[ Zero's gaze lingers on the picture for a moment longer than it should. She doesn't take the kettle from him immediately, instead pushing him gently so that he knows to move and make room for her.
When she too is settled amongst his pillows and blankets, she takes it from him and has a drink herself. ]
That's a shitty joke.
[ She says, flatly.
She jerks her chin in the direction of his drawing. ]
Never got her name, but I spoke to her some during that first week.
[ When they were separated and had little more to do than play ball games and tame dolphins. ]
She could take a hit, I'll give her that.
[ She is more familiar with this mood of Merlin's than she'd like. Half because he is far easier to deal with when he pretends to feel nothing, and admittedly half because there is a part of her that feels some vague sense of concern.
It's discomforting that as Akvos crumbled around them one of her most immediate thoughts was the memory of him wracked with nightmares in the name of helping a foreign world.
She says none of this and places the kettle back in his lap. ]
[the kettle is a weight in his hands, and it prevents him from reaching out, turning the book over. protecting the image there, he thinks, but instead he takes another bit out of the kettle, and sets it down before he thinks about how much he wants to tell. another day, he could have easily gone on about his king, her exploits, her tale. and yet, today, he feels like a poor storyteller indeed.
it's not that she's gone. Bedivere had left, and there was no doubt in Merlin's mind that the man was doing well. certainly, as a spirit, she was safe somewhere, perhaps even exactly where she left off. better off than yet another series of tasks that she would have unflinchingly taken on. if she had been pulled away by the Rift, he could hope it happened quickly and felt like a bad dream. the world would ask so much of her, and she always tried to meet it. again and again. he's lucky that he got to speak with her again, hold her hand once more, look into those proud eyes. his brave, bright king.
it's not that Akvos is lost. magic in that sort of dimensional rift always came with side effects that couldn't be measured too well, and it could have easily destabilized, despite anyone's best efforts. wars were fought, blood was shed, kingdoms rose and kingdoms fell. people held onto bitterness and pain and created reasons to fight. and sometimes, a place simply has its doom written out, to fall to pieces when the time runs out. happy endings weren't for every story. it is what it is - and at least not everyone perished. it's a new chapter to be written, despite all the energy that went to save it. maybe it was an omen, when he dreamed of the goddess singing and the world dissolving away.
(How did you refrain from wanting to intervene? Artoria's voice rings in his head, and he wants to say I didn't. there were times when he did nothing, but it didn't mean he didn't want to step in. yet she never would have grown, never would have stood on her own, if he hadn't stepped back.
should they have stepped back? did they [he] do too much?)
the emotions that mix and mingle in him are unwelcome, foreign. he wants to drown them, press them away. they're not right, not formed in the way human emotions should be, he thinks. these are messy, odd things, and it's easier to say he doesn't understand than to try and look at them for too long. he can try to let them go and hide where they want. the tree in his room has many leaves, and he could store what swirls in his chest at the roots, if only he could dig it out.]
Artoria...she was always quite determined. A few blows could hardly keep her down.
[it's unconscious, the slight way he says her name and makes it warmer. that there's fondness there, a hint of pride. that he knows her, enough to say something like that with confidence.
but familial tenderness melts quickly, until there that fragile maks back up again. not really smiling.]
[ Zero is quiet, eyes on the ceiling of his room– green foliage just barely lining the corner of her gaze (she'd forgotten about the stupid tree). It's more comfortable not to look at him when he talks, easier to be more patient this way too. ]
Don't think anyone did.
[ No one did, but few of them had been on the front lines the way Merlin and the others had. The rest had simply done damage control wherever they were (and well Zero, Zero had done the opposite of that), but he had been involved– invested in some way, as much as he refused to admit it.
He didn't need to, not with the way he was now in the aftermath of it all.
What comfort is there when a world crumbles at your feet despite your best attempts at preventing exactly that? None, as far as she knows (as far as her own experiences go).
Zero slumps back against the mass of pillows behind her, making it clear she is both getting comfortable and has no intentions of moving for quite some time. ]
Almost gave her a concussion– full body tackled her, long story. But she got right back up and ran after me for half a mile.
[ Her eyes are on the tree still. ]
Didn't know you were pals. Somehow.. she wasn't the kind of company I expected you to keep.
[ There's a story there, but she's not sure if he's in the mood to tell. It's always hard to know what he's willing to tell.
