any good if he had, anyway. But just knowing there's someone who wants to be around him, who he wants to be around in turn... All of the bullshit surrounding it doesn't really need to be said. This is enough. And if Amos dips into a lower moment of his own, he can remember that he has this.

It's good. There's a degree of responsibility that he feels, too, as he takes note of the dark aura coming from Kaeya's eyepatch, getting accustomed to the concept of true sight. They're kin. They're kin, and this is what they're supposed to do for each other, but Kaeya's quickly become someone he really does want to keep in his corner.

Amos slowly polishes off his glass as Kaeya answers, eyes on him, taking all of him in. For everything that's fucked with the world, there's a wave of fondness when Kaeya says that he's at home here. That this is where he belongs. ]

Think that's natural. You'll get there. [ He's... speaking from experience, but he doesn't quite know how to put it into words. ] I know it felt right when I first accepted it, but the longer I've been here, it feels... more right? That we're on the right path. We're doing the right thing.

[ And he kinda needs that, after Venera. Maybe they both do. ]

I don't know what the Pleroma are thinking. Glad you didn't end up with them, though. Glad someone brought you back here. It's weird, to think about how fucked up it would be if I'd ever been forced to be with them.

[ He can't imagine it. Amos had actively made the choice to accept the Kenoma. If he'd arrived here any later... if some Pleroma had scooped him up, brought him back with them... The thought is disconcerting.

He looks up at Kaeya, glad for the company after all. ... And then he looks down at the bottle, reaches to fill up his own glass again. He's glad for this part, too. He can be glad for lots of stuff in this moment. ]

[baltimores]

[ God, Matt is so good.

He really doesn't know what to do now that they're alone in here. Inviting Matt in had felt good. It was the right thing to do, he knows that. Give him that assurance. Try to prove to himself that they're still close.

And then he smiles at him, and Amos... can't return it. Not in action, just in sentiment. He feels a little lurch in his heart, like he's not sure if he's doing the right thing here after all or what.

So he just crosses the room to sit over at the foot of his bed, looking back at Matt along the way like, yes, he's more than welcome to join him. Matt had caught him once, lounging about before going to sleep, before he'd had a chance to get more furniture in this room. After that first dinner with the Regent, and the way he'd come to him seeking solace, and... had Amos given it to him? Shit. He hopes so. ]

Before. In Venera. You did everything exactly right to try to help me. [ ... When Matt had pushed forward, just came out and said it. ] If something like that happens again, you should do that again. Just rip the band-aid off. Don't think you should ever hold back.

[galdorleod]

Me? [ Howl hums. In the pause, he lifts his hands and beckons to the champagne bottle. It floats over to Amos to offer him more. ]

...I suppose I do. I've never given it much thought until you asked. But I've also not frequented these sorts of establishments before coming to this world, either.

[ But this is hardly a revelation; Howl prefers to spend his time and money on quality experiences and purchases anyway. The neat tailoring of his clothing and his usual finely-tuned grooming is proof of that. ]

If you ever go to Dionys' place, though, I'll bet you'll never want to go anywhere else. Her position in Achamoth is well-earned. [ Howl smiles mysteriously, almost to himself. ]

[lifespanned]

[ There's a part of her that wishes she didn't have to lie to him— if they were back on her Earth, then it'd be just like he was on the same side as Kira, right? So she shouldn't keep anything from him. But things are different. She has no way of knowing if she'll ever find her Death Note again, and in the case that she does... things should be this way. For now.

She senses that ounce of doubt from him, just from that word, "maybe," but she just lets the word come to her and pass, not allowing herself to second guess what he may think of her directly lying to him like this. ]

You're both lucky Misa was around, huh?

[ There's a huff, an attempt to play at her usual bravado, her usual self-importance. But even that lacks heart, too— she's worn out from the search, her energy dampened by a genuine concern for him. She doesn't have the humor at present to even jokingly complain about the sorry state of several of her friendships due to her healing attempts. ]

But I would've figured out something, even if that hadn't worked... I didn't know what would happen if you stayed that way. So I got scared.

[ He said he isn't mad, but she can't help but want to absolve herself of some of the guilt she'd felt and cutting him so deeply. ]

[lachtara]

Then I must know more about it. I have gathered some memories of the creature from our fellow Kenoma, but I have yet to hear your recount. What can you tell me of the creature?

