[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

i + wildcardish, misa and gen retrieve amos in their get along shirt

[lifespanned]

[ When she initially reaches out for Gen's help, she's expecting a cold shoulder at best, and a reignition of their argument in Venera at worst. And because of that, when she does actually get through, she keeps her messages short and curt, seeking only information. Amos is missing, have you heard from him? Just a yes or no is fine. Any details about her knowledge of the matter were kept vague if Gen asked, with her only explaining that she was the last person to see him before he left Venera, and that she knows for certain that he's in the city. All that, along with an assurance that her asking this of Gen is for Amos's sake, not hers. She can't imagine Gen feels like doing her any favors right about now, after all. But, for Amos, maybe...

Thus, it's a welcome surprise when she actually manages to get him to agree to look around the few areas that the pair have frequented, especially given that she almost never ventures that far into the seedier parts of Achamoth. Only her inexperience and desperation to locate their companion allow her to surrender her pride like this, and to control herself from acting out to intentionally worsen things between herself and her fellow teenaged Aion.

When Gen comes upon their agreed meeting spot, he'll see that Misa is in markedly different condition than her usual flair: dressed down to simple clothes, hair not styled, her makeup understated and doing little to hide how exhausted she is. On any given normal day, she gives off the impression of someone who is simply not paying attention to anything about her surroundings, but at present, she seems remarkably focused, honed in on the situation at hand, her gaze sharp as a new razor. She's waiting there, with her arms crossed tight, impatient looking - but she mercifully doesn't offer a took you long enough, or hurry up when she actually sees him. ]

There you are. [ She even takes a few steps to meet him half way, in a hurry already. ] I haven't been to this area a lot, so I need you to show me where you were talking about...

[epiprocta]

[ That makes the two of them who don't seem quite like their usual selves. And not just because the brand-new white streaks in his hair accentuate just how long and scruffy Gen's hair has grown since their arrival to Achamoth, either. Gen's evidently given up all pretense at making himself presentable for this excursion, dressed in the sort of utilitarian clothes he usually wears during training sessions and looking notably tired. Forcing himself to train for hours to distract himself from his own thoughts, on top of nights of phenomenally shitty sleep, probably have something to do with it.

Still, as tired as he is, and as desperately as he wants to collapse in bed and sleep the evening away, Gen shows up to the promised meeting place as quickly as possible. And he only gives Misa a brief once-over, just long enough to vaguely note the change from her usual demeanor and appearance and file away that information at the back of his mind ... before stepping past her with a jerk of the head, indicating for her to follow. ]

This way.

[ It's obvious he hasn't forgotten their last conversation while they were both in Venera -- how could he? The ugly words they'd exchanged are part of the reason why he's been running himself ragged with training, trying not to think. But Amos is a third party in that fight, and though he doesn't know what Amos' deal is ... given how obviously fucked up the guy is, he can imagine the Innocence hadn't been kind to him. He's willing to call a truce with Misa for now, just to make sure their mutual ally is okay. He'd sounded listless during their brief conversation through their shards, and he still sounds listless now. ]

You said you were the last one to see him before he left Venera, right. [ There's no anger in his voice for now. Gen speaks at brusque deadpan as he gestures for Misa to follow him down a side-alley, towards the area he'd last gone drinking with Amos. ] What happened --

[ No. He visibly catches himself, pauses, then switches his question. (Because he can guess that whatever happened between them, there in Venera with at least one of them affected by Innocence, isn't something he should be prying at so casually.) ]

... d'you think he'd wanna be around people right now or not. [ He looks to Misa as he points down the street. ] Last time we drank, he showed me a few different places he liked. But if you can narrow down the kind of atmosphere he'd be looking for, we might find him quicker. Crowded, or fancy, or shitty. That kind of thing.

[lifespanned]

[ Her expression shifts, brow tensing, lips pursing together. She's glad Gen corrects himself, because she almost spat out a big fat none of your business, before mentally restraining herself from doing so. She doesn't want to reveal too much of what happened between them, simply for Amos's sake, yet she also knows she can't give Gen nothing - not without seeming weird or suspicious. She keeps her eyes moving as they walk, scanning the crowds as they amble by. ]

I don't know? I guess he probably wouldn't. He left Venera in such a hurry...

