hadriel_logs | I live today once there, I live to cry about it

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I live today once there, I live to cry about it

Who: Ianchus and YOU!
What: Catchall for July; Ianchus dealing with the aftermath of his death followed by the Home Sweet Home event
Where: East Island; primarily the Orchard, his home, and the hot springs.
When: Backdated from the 3rd of July through present
Warnings: Discussion of death/gore will probably come up since (a) he just died and (b) considering his history. Includes family and child death. Also probably alcohol!

Ianchus is sure he's had lower points, but somehow they're hard to recall. Was it when he'd realized the man he loved didn't love him back? No, he'd played Pollyanna just fine. Was it, then, in that dingy alleyway with the knife and the hands on him like a vise? Ah, no, the severance of that particular part of him had also severed the last string holding him to a lifetime of political slavery and guilt. No, no, the flesh was surprisingly resilient.

This...It was like he'd lost his family all over again.

He'd thought the demoness killing him had been the catalyst to wake from a long dream. He'd seen Carrah again, Carrah of the Cepheos reign. He'd seen Dini, Kay, even Sehale had been there, had thumped him on the chest too hard in the way that hurt, in the way that was her own mean-spirited joke for him.

And Gennar had been there too, with his muscles and his shoulders and his scent, and when Ianchus had woken up (for the second time!) he'd realized that he'd made all the mistakes he'd made before.

And even Hadriel was no escape--not when he'd found out that Yusuke, of all people, had seen his desecrated corpse, and had been torn apart by that vision. Ah, that look in his eyes had hurt him deeper than Caedra digging inside him with her cursed claws. Physical pain was physical pain; the sensation of hurting the ones he cared for...ah.

And so, Ianchus has settled into a bog that he's surprisingly comfortable with. People on the East Island can likely see him skulking around between the orchards, the hot springs, his own apartment, and sometimes on the coast. He'll smile at you if you approach, but anyone who's seen him at the Bacchanalia will notice a marked change in his attitude.

Perhaps you saw him being carried by Yusuke and Michael to the temple after his unfortunate run-in and want to check to make sure all his innards are still intact. Perhaps you want his help on yet another project, after hearing how he tends to throw himself down in front of anyone in need of some decently strong arms. Perhaps you don't care about that and want to know when the next party is!

Either way, there's no telling what kind of mood you'll see him in. Maybe you'll catch him at a point where he'll spill his guts to you--figuratively, of course.

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Ianchus doesn't say anything for a long time, silence stretching out between him and the other man. Idly, he wonders about that hair--that must be a pain to manage. There are usually two types to go to the hot springs: the types who have no worries, and the types who have too many worries.

"Old injury?" he asks, casually, watching Atem rub his shoulder from below his eyelashes. As much as he wants to be alone, he can't help but think of the hot springs as his territory, and playing the part of a host is a strong reflex for him. He can't be inhospitable; that just won't do.

Atem seems to actually enjoy the silence, and doesn't seem to mind the company at all, not even when he's finally distracted from his many mussings and brought back to reality. He might not look like it, but of course he is one of those that has too many worries, in Hadriel, who isn't?

For the briefest second, the young man seems a tad confused, until he realizes what the other is talking about.

"Hn." He nods, "As old as my time in Hadriel." That should be enough to go by, or at least let him know that it's something that happened here. "I guess it doesn't agree with the weather." Never had he ever had to worry about that. Law had done a pristine work at patching him up, barely leaving a jarring scar, but as it turns out, having your arm almost torn from you body, does leave some sequels.

For the first time, however, Atem lands his stare on the stranger for more than a few seconds.

"Do you come here often?" Yeah, he just asked that. Might as well break the ice a little further and not make it all about him, as he always manages to do.

Ah, he's met many with those kinds of injuries--he's lucky, he supposes, that he didn't end up having one. It seems utterly aggravating.

A morbid thought pushes his way into his head: If this man was injured in Hadriel, and he died, perhaps his shoulder would be fixed, ah? That had been what happened to his sore muscles and the light scratches in his back from all the other activities at his party.

But, ah. That was rude. Thoughts like that were to be reserved for himself and himself alone.

He gives a small smile.
"I live in the housing over there." He nods to the vicinity of Love's dormitories. "I suppose I've started considering these an extension of those." A little laugh. Yes, he comes here almost too much. But then, is it possible to come to a hot spring too much?

Edited 2018-07-13 17:27 (UTC)

"Ah, you chose well." Atem says as he sinks into the pool a little more — the water helps to cover any other scarring from that particular encounter, but only while he remains in there, at least; after so long, he no longer seems to care about them, about who sees them nor if they ask about it. It took him long time to accept what had happened to him after all. Either way, it's amazing how something so seemingly simple helps soothe not only the body, but the soul too, even if a little.

