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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[ She's mostly relieved that he's open to what she's saying, and she realizes suddenly that she's been doing more talking to him than she would normally consider comfortable with a near-stranger. She wonders which of the two of them is more peculiar for getting along with the other.

As she ponders this, there's movement in the corner of her eye: the cat dropping smoothly from its perch so that it can approach them, its soft round gaze flitting curiously between Gray, Amos, and the suspended cat toy. Gray peeks at the cat from around the edge of her hood before wiggling the toy on its line enticingly. The cat's interest is thoroughly piqued, and its gaze sticks to the toy like velcro. Gray makes it dance a little more until the cat gets close enough to bat a pink-beaned paw at it.

Now that the cat has warmed up a little, Gray offers the catnip toy on a stick over to Amos. ]

Do you want to have a try, Mr. Amos?

[ Sometimes you just need someone else who's been through some shit to get along with, right? Though as far as Amos is concerned in this moment, Gray's just someone who needed some help, and now she's the one helping him.

It's actually not at all surprising things would work out that way.

He stays still when the cat approaches them, looking at its paws more than anything else as it steps forward, bats at the toy.

Yeah, she's a good person, he's decided. So it means a lot that she trusted him to help her — that she's trusting him to play with it a little. He looks in her direction, at the toy, at the stick, and after a moment of hesitation, reaches out to take it.

Gives it a little shake, making the toy bob up and down just a little. He really— He really doesn't know if he's doing this right, and just doesn't want to fuck it up, treating this as seriously as he's treated... well... possibly anything. That's partially reflective of his inebriated state, and partially reflective of an inability to prioritize things the way most people know how to do. This is important to Gray, so it's important to him, full stop. ]

[ It's interesting to watch him. She still isn't quite sure how to think of him. Is he her chaperone or the other way around? She doesn't think she's ever seen an adult take something so mundane so seriously. The word "homunculus" comes to mind: artificial humans supposedly crafted and immature, made solely for the purposes of the magi who made them and locked away or sheltered when not in use. She's never met one herself, but she feels that if she did, maybe they would be a bit like Amos.

In any case, she's glad he doesn't seem bored. The cat isn't bored either; it chases the toy as it swings into Amos's care, paying no mind to who's wielding it. It begins to leap and pounce, ramping up its attempts to slap the toy to hell.

As she watches the two of them, she isn't quite sure what possesses her to ask, ]

Do you want to give her a name?

[ In a way, he was born to be a homunculus, so it would be an apt thought. A natural human in every way, only born with very specific purposes in mind, to the point that he'd barely had a chance to become his own person. There's still one in there deep down, it's just... so deep.

And maybe getting to come out more than it would've otherwise — in Gray's presence, as he has success with the cat, all of it. There's more of a spark of life to his eyes as the cat is receptive; more than that, as he increases his efforts to play with it, waving the toy around, bringing it just into reach, out of, back again...

Amos doesn't recognize it in the moment, but he's actually having a good time. Like he's playing with a kid, but animal instincts are so much easier to understand, so.

He stops for a second at Gray's question, letting the cat get the upper hand, really wrap itself around the toy. He gives it a light tug, and it doesn't let go. He thinks about how shy it had been at first, but how that hadn't lasted, and look at them now. ]

Peaches. [ The answer comes before he's even really aware that he's saying anything, but once the name's left his lips, it just feels right. He gives the toy a stronger tug, meets more resistance, finds he's enjoying the self-imposed stalemate. ] I knew a Peaches back home. She was kinda like this.

[ Not as far along in being bold, but. Maybe one day she could've gotten there. With the time that they lost out on when the world ended. ]

[ She watches Amos watching the cat at play with a bubble of satisfaction... which gently pops when he makes an unexpected comment. ]

She was like... this?

[ Rolling around on the ground in ecstasy? Surely not, but she's having difficulty understanding what Amos could mean. Meanwhile, Peaches is happily rubbing her face all over the toy, turning slow circles as she tries to push herself deeper into it. Gray guesses cats do, after all, really love catnip. ]

Peaches... That's a cute name. Who was she?

Friend of mine.