[ Words tailored to ask for details but avoid specifics unless he is willing to offer them freely. ]

[expiera]

[Well then... Maybe this was overdue, after all?

The boy, to his Look, only flashes him back a toothy grin along with a shrug. It's very funny to him watching Amos get herded actually, don't mind him just bringing up the rear? He's then hopping his butt onto a nearby chair and settling there to watch the rest of the kitchen with renewed interest, that one seems free-spirited and set to just do whatever he wants.

Let's not dwell on him, though. Now that Amos has washed his hands, he indeed has duties to see to!]

Let's start with sandwich duty, we'll have the ingredients shortly. You can help me out around here after you've eaten, how's that?

[She asks amicably as she proceeds to rummage through cupboards and drawers for a plate and a bread knife, then casually saunters past Amos with both to a unoccupied table more towards the back away from the prep area. As if on cue, the little girl from earlier is back with a basket already, it contains two loaves of bread and a thin block of cheese. She puts it on the table, beams at them both, and then runs off again.

The plate clinks softly onto the wooden table, the butter knife atop it. The other boy isn't back yet, so hm...]

Welcome back, by the way. Are you feeling better, Amos?

[It's not that 'simple', she knows. But breaking the ice has to start somewhere, right?]

[subsist]

[ you'll get there, amos tells him, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. kaeya hasn't taken a sip of his drink just yet while he contemplates what that's supposed to mean. is it really that easy? maybe, if he really thinks about it. the more he doesn't question the kenoma, the more it just... makes sense, as strange as that sounds. it almost feels like an inevitability.

(and later on, when he is summoned by the regent, things will start to click.) ]

For me, I don't believe it's a matter of what's right or wrong.

[ things like this are never really black or white. as he understands it, the pleroma stands for preservation and perpetuity while the kenoma is the complete reversal of it. he can see himself fighting for both sides for entirely different reasons, but there's one thing that makes it easier to accept what the kenoma stands for: if their worlds are gone, if they're all that's left, then he doesn't see much of a point in fighting to keep things as status quo.

he takes a short swig of his drink before he continues, wanting to feel the burn of alcohol down his throat. ]

Seeing things through the end with the Kenoma is the only option that guarantees an outcome. Whether that outcome is favourable remains to be seen, but I suppose that's the risk we're all willing to take, isn't it?

[ he doesn't like betting on things that rely on flimsy concepts they have no control over — like hoping against all odds. ]

[baltimores]

[ Yeah, sure, he can drink more. It's nice of Howl, really. Amos watches his glass get refilled, but has enough decency to not immediately down it all again, actually making an effort to listen instead. He offers a sideways glance, even something that could be considered a cheeky little smile in return. ]

If you weren't used to these places before, then yeah. 's good to only go to the good ones. Smart.

[ In other words, he definitely has Amos' approval. This time he opts to take a mere sip of his champagne, slowing his roll a little. Because if they're gonna talk... If Howl's gonna offer up something like that... Yeah, there's a headache coming on, but he can ignore it for the time being. Not like he's new to any of this. ]

What's Dionys like?

[baltimores]

[ There's a wave of initial discomfort. He really would prefer to leave it all behind, to not revisit some of those details, now that he's finally putting himself back together. But he also knows that withholding information will only hurt in the end, so.

Amos scrunches his face a little, curls his lip in disgust, before proceeding. ]

Didn't know it was a creature at the time. I could just feel something all around me. Dunno how it got in me, but I started hearing this voice after maybe a day. It told me some shit about how if I reached out to others I could help them. Save them. Like it was using me, and I just listened. I know it's all bullshit now, but then it just made so much fucking sense...

[ His voice trails off, frustrated. His fists involuntarily clench, relax, before Amos gets ahold of himself again. It's over in a matter of seconds. ]

I dunno how much time I spent like that. I just know it got into my head, fucked with my body, fucked with my mind, and I didn't question it for a second. When I snapped out of it, I left. Couldn't keep being a liability.

cw reference to past suicidal ideation

[baltimores]

[ Both...?

