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✘ falling out
imatreenow wrote in lucetilogs
Who: Mithos and Sayo
What: Ain't no rest for the wicked
When: November 4th
Where: Some....where in the village
Summary: Mithos returns from the dead (nothing new here). Sayo finds him and offers her help - he couldn't hide forever. ...But what to do with him now?
Rating: No more than PG

[It’s déjà vu, waking up sprawled out on his side with his last recollection being one of dying. Even the white cotton New Feather pants are the same, and the underlying anger that rises up quickly once the sluggishness of suddenly coming to in very different circumstances than the ones left behind passes. Mithos pushes himself up with his hands. Gingerly, his fingers brush over a newly formed scar on his torso – one of several courtesy of Yuan. His expression darkens in the way that only his grudge can cause. The next time he sees that miserable traitor, he owes him. Big time.

He stands.

Or rather, he tries to, but the command gets lost somewhere on the way to his legs. One readily kicks out; the other refuses. He stares down at it, mind buzzing. He hits one hand across his thigh. Nothing. Not even the pins-and-needles tingle of shaking off numbness. He tries again, striking harder.

It might as well not even be attached to his body. This is where his expression turns to one of blanched panic. Another attempt at standing up, more frantic – the right leg begins going through the motions, but it’s useless without the other. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out where he is. His journal – where’s his journal? He can contact—

It’s sitting right where he left it, at the house. Up a creek without a paddle. He has to get out of here; he can’t stay out in the open where anyone could happen upon him like this. ...He still has three good limbs, and he’s nothing if not persistent. If he can support his weight on his one functioning knee, and drag himself with his arms...]

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[The crunch of leaves behind Mithos is a dead give-away, but she's not being particularly sneaky... Sayo's too busy being surprised, seeing him as he is. She's never seen him in such a way before. She drops the bag of weaving thread she had, her desire to help taking over--

Because she's not afraid of him anymore. And she's afraid that maybe, she really will never be afraid of him again. She takes a few steps toward the stumbling figure, hands held up.]


[He won't accept her help, but she can't not try. She has to try.]

What's happened? What's wrong??

[He hears the leaves crunching from behind and tries to turn to see who's approaching...

Then that voice, which he recognizes too readily. He freezes. A look of sheer panic flashes across his face before quickly fleeing behind a weak mask of anger. He wasn't ready to see her face-to-face. He just can't. Not now, maybe not ever. He had barely decided that he could, maybe, handle their conversations over the journal. Then Martel had left, and suddenly it was too much to deal with. Fear won out. One step forward, another step back in the direction he'd come from.

And this isn't anonymous. Nor can he run from it.]

Stay away!

Edited at 2011-11-05 03:31 am (UTC)

[She doesn't make any move to follow, but she doesn't run away like he'd prefer. She just stands there, brow knitted with concern, worried for him. Her voice is level, despite the underlying worry.]

Please, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?

I said stay away!

[He tries to keep going, but it's a slow struggle. Just get out of here, he has to get out of here...]




I just want to help you.

[It's an honest reply, same ol' Sayo.]

I don't want anything to happen to you--you don't need to be by yourself if you're in trouble.

[And the same incredulity, the same ache flaring up, of wanting to believe her but not being able to let go of his doubts...]

I don't...I don't need your help! [He throws out an arm to warn against coming any closer, but it throws off his precarious balance - leaning too far to the left, he collapses flat on his face.]

[Ah--! She flinches, moving forward instantly.]

Even if you don't, I want to help you. Please.

[She walks toward him, hand over her heart--worried, crouching down, her hand hovering toward him.]

Mithos-san, I can't let you go, too... Please. Please, let me protect you, if you're hurt. I won't let you be alone, if you're in pain.

Edited at 2011-11-06 08:05 am (UTC)

[He's already propping himself up on his forearms, refusing to look at her.

Then he realizes: that's twice that she's said his name. But...he knows her story, what has happened to her; he'd read every word Ginko had written out for him, mysteriously left at his front door more than a month ago, drawn in by curiosity that became less hesitant with each line. Her memories are supposed to get eaten and disappear unless she ruminates over them every day. She's supposed to forget, yet here she is remembering. Then...

Had she thought about him as often as he'd thought about her? But why....?

He lifts his gaze to her, uncertain. He doesn't try to take her offered hand, but he doesn't tell her to go away either. What to say, what to do, when the rote reactions fall away. He...doesn't know.]

[She looks right back, and her shoulders slump a little. But she smiles, and it's small and soft.]

I know... we're not family. Or even friends. But...

But I want... to repay you for those days, even if they weren't real. I want to repay you for helping me, and for protecting me. I would like... if you'd let me—if it's possible—

I'd like to know you more. It's a slow process, and I know your anger and hate for humans is so deep and strong, but I'm not here to tell you you're wrong, or that people can change, or that you can change.