And if she was to be fair, he has offered more than she would have expected or asked in the past few weeks– both to her and Akvos. ]
[the mental imagery of Zero tackling Artoria actually pulls a little laugh out of him, especially thinking that she would have definitely tried to chase the other person down. but his fingers rest on the side of the kettle, and he takes a breath, gaze unfocused - not at her portrait, not at anything in this room.
(he remembers a girl dressed in humble clothes, rising in the morning to live a simple life. he remembers a young woman in white, believing the world was full of goodness. he remembers a king in steel, in love with a people and a land so much that she would have borne any pain.)
there is a story that he could tell, knowing who wrote it for her to live before she ever could read it.]
It's more that she kept me. I was her court magician, advisor to the king. Even before she took up the crown, there was so much to do, so much for her to learn. She needed the help, so I was there.
[guide from before she even first drew breath. guardian from the moment that he took her in his arms, such a fragile thing with such a heavy burden. his king by loyalty, and by design.
the thought makes him drink more. it'd be better to sink into the easy haze that comes with enough alcohol, where the world is softer around the edges and his mind is smoother.]
[ She looks, finally– watches him drink from the spout; the expression on her face is neutral, purposefully distant, she's not sure how to be this close to someone else's anguish especially when the someone else in question tried so aggressively to deny it (and was failing at it only because Zero herself is so familiar with these specific tells). ]
Magician, huh? So you'd do tricks?
[ When he puts the kettle down she reaches up, wiping residual wine from the corner of his mouth with the side of her thumb– the gesture more maternal than affectionate or intimate, really.
She can see the fondness, hear it in his voice. As indecipherable as he tries to be this much is obvious. ]
So you're a lot more useful than you let on and you're capable of being an adult when someone needs one around.. I'll keep that in mind.
[ She tilts her head, looks at him again, less distant this time. ]
[he'd protest, that he's useless and a layabout who was deserving over every name he's ever been called. except he blinks and she's looking at him, and he has to push that aside in favor of finding a place to put everything in his head.]
Oh, I know I'll see her again. And besides...it's not like someone like me could really understand it, if I was missing her.
[someone only half human couldn't understand the weight of human pain. half of an ego, half of a self that tried its best to hold its shape.]
Someone who admits to fearing breaking something to the point of being irreparable knows how to miss, regret and be nostalgic
But it's not her place to call him on it, and truthfully she doesn't quite have the heart to. So instead she looks back at his stupid tree. ]
You wonder what they're doing all the time, you feel.. empty when you have something you want to share with them but know you can't. You wonder all the time if you'll ever see them again, but you wonder just as much if they'd be better off if you never did.
[ And then with a silent sigh, she reaches for the kettle without looking at him and takes a large gulp from its spout. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and finally meets his gaze. ]
That's what it feels like to miss someone. Ring any bells?
[ There's a quiet challenge in her gaze. She's daring him to say otherwise or anything at all. ]
[this time, Merlin's the one who looks away first, towards the tree - he has a dozen answers. weak lies that spring to his mouth quickly, the truth that would sound hollow, coming from a mouth like his. he's an observer, until the end of time. he needs to remain where he is.
ghosts flood the halls of the last stronghold, and the scent of flowers still flows in through the window.
correction. you know you'll never see them again. you know they're better without you.
a brave man would have said something, would have said it sounds like something she knew quite well. but he's not brave - he runs away to save his own skin, and Merlin closes his eyes, breathing in. she's seen him afraid before, seen him waking from bad dreams. but the walls of the tower still stand.
reaching out for the sketchbook, he closes it, and drops it over the side of his bed, where the top layer of his robes lies. there. no more of that smile to haunt him today. he'll take the wine instead, and remember how to forget.]
Zero watches him close the sketchbook, tuck it away out of sight and out of mind– she says nothing, says nothing still when he drinks in that way that people do when they don't want to be well enough to answer questions (or think about their potential answers).
It's familiar because it's so genuinely human. ]
That's what I thought.
[ She says, not smugly and mostly to herself.
She is already pleasantly warm from the wine, it drapes over her like a comforting blanket– but she pulls one of the many real blankets he's acquired over her anyway. ]
She probably misses you too. When you feel this bad it's never one-sided. I guess.. that kind of makes it worse, but at least it's something to hold onto when you think you're going to melt into the ground or float away.
[ She tugs on a lock of his hair, beckoning him to look. ]
No one can pretend to not care all the time. No one has that much energy.