[ Like he'd been running from something. That doesn't strike her as behavior from someone who will be living it up in the club - Amos has never shown himself to be very social, either. She can understand the merit in narrowing what kind of place he might be at— it's honestly not something she thought of, as she's the obsessive type that would rather check under every rock, starting impulsively with whichever one seemed the most likely. So, at last, she relents, spilling what little information she can muster of what his mental state is like, at least from her perspective. ]

I really don't think he'd be somewhere fancy or anywhere he'd stick out like a sore thumb. He doesn't want to be found. I mean, he told me he was gonna hurt me if I tried to stop him from leaving. That's how much he wanted to get away from everything.

[ The words are bitter and blunt. They serve both as context for where Amos might have receded to post fleeing, as well as warning to Gen as to what they might be walking into— she has no idea what he'll be like after a few days of slinking around, but she can only go off of what she saw of him last. ]

If I had to guess, he's probably somewhere... kinda broken down?

ii - In the Citadel Hallways

[lachtara]

[ It is time to take a break from reading. So Emet-Selch has taken a cup of tea and excused himself to the hallway just outside the library. There is fresh air and a view of the outside from this vantage point. A much-welcomed change of scenery after hours of intensive reading.

Though, it seems there is quite the different view striding down the hall in his direction. One of his "unintentional" students who looks as ramshackle as they come strides in his direction. Emet-Selch finishes the sip of tea and sets the cup on the saucer as Amos' passes. ]

Having a difficult morning, are we?

[baltimores]

[ Yeah, time to ruin that fresh air, sorry.

Amos spares a glance at the tea as Emet-Selch's movement catches his eye. Looks back at him at the question, and shrugs. ]

I've had worse.

[ He has. Like... yesterday. And the day before that. And you could probably stretch it throughout the past week, plus a number of times back home, and at no point would he consider this bad or unhealthy. Just his way of coping sometimes.

But as far as he's concerned he's on pretty decent terms with Emet-Selch now, so Amos almost-smirks, decides to go for a half-serious half-equally snarky question in response. ]

Why, you got any magic I don't know about that cures hangovers?

[lachtara]

Healing magic may help with what ails.

[ In other words, it could help but may not cure it. This is something he hasn't explicitly tried to cure since arriving. He sets the teacup aside and gestures with a flourish of his hand. It causes a refreshing burst of green healing magic. Hopefully, that would do something to help.

Emet-Selch looks at Amos flatly, knowing of the possible downfalls saying 'yes' to such a thing could entail. ]

I expect that you will not make a habit of showing up on my doorstep every time you have an excess of drinks.

i

[hundredpower]

[For all that he carries himself like a high-class celebrity, and for all that he's avoided most of the seedier parts of the city so far since his arrival, Barnaby is more street-smart than he looks. He'd frittered away countless evenings when he was a teenager in the worst parts of Sternbild's Bronze Stage, armed with little more than a drawing and a name-- Ouroboros. He'd demand answers people didn't have or wouldn't share and get into bar fights. He'd return home empty-handed and angrier than ever.

Achamoth's entertainment district reminds him of those dark days, but it's at least an escape from the Citadel, if only to explore and acquaint himself with. With his shard concealed, too, it grants almost complete anonymity... or it would, but he spots a familiar figure unsteadily weaving his way down the street. Drunk, undoubtedly, and when he gets closer, the reek of alcohol is unmistakable.]

Amos. [He approaches, trying to get his attention, but it doesn't seem to work, so he raises his voice.] Amos!

[baltimores]

[ That second attempt reaches him, albeit with a delayed reaction time. Amos blinks, squeezing his eyes shut like that'll help reorient himself, opens them again to look up at Barnaby proper. Another few seconds, and then recognition dawns in his gaze. ]

Hey.

[ He's dishevelled and only partially alert, hair mussed up and eyes still a little glassy, but at least he knows who Barnaby is. ... Where he is. Amos blinks again, then cants his head as though to confirm it's actually Barnaby here with him, making the scratches on his neck all the more visible if Barnaby's gaze so happens to land there. ]

What're you doing here? Didn't know you...

[ And there's the slight slur to his words, though it's not as bad as it probably should be. He half-heartedly gestures at their surroundings, Didn't know you came to places like this, but hell, he's not objecting. ]

[hundredpower]

Hey. [He looks him over worriedly, noting the scratches on his neck, though Amos is at least not so drunk that he doesn't recognise him. For Barnaby's own part, there's a trace of recent events in the fading bruise on his cheek, but nothing else visibly obvious.]

I just needed to take a walk. [And maybe find a quiet bar on the way back he could actually relax in, but nothing in this part of town appeals at all.] How long have you been out here?