[ He still shakes the toy every now and then, still giving Peaches something to react to. Amos' attention is on her now more than Gray, though really, he just wants both of them to be happy. And making Peaches happy is probably a key to making Gray happy, so that's where his actions lie. ]

She did some bad things, and she hated herself for it. I mean, that was the right call. Meant she felt guilty. But she was real withdrawn and quiet because of it. We got to spend some time together... she kinda became my apprentice, at least up until she had to go to prison. It let me get under her shell, though. See who she really was.

[ His voice is a low, quiet drawl; all he's doing is explaining something, but there's a touch of wistfulness to it. Amos wouldn't say it out loud, wouldn't acknowledge it because he wouldn't know it's there, but he does miss her. ]

I wanted to help her learn how to live with the fact that she'd fucked up pretty bad. Not like your entire life ends just because you make a mistake, even if it's a big one. Not if you feel bad after. So, I was gonna do that. She shied away from most everyone else but we got close. And then the world ended, so it didn't matter anymore.

[ But this Peaches is still here, so he can keep playing with her. That part does matter. ]

[ She listens to his story patiently and with interest, curious to learn more about him. And... as someone who is also quiet and withdrawn and was taken in as an apprentice at a low point in her life, she feels a residual gratitude toward him, a small curl of appreciation that she once reserved for her own master but which has lain lost and dormant until now. It should be a nice feeling, based in fondness as it is, but she only feels a grip of pain in her chest for all the things she never got to say to him and which he never got to accomplish.

She breathes out her sudden melancholy and focuses again on Peaches, who doesn't have a care in the world. At the moment, catnip looks like it must be the most powerful and wonderful substance in the world. ]

What were you teaching her as your apprentice?

[ Amos doesn't really have a care in the world at the moment, either. (Well, he kinda does, but he's sobering up a bit more and... he can handle that at the moment. Just in this moment, though.) Gray's internal journey is imperceptible to him, particularly because aside from conversing with her, all of his attention lies on the cat. ]

Ship mechanic. [ Another pull of the toy, watching Peaches scramble to get up and after it. ] We were out in deep space when she fucked up. My ship got to take her back as prisoner, but that meant we had an extra pair of hands, and she wasn't gonna do anything anymore, so no reason not to put her to work. Especially since she kinda already knew what she was doing.

[ He pauses. If he knew better he'd say he was forlorn. He doesn't know any better, and he just keeps playing with Peaches instead. ]

We worked well together.

[ Ship? Space?? Those words don't immediately compute, but when they do, they quietly overtake the rest of what he says. Not that she doesn't care about the details, but it's a little hard for her to mentally gloss over Amos literally being from outer space.

Peaches looks like she's thoroughly enjoying herself and primed for a petting, but first Gray just has to ask. ]

Mr. Amos... You're an astronaut?

[ There's no small amount of wonder in her voice. Even if she's met magi with the power to harness celestial bodies and rain down meteors, the romance of space travel remains pure to her. A lifetime of staring at the stars with a mountaintop view and little else to distract her from them has carved a healthy appreciation in her heart for that endless, shimmering expanse. ]

Not here I'm not.

[ The thing about living in space every day of your life for a couple of decades is that it becomes mundane. You learn how to adjust to different gravities to the point it becomes instinctual; you respect the scarcity of resources and the care you gotta take into looking after what you have so that you can stay alive. It's just life, with a slightly different set of rules to live by.

Any sense of wonder wore off for him way too long ago; that, and the part where he's still a little drunk and a lot depressed means he has a difficult time appreciating Gray's. ]

They don't got that here. Dunno if they ever will. Doesn't really matter, I guess.

[ Since they're supposed to bring about the end of everything.

He's stuck on autopilot with Peaches, bouncing the toy around a little as he talks, but not a whole lot else. ]

[ It's strange to her that he would discard a piece of his identity like that, however obsolete it now is. Even if she doesn't have a cemetery to preside over here, she still considers herself a gravekeeper. Maybe it just illustrates the difference in their ages... Either way, she supposes he's right that it doesn't matter terribly anymore.

Peaches looks about as comfortable as she's going to get, so Gray leans over with the back of one finger outstretched. ]

Hello, Peaches...

[ Peaches glances over and lazily twists to give Gray's finger a delicate sniff, before twisting a little more to butt her ear against Gray's hand. With permission granted, Gray goes on to gently rub the back of Peaches's head and around her neck until the cat closes her eyes and soaks in the feeling. ]

She's really friendly. You just need to wait for her to accept your invitation.