[he turns to look at her, and the words she can't miss me rise up, stick in his throat. can't because her story is long over, and when she is brought back, it's in the prime of her life. when she was the most radiant.
no one can pretend not to care. but it's what he has to do, not get attached to individual humans. to love the story, not the characters. to take delight in what passes, and let it go. caring is for people with a heart, who are fully formed.
and it's not just her - it is Akvos in the bargain. it's that even now, how many hundreds of years later, that loss and failure sit uneasy, frustration of being kept back there. god, how he appreciates the silence in his head, the Sight turned off, but even so, he thinks that could have helped them, saved it. knows it could have helped. so accustomed to power, being powerless is a strange and vulnerable state.
how odd, to miss the weight of one's burdens after so much relief. maybe he doesn't know how to live without that constant flow of information helping him to look, to be, to react and pass as something that can get along with everyone else. maybe, maybe, and he wants to do a thousand things other than truly think about this.
...That might be true, for a human heart.
Merlin takes a deep breath, and considers. maybe nothing they - he - did would have been enough. it happened, even with Sight, even with considering all options for a year, with the strongest of souls.]
Sometimes, you can't save everyone. They're all learning that.
[with a wave of his hand, he gestures out - the rest of the Temple, he means. it's an abrupt change of topic, but a needed one. he can't linger here, not when he's trying to not think about how many times he's let something go.]
It's going to be quite depressing here until they figure that out. But it was good enough to try.
[ It's hard to say if that's the sound of understanding, simple acknowledgement or disapproval. Perhaps it is all three, but when Merlin waves the conversation away Zero follows with an easy shrug of her shoulders– like none of this concerns her.
And if you asked her, she would say it doesn't.
This is why she know she has no right to pry and prod at him. ]
Some of them never will. Some of them can't turn their brains off long enough for it.
[ She drinks again, and when she has even the slightest of an opening she'll tip the kettle in his direction and pour the wine straight into his mouth. ]
No one really gets it– but if you want to live through the end of the world, you have to get over it. And you can't get it until you've seen it happen and decide you don't give a fuck.
[ She smacks her lips, not letting any of her hard earned liquor go to waste– every drop saved is a drop towards feeling a bit better even if just for the moment. ]
[he swallows the wine she pours for him, glad that he hadn't eaten much for how he can feel the slight bit of warmth starting in his head that indicates that he'll slowly fall under its spell.
she's right - it's the sort of detached thinking that only those who have to think about surviving have to cultivate. they have to watch the world pass, and decide what to invest in.]
As do you.
[he rearranges himself on the bed, half laying down, propping himself up on his arms.]
You can take the memories, cherish them, be glad for what you had before it all fell apart. Better than writing it off completely as a loss.
[ His statement doesn't get anymore than another long drink out of her– nonchalant as she tries to seem her focus is elsewhere and it shows in the way of her drinking to fast and coughing and sputtering when the wine goes down the wrong way.
After her fit, she finally addresses him, looking at him through damp eyes (from the coughing, mind you) and a squinty frown. ]
That how you see it? Tch...
[ She drops the kettle onto him, displeased in some vague way.
She sits up straight and busies herself with tying her hair back, if only to occupy herself until the wine calms the buzzing in her head. ]
That's how other people see it, yeah? They look back on the good shit.. glad that it happened.
[ She frowns, and it looks perhaps a bit petulant because the liquor is calming her nerves and keeping it from being full-blown angry or sad in any concerning sort of way.
If there's anyone in the room who would be concerned, at least. ]
Missing people fucking sucks, and there's nothing you can do about it. Wouldn't miss anyone if you didn't have a reason to miss them. The good and the bad? It's all the fucking same. You're better of not having anything at all if it's just going to fall apart later.
[ She looks at him finally, laying there and looking stupid. ]
[his lips curve into a humorless smile, his fingertips lightly drumming on the metal of the kettle.]
But if you had nothing at all, how boring would that be? How utterly pointless of a life? Everything will eventually fall if you want to get technical about it. At least you have the present, if not the future.
[he tries to not dwell too hard on the fact that everything passes by, will leave. only the most eternal of things will remain - sunk into the heart of a star, until even that too will pass.]
The secret is to not get attached to people individually.
[then you don't miss them, really, if you don't tie your heart to them. you just wind up drinking in another world falling back on old sayings to soothe your soul.]
I mean, easier said than done, but if you get it right...you don't miss a thing.
[without really thinking about it, he raises one of his hands, reaches for a lock of her hair to touch. not yank, like she's so fond of doing to him, but something more idle. it helps that he can blame everything on something that's not him, and that all of this could be falsely forgotten.
prying, spying, the worst kind of voyeuristic habits. but what else could you do, when so much time had gone by? it's not like he truly expects an answer, but he's curious, just as much as the day they met, only now with the strength to ask such things.]
