aionlogs | [open] you know what your problem is?

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[open] you know what your problem is?

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. ]

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[ He looks away from Gen, not so much out of shame but an excuse — here's his drink, and he can take a long, slow sip of it while staring out across the other side of the bar instead. He knows he's being stared at, being judged. Probably by more people than Gen, really, but that really doesn't make a difference; Gen's opinion of him is the only one here he cares about.

He sets his glass back down at Gen's huff, though. Looks him in the eye when he speaks, willing his gaze from travelling up a little further, to that scar of Innocence in his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's not going to shy away from this, though. He doesn't deserve to. He's just going to end up being an open book before Gen anyway, no matter what he does.

That knowledge makes it easier to answer him. ]

I hurt you. Deliberately. [ His voice is flat when he speaks, almost clinical. At least laying it out for him now makes it easier for Amos to tamper down his emotions. These are facts, nothing more. ] Didn't think you'd want to be around me again.

[ ... No, tampering down his emotions was a lie. Turns out it still hurts to think about this after all, like that wasn't a main catalyst for him feeling the need to try to drink and fuck it all away, and he can't exactly suppress that sharp pang of emotion.

He doesn't look away from Gen, though. He doesn't deserve to run and hide anymore. ]

[ ... aah, so that's what it was. That's why the gross feeling sitting heavy in his chest had felt so familiar. It's the same feeling he'd been trying to ignore the whole time he was speaking to Eustace and trying to ignore the mess that had been made of his ears, trying not to think about the fact that he'd been the one to get Eustace started down the path of infection.

It's guilt -- even if he doesn't really want to think about it that way.

Gen takes another slow sip of his drink, mulling his words over for a moment before putting his glass down. ]

Yeah, well. I'm fine, so.

[ Is he fine? -- he is. He tells himself he is. He has to be.

And while he can't mask the slightly forced quality to his words as he says that, Gen forges on quickly to distract from any tension in his voice; he raises a hand to pick at one of the pale strands of his hair, frowning at it like it's really the crux of the matter here when they both know it's not. ]

Dunno why it made my hair like this, but it'll probably go away in a bit ... if not, I can dye it, or whatever. It's not a big deal.

[ Yeah, there isn't a chance that Gen is actually fine. Amos has been on this side of the routine before, and he meets it the same way he has previously: a flat stare, a deliberate tilt of his head to say Bullshit.

He won't vocalize it, though. If Gen wants to lie to himself, that's fine; that isn't Amos' problem. As long as Gen knows that Amos knows that he's full of shit, he can say whatever he wants, for whatever effect he thinks it's going to have. But it's not like he can criticize someone else for running away from their problems. Clearly.

His frown deepens as Gen picks at the white in his hair. ]

Yeah. You're too young for your hair to start going white.

[ It's— The whole thing is so fucked up, and this time, Amos actually doesn't feel all that much like drinking. He rests his arm atop the bar, nudging his glass away a little with his forearm, blocking it, as he leans in a little closer to Gen. Lowers his voice, because this is a public place, and he's probably already been firmly outed as an Aion here anyway, but not like everyone needs to listen in on this. ]

I'm sorry. [ Shit, and he really is now, isn't he, even though the inflection in his voice doesn't change, even though he isn't trying to play things off like Gen is. He's done getting smashed and blitzed out of his mind; all that's left now is to be direct. ] I fucked up. I got you fucked up along with it. I knew exactly what I was doing and I did it anyway. You didn't deserve that. You shouldn't have had to take the brunt for how weak I am.

[ Gen ends up giving a small start when Amos leans in like that. But more than the sudden physical proximity, it's what Amos says to him that ends up being more startling, especially in conjunction with the low burn of sincerity he can sense in the other's voice.

People don't ever really talk to him like that. At least, nobody back in his shitty hometown ever did. Any apologies he'd been given had been mealy-mouthed things browbeaten out of the people he bullied or bossed around, half-hearted and accompanied by simpering smiles. So hearing an actual apology like this, for something that seems like it actually matters is ... strange. Almost discomforting in how foreign it feels.

It's obvious from the knit of his brows, the slightly wide-eyed blink that he gives, and the way he opens his mouth to answer but finds no words at first that Gen's taken aback. Like he doesn't know how to handle this. Even when he quickly looks away and pounds down the rest of his drink, there's no masking how much Amos' words have thrown him off his rhythm. ]

It's -- ...

