expiationlogs | dead to the power of two

Well, I guess what I meant was, I'm more of the... ghost lore type?

[ with being invisible to people back home, able to walk through things, that kind of thing — the things people usually assume about ghosts tend to apply to him, for the most part. not so for octavian, though!

charles, happily unaware of altius's feelings towards ghosts or what happened in that particular dream, just beams. ]

You could say that. He's one of the people I care about the most, here. [ but right, they're here for a reason — he turns, waving altius to follow him. ] Come on, there's a cool path through the woods, we'll start by following that. We can chat on the way, yeah?

Great, [ says charles, in a despairing tone — played up just a little, though, because if she's going to laugh at him, he might as well lean into it. ]

I'm aces, except for the way my ego might never recover.

[ as he pushes himself up, he presses his hand on his chest like it hurts to say that... but he's also fighting a smile, now. ]

[Thankfully, Charles' demeanor only makes it easier for Altius to pretend everything is Fine. How terribly polite of him.

In agreement, and with some relief:]

Please. Sometimes I don't realize how stifling roads and buildings are until I've escaped them.

[He'll gladly follow along without further prompting. How long has it been since he let himself have a little wander? Ferran wasn't the camping or hiking type, only ever interested in visits to the park in terms of nature, so they'd hardly ever left the city...

Stop thinking about him. Right—ghost things. He's only paused momentarily with that thought process, but in that moment before he turns his attention back to Charles, his gaze is distant.]

How did the two of you meet? [and given how volatile this world is,] I hope it was relatively uneventful.

Right? I mean, I'm from a big city, but... there's something about being out in nature.

[ he grins easily at the older man, a bounce in his step as he walks along, the path starting to twist and turn between the trees, a slight breeze making the branches rustle.

and funnily enough, the question makes charles start to laugh. ]

Over the tablets, if you can believe. I thought he was a weird guy when I first talked to him... but he grows on you. I'd die a second time for him, now. [ said like this level of devotion to a friend is a normal thing to have, never mind that, ]

[It's cold, but despite his general dislike of lower temperatures he can't even complain about the breeze. The sound is soothing, and he lets out a slow breath as they wind their way down the path.]

Someone can be odd and wonderful at the same time.

[Not that he's, like, blaming Octavian for that, necessarily. He was probably a regular reclusive nerd in life, but years and years of being unable to emote because you have to will your spirit to stay together probably messes with you.

He raises his eyebrows at that last thing, though.]

But hopefully that's not necessary.

[said with some? concern? partly disguised as exasperated humor. Speaking of things ghosts generally can't do—]

Ah, that reminds me. Did you happen to get your long-awaited nap with the rest of us?

[... He brought it up without thinking. It's what the facade would do, a natural link in the conversation, bringing up the topic of their chat from before. The automatic thought process that goes along with it didn't stop to consider the fact that that way lies Problems.

Hm. Well, too late now.]

Sorry, [ he says quietly before turning round — he can hear that not-quite-warning, the implied stop doing that, and, hm, yeah. yeah, he should just... get it over with.

and so he turns, and says nothing — and for a moment as junpei doesn't, either, he simply stares at the bed without really seeing anything. remember, beta, says his mother's voice in his head, and he feels like he is betraying her by showing junpei this; and more than that, there is the ever-present shame of knowing he was never good enough, no matter what he did, in all the years he was actually alive —

the warning is the only thing that keeps him from outright flinching as junpei wraps his arms around him, sets his chin on his shoulder; but he is tense, as if braced for — he doesn't even know what, really; judgment, perhaps, even though intellectually he knows junpei would never, ever do that.

the question makes him huff out something that isn't quite a laugh, sharp and desperate at once. ] No, [ he says, truthfully, ] But I should, shouldn't I?

[ but how, is the question — and where would he even start? eventually, though, he manages, with a quiet, monotone voice that's entirely at odds with his usual demeanour, ] Most of the time, it wasn't bad enough to put me in hospital, you know? But one time, after I tried helping Mum in the kitchen and broke a glass, he shoved me down the stairs. I broke my arm and my leg and had a concussion, and I don't remember it all too well, but Mum took me to the hospital. And I thought, maybe this'd be enough. Maybe we could just... leave. But she didn't even look at me, just said, remember, beta, you slipped and that was it.