[ It is in her instinct to smack his hand away, or perhaps reach for it and grip it a little too hard– dig her nails in until he asks to be let go (or in Merlins case laugh, probably). But again she thinks about Akvos, and this time not how it had ended but what he'd told her in those moments when he'd devoted so much of himself to that place.
Whatever scale she'd thought had been tipped in his favor had tipped towards her in a way she hadn't expected, and above all else she hates the stupid, inexplicable guilt that makes her feel. So she leaves his hand and offers him this. ]
You know, the funny thing is that I never really got a chance to light up the only people who've ever lived long enough to steal from me.
[ She wrinkles her nose; it's hard to tell if she's annoyed by the anecdote itself or the fact that she has to tell it. ]
Indigo. We were thick as thieves, we were supposed to be thieves– together. But you know how it goes, alls fair in love, war and robbing brothels. That sorta' shit.. the best part though!
[ She laughs, it's a girlish almost delighted sort of sound. Her eyes narrow though, lips forming a cruel sneer. She leans forward a bit more, resting some of her weight on him. ]
She was supposed to kill me, but she didn't. Said she was taking some kinda' fucking.. pity! On me– after all we'd been through. I was really, the saddest sack of shit she'd ever seen.
[ She reaches for his hand, finally– intertwines his fingers with hers. And then SMACKS his palm down like some sort of one-sided arm wrestling match.]
.. You ever feel bad about the messes you make and walk away from?
[his eyes are widened just a bit by how he didn't expect that - her words more than her actions. by now it's often enough that she'll do as she pleases, and he expects that. that she actually answers is its own moment in time, and those are words he tucks away to keep as another secret, secure behind a barrier that can't be pierced - oh, he wants to know just to know. and that there was that moment, and then that loss...well, he knows better than to pity her. she'd tear out his eyes if he tried.
but her last question is striking, and with the memories of Arturia so close to the surface, it almost feels poetically apt. to say no is a lie, and not even an elegant one. to say yes is to admit something vulnerable and small that not a soul should see. there has to be a third answer. something that answers nothing at all.
there is a brief silence there, intellect just a little dulled from the alcohol, from his frantic attempts to cover his own nature.]
All these questions, it's like you're trying to figure out if I have a heart or not.
[ She's cornered him, she realizes belatedly. She hadn't intended to, so it surprises her perhaps just as much as it does him. Zero doesn't think about the things other people do for themselves too deeply, or at least not deeply enough to realize his non-answer is just as good as an actual answer.
She laughs again, softer this time.]
No, I'm not. I don't care about crap like that– not a maneater, just a run of the mill murderer.
[ She shrugs. ]
Doesn't matter to me whether you have things you care about.. things that could hurt you, or things that you hold real close.. right–
[ She takes the palm in her grip and presses it flat against his chest. ]
– here. All that matters to me is that whatever you do have in there'll stop working if I stab you enough.
[ Perhaps some people found comfort in prying enough to know that their companions held the same sorts of values and morals (or any at all really). Zero finds comfort in the fact that if he fucks up he won't get away with it.
That's the only prying she feels compelled to do. ]
Booze makes me chatty, that's all it was.
[ She lets go of his hand, fingers skimming across his chest as she pulls away. ]
But I don't really wanna' do much more of that. And from the way you keep pussying out of answering questions, I guess you don't either.
You know nothing's going to make an honest man of me.
[there's only so much he can show, in a given moment. only so much before he feels everything become tethered again, controlled, and he doesn't want to fight it. there's a measure of gratitude buried deep down in there, for the time that she lets him take - despite wanting to cut through the mess, she won't reach in and take if he's not ready.
it's enjoyable, to talk to someone and be himself.]
Tell me, then. What would you rather do instead? Stab me?
[he'd let her, his tone says, though his eyes are a little bright.]
If only by a fraction perhaps (and if only for the moment). She is unsure how much of that is influenced by the alcohol or his conversation with her. It's in her nature to believe it's the latter– but all the same.. there is a part of her that feels just a bit lighter now that there is a modicum of warmth flowing through him. ]
Uh, I mean.. yeah? Probably will at some point. Maybe even in the next ten minutes.
[ She furrows her brow, as if vaguely perplexed and on the verge of sorting out her thoughts. The alcohol has dulled her senses some, she has to emote especially aggressively to be able to be sure her face is doing what she'd commanded of it. ]
But right now I kinda' wanna fuck you. Wine puts me in the mood.