[Drinking, that is.]

i

[zauneyete]

[ Like Amos, Silco also finds comfort in the dingiest, worst bars in Achamoth. Unlike Amos, he isn't keen on the over-indulgence, but like Amos, seeking out the comfortable and familiar is what one does after... all of that.

The bar is slightly dim, the drinks cheap, and it isn't Silco's usual haunt, but he doesn't want to be found, so he slips in and out of the seedier establishments with ease, reaching out a finger to order a bar, when out of the corner of his eye -- the good one -- he caught sight of Amos. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn it looked like he was trying to beg up a drink -- or maybe that was his imagination.

He hadn't paid attention much to the fact that he'd been gone -- beyond the fact that he hadn't arrived with the rest of them -- but he doubled his order, before he moved through the crowd like a comfortable, old snake, and shook the drink in front of Amos, in greeting. ]

You know... there are likely better ways to get a drink.

[baltimores]

[ Amos has all of the delayed reaction time and pleasant grace of someone truly well inebriated. Silco hadn't been seeing things, though; this was a new bar for Amos — stop whatever of whatever number it ends up being — so he had, indeed, been showing off his shard. Considering the fresh liquor he's got his hand hovering around now, it's been a good strategy.

When Amos did figure out it was Silco, though — the movement of that drink sure helped catch his attention properly — he just reached out, took it, and downed it all in one surprisingly smooth motion. He set the now-empty glass down on the bar top, patted the seat next to him for Silco to sit, missing the first time but getting it right on the second. ]

If you're buying, then sure. [ His words were slurred, but he was also intelligible enough. Amos blinked a few times, trying to reset his vision. ] Don't got anything on me though. So showing 'em what I am is doing the trick.

[ Was he going to regret this later, having outed himself as an Aion to who knows how many members of the general public now? Yes. Who cares? ]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco snorted, but sat. He was not so desperate for drink, but neither was he hurting for the funds to pay for drinks, after all, the only think Silco seemed to purchase with any voracity, was cigars. Speaking of, he pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and clipped it, before he paused. Amos may notice, his other hand never left his pocket. He'd carried the glasses with one hand, too. ]

You don't smoke, do you?

[ He asked, and would he have been kind enough to offer one if Amos said yes? It's possible. He seemed in a way, and people tended to... remember when a kindness was shown their way. Silco looked him over, curious. ]

I didn't see you, when we got back to Achamoth.

[ He said, before he lit his cigar. ] I didn't expect to find you opting to lurk down here in... squalor.

i / wildcard

[epiprocta]

[ ... this asshole.

Gen may or may not slam down his glass on the counter a little too hard, clicking his tongue loudly as he looks towards the entrance to the bar for the Nth time -- and sure enough, still no Amos walking in. Is he really going to make himself a pain in the ass and require a whole 'nother search session to hunt down? Ugh. ]

Gimme another one.

[ Ignoring the disapproving stare from the bartender no doubt unhappy about having his glassware mishandled, Gen slides over the money for a second beer. And though he looks up the moment he hears the door creak open, it's just some random stranger wandering in, earning another indignant huff. His barstool's juddering lightly from the way he jostles his leg, and Gen snatches up his beer the moment the bartender hands it over to take a long drink.

-- how badly did Amos get fucked up in Venera? Presumably he went through the same bullshit that most of them did, but ... Gen hadn't pinned him the type to react this badly to anything. What the hell did he have to deal with while under the influence of that shit?

The door creaks open once more, and though Gen snaps his gaze over to it in irate fashion, he sits up straighter the moment he realizes that, this time, it is who he was waiting for. ]

-- you're late.

[ Which means, of course, Amos walks through the door and is promptly greeted by that surly remark. Sorry bro. ]

[baltimores]

Sorry.

[ It's said flatly, not because Amos doesn't mean the apology — well, he kinda doesn't; he's wronged Gen in much more grievous ways than being late for a meeting the kid himself set — but because he has only so much ability to express platitudes on a good day, and this isn't exactly a good day.

At least he's looking more like a person, though. Can't do a whole lot about the cuts and bruises on his neck — nor on his wrists and forearms as he has his sleeves rolled up, not caring enough to hide them, but that's more completely normal for him rather than being in the throes of a self-pitying bender — but his hair is finally brushed. The bags under his eyes are a little less prominent. He's mostly alert, and that's about as good as anyone could hope for.