"Somehow, I don't think most of the residents appreciate this place enough." The offerings of the so-called gods hadn't always been well received, and he can imagine Love's surely wasn't either at the time. "I cannot blame them, I often don't realize how much getting a little break might help, specially in here..."

He allows a little pause before going on. "How has this place been treating you so far?"

"As well as it could be." Hadriel itself is...interesting. It's the inhabitants that can be a problem. Though, thankfully, not all of them--most have been lovely, even with their range from awkward to aggressive to aloof.

"I suppose I don't hate it as much as others do. Is that odd? Maybe I'm just easy to please." He lifts his hands, letting the water run down them, offering Atem a small smile. "Maybe I'm just lucky that I can so appreciate a hot spring. Like yourself, it seems."

"No... It's not odd, for some it's all they have." Perhaps he should include himself in there, but maybe it's also better not to make himself part of anything at this point, just as it always had been intended for him. It hurts less that way. It's not easy at all.

"Heh... I guess you're one of those that try to enjoy life regardless of what it brings, huh?" He returns the smile. "What's your name?"

Is it odd, to make friends at a hot spring? Oh, well.

"Ah! I have been quite terrible at introducing myself. Ianchus Cepheos." He nods to Atem, reaching back to lift up the glass he has resting on the edge of the spring.

"Do let me know if I can pour you something." He hesitates, and then chuckles. "Ah! I suppose your read on me is accurate, hm?

"Heh... I guess. I've had a few friends like that. But don't worry, Ianchus, I'm just fine. I'm Atem, by the way."

He stretches slightly, "Is this something you used to do back where you're from too?"

"Ours was a little different. We had large bathhouses, massive buildings with hot and cold water pumped in. I've only encountered open-air ones like these in the wild.

And what of yourself? How did you relax in your world?

"We used to bathe a lot too, but never in such hot water. I used to live in a desert so, it was pretty much like the last planet we were in, more than doing it just to relax, it was to keep us fresh. Later, I, ironically, ended up living in an archipielago very much like this one, it it didn't rain that much but it did, and they had these places called onsen which are very much like these springs. Tho they did it more for relaxation too, so, I guess it rubbed on me a little."

"Ah, onsen!" Ianchus sits up a little, the familiar word standing out to him. "Was it...Japan, by any chance?"

Yusuke had told him about it, after all--he'd been delighted to find someone else from an island nation. Still, the desert sounded interesting, too--he'd have to press Atem about that. So many interesting people here!

Oh, yes! That makes this guy's face lighten up.

"Yeah, have you ever been there?"

"No, no." He shakes his head, waving a hand. "I've only heard about it from others here. Though when we were dreaming on our feet I...visited, I suppose? I'm not sure if it counts, though."

He lets out a small laugh, which drops off at the end. Ah, that's right. He visited his own home, didn't he.

He has to drag himself out of that mire again with effort. It's an irritating feeling, like having weak ankles. Stop. Pretending that it's casual, he takes a drink of the glass next to him, and focuses on Atem.

"Ah, did you? Have a dream I mean."

"I'd say it counts." Not that he was there to experience those dreams, nor how real they were, but he'd say it would count anyway.

Atem notices how he lingers, but, unfortunately, doesn't know him enough. But even so, it is also something he's seen often in other people, his friends, even — in people like Lup, Seel... Margaery, he's seen her hiding her suffering skillfully, but she had been cracked — there's always a little pause, as if they were trying a little too hard not to let that place affect them. Even he's done it, quite often.

"No, I was at Hope's temple for a while, in what he called a meditative state, a trance of sorts so he could get emotions out of me. So, I kind of missed that. It's... a bit of a shame." His smile tenses, only some. While it would have been nice to see home (whichever his subconscious would have chosen) it would have been just that, just another dream.

"But tell me about yours, did you like what you see?"

Edited 2018-07-20 01:25 (UTC)

Ianchus pauses at that. He finds lying so tedious, but sometimes the truth is a pain, like a little twig stuck between his teeth.

"It was quite nice. I had friends join me, that was even nicer." He remembers the excitement of showing Carrah off, with its markets and its colourful people and personalities. Its sunsets and its ocean and its ships. Carrah, where his family lived.

Lived, being the key word. The Carrah he'd visited wasn't the Carrah that existed now, wherever it was in relation to him.

"I suppose it was waking up that...was a little difficult."

What if he had stayed in that little coma forever, a portal to a memory that anyone could visit? Ah, wouldn't that have been nice.

Atem keeps his eyes on him in a moment of silence. As much as he wished to tell him that it gets better, no, it doesn't. He's been here long enough to know so. Lying by omission is still lying.

"That bad, huh?" But, is it truly that bad in the end? Atem would have given up a long ago if it wasn't because of the people that surrounded him, it wasn't even a thing inherently to Hadriel. But it is still a bit of an open invitation to talk about it.