[that sounds worlds better to him than actually thinking about his emotions, or the messes he's made in life. the grin on his face is lazy, all too willing to indulge - it's not the alcohol in his bloodstream, but the simple choice, and he sits up a little.]
That's a far more enjoyable plan.
[and if she chooses to stab him in the middle of it, then they'll deal with that when they get there. besides, he promised her, didn't he, to come see her when they were back in the Temple - but his bed's more comfortable, anyway.]
[ Zero moves like her body weighs hundreds of pounds, pressing a palm flat against his chest again as she wills him onto his back. She looms over him like a heavy stormcloud, hands on either side of his head– hair falling around him in a curtain that is prickly and smooth in equal parts.]
Glad you think so.
[ There is no affection in her voice, in her face– she looks at him more like she's going to stab him than fuck him.
But she doesn't quite do either of those things. ]
No one's honest.
[ Her voice is quieter, though she sounds just as flippant as she looks still. ]
No one. You're not better, worse or any different than anyone else. You just don't bother advertising things you're never going to hand out.
[one of his hands creeps between them, drawn up her chest before he lays a single finger on her lips.]
Shhh. Don't tell everyone. I'll become so cruel, in their eyes.
[stern and real and something they might understand more. that no one does, that he floats along unknowable and unreal, is essential. he wants to be like that - a dream they can't recall the true shape of.]
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When she too is settled amongst his pillows and blankets, she takes it from him and has a drink herself. ]
That's a shitty joke.
[ She says, flatly.
She jerks her chin in the direction of his drawing. ]
Never got her name, but I spoke to her some during that first week.
[ When they were separated and had little more to do than play ball games and tame dolphins. ]
She could take a hit, I'll give her that.
[ She is more familiar with this mood of Merlin's than she'd like. Half because he is far easier to deal with when he pretends to feel nothing, and admittedly half because there is a part of her that feels some vague sense of concern.
It's discomforting that as Akvos crumbled around them one of her most immediate thoughts was the memory of him wracked with nightmares in the name of helping a foreign world.
She says none of this and places the kettle back in his lap. ]
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it's not that she's gone. Bedivere had left, and there was no doubt in Merlin's mind that the man was doing well. certainly, as a spirit, she was safe somewhere, perhaps even exactly where she left off. better off than yet another series of tasks that she would have unflinchingly taken on. if she had been pulled away by the Rift, he could hope it happened quickly and felt like a bad dream. the world would ask so much of her, and she always tried to meet it. again and again. he's lucky that he got to speak with her again, hold her hand once more, look into those proud eyes. his brave, bright king.
it's not that Akvos is lost. magic in that sort of dimensional rift always came with side effects that couldn't be measured too well, and it could have easily destabilized, despite anyone's best efforts. wars were fought, blood was shed, kingdoms rose and kingdoms fell. people held onto bitterness and pain and created reasons to fight. and sometimes, a place simply has its doom written out, to fall to pieces when the time runs out. happy endings weren't for every story. it is what it is - and at least not everyone perished. it's a new chapter to be written, despite all the energy that went to save it. maybe it was an omen, when he dreamed of the goddess singing and the world dissolving away.
(How did you refrain from wanting to intervene? Artoria's voice rings in his head, and he wants to say I didn't. there were times when he did nothing, but it didn't mean he didn't want to step in. yet she never would have grown, never would have stood on her own, if he hadn't stepped back.
should they have stepped back? did they [he] do too much?)
the emotions that mix and mingle in him are unwelcome, foreign. he wants to drown them, press them away. they're not right, not formed in the way human emotions should be, he thinks. these are messy, odd things, and it's easier to say he doesn't understand than to try and look at them for too long. he can try to let them go and hide where they want. the tree in his room has many leaves, and he could store what swirls in his chest at the roots, if only he could dig it out.]
Artoria...she was always quite determined. A few blows could hardly keep her down.
[it's unconscious, the slight way he says her name and makes it warmer. that there's fondness there, a hint of pride. that he knows her, enough to say something like that with confidence.
but familial tenderness melts quickly, until there that fragile maks back up again. not really smiling.]
...This isn't how I expected we'd come back here.
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Don't think anyone did.
[ No one did, but few of them had been on the front lines the way Merlin and the others had. The rest had simply done damage control wherever they were (and well Zero, Zero had done the opposite of that), but he had been involved– invested in some way, as much as he refused to admit it.
