hadriel_logs | 2.8/ closed/ i'll walk through fire with you

Entry tags:

kate galloway

2.8/ closed/ i'll walk through fire with you

Who: Kate and Ignis, Glacius, Carlisle
What: Sometimes you just gotta tell people you've agreed to maybe die to help the gods.
Where: Houses and apartments and behind locked doors.
When: Yeah, around now.
Warnings: Uh, emotions?

— ignis;

( The agreement catches in her throat for days, left unsaid in the wake of behaviour which leaves her frowning and her heart aching. Something is off, flickering up every so often like the swells of warmth in her chest, the too intense brightness that makes everything taste a little better.

She's doing the right thing. She knows it even on the days her steps don't sing with the hope, the potential that they might just manage to do something about the Door. It's not about seeking advice, not about quelling the uncertainty, because there is none. This is something she has to do, even if the risk forms solid in her mind, is known and deadly and has her stomach in knots.

She's doing the right thing, and it would be so easy to simply do it without saying anything. But she's heard it too many times — why didn't you tell me — that the easy thing doesn't feel like the right thing any more, and so she waits for a day where the ghosts don't seem to play at the corners of his eyes so much before bringing it up, over empty plates and a finished glass of something that resembles wine; )

We need to talk.

( Score one for the worst possible opener ever, though. )

— glacius;

( It should, by all rights, be easy to tell Glacius. He should understand her reasons for wanting to do this, for having to do this, even if it helps the gods.

The thing that has her stomach in knots is the prospect of telling his partner afterwards. How Carlisle will take this choice of hers, no matter the reasons.

She waits until they're alone, until their work on saving Carlisle starts to form that familiar drain on her power and she puts her hand up for a break. )

...Got something I need to tell you.

— carlisle;

( The garden is a nice space in contrast to the rest of the city, far more cared for than the remnants of the orchard, and it almost serves to relax her.

Almost.

The ride to where they are now, as people, has been filled with missteps and bumps and so many arguments that she can all but feel the way this will go in her bones.

But there's no turning back now. )

Got a minute?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He'd told her, right away, that he was seeing things. Of course he had, because he needed one or two people in the very least to be able to tell him both that nothing was there and that he wasn't losing his mind. Ignis isn't too worried about the latter, yet. He's putting the flickering shapes he keeps seeing down to some trick of the gods and simply hoping that they don't get any worse.

It doesn't keep him from a meal with his girlfriend, though his occasional distraction is no doubt entirely obvious to her in the way his attention will stray, or he'll lose his train of thought in the middle of a conversation. Always rejoined with a smile, not at all forced yet, but he isn't quite himself after a week of this nonsense.

He toys idly with his empty glass as they come to the end of a topic, exhausting it with a mutual agreement and lapsing into a moment of silence. 'We need to talk', she says, and he lifts his eyes to hers with a small, slightly amused smile.]

I'm not anticipating the kind of conversation that those words usually herald, but you may want to choose your openers more carefully...

( She's halfway to opening her mouth when he makes that point, and her lips immediately snap shut, mouth thinning in realisation of the other weight those words carry. It's not what's intended, but she never claimed to know how to navigate this whole minefield, working off the things she's seen others do and some small amount of instinct gained through all the months — more than a year, actually — of getting to know him. )

... Point taken. ( But the smile he manages to bring to her lips is all too brief, a soft flash of mirth taken away by the weight in the back of her mind, the topic that's waiting on her tongue to come out.

We need to talk doesn't mean here what it's come to mean throughout — apparently multiple worlds, but there's a knot of something in her stomach, heavy and almost like dread. Trying to talk about this doesn't come easy, not for her. )

Saw Sorrow's post, aye?

[Perhaps it's a small attempt to inject a little humour into the situation before it takes too much of a tone of seriousness. Not always Ignis' modus operandi, but one he has been known to take from time to time. The smile it gets from her is satisfactory, and how quickly it fades is more than enough for him to evaluate how much the topic she's about to raise is weighing on her.]

Yes, I saw it. [He saw the responses to it, as well. Ignis' curiosity tells him to get involved in what's happening, but his instincts tell him to keep out of it as much as possible. As of yet, he isn't sure which one he wants to listen to.]