[ She beckons with her free hand for Amos to give it a try. If he does, she'll remove her hand so that he can get Peaches's full attention. ]

[ Amos does stop bouncing the toy around when Gray reaches out to Peaches, watching the two of them carefully. It's so gentle.

So that's how you get the trust of an animal, huh.

(Though Gray did get his trust pretty quick. He's not so drunk as to not realize that, so... it's clear her technique works.)

He gently sets the toy down on the ground and mimics Gray, shifting slightly to get a little closer, reaching out with his index finger, remaining fingers hanging limp. He watches... he's not sure what to watch at first, ultimately settling for the top of Peaches' head, her ears.

And, quietly, voice a little rough, a pair of words he's said so many times in the past, but not at all since arriving in Horos: ] Hey, Peaches.

[ Gray watches him with a small smile, though she senses that there's something else here, something deeper than she can see, maybe even something hurtful.

They've all come from someplace broken, whether that place was broken when they were there or broken when they arrived in Horos. If Gray was hopeless at trying to understand other people in her homeworld, which was full of people so different that they might as well have been a different species, then she may as well not try with her fellow Aions, who might as well be aliens.

Yet there's something unspeakably human in Amos's greeting, an inconsequential utterance to a random cat on the street. It's beyond Gray's ability to parse the feeling behind what she's seeing, but her own feeling is a little like she could cry.

However, she manages not to cry, which she considers very good for her. She watches in content silence as Peaches literally becomes wrapped around Amos's finger in aid of him finding the perfect petting spot. With the way the cat rubs the base of her ear against Amos's finger, almost bossy, maybe it could be said that she's the one petting him. ]

[ If he had the words for it, there would be a lot to say for this moment.

He does not have the words for it. He never has. He probably never will. Amos just shifts seamlessly into rubbing his finger along the top of Peaches' head to having his whole hand at her mercy. Whatever she wants from him, she'll get; head massages, chin scratches... all of it.

Amos sits there with her, with them, for a while, a profound emptiness lit up with a brief spark of what could be construed as happiness. It's too faint for him to really do anything with, but it is there.

He's getting too sober for this. He eventually lifts his head from looking down at Peaches, looks up towards the top of Gray's hood. ]

Thanks. [ He doesn't know what he's thanking for. He does. His words are small, tentative, pained. ] Are you okay from here? I should probably get going.

[ He has some emotions to bury again. When he's back in his usual, empty state, he'll be able to look back on this and appreciate it.

But he's not there, Venera raw enough to have reopened a wound he's been ignoring since he woke up an Aion. Self-medication remains his only answer for that, so... with permission, he'll go back to burying it until he's empty enough to look back on it again.

It'll be fine. ]

[ She wonders if he knows what he's thanking her for when she can detect a strain in his voice that wasn't there before. But she can imagine; being reminded of what they lost isn't easy (or shouldn't be), even if the love they felt for those things is still there. It's hard to say why they were built this way, to give pieces of themselves to other people even though parting is always inevitable.

But she can see that he wants to be alone now, and that's okay. This whole venture has gone on for longer than she might have hoped for, and with luck he won't have regretted tagging along with her later. ]

Okay. Thank you for giving it a try, Mr. Amos... Please take care.

[ She'll see him again, sooner or later. Until then, she'll spend a little more time spoiling Peaches. ]

[ He is thankful for her. He has enough in him to recognize it in this moment; will be able to appreciate it that much more after he's been told off, told to get his shit together, realize there are people here who consider him important.

Won't really know for sure if she's one of them — but the time she took with him means a lot.

Amos stands up, and it's a little easier to do than he'd like. Any swaying is gone, inebriation no longer affecting his brain to nearly the extent he needs it to, and... yeah. He's sober enough to recognize that's sad; he isn't sober enough to have the capacity to care.

He nods down at her, at Peaches, voice still soft, quiet, gentle. Like he needs to make sure he won't scare them off. (He knows he won't. It's himself who's the problem.) ]

I'll try.

[ He's doing such a bad job at it. ]

Thanks again... [ Voice a little rougher, ] This was nice.

[ It was.

And now he needs another drink, as he starts tracing his steps back to a much seedier part of town. ]

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[open] you know what your problem is?

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