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all we are will fall
✘ agoraphobia
imatreenow wrote in lucetilogs
Who: Giles and Mithos, to be joined later by Yuan
What: like he was going to stay quiet for much longer
When: Saturday afternoon (October 22nd)
Where: outside house 52
Summary: Good old fashioned breaking-down and violence. Giles learns that distressed young boys aren't all that they seem. Yuan interferes. And no one was surprised.
Rating: PG-13? yeah? sure?

[Some days were better than others, but none of them were very good. Lows. Lower lows. Slightly higher lows. Grieving is a process, but Mithos had never figured out how to make it past the first few steps. It isn't easy when the smallest things can set him off and pull him back down. Today it's the garden that snares him, the one Martel had planted in front of the house. Still here, even though she was gone. His feelings are difficult to sort through, but that isn't new: a reminder of her, but entwined with and inextricable from a reminder of how short her stay was and how much he hurts. The wilted brown ghosts of flowers appease him in a way, with the broken validation of knowing that something else is suffering too, but some of the plants remain stubbornly green. A color he can't help but associate with her, and it falls back to the start of this whole ugly knot.

On a whim, with typical paper-width unpredictability, he decides he can't stand it anymore. He has to pull it up, piece by piece, kneeling in the dirt, bent over his work, teeth gritted, hands possessed, shaking as anger or despair or both eat away at him. Ceaselessly. Meticulously. An act of love, even if it looks an awful lot like hate.

Weed it all out. Everything that hurts.]

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[ isn't as though the mysteries of gardening aren't slowly becoming more untangled to him as he gets to know Grune and Link and others. But even Giles can see that this is an act born from a good deal more than the desire to get rid of a few weeds. That this is a boy trying desperately not to think of something, or someone.

He's been there. He thinks bitterly that most of the village probably has been, by now. It's been a bad October.

The former Watcher watches Mithos rage for a while longer before he finds his voice.]

Need some help?

[He stops, falling completely still. Help. Like a human could do anything to help him, or would do anything genuine. (He's a human, isn't he? Most likely - this village is infested with them, so many worthless humans filling up space where his sister could be instead...) He doesn't turn to face Giles, he doesn't even pick himself up from the dirt and decimated plants.

But there are words. Muttered under his breath and indistinguishable. And runes circling beneath him. Then suddenly his voice is clearer, but eerily empty:]
Ground Dasher.

[The ground will split beneath Giles's feet, and rocks and dirt spray violently upward.]

[...this is where living with two flatmates perfectly capable of killing you comes in handy. The second the sound of cracking earth and rending ground reaches his ears, Giles leaps back, far enough to avoid getting caught in the new fissure.

He stumbles back, struggling for a few bad seconds to regain his balance. When he does, it's to regard Mithos with a new wariness.]

I'll take that as a "no", then.

[Slowly, he pulls himself up -- an advanced spell like that takes a lot out of him in this weakened non-angelic state -- and faces Giles with a look that could freeze steam. The spell missed, but it doesn't matter, so little matters...]

Why would I need 'help' from a worthless human?

I'm not sure. I'm not sure why you needed help. was just terribly obvious that you weren't in the best of states.

[He holds up one hand placatingly while keeping the other within quick grabbing range of his knife.]

Hindsight being what it is, I should probably have worried about that.

apart. Ha...haha...

His fists had still been clutching ripped-up plant remains until this moment, when he lets them fall to the ground. He's quiet in the way you know a storm is approaching. One step forward.]

Not in the best of states... Did you think you could make everything better? What could you possibly do? Humans do nothing but destroy and take.

Edited at 2011-10-23 06:52 am (UTC)

[One step back.]

I've done nothing to you.

Even after your response was quite an admirable attempt at destruction.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters...

[One of those days where it's bad enough to make him forget that he does have more in this world. Still quiet. Unhinged. A few more steps forward, steady despite the instability of everything else. What should he do to this human...?]

[Better think quick, Mithos. This human is currently checking out the best avenues of escape to get out of sight and spell range from this house.]

[He notices. He can see the thought of escaping. But he isn't going to allow that, no no no. The human started this, and he isn't going anywhere. His sword is out in an instant, and he's quickly narrowing the gap between them. The quiet before the storm has ended.]

It doesn't matter!

[It's easy to forget why he used to carry his broadsword around with him everywhere, before that one bad experiment that shattered it into pieces that weren't all pulled out of his body.

This? This was one of those reasons.

He thinks he might be able to overpower Mithos in a contest of strength, and even that's just a guess. Giles raises the knife up to block, sidestepping as he does so and hoping that Mithos' momentum won't allow for a quick turn.]

[He rebounds quickly enough - he has more experience and skill in combat than Giles could possibly imagine. The sword comes swinging in from a different angle, ready to spill blood.

If he can't claw out of this state of perpetual unhappiness, then he'll drag others down to where he is.]

[He'd expected speed, yes, but the skill catches him far too off guard. Blood is spilled, the blade tearing past his guard. He shifts his guard only a second or two behind, but it's an important second. Not only does the sword tear open the skin of his forearm as he knocks it away from his heart, but it digs in deeply to his shoulder instead, tearing through flesh and muscle.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Giles darts right, bringing his good hand up in an attempt to wrench the blade free as it does so.]

[His eyes flare with dangerous gratification at the sight of that blood. Reduce this filthy being to nothing, force him down where he won't be able to get back up...

He pulls his arm back from Giles, to shake him off. To deter him further, he'll deliver a sharp kick to the shin.]

Edited at 2011-10-24 04:58 am (UTC)

[A kick that will connect. Giles staggers, but...pain is nothing new to him. He compensates, after a few seconds of hesitation, and slashes the knife at Mithos' face in an attempt to deter him before backing up further.]

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