[ a pause, there, for him to breathe. ] Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. But nothing he did was ever enough for Mum to say anything, either.

Yeah, I know.

[ said easily — he does indeed know, because for some reason, most of the people he loves the most are both odd and wonderful, for various reasons.

a shrug, and then, with extremely heartfelt sincerity, ] Well, you never know here, do you? And it's not like I'm looking to die again, I've done it here three times now. But for what it's worth, if it comes down to it... of course I'd die instead of making him go through it again.

[ especially after experiencing it, if from the other end — seeing octavian sit there on that chair, feeling the weight of the vase in his hand, only saved from dreaming through the act of killing him by octavian himself, skipping over that part.

and so, it is particularly apt, that altius brings up the dreaming, now. ]

Yeah, [ he says, and his jovial tone does not falter one bit. ] Seems like the nap didn't discriminate. I'm guessing you did, too? [ he pauses, tilts his head, some concern seeping into his eyes. ] Was it... alright?

[Whatever brightness was in his eyes dims at the conversation, and though he's determined not to frown or let a furrow come to his brow and mar the pleasant outing, there's nevertheless a distinct look of something somber. The topic of death isn't something he can skirt by so easily.

Despite all those he's caused, he takes it very seriously.

As his gaze moves to the path ahead, he lets a heavy breath out through his nose: understanding, but disagreeing without voicing it. Charles has a right to his choices, of course, and they're relative strangers. He doesn't have much room to argue about it, he thinks.

In response to that concern, Altius returns a smile to his face, though it's faint and a little wry, and lets out a little chuckle: hm, hm.]

It could have been worse.

[That much is true, somehow. Turning his eyes back to Charles:]

Was it restful for you?

[ and charles, ever attentive to the moods of others (because he had to be so, growing up, every second of every day, until it was too ingrained in him to ever stop even in death) notices the silence, the somber look to him, and grimaces. ]

Sorry, [ he says, running a hand through his curls, ] Not very cheerful conversation, is it?

[ and due to the topic of the dreams, it continues as such; because he is not only attentive to others, but also a detective with three decades of experience being one under his belt, and so he raises one brow at that answer. ]

So it was bloody awful, in other words, got it.

[ there's a quiet sympathy in his eyes as he looks at the other, something that seems almost at odds with his youthful appearance. ] You know, you can talk to me. I know we're not close or anything, but... you're here, yeah? And so am I. And it's not good to bottle stuff up. All that's gonna do is explode spectacularly later.

[ and then, with a soft, earnest smile, ] But it's up to you. We can just talk about nothing, too, right now. The offer won't expire.

[His eyes follow Charles; they're both the observant type, though for vastly different reasons. He takes in everything the younger-older man has to say, his apologies, his sympathy, the way he doesn't answer Altius's question, the sense to him that shows the true depth of his experience. Despite all that, Charles continues to offer more. It feels... familiar.

The first thing Altius decides to tackle is,]

You don't have to apologize for anything. [There's gratitude in his tone and the slight tilt of his head, in fact.] You're a generous person, aren't you?

[Charles is right, of course. Keeping everything to oneself is a recipe for disaster, if it lasts long enough. With a more audible sigh, he at least offers an answer that's partly in that vein.]

They weren't all horrible. I was able to go places I never would have, otherwise. See thoughtful sides of people I couldn't have seen.

[Perhaps that's what bothers him most, the sympathy for his worst moments.]

[ there is a relief to hearing that — enough so that viktor smiles, almost helplessly adoring as he turns his head to look at octavian; and once again, the words are right there, and it would be so, so painfully easy to speak them... but he doesn't, not like this, not after all of this. octavian deserves better than viktor speaking out his feelings like in gratitude, or in response — he deserves them without caveats, without any words said to viktor first.

and so instead, what he says is, ] That may be quite a while. I hope you are prepared.