Can't stop the way his eyes linger on the white in Gen's hair, though. For as good as he is at keeping his expression mostly blank, he can't stop that pang of self-loathing, and it'd probably be difficult to hide that from a fellow member of his legacy anyway. Instead Amos brushes past Gen to pay the bartender way more than he'd have to just to get a single drink. Though he's still getting one all the same, and he turns back to Gen as he waits for it, claims the seat next to him. ]

I'm here now. You wanted to talk.

[ There's a degree of emptiness to his words, like he's bracing himself to get scolded. Even though it's the least of what he deserves, it's not like he's been raring to receive it. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Yeah, he can tell Amos doesn't really mean that 'sorry' but -- whatever. Amos being a little late to this meeting is hardly the biggest problem at the moment.

Amos might feel a sharp gaze prickling at him as he takes his seat with the way Gen's looking him over critically. It doens't go amiss that he's looking a little more cleaned up now compared to the day before, even if he's still looking a far cry from his usual self. Gen wonders how much of that is thanks to Misa, and makes a mental note to himself to ask her later how that whole mess went.

But for the moment, Gen only gives a low huff before shifting in his seat to face the bar once more. Takes a big swig of his drink before saying, ]

Why d'you keep looking at me like that. [ It had been hard to miss the odd, sympathetic shiver that rippled down his spine, after all. An oddly tight feeling in his gut that had lingered for a moment before being squelched. Something that feels terribly familiar, but he can't quite place in this context. (Or maybe doesn't want to place.) ] You were like that yesterday, too. Looked at me like you'd seen a ghost or something. You that surprised I'd come looking for you?

[ Gen only gives Amos a sideways glance before returning his gaze to his drink; it's the absolutely minimum level of consideration one can give in this situation, permitting Amos that room to breathe without being stared at, but at least it's something. ]

iii.

[subsist]

[ kaeya is wandering down the halls of the citadel seemingly with no destination in mind. he's got a bottle of fine wine in one hand and two glasses stacked on top of each other in the other. while he wants to continue to avoid everyone, especially those he shares legacies with, he appears to have reached that limit tonight for reasons unknown.

he could have spent tonight drinking in his own room all by his lonesome, but there's a chance he won't finish the bottle on his own. there's no point letting a drink like this go to waste or so he says to himself, as if that's remotely convincing. the truth of the matter is that he'd rather not be alone tonight so he's heading towards the room of someone who wouldn't judge him too harshly. not that he can guarantee that, but it's just the general feeling he gets after the few interactions they've had so far.

he raps on amos' door quietly, not quite aware of how late it is. the worst thing that can happen is the guy refuses to be in each other's presence, which would be understandable, but at least he can give amos the wine so he isn't the one who would end up drinking the entire thing alone.

he's got a smile ready whenever the door opens, hands lifting up the spoils he's brought over tonight. ]

Are you busy?

[baltimores]

[ Really, he'd just been lying on his bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling, thinking he should probably go to sleep and then proceeding not to at all. While the knock does initially surprise him, after a moment Amos sits back up, staring at the door as if that'll yield a result, before sighing and getting up to open it himself.

Truthfully, he wouldn't mind the company, especially if all he's going to be doing is lying there aimlessly. All Amos can tell from the murky feelings he's picking up from the other side of the door is that it's another Lover who's sought him out; when he opens it and sees Kaeya there — Kaeya with enough wine for two, specifically — he offers him... not quite a smile, but close enough. The feeling of kinship on his end should be unmistakeable, anyway. ]

Nah. Come on in.

[ He's accumulated enough furniture to create some kind of a small lounge area, nested comfortably in one of the corners of his room: soft oversized chairs, a small table, and he's already headed over there, expecting Kaeya will just follow him. He'd been preparing to sleep, which means he's got nothing more than silk pants on for the occasion, and it's not like he sees any reason to get dressed now, leaving his shard, some scars from past exploits, and the still-healing bruises and cuts along his arms and torso from certain exploits after his return from Venera on full display. They're all a part of him in some way, they all happened to him; he's got no shame about any of them. ]

i

[galdorleod]

[ Venera had been a complete shitshow. There's really no other way to look at it, not unless the Kenoma want to lie to themselves. They managed to find a solution to the infection, sure, but everything else about their week there — the investigation, their reunion with the Pleroma, the distribution of the cure, the Entity that capped it all — it was a complete shitshow, and Howl is in his own hurry to move on and forget about it.

And after his forced induction into the world of brothels by none other than Dionys, the most beautiful and desires woman in the city, his increasingly go-to method of forgetting himself is women. After his return to Achamoth, he spent only a few hours in his room before leaving again.