He didn't need to, not with the way he was now in the aftermath of it all.
What comfort is there when a world crumbles at your feet despite your best attempts at preventing exactly that? None, as far as she knows (as far as her own experiences go).
Zero slumps back against the mass of pillows behind her, making it clear she is both getting comfortable and has no intentions of moving for quite some time. ]
Almost gave her a concussion– full body tackled her, long story. But she got right back up and ran after me for half a mile.
[ Her eyes are on the tree still. ]
Didn't know you were pals. Somehow.. she wasn't the kind of company I expected you to keep.
[ There's a story there, but she's not sure if he's in the mood to tell. It's always hard to know what he's willing to tell.
And if she was to be fair, he has offered more than she would have expected or asked in the past few weeks– both to her and Akvos. ]
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(he remembers a girl dressed in humble clothes, rising in the morning to live a simple life. he remembers a young woman in white, believing the world was full of goodness. he remembers a king in steel, in love with a people and a land so much that she would have borne any pain.)
there is a story that he could tell, knowing who wrote it for her to live before she ever could read it.]
It's more that she kept me. I was her court magician, advisor to the king. Even before she took up the crown, there was so much to do, so much for her to learn. She needed the help, so I was there.
[guide from before she even first drew breath. guardian from the moment that he took her in his arms, such a fragile thing with such a heavy burden. his king by loyalty, and by design.
the thought makes him drink more. it'd be better to sink into the easy haze that comes with enough alcohol, where the world is softer around the edges and his mind is smoother.]
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Magician, huh? So you'd do tricks?
[ When he puts the kettle down she reaches up, wiping residual wine from the corner of his mouth with the side of her thumb– the gesture more maternal than affectionate or intimate, really.
She can see the fondness, hear it in his voice. As indecipherable as he tries to be this much is obvious. ]
So you're a lot more useful than you let on and you're capable of being an adult when someone needs one around.. I'll keep that in mind.
[ She tilts her head, looks at him again, less distant this time. ]
Not a crime to miss people, you know.
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Oh, I know I'll see her again. And besides...it's not like someone like me could really understand it, if I was missing her.
[someone only half human couldn't understand the weight of human pain. half of an ego, half of a self that tried its best to hold its shape.]
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Someone who admits to fearing breaking something to the point of being irreparable knows how to miss, regret and be nostalgic
But it's not her place to call him on it, and truthfully she doesn't quite have the heart to. So instead she looks back at his stupid tree. ]
You wonder what they're doing all the time, you feel.. empty when you have something you want to share with them but know you can't. You wonder all the time if you'll ever see them again, but you wonder just as much if they'd be better off if you never did.
[ And then with a silent sigh, she reaches for the kettle without looking at him and takes a large gulp from its spout. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and finally meets his gaze. ]
That's what it feels like to miss someone. Ring any bells?
[ There's a quiet challenge in her gaze. She's daring him to say otherwise or anything at all. ]
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ghosts flood the halls of the last stronghold, and the scent of flowers still flows in through the window.
correction. you know you'll never see them again. you know they're better without you.
a brave man would have said something, would have said it sounds like something she knew quite well. but he's not brave - he runs away to save his own skin, and Merlin closes his eyes, breathing in. she's seen him afraid before, seen him waking from bad dreams. but the walls of the tower still stand.
reaching out for the sketchbook, he closes it, and drops it over the side of his bed, where the top layer of his robes lies. there. no more of that smile to haunt him today. he'll take the wine instead, and remember how to forget.]
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Zero watches him close the sketchbook, tuck it away out of sight and out of mind– she says nothing, says nothing still when he drinks in that way that people do when they don't want to be well enough to answer questions (or think about their potential answers).
It's familiar because it's so genuinely human. ]
That's what I thought.
[ She says, not smugly and mostly to herself.
She is already pleasantly warm from the wine, it drapes over her like a comforting blanket– but she pulls one of the many real blankets he's acquired over her anyway. ]
She probably misses you too. When you feel this bad it's never one-sided. I guess.. that kind of makes it worse, but at least it's something to hold onto when you think you're going to melt into the ground or float away.
[ She tugs on a lock of his hair, beckoning him to look. ]
No one can pretend to not care all the time. No one has that much energy.