[ 'Nothing?' 'Not a big deal?' No, he can't say that with a straight face, not when the events that unfolded in Venera are still so vivid in his mind. -- and what's he even trying to accomplish with this conversation, anyway. Gen fidgets, tapping his empty glass on the counter to keep his hand occupied for a moment before managing to look back over to meet Amos' gaze. ]

-- basically everyone caught that shit, anyway. Not like I would've gotten away scott-free if you hadn't done that. You just happened to be the first one. ... it was bad luck, so it doesn't matter.

[ In better circumstances, Amos would gladly take the victory for finally being able to get one over on Gen. But it sucks that he has to apologize at all, so all he's got is his own sinking little feeling at waiting for what he's said to actually be received, a selfish little hope that it'll help. He really wouldn't blame Gen if he told him to just fuck off, permanently.

It's easy to misinterpret the stray feelings you're picking up off of someone else when they're that thrown off, after all. That, and when you're still too wrapped up in your own self-hatred to see any bigger picture.

Amos just continues to ignore his own drink, staring up at Gen with... he doesn't know how he feels.

A small exhalation of relief at his words, apparently. He's not about to let himself off the hook, but at least he isn't being shunned. It's a signal that this can be fixed, so. He'll try that, but that means something else needs to be addressed. ]

It does matter. It means I have the capacity to hurt you. I don't want to, but if I did it once before, it means I could do it again.

[ It's all delivered softly, the furthest thing from a threat possible — except for the actual content of what he's saying, but nevermind that, he just has a great way with words is all.

Amos sighs, deep and heavy. Closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there's a seriousness to his gaze. ]

I don't want to. But I clearly can't be trusted. Something needs to be done about that, and I don't know what that is.

[ He'd been listening uncomfortably to Amos' words, but Gen bristles slightly when he finally retorts: ]

So what. You think I couldn't hurt you if I really wanted to?

[ He's not sure if he's supposed to take that level of trust(?) as an implicit compliment, or be insulted that Amos apparently thinks of him as that weak. The volume of his voice had risen a level with that prickly retort, and feeling the curious stares of the few other patrons, Gen glances over his shoulder to shoot them a vicious glare; for better or for worse, his stink-eye has enough venom to ward them off for now.

But point taken, he reels his voice back down to a lower mutter when he speaks again. ]

... s'not like there's anything you can do about it, anyway. Whatever happened there messed up pretty much all of us -- nobody I talked to was immune to that shit. You really think there's something you can do when that kind of magic bullshit's in play? [ His barstool creaks when he leans forward to tap his empty glass on the bartop, gesturing for the bartender to get him another one. Fuck it, he's not tipsy enough yet, like hell he's going to deal with this conversation sober. Gen slouches as he sinks back into his seat and looks at Amos. ] So just ... we're just supposed to deal with it. What happened happened, we're both alive, I just got my hair messed up, and yeah, I'm a little annoyed but I'm not pissed at you. Why's it so important to you?

[ It feels like he's missing some sort of connection to Amos' logic here. ]

[ All Amos has for Gen at first is a flat stare. He's pretty sure he could snap Gen in half if he wanted to, so... yeah, he has his doubts that Gen could ever actually hurt him. Not physically, at least. And bristles or not he isn't exactly shy about letting that sentiment be known; it's almost certainly the truth.

Though he is thankful when he lowers his voice again. Why Gen decided they needed to have this talk in public is beyond him — but from how Gen is reacting to this, it's pretty clear there's a disconnect.

Where Gen needs alcohol to deal with this, Amos has barely touched his glass. He keeps it ignored. He's going to be sober for this one, as he keeps his voice appropriately low, too, never breaking eye contact. ]

Because I'll do this shit without magic in play, too.

[ It's that simple. Amos talking about his weakness hadn't been self-pity; it'd been fact. Sure, he could probably take Gen in a physical fight, easy, and that's its own kind of strength. The kind he's made sure he has, because it's the only one he can really guarantee. ]

I fuck things up. A lot. I've hurt people I care about, and that dates to back home when there wasn't any magic bullshit. It's not like I mean to. I just make a decision, and turns out it was the wrong one, but by the time I know that I've hurt someone else. Everything that happened in Venera — it's something I've done before, will probably do again.