It's later that night, when Howl is lounging half-naked in a private room during a break, that one of the brothel's support staff peeks her head into the room and asks whether "the other Aion man, in the other room" is meant to be with Howl... and whether she ought to be putting everything on the same bill, because, (and with much denigrating and apologizing for having to bring this problem to him,) the other Aion does not seem to have any money on him at the moment.

This makes Howl blink. It's not so strange for another Aion to be here, it being one of the most highly regarded brothels in the city, but an Aion with no coin on hand...? If one pushed their weight around enough, flashed their Shard at enough managers, one could get whatever services one desired here for free... but Howl can't think of any Kenomas who would actually do that. Not when money is so easy for them to come by. One of the newer Aions he hasn't met yet, maybe...?

A few minutes later, there's a sharp and commanding rap at Amos' door. Having already confirmed with the staff member that the Aion within was not currently in the midst of services, he does not hesitate to simply open the door a few seconds after his knock, telling himself that he's given the man within sufficient time to pull a bedsheet over himself if he really needed to.

...

"Oh. Amos! Good evening!"

[baltimores]

[ He honestly hadn't known this was one of the more highly regarded brothels in Achamoth; as Amos had meandered his way through the streets before this particular urge struck him, all he'd known was it had been the closest. Sure, it's probably been the most comfortable place he's been since before he left for Venera, but that fact hadn't exactly registered in his mind, more concerned with the need to get some kind of release — and more later, if his body cooperates — before passing out for the night and getting back up the next day to resume doing this all over again.

He's still spaced out when there's a knock at his door; Amos doesn't register it until it's already open, but at least he'd already had the bedsheet covering his lower half. At first, Amos figured he'd just be going at it again sooner rather than later, but why the hell not; it isn't until Howl says his name that he recognizes it's a fellow Aion. ]

Hey. [ His words come out a little slurred and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, blink forcefully a few times to try to bring Howl into focus. Right. Right, he knows him. ] 's only evening? Thought it was later...

[ He trails off aimlessly, at first lifting a hand to provide a meaningless gesture about the passage of time before letting it just fall back to his side as though it's actually too heavy for that. He's just left staring up at Howl, not entirely sure what he's doing here but not opposed to his presence, either. They're both just kinda there, as far as he's concerned. ]

i.

[gravings]

[ Gray is maybe... a little lost.

Getting a taste of the freedom and (relative) anonymity of Venera has made her less than eager to return to the Citadel with its army of servants and watchful eyes. In greater Achamoth, she can at least attempt to conceal her Aion status. Cloaks and layered clothing are far from conspicuous to the gothic-flavored public, so she blends right in with the populace with her heavy hood and repressed aura. Wandering the streets and getting to know the city is a calming pastime, second only to shutting herself in with a good book.

But today she's probably wandered a little farther than she should have. She's spaced out so badly that she's ended up in a more... wordly part of the city.

This she realizes when a small flock of beautiful, enticingly dressed Achamites beckons for her to join them at the entrance of a plush-looking establishment. Gray stares for a long moment before realizing their likely profession, whereupon her face immediately bleeds into pink. She shakes her head apologetically at them and hastily backpedals for a retreat—

—only to suddenly stumble into someone behind her. ]

[baltimores]

[ Not like he'd been watching where he was going, either, but at least to the little credit Amos has left he'd been standing still.

It had been a moment of indecision for him — booze or sex, booze or sex — when he'd been left looking at the outside of the same establishment those Achamites had been trying to draw Gray into. Maybe they were going to be the scales that tipped his decision, at least until he'd felt her bump into him, and even with his delayed reaction time he had enough of an idea as to what had just happened to rest a gentle but firm hand down on her shoulder.

And then he'd looked down, trying to see just what, exactly, had happened, and... oh, fuck. She's small. She's young. She really shouldn't be here, and Amos is hardly in a position to try to help someone else out when he can't even keep track of himself, but it just so happens this is a very specific scenario he'd rather she avoid...

He's too drunk for this. ]

Hey. [ His voice is rough around the edges after some days of abuse, but it's as soft as he can make it all the same. Amos keeps his hand down on Gray's shoulder, but the touch is so light she could easily slip away from it if she wanted to. ] You okay?

[ He really doesn't know what he's going to do if she says that she isn't. Also, he has the sense that he should probably recognize her, but wherever he could have possibly seen her before just isn't coming to him at all. Only so much one can do when you've never really spoken to someone before and you've spent some time dulling your mind on purpose. ]

ii

[semicharmed]

[ The normal thing to do would be to check in.