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no one can pretend not to care. but it's what he has to do, not get attached to individual humans. to love the story, not the characters. to take delight in what passes, and let it go. caring is for people with a heart, who are fully formed.
and it's not just her - it is Akvos in the bargain. it's that even now, how many hundreds of years later, that loss and failure sit uneasy, frustration of being kept back there. god, how he appreciates the silence in his head, the Sight turned off, but even so, he thinks that could have helped them, saved it. knows it could have helped. so accustomed to power, being powerless is a strange and vulnerable state.
how odd, to miss the weight of one's burdens after so much relief. maybe he doesn't know how to live without that constant flow of information helping him to look, to be, to react and pass as something that can get along with everyone else. maybe, maybe, and he wants to do a thousand things other than truly think about this.
...That might be true, for a human heart.
Merlin takes a deep breath, and considers. maybe nothing they - he - did would have been enough. it happened, even with Sight, even with considering all options for a year, with the strongest of souls.]
Sometimes, you can't save everyone. They're all learning that.
[with a wave of his hand, he gestures out - the rest of the Temple, he means. it's an abrupt change of topic, but a needed one. he can't linger here, not when he's trying to not think about how many times he's let something go.]
It's going to be quite depressing here until they figure that out. But it was good enough to try.
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[ It's hard to say if that's the sound of understanding, simple acknowledgement or disapproval. Perhaps it is all three, but when Merlin waves the conversation away Zero follows with an easy shrug of her shoulders– like none of this concerns her.
And if you asked her, she would say it doesn't.
This is why she know she has no right to pry and prod at him. ]
Some of them never will. Some of them can't turn their brains off long enough for it.
[ She drinks again, and when she has even the slightest of an opening she'll tip the kettle in his direction and pour the wine straight into his mouth. ]
No one really gets it– but if you want to live through the end of the world, you have to get over it. And you can't get it until you've seen it happen and decide you don't give a fuck.
[ She smacks her lips, not letting any of her hard earned liquor go to waste– every drop saved is a drop towards feeling a bit better even if just for the moment. ]
There are worse things, you know..
[ Very few, but there are. ]
Who am I kidding, obviously you know.
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she's right - it's the sort of detached thinking that only those who have to think about surviving have to cultivate. they have to watch the world pass, and decide what to invest in.]
As do you.
[he rearranges himself on the bed, half laying down, propping himself up on his arms.]
You can take the memories, cherish them, be glad for what you had before it all fell apart. Better than writing it off completely as a loss.
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After her fit, she finally addresses him, looking at him through damp eyes (from the coughing, mind you) and a squinty frown. ]
That how you see it? Tch...
[ She drops the kettle onto him, displeased in some vague way.
She sits up straight and busies herself with tying her hair back, if only to occupy herself until the wine calms the buzzing in her head. ]
That's how other people see it, yeah? They look back on the good shit.. glad that it happened.
[ She frowns, and it looks perhaps a bit petulant because the liquor is calming her nerves and keeping it from being full-blown angry or sad in any concerning sort of way.
If there's anyone in the room who would be concerned, at least. ]
Missing people fucking sucks, and there's nothing you can do about it. Wouldn't miss anyone if you didn't have a reason to miss them. The good and the bad? It's all the fucking same. You're better of not having anything at all if it's just going to fall apart later.
[ She looks at him finally, laying there and looking stupid. ]
That's what I think.
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But if you had nothing at all, how boring would that be? How utterly pointless of a life? Everything will eventually fall if you want to get technical about it. At least you have the present, if not the future.
[he tries to not dwell too hard on the fact that everything passes by, will leave. only the most eternal of things will remain - sunk into the heart of a star, until even that too will pass.]
The secret is to not get attached to people individually.
[then you don't miss them, really, if you don't tie your heart to them. you just wind up drinking in another world falling back on old sayings to soothe your soul.]
I mean, easier said than done, but if you get it right...you don't miss a thing.
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[ Zero's fingers wrap around the handle of the kettle, and she tugs it out of Merlin's grasp. ]
Take everything worth having. Hold it in your hands for a little while and then run off.. and make sure they can't follow.
[ The kettle makes a quiet sound as she sets it down on the nightstand. Zero looms over him, voice soft but eyes sharp. ]
The only thing worse than watching something end? It's someone else ending it before you get a chance to.
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[without really thinking about it, he raises one of his hands, reaches for a lock of her hair to touch. not yank, like she's so fond of doing to him, but something more idle. it helps that he can blame everything on something that's not him, and that all of this could be falsely forgotten.
prying, spying, the worst kind of voyeuristic habits. but what else could you do, when so much time had gone by? it's not like he truly expects an answer, but he's curious, just as much as the day they met, only now with the strength to ask such things.]