[a tilt of the head, as her smile broadens]

... I want to help you off the ground and take care of you if you need it, Mithos-san.

[Memories of that time rush in, now more difficult to push away than usual. Sayo might catch a snatch of his bewildered expression before he has to look away, anywhere else, busying himself with the struggle to sit up.

It still doesn't make sense. Humans aren't like this. They kick you while you're down, not try to help you back up to your feet. He doesn't know what to say. He could accuse - you're lying. He could deny everything - I don't want or need your help. What comes out instead is a question.]

...Are you...serious? [Someone like this can't even be real, can they?]

Edited at 2011-11-06 04:52 pm (UTC)

[She crouches down on her haunches beside him, defenseless, just as always, armed only with that calm smile.] Of course I am. You're someone very dear and important, Mithos-san. I've never forgotten that.

[He can do nothing but stare for a moment, sitting with his legs splayed underneath him, one more awkwardly than the other, hands planted firmly on the ground to one side of him for support. Every defense is torn down.]

[...She can't honestly mean that. There's no way. It''s a lie. It doesn't make any sense otherwise. He tenses up, not just because of the cold. Bluntly:] I'm not human.


Well, that's alright. What's wrong with not being human?

[It's a genuine question, with genuine curiosity. In a mind where there are no memories of prejudice toward another, no social idea of it, the fact that he'd think she'd consider him differently is a strange one.]

I'm different from you! [Isn't it obvious? Humanity took no time to latch onto the notion of 'different' and dissect it part by part, to reduce people to little more than specks of dirt.]

I'm different from you, too. I'm different from a lot of people—and those people are different than others... In fact, before I came here, I'd never seen another person with a hair color other than brown, or black... but I like those kinds of things.

It would be a very strange and sad place, if everyone had to be the same.

[She nods, casual, as if having a conversation with any normal acquaintance.]

But I like different. It means I have more to learn about the other, doesn't it?

[He should be trying to escape, hitting her, pushing her away, anything, fluctuating between yearning and anger, but he's frozen in place. She's too close, much too close.]

...What would be 'sad' about a world where everyone is the same? Discrimination wouldn't exist. There would be no hatred. What's wrong with that? [They've already had a conversation along these lines. Not face to face, but he remembers, and he already knows her thoughts. But no matter how many warm words she gives him, he just can't wrap his mind around her.]

Because I want everyone I care about to be themselves.

... and I want you to be you, and me to be me.

[She puts her hand out, unsure if he was willing. Probably not, but she wouldn't feel right if she didn't offer a hand to help him up, or to hold.]

Regardless of everything, it's how I've come to meet you, being so different.

[A pause... and she furrows her brow.]

You're not in pain, are you? Does it hurt?

[Why does she have this diffusing effect on him? When did that start? She doesn't fault him for being the way he is. She doesn't want him to change himself. She...cares about him. Or says she does. Humans have said a great many things to him, but this... He doesn't know. She wipes away all of his certainty, pulls apart everything he thought he knew. Why is he so weak against her?

He eyes her hand. The doubt is visible, the distrust. Then he looks down to his legs. His voice is quiet, but the acrid edge is still there. He needs at least that much distance separating them, even if part of him just wants to take her hand.]

[lightly prodding the left leg, gaze fixed on it] ...I can't feel it at all.

Do you know what caused it? [She's hesitant to ask, because....]

[His fingers claw into the ground his hand leans on, shaking with anger. His narrowed eyes remain pointed down, boring holes into the dirt like acid.] It was that miserable traitor, Yuan! He killed me!

... Killed you...

[A wave of guilt rides over her.]

I'm sorry. I didn't know... I wish I could have done something.

[She jumps to her feet, frowning, looking around.]

I need to find something to help you walk—

A-ah, do they have things for that at the shops?


P-perhaps a stick...! Would you mind a walking stick??

[What could you have done? he's about to ask sharply, perhaps mostly out of confusion. She would really try to help him...? But isn't that what she's doing now? He too looks around, then at her, briefly. But it's easier to keep his gaze averted.]

That's...fine. [and he's accepting her help. He doesn't know how to talk to her, how to be around her, when the yelling and anger are stripped away. It's uncomfortably foreign.]

[Give her a second, she's looking around for something. Anything helpful... Ah, well, this'll have to do. It's tall enough to keep him upright, anyway. She comes back over, offering his new 'cane'. It's a good thing we're surrounded by a lot of trees, you know.]

H-here. Will this help?

[Unconsciously putting a hand out to hover at his shoulder again, because she worries. God, does she worry about everything, always. She can't help it, you know. You all make her blood pressure go up, with your craziness.]

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