[ One of the few things he hadn't recalled on his walk back to Achamoth was inadvertently giving Gen a glimpse of Lydia. Some woman he'd thought about had inspired that memory from him, and it's as Amos realizes now that he breaks his gaze to scrub a hand down his face, rough and hard and fuck. He doesn't want people knowing about her—

He owes Gen at least a little more explanation. ]

's why I gotta follow someone else's lead. I follow my instincts, I'm probably gonna fuck up. I follow the wrong person, I'm gonna fuck up. That's what happened there. I don't know what the solution is.

[ If he was led astray from the Regent that easily already, then... shit. Who knows what's next for him, and who's gonna get caught in the next crossfire. ]

[ ......... okay, yeah, he's in way over his head.

Gen had been listening calmly enough at first, but as Amos speaks, he might feel a prickle of emotion welling up through the empathetic connection forged by their shared Legacy. A muted, subtle cocktail of confusion, hesitation and discomfort, tinged with concern. And, perhaps surprisingly, reluctant sympathy. Though Gen tries to keep his expression at a stoic neutral, there's no way he can prevent the way his brow furrows, jaw clenching tight as he tries to digest everything Amos is saying.

Fuck, where to even begin with all this. Truth be told, Gen had wanted to speak here, in this bar, mostly because he hadn't been in the mood to figure out a new meeting place when he'd come here with Misa. Wanting to meet in the same bar the following day had just been the first suggestion that came to mind, but at this point, yeah, he's starting to get the sense that maybe it was a bad idea.

Ugh. Whatever. He'll ... make it work.

The bartender slides him his drink, and Gen takes a slow sip, his gaze never quite leaving Amos. Puts his glass down, exhales slowly. Closes his eyes for a moment to think. Then leans heavily against the bar as he stares into the ripples in his glass. ]

You know it can still feel shitty, right? Even if you're following the right person, even if you believe they'll always know what to do. Even if you think they're telling you to do the right things. It can still feel shitty sometimes -- you know that, right?

[ There's something uncharacteristically quiet and restless about the cadence of Gen's words. Almost skittish. And for some reason, Amos might feel an image flicker through his mind -- only because it's only he's already seen before, that same unfamiliar woman he'd seen from Gen's memories back in Venera. But Gen shows no sign of noticing anything Amos might be seeing sympathetically, keeping his head ducked and his words almost directed down at his glass. ]

S'not like you'll magically be happy about everything you have to do once you find the right person either, so ... it's fine, isn't it. If you fuck up once in a while. 'Cause you followed your instincts, or whatever. [ He's not even sure what point he's trying to make any more. ] Or are you gonna go pulling this shit every time you do something that doesn't feel right afterwards? They're gonna find you dead in a ditch someday, at that rate.

[ Amos does pick up on that prickle of Gen's emotions; it's just that they're kinda confusing to him, too subtle and too many of them for him to really put a name to. Discomfort stands out the most, though, and... yeah. He really can't blame Gen there. Pretty sure he's been giving him that feeling the entire time, actually, and maybe it was stupid of him to think it could ever really go away. That's not the kind of person he is; that's not what was he was built into. So he really doesn't know what to expect here, after he's laid out his own damage so clearly.

He certainly wasn't expecting what Gen lays back out for him, the sense that he's sharing something with him, too. He hesitates as Gen talks, then reaches for his own glass, takes a small sip. It's something to do. Maybe it's more appropriate now, tit for tat in commiseration. ]

Would that be a bad thing? [ If he was found dead in a ditch. It could be self-deprecating humour. It's not. The question is a real one, because there's a part of him that knows, that appreciates, the fact that he has very little good to offer this world. Any world.

... Bit much, maybe, to be springing on Gen when Amos gets the sense he's trying to share something with him. He shakes his head; he should try to brush that one off, actually. ] I don't need to be happy. Not entirely sure if I can be. Just... it's okay if things are shitty, as long as you aren't hurting anyone else. I don't mind making that trade if it means I can keep my people safe.

[ And that includes Gen. Amos can sense the way he's fucking this up, letting it slip through his fingers. He did pick up on the image of that woman again, but without any knowledge of what it means, it's just... it's there. She's related somehow, he figures, but this hardly seems like the place to ask about it, if he ever even will.

... A beat, and then, tentative, ] Are you okay with making that trade?

[ There'll be support for him there, no matter what his answer is. ]

What is with all you types being so eager to die, huh?

[ Gen abruptly shifts to shoot Amos a sideways glare with that whisper-hissed retort, his words sharp at the edges. (Like a hypocrite.)

