last man standing. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
baltimores) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aionlogs2022-06-02 03:57 am
baltimores) wrote in aionlogs2022-06-02 03:57 am
[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 upsomewhat 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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
cadiai if we need to talk specifics. ]
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
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
cw suicidal ideation
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. ]
no subject
[ 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? ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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 muchhe 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. ]