The silence is longer now, Ianchus staring off at the small, shrub-like trees near the edge of the hot springs, a vague little smile on his face. He's certainly not used to telling people his problems--after all, what use is it to them? That's not who Ianchus Cepheos has set himself up as.

But, still, somehow, the words come easily to him here.

Without looking at Atem, without breaking that little smile, Ianchus speaks:

"The people I met in my dream are dead now. I'd forgotten that."

More than often Atem regrets his words way after he's spoken them, and this time, it might not be any different. How fair is it to make people talk about their worries and feelings when he is the first to close up to that. Ever since he can remember, he's tried his best to keep people from worrying about him, it's become quite hard now, and he's not sure if it's Hadriel, or himself, that maybe all he's kept inside no longer fits in that cramped space of his mind.

They say talking helps, then why that answer feels like a needle in his heart?

"I'm sorry. This place... does that." A useless reminder, both, maybe. If Ianchus had forgotten, what was the point of reminding him such sad outcome? Just so the so-called gods could devour his emotions, perhaps?

"Death is not the end, you know?" He mutters a second later, a bit after a hesitant pause, not because he doesn't believe in what he says, but because, many people he's met don't.

Ianchus chuckles at that, the sound not unkind but still with a bit of a dark tinge to it.

"Ah, of course. Life and death is a cycle as absolute as the sea. Did you know some cultures even believe that when we die we return in another form?"

Ianchus sits back, looking up at the trees over the springs. Should he shut up? Perhaps. But he's not ever the type to look back. He's the one who barrels forward, sometimes almost blindly.

"Perhaps it would have been better to stay asleep. Certainly, my family pulled many emotions out of me. Would that have not been more useful?"

"Mine does. Though, it's said to be quite the long process to get there." He didn't even get the chance to know if it was true or not. What a pity.

"..."

For someone who doesn't seem to want to talk about himself, that is certainly very much telling.

"You know? I often think about that too, that maybe things would have been better if I hadn't been woken up either." Ianchus isn't one to know what he's talking about, but it appears to be a situation very much alike. "Maybe it would have been more useful, but that's no way to live. I'd prefer thinking that there must be a reason why we are here; it might be foolish, or naive, but living in a dream, wouldn't that be worse?"

Here as in Hadriel, or just here alive, it's all the same.

"I wouldn't say it's worse."
It's a little sad, that admission. Honestly, if he could be back with Gennar--even the Gennar that had flashes of discomfort at his presence--if he could be back with his family, from Dini who adored him to Jebel who despised him...ah, he'd stay in that dream forever. Even if he knew it was a dream.

"If one is happy, then it's fine, right?" He muses on the other's words, resting his chin on his hand.
"Although I suppose there is a measure of comfort in assuming there's a reason we're here, as well. I'll give you that one, Atem."

"Hmm... Sounds a little selfish." It does not sound worse, if anything, he'd give anything to go back to how things were, but it's not possible. Gotta move on.

Atem stares at the other for a moment, allowing a little silence to fall between them, the least he wants is to antagonize him or make him think that his thoughts are not valid. He's felt that kind of desperation before, specially here. That's mostly the sole reason why he forces himself to believe there has to be a reason, otherwise, he'd go crazy.

"Did something else happen?" It's but a little hunch, Ianchus had after all mentioned that his family has been gone for a while now, enough to get over it in some way (one never gets over that kind of things, though), the gods stirring those sentiments usually lasts a few days but, something else must've happened for him to get more than a little stuck there.

Ianchus isn't going to fight that--in fact, he gives a little laugh, one that's even sincere. Selfish? Yes, he certainly is. That's the crux of his character, selfishness, and he's never tried to insist otherwise. But he just gives a little shrug.

The second question though...

Ianchus runs his tongue over his teeth, debating whether he wants to be so forthcoming. But, may as well.
He takes a moment to pour himself a glass from the gin bottle he has by the edge of the springs before continuing.

"Mmm. I had some misfortune. I...had a mishap and died, you see, which culminated in more confusion when I had woken up, back home, my family around me." A shrug. "I'd just assumed Hadriel was the sweet dream."

Atem bites his lower lip afterwards, what was the point of asking, how could he make that better?

He could say he's sorry, but he's not quite sure why he'd be, for having asked, for him having died, or for the so-called gods playing with his mind. It's not easy, it hasn't gotten better and he cannot lie to him, it probably get even worse before it gets better if it ever does, he doesn't know that yet. No one does.

But Ianchus shared, albeit probably reluctantly, who wants to talk about that, really?

"That kind of experience stays with you, I guess..."

"Ah, at the very least I did get to have that kind of experience without the permanence of death. What man gets the chance to be gutted and then come back from it? Really, perhaps I should consider it a gift."

There it is, Ianchus Cepheos' infamous morbid optimism. He's aware that his jokes likely aren't funny but, ah, what else will he do?

"But my, what a bloody subject. Are you sure you wouldn't care for some gin, Atem?"

I live today once there, I live to cry about it

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