It hits Amos after a second: Gen. After he'd gone and completely fucked things up there, hurt him, she'd been the one to rescue him, too. Not that he'd ever had anything but a positive opinion of Misa, but Amos has so much more respect for her now. Recognizes that in her own way, she's probably one of the strongest among them.

And how he's made that weaken in this moment, the way her words don't ring quite the way they should. It makes sense, though. You can't be at your best all the time. So he finally just... wore her out.

He needs to not do that again. ]

I'm sorry.

[ It's... nothing, it's kinda everything. He isn't trying to self-flagellate anymore; there's no self-loathing behind the words this time. Just a simple matter of fact: whatever got him completely fucked up back in Venera, he had scared her. And a lot of other people, too. It really is all he can do to offer that sentiment and mean it, but now it's less I'm sorry I put you through that, more I'm sorry you went through that, period.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. ]

I don't know if you would've figured something out. Other people tried. [ Ciel. Matt. ] They were brutal. It should've worked. I just ended up brushing them off.

[ A long pause. ]

Guess you know now, though. So if something like that happens again... use it. Tear me down. I can take it. Wouldn't have made it here at all if I couldn't.

[ To Achamoth, to Horos, to adulthood. Take your pick, really. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Matt can't read Amos' expression, but the invitation comes through clear enough for him to pick up. He nudges his shoes off and comes to sit beside him. Unlike previous occasions in Amos' room, Matt does not do a college-dorm flop or otherwise sprawl about, but takes up almost a perch at the edge of the bed. As if he thinks he might have to flutter off.

When Amos speaks, Matt ... nods. Slowly. For a moment, he looks as if he's about to reply, but he closes his mouth. Thinks for a minute.

Then: ]

That's what I struggle with, I think. [ In a soft, careful tone. ] It felt in the moment like ... I tried to hurt you, to rip off the bandaid, only it didn't do anything. So it was like I hurt you for no reason.

cw explicit discussion of sa

[baltimores]

Well. [ Amos' tone is thoughtful, with an accompanying tilt of his head as he faces Matt. ] If it didn't do anything, then it didn't hurt me, did it?

[ There's a degree of levity to him, a casual statement of fact, exactly the same as having to explain that the sky is up and water's wet. He's perched similar to Matt, albeit a little deeper on the bed, a little more settled in. It's his space. He can exercise as much authority as he wants over it, and he will.

Except then Amos falls silent. He looks down at his hands, folded together and resting between his legs just off the edge of the bed. Back up at Matt when he speaks again, holding his gaze and with full sincerity in his voice. ]

Yeah, I've been raped. A lot, actually. But it's never gonna happen again, so I think it's okay. Everything you did was okay.

[baltimores]

[ He tilts his head at the idea of right and wrong, listening. To Amos, things like this are black and white. The Kenoma are trying to bring about something better for everyone, the Pleroma are trying to stop that from happening; the Kenoma are in the right, the Pleroma in the wrong. It's that simple.

But he's also well aware of his own faults, one of them being his poor sense of judgment. It's the reason he needs to find someone else to follow and listen to others. For as much as Kaeya seems to have put faith in him, it's still entirely possible — likely? — there's a lot that Kaeya can teach him. He'd never discount an ally's opinion, so he takes in everything that Kaeya has to say, considering it seriously. ]

It'll be favourable.

[ There's no doubt in his mind. Though he speaks with conviction, his voice is gentle — a reminder for Kaeya; an encouragement, rather than anything chiding. He gets being skeptic. Hell, it's almost certainly a good thing to have that. But... it'll be favourable. ]

World's pretty fucked. Mine was, this one is; I don't see how all others wouldn't be, too. Can't fix things without starting fresh. That's what we're doing here.

[ He pauses to break in his second drink, appreciating it. He hadn't had the chance to have anything of this quality for most of his life. Not really.

Amos sets his glass down, leans forward, hands resting between this legs. His tone shifts, more contemplative and open. He's said his piece based on his experience, but now... ]

I get you, though. It makes more sense to back the play we know is gonna lead to something. We know what we're doing; other than preserving stuff just for the sake of it, do they even know what they're doing? What's their end goal — kill all of us, then expect things to keep going like nothing ever happened? [ He huffs, almost derisive, almost amused. ] It's not gonna happen.