I'm going to assume that you've agreed to something you don't think I'm going to like.

( That's one way of putting it.

But the only thing she can do is tell him. Just... put it out there. )

I think I can help suppress the Door's power. ( It should, by all logic, work if she can see it. But she can't be sure, not with something that powerful.

There's more she needs to explain, but she holds back, waits for his reaction first. )

... Alright... [He replies, with a certain level of carefulness in those two syllables. There's something amiss here, something far bigger than what she's telling him so far, and... why isn't she just coming out with it?

By now, Ignis is used to Kate putting herself in harms way. He can say nothing against it when he does the same thing himself, no matter how much he might wish she would think of herself a little more. He sets his glass down and reaches out to place his hand over one of hers.]

And how would you do that?

( Because this isn't the kind of discussion she'd usually have. It isn't the kind of thing she'd usually think about before doing something. It would simply be done. But then, she's never had to consider the prospect of a task like this before.

His hand slips over hers and she turns it over, palms brushing together with a spark of warm power releasing from her fingertips. It won't actually do anything to him, because any power within him isn't his own, but it's there, brief and warm and electric. )

I'd have to touch it. ( Explaining the specifics of how she'd affect it isn't really the point here, though, is it? She takes a breath before she continues. ) Never tried it on anything this powerful before. ... It could kill me.

( There. It's out. But it does nothing to ease the weight on her chest. It's all too likely, and she knows it. If the Door's own effects don't break her, the sheer effort she's sure she'll have to expend to make this have a shot at working will. )

[He lowers his eyes down to where that warm tingle of her power sinks into his skin, knowing that something bad is coming before she even begins to speak. The weight of the conversation has pressed down since it started.

Then she says it, speaks the words out loud, and Ignis grows very still. Silence hangs between them and buzzes in his ears, a distant, high-pitched whine barely within his range of hearing. There should have been a dozen thoughts, a dozen or more things to say at such a revelation but for several long, quiet moments, Ignis thinks of nothing at all.

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, holding onto that silence a few moments more before--]

I see.

[It would be difficult to measure his response in those two words alone, but when he looks up at her, what's in his eyes should be all she needs.]

Does it have to be you?

( If it didn't have to be her, if it was someone else taking this risk, would it be alright? Would she be alright with letting someone else take on this so she could be fine?

Hasn't she done that before? Told her friends she's done and not interested and let them run off to fight? Isn't that why she lost her brother in the first place? )

Don't know anyone else with a power like mine here. ( If she did, if they were willing, perhaps that would make things easier. Maybe sharing the burden of such a task would mean they'd have a better chance at really doing something. )

... I'm not doing it unless they need me to. ( It might not even happen at all. She doesn't know exactly what Sorrow will try yet, or how the Door will react. )

[In so many ways, he and Kate are alike, and Ignis doesn't really need to ask the question. In the same position, he would be the one to volunteer without a second thought as to what it might do to him, for the sake of the benefit it could bring to others.

With the empty plates put aside he clasps both of her hands across the table, squeezing them lightly, running the pads of his thumbs over her knuckles. His instincts don't want her to take the risk, don't want her to die for this, even knowing that her death here can be rectified.

But that isn't really the point, is it.]

I'm not-- [His mouth is dry. He clears his throat softly.] ... I said that I'd stand by you, in anything you chose to do. That did not come with a caveat of approving of everything you do in order to support it.

[No, he doesn't like this, but she must have expected that.]

I'm certain you've considered this carefully.

( In so many of the big and small ways, yes. Maybe there's something to that, something which explains why he ended up such an important part of her life here. Explains the fact that she's grown to so quickly trust and need him in her life.

She lets him take her hands and doesn't complain, doesn't try to snatch them back. She never has, not from him. Instead, she waits a moment before standing up, swerving around the table with ease and tugging on his hands to encourage him to stand up.

No, she doesn't expect him to like it, or she wouldn't have been so hesitant in saying so in the first place. )

As carefully as I can. ( It's not... exactly your everyday situation, nothing she can plan for as much as really anyone would like, but she's thought through it as much as she can.