A touchy subject for him, obviously, and one that he's especially not eager to be discussing after everything that happened in Venera. His breaths come a little too quickly afterwards for that reaction to have been one born simply of annoyance, and even when Gen looks away once more, the restless drum of his fingers against the bartop make it obvious he doesn't like this line of conversation. How the hell is he even supposed to respond to something like that?

There's a prolonged pause before Gen speaks up again. ]

-- you think Misa would've been happy ... [ Pause. No. ] -- you think she would've been safe just 'cause you got mad at yourself and drank yourself under a table after all that? You know she would've come out here looking for you by herself if she had to, right. You think that's what would've kept her safe? Get your shit together.

[ Is he being harsher than he has to be? Almost certainly. And he knows it, too, but it's hard knowing what's even the right thing to say in this situation. Gen keeps his gaze fixed down on the rippling surface of his drink, his barstool wobbling from the way he restlessly twitches his leg while searching for the right words. ]

I'll -- I've always done whatever I have to do. Whatever it is, whatever it takes, I'll do it. [ Yeah, he'll make that trade. Isn't that all he's been doing for the last six years? Fat load of good it did, though. ] But it's not that simple, it's not like ... making that trade means you're always gonna do the right thing. Even if you think you're following the right person. I don't think it works out that easily. -- and you doing this shit just 'cause you think you messed up isn't gonna help anyone. Sometimes things just aren't meant to work out.

[ Why is it so hard to just say 'it's not your fault?' Maybe because some part of him knows it is -- knows that some things were Amos' fault, just like what he did to Eustace was his fault. 'It's not your fault,' isn't true, and to say it out loud would be ridiculous, but ... even if some things were Amos' fault, isn't that okay? Can't he just accept that it happened? Wouldn't that be easier? ]

[ Though there's no outward reaction, Amos certainly feels that barb Gen sends his way. It's not so much that he's eager to die that he simply wouldn't mind if it happened. ... Does that make him eager? Either way, yeah, he definitely fucked up, expressing that. One way or another he's just hurt Gen again—

And Misa.

Amos feels himself bottoming out when he brings her up. His face goes a degree paler; a pain he didn't know he was capable of feeling ripping through his heart. He could argue that nobody should've come looking for him to begin with, that Misa's stronger than she looks, that everyone would be better off without him, but it all feels hollow after that.

Get your shit together is right. Amos hates himself, and he does his best to tamp those feelings down because they're the opposite of him having his shit together. He'd been blind to it, but turns out there are people here who care about him, and as long as he defaults to shit like this, he's just going to end up hurting them, one way or another.

More than anything else, he probably needed someone to speak that way to him after all. But while he processes it, it's all Amos can do but to stay silent. Watch Gen. Take in every single thing he has to say, because for as much as he's tried to look out for him, who knows if he'd ever succeeded — and Gen is doing him one much better right now. ]

You're right.

[ It's soft and quiet, but there it is. There's his answer. Amos can't argue with any of it. He sits completely still, thoroughly chastened, knowing there's nothing he can really do in this moment to fix things. It'll all have to come later, through actions he'll have to prove again, and again, and again. He can't promise that he'll be able to; he has to, or else he's gonna fuck things up even worse. ]

I kinda have a problem with shades of grey. Everything's just black and white to me. Don't really know how to be any other way. [ Isn't that just another one of his faults— god damn it, it's so easy to keep falling back into that trap. He gives a small shake of his head. ] Like going out and getting fucked up made it all go away for a while. So I did that. It was the only thing that made sense. Didn't even think of anyone else. Couldn't.

[ Except now he's going to have to learn to do that, isn't he. Amos' gaze flicks back up to the white streak in Gen's hair. Back down to his eyes. He did that. He can own it.

... He's still not sure if he should reach out, give Gen's shoulder a friendly little shake like he normally would have in this moment. It still feels fucked up. This sucks, but at some point he'll get over it, even if it's not now, even if it should be. Instead, Amos just lets out a little puff of air, like he's been winded, Gen landing a really good punch on him. ]

Thanks. For kicking my ass just now. Don't think anybody's done that to me before. Kinda needed it.

[ Can't promise any guarantees; it's hard to rewrite decades of guiding life philosophy just like that. What had been instilled in him. Whatever feelings Gen had had towards the woman who might've guided him in his own life, Amos had never experienced them for himself. Had loved and followed his own guiding figure implicitly, like his life had depended on it. It kinda had. So things have to work out that easily. They have to.

... But the rest of it, maybe he can be better. ]

[ '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.

[ 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. ]

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[open] you know what your problem is?

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cw suicidal ideation

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