[ at least he hopes so; however long they have here, his own failing health cycle aside.

still; no one else understands him in this like octavian, who knows what it is to choose and to make a choice every single day, and viktor closes his eyes against the surge of pure feeling as octavian presses his lips against his forehead. ]

There is always a choice, I know. [ just as he knows that those choices aren't always easy to make. rarely, when they are things that matter. ]

With you, it doesn't seem... too daunting.

Because you are a ghost?

[ he's assuming. [

What are you trying to trap?

Nah, [ he shrugs his shoulders as if shrugging off the compliment all at once, too, ] Just doing what I can.

[ nevermind that what he can is going to incredible lengths for people, showing compassion and care, all of it genuine, because he's never once learned how not to care about others with his whole heart, even when it's to his detriment.

still, an answer is better than no answer, even if it's still circling around the topic somewhat. ]

Yeah, I get that. It was the same for me. I got to see a lot of interesting things... people's homes, all that.

[ a pause; he keeps walking, glancing around them as he asks, ] Does it bother you, if there's people who saw yours? [ guesswork, but based on all the places he saw, and one of them being the agency back home... he guesses that had been the case for altius, too. ]

[He takes in a deep breath, giving himself the space to think over his response, filling his nose with crisp scents and his lungs with fresh air. It's refreshing, if he doesn't think too hard about it being simulated.]

My home, I don't mind them seeing.

[The answer is calm, his hands in his coat pockets.]

The situations were what was awful. I'd rather no one else have gone through them.

[It's uncommon for him to say things about his feelings that are true down to his core, but this is one of them. He can see no reason for anyone else to suffer through the panic of the permanent disappearance of a little girl, a massacre of unarmed innocents, or the horrible space of that Spirit's power.]

That I have to experience all that again, I'd accept, if it meant no one else had to. So—I suppose I understand what you were saying a moment ago.

Nothing, [ he sighs as he wipes a hand across his face, accidentally smearing some of the soil that stuck on his hand when he fell on his cheek. ]

I mean, I was trying a spell my best mate can cast back home, one that holds supernatural creatures in place... but since it's just tripping me up, I'm calling this a failure.

[ charles hums in response, directing a sympathetic look at altius — perhaps it's all too obvious that he can relate, almost painfully so. ]

... Yeah, [ he says finally, eyes soft and his brows furrowed just slightly, ] Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn't go through any of that, for my own part, but if I had —

[ he knows he would feel the exact same way. so he reaches out, then, places his hand on altius's shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. ]

Wasn't your fault, though. Remember that, yeah? You didn't make those dreams show up, and you didn't pull anyone into them. It's just one more thing this place does.

[It's unusual for him to get any physical reassurance, and a bit of surprise colors his expression when Charles's hand reaches his shoulder—but then, he barely talks of anything resembling weakness to begin with. It fades quickly enough as he considers the young man's words, however.

He thinks of his failures, of his full responsibility over them all, and smiles just slightly.]

You're right. [He can at least agree that this world's machinations were partly at fault, so he channels that agreement into the response, even as he admits that his feelings aren't so easily changed:] Perhaps that will get through to me at some point.

[It won't. Regardless, the world moves on, and so do they.]

Thank you, Charles. [Hey look! It's time for some joking about, as he shakes his head with some apparent exasperation.] If you keep up with this sort of thing I'm not going to be able to repay you properly, so I'd appreciate if you slowed down a bit.

[Even that is lovely to hear, the promise laced through it, that they will be here together like this for as long as they're able. Octavian hums, smiling lightly. He could say something quippy about how the work simply never stops, but— it isn't that kind of work, being at Viktor's side. There is work, one must always put in the work, but it is the kind of work that buoys him rather than weighs on him. Work, as any relationship is, and yet being with Viktor is the most enjoyable kind there is.

So,]

I am already prepared. I know you would correct me were I to make some critical mistake.

[But they've definitely been nailing this relationship thing so far, so that doesn't feel like it's going to be a problem. He cards his fingers through Viktor's hair once more as he moves to stand, slowly, the touch lingering.]

You are eminently capable. Of this and whatever else you choose. I will be here to remind you.

[Literally and not so literally, as he looks over at the stove. Ahem,] But first I must rescue what is left of the water.

[ hmm. ]

May I see?