What did you end up burning?
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Whatever scale she'd thought had been tipped in his favor had tipped towards her in a way she hadn't expected, and above all else she hates the stupid, inexplicable guilt that makes her feel. So she leaves his hand and offers him this. ]
You know, the funny thing is that I never really got a chance to light up the only people who've ever lived long enough to steal from me.
[ She wrinkles her nose; it's hard to tell if she's annoyed by the anecdote itself or the fact that she has to tell it. ]
Indigo. We were thick as thieves, we were supposed to be thieves– together. But you know how it goes, alls fair in love, war and robbing brothels. That sorta' shit.. the best part though!
[ She laughs, it's a girlish almost delighted sort of sound. Her eyes narrow though, lips forming a cruel sneer. She leans forward a bit more, resting some of her weight on him. ]
She was supposed to kill me, but she didn't. Said she was taking some kinda' fucking.. pity! On me– after all we'd been through. I was really, the saddest sack of shit she'd ever seen.
[ She reaches for his hand, finally– intertwines his fingers with hers. And then SMACKS his palm down like some sort of one-sided arm wrestling match.]
.. You ever feel bad about the messes you make and walk away from?
[ She does.
She's not going to tell him that though.
His hand is still in her grip. ]
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but her last question is striking, and with the memories of Arturia so close to the surface, it almost feels poetically apt. to say no is a lie, and not even an elegant one. to say yes is to admit something vulnerable and small that not a soul should see. there has to be a third answer. something that answers nothing at all.
there is a brief silence there, intellect just a little dulled from the alcohol, from his frantic attempts to cover his own nature.]
All these questions, it's like you're trying to figure out if I have a heart or not.
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She laughs again, softer this time.]
No, I'm not. I don't care about crap like that– not a maneater, just a run of the mill murderer.
[ She shrugs. ]
Doesn't matter to me whether you have things you care about.. things that could hurt you, or things that you hold real close.. right–
[ She takes the palm in her grip and presses it flat against his chest. ]
– here. All that matters to me is that whatever you do have in there'll stop working if I stab you enough.
[ Perhaps some people found comfort in prying enough to know that their companions held the same sorts of values and morals (or any at all really). Zero finds comfort in the fact that if he fucks up he won't get away with it.
That's the only prying she feels compelled to do. ]
Booze makes me chatty, that's all it was.
[ She lets go of his hand, fingers skimming across his chest as she pulls away. ]
But I don't really wanna' do much more of that. And from the way you keep pussying out of answering questions, I guess you don't either.
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[there's only so much he can show, in a given moment. only so much before he feels everything become tethered again, controlled, and he doesn't want to fight it. there's a measure of gratitude buried deep down in there, for the time that she lets him take - despite wanting to cut through the mess, she won't reach in and take if he's not ready.
it's enjoyable, to talk to someone and be himself.]
Tell me, then. What would you rather do instead? Stab me?
[he'd let her, his tone says, though his eyes are a little bright.]
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If only by a fraction perhaps (and if only for the moment). She is unsure how much of that is influenced by the alcohol or his conversation with her. It's in her nature to believe it's the latter– but all the same.. there is a part of her that feels just a bit lighter now that there is a modicum of warmth flowing through him. ]
Uh, I mean.. yeah? Probably will at some point. Maybe even in the next ten minutes.
[ She furrows her brow, as if vaguely perplexed and on the verge of sorting out her thoughts. The alcohol has dulled her senses some, she has to emote especially aggressively to be able to be sure her face is doing what she'd commanded of it. ]
But right now I kinda' wanna fuck you. Wine puts me in the mood.
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That's a far more enjoyable plan.
[and if she chooses to stab him in the middle of it, then they'll deal with that when they get there. besides, he promised her, didn't he, to come see her when they were back in the Temple - but his bed's more comfortable, anyway.]
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Glad you think so.
[ There is no affection in her voice, in her face– she looks at him more like she's going to stab him than fuck him.
But she doesn't quite do either of those things. ]
No one's honest.
[ Her voice is quieter, though she sounds just as flippant as she looks still. ]
No one. You're not better, worse or any different than anyone else. You just don't bother advertising things you're never going to hand out.
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Shhh. Don't tell everyone. I'll become so cruel, in their eyes.
[stern and real and something they might understand more. that no one does, that he floats along unknowable and unreal, is essential. he wants to be like that - a dream they can't recall the true shape of.]
1/2
Won't tell a fucking soul.
[ She speaks against his finger. ]
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