At least, Matt thinks that'd been normal? Sending Amos a note or offering a small psychic nudge to the effect of hey, how are you doing now that that's all over would be the literal least Matt could do to make sure he's okay.

Except that every time he's about to do that, doubt starts to gnaw. Shame that he couldn't pull Amos out of the contagion's winged slurry. Shame that he used every dirty trick at his disposal, every scrap of information shared in confidence, and it still didn't work. Then he starts wondering of Amos even wants to hear from him right now. He said they were each other's "people," but that was before Matt threw the r-word in his face for no reason. In his experience, nothing is as conditional as family.

When Matt gets back from Venera, he throws himself into researching the other Legacies. That seems like something practical for a graduate student to do. At some point one late night, Matt's feet lead him not straight back to his own room, but on a meandering path that takes him down the hallway where Amos' room is.

When he spots Amos in the corridor, it can't really be called kismet. But Matt'll take it. Sometimes you gotta make your own serendipity. ]

Hey, um--

[ Matt means to say something brittle and cheery about fancy meeting you here. He can't manage it. All he can do is lift his hand in an awkward wave. ]

Hey.

[baltimores]

[ He looks up when he hears Matt's voice. Amos had just been on his way back to his room after getting some real food in him, finally. He's freshly cleaned, he's ready to give his body a break— ]

Hey.

[ He doesn't return that awkward wave, just. Amos' mind flicks back to Matt's helplessness the last time he saw him; the helplessness he'd forced in him by being unreachable. The panic and distress he'd caused that he's now all too aware of, and he kinda feels a little bit like shit again, maybe.

He stops outside his door, looking at Matt with something of a pained expression on his face. Fuck. Fuck, he's really fucked this up too, hasn't he. What hasn't he ruined?

Eventually the wheels in his head start turning again. This isn't about him. Matt doesn't deserve that.

So, tentatively, ] Are you alright?

[ How badly did I hurt you, too? ]

ii+iii

[expiera]

[The Kenoma Aions came back without casualty or significant injury, and Xishen had informed them that the Regent was satisfied with the 'result of their work'. Difficult to take happiness or relief in the passing grade, however, when most of them had at least one if not several unpleasant altercations thanks to the Innocence's contagion. The Citadel may be big, Achamoth bigger, but as an afflicted ally that Ciel had run into before being forced to retreat out of helplessness, not seeing Amos around in person wasn't needed for her to attempt reaching out via communion.

The exchange didn't last long. While it was enough to confirm that he survived the ordeal, he... definitely didn't take what happened well. It was best to give him the time and space he needs, letting him know they'll all be there whenever he's ready to return was all she could do.

Is he still being led astray, by the time he finds himself ambling down a certain Citadel hallway? Whatever that's driving his steps, there's no denying that something smells good around here: sweet and wafting, he may recognize vanilla, butter, and dough. That he's close to the kitchen and pantry area would explain the source, there seems to be a couple of children waiting by the entrance too chatting by themselves.

Whether he decides to approach and investigate or turn around and go elsewhere, a young boy with black hair suddenly turns to look his way. He doesn't say anything, the other children don't appear to have noticed him or their friend acting strange. He's simply staring straight at Amos for the time being, looking strangely focused for some reason.

What will the mister do?]

[baltimores]

[ Goddamn, is he hungry. Turns out depriving yourself of regular food and sleep does a number on you, and after a remarkably long nap, all Amos can think about is getting some food in him.

... Nobody said it had to be real food, though. Maybe the thought had been on his mind once, but it's thoroughly replaced once he picks up that sweet scent, and yeah, he could go for that instead. Just stuff himself with it. Who cares if he's not healthy, he can just go back to sleep again after and try again tomorrow—

Oh. He hadn't been expecting kids.

Amos blinks owlishly at them. He knows the Regent takes kids in — like, he was going to follow them regardless, but what a way to completely win him over — but he wasn't expecting to run into them here and now. And now one of them is looking right at him.

Uh. Amos raises a hand in awkward greeting, not sure what he's supposed to be doing with this. ]

Hey. [ That's a good starting point, right? At least he'd showered earlier in the day. At least he looks presentable and not like someone who's been living in the wilderness and thereafter sleeping exclusively in brothels for the past several days. ] You're, uh. Getting something, huh...

... Smells good.

[ Nailed it. ]