[ it is a second too late that he remembers not everyone is as used to touch or so free in giving it as he is — crystal's called him touchy-feely on several occasions, accompanied by a fond eyeroll, and he can't really counter the charge. but it seems that the pat is received... if not well, at least alright.

and he knows a little something about something not getting through to you — and so he says, with his whole heart, ] Maybe you just need people around you who'll remind you about it when you forget.

[ or who will keep insisting, until it starts sounding at least a little more like a truth.

but the joke lands, and charles ducks his head with a laugh. ] Not about repaying me though, is it? That's not why I'm here. [ with a grin, he takes a few steps forward and spins on his heels, walking backwards along the road. ]

Right, we can talk about something else. Something a bit nicer, yeah?

[Oh, don't worry, Charles, you'll find out soon enough how much Altius likes getting into people's personal bubbles with his own touchy-feeliness. Perhaps not in this meeting, depending on the conversation, but soon enough.

For now, though, he continues to agree.]

Maybe so.

[People always need external validation in some form or another, no matter how self-confident they may be. (Will he seek people like this out? Of course not.)

He smiles along, watching as Charles turns with his brows raised in a way he means to be more open, maybe friendly. He's grateful for the offered change in topic, so he takes it.]

Who else do you know well here, other than Mr. Howe?

[Tell him all about your friends, he's giving you the opportunity to gush. He's gotten the impression Charles is the type.]

[ how silly, to think octavian could make any kind of a mistake that could be classified as critical, when it comes to the two of them — no, he trusts octavian implicitly, holds him so dear that there is very little he would not excuse, between them or outside of them.

what is not silly at all is the way octavian promises that there is no reason for him to prepare, for he is so already — a return of the commitment that viktor is offering him in not so many words; however long they have. whether it is days, weeks or years... this is where he wants to be. and he would never have expected it to feel so — easy, in a way, the way they are together, the comfortable understanding they have. ]

You wouldn't, [ he says, softly, with a tilt of his head; make mistakes, that is. not in anything that truly matters... or perhaps simply in his eyes.

and the rock-solid belief that octavian has in him — nobody's ever believed in me, he remembers, and yet, here he is, speaking of viktor being capable like it is something obvious.

wordlessly, he lifts his hand, touches octavian's hand with his as it lingers in his hair, takes it for a moment before he has to pull away to, ] Oh. Yes, the water.

[ he'd, hm, forgotten about that entirely. ]

[Caitlyn's not laughing!! At least, openly, anyway. She's trying her best to keep her smirks on the downlow!!]

Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

[And likely Vi, if she's honest. There isn't much they don't share with each other, these days. He does appear to be okay, so there's that, at least.]

Does it-- how.. [She pauses, taking a second to formulate the words she's trying to find before she speaks again.] Do you feel pain? Since you're... dead, technically speaking?

[Look, he can't in good conscience rule out the possibility that he might do something wrong— even something minor, even while trying his best. He is just one dead man, after all, and as easy and wonderful as being with Viktor is, he's never done this thing before. So, just in case.

It's still lovely to hear Viktor say he wouldn't, though, to hear that faith in him expressed so simply and earnestly. Even if he does make a mistake it shouldn't be a disaster; no matter how much time they have, he doesn't anticipate any earth-shattering errors. Just this, more of this, on and on and on.

And also the pasta. He huffs his quiet little laugh and catches Viktor's hand again, tilting down to kiss the backs of his fingers. Yes, the water, one of them does have to eat.]

I promise I will make it worth your while. [To eat these noodles and spend the twenty minutes or so not holding his hands.] You must eat. Later I will even convince you to sleep.

[Look forward to it! Anyway, let him go put pasta in this pot. Cooking.]

[ his plan had been to change nothing — continue on as if nothing had happened, pick up his projects from where they'd been left... only, he looks at the side of the room where some of his blood has permanently stained the leg of the table closest to where he collapsed, and the small space seems almost suffocating —

and so here he is.

here he is, and he's lifting his gaze from his drink up to vi when she speaks; his tone is painfully dry when he says, ]

Death.

dead to the power of two | OPEN

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the cw applies still, like it really, really applies

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