Which is why she has to have these conversations. ) Tranquility thinks he can protect me from the Door's effects. Least... somewhat. ( He did say he could keep her alive, keep her from feeling permanent damage from what The Door does, but that doesn't totally reassure her. ) Doubt that extends to what I'm doing to myself.

( He remembers, right? How badly she exhausted herself when the Null invaded? And he can probably deduce how much worse it'll be for her to try and exert her power onto something as powerful as the Door from there, right? )

[He doesn't stand, at first. He runs his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles and looks down at their joined hands, just quietly enjoying her presence.

Then, he gets up, and places his hands on her shoulders. He won't ask her not to do this, because it would cause an argument that would only end in her doing it anyway. He won't ask her, because he has enough respect and faith in her to believe that she's already thought this through long and hard before she even thought to tell him.]

Whatever happens... [Ignis tells her, moving a hand to lightly cup her jaw and run his thumb across her cheek. He leans down and kisses her forehead, then gives her a small, slightly tired smile.] I'll be here, when it's over.

[He can't talk her out of it. He knows her too well to think that would work, but he can be there for her despite her recklessness.]

And I'd like to help, in any way I can.

( And aren't they just as stubborn as each other like that? But that's just another thing they understand about each other, another reason this is easier than she feared it might be. This— all of this— is new enough that Kate feels a lot like she's stumbling around in the dark, hoping that she's picking up the right clothes to wear to work. Something she can only gauge by feeling and guessing and fucking up once or twice (probably more than that, if she's honest with herself).

Her head tilts towards his hand, eyes closing for a moment before he asks to help. There's plenty of people wanting to be involved in Sorrow's work, as far as she can see, and there's a small, selfish part of her which huffs about the fact she's doing this to keep him safe. That he's been talking about seeing things that aren't there and that just seems like a recipe for disaster with the proximity to the Door.

She exhales and stretches, and reaches up to press her lips to his, a full, fierce kiss that doesn't last long enough. That never could last long enough. )

You— This is enough. ( This is more helpful than she ever could have imagined. Simply having him to come home to.

But— ) ...You can come, if you like.

[In the back of his mind he knows that whatever they are doing, being near the Door will only make the problems he's currently dealing with all the worse. But how can he just sit back while she does this, staying back from the danger while she strides straight into it?

How could he? He can't, and he knows it, and she knows it. Maybe that's why she asks.

He leans into the kiss and closes his eyes, holding her against him. Moments like those never last long enough, but they can happen often, and that will simply have to do.]

Then I will. [Ignis smiles faintly, shifting to kiss her forehead.] ... If anything adverse starts to happen, I'll step back. I promise.

( She does. And it is. That small amount of instinct is, at least, keen enough that she can guess how well forbidding him from coming would go, no matter how much she might want to.

Better that they don't walk into this fresh from an argument, isn't it? )

You better. ( It's said lightly, but with the utmost seriousness behind her dark eyes. She isn't going into this so he can be hurt as well, after all. )

[Glacius responds to that weary hand signal without any extra prompting; the work they've started on is barely-formed at this point, but the very concept it is based on is cause enough for concern to him. It is meant to drain life essence, after all, so he has been keeping an eye out for signs that it could be affecting either of them adversely even before it should even really possible. Caution, the alien has found, usually serves people well when delving into the unknown... and he never is the sort to take risks with those he cares about. He'd been reluctant enough to bring Kate in on this to begin with.

But he needs her—he has since he was brought to Hadriel—and right now, she has a particular need of him. Glacius leans up, regarding their project for a moment more before Kate speaks and draws his gaze to her. His green eyes are sharp—he never has quite relaxed from that razor's edge he was pushed to when they first spoke on the shoreline about his partner's encroaching fate—but he still regards her with gentleness.] Of course, I am always here to listen. It is not... a problem with this Siphon, is it? We've barely put it together, let alone activated it, but... well... it is not of my people's make. I cannot be entirely sure what will happen.

[But they've discussed all this before starting, so it must be something else, he thinks. He waits patiently, allowing Kate to get whatever it is out that she needs to.]

( Better to save her powers and make sure they can work through this properly, and all the more with the subject of this discussion weighing heavily in the back of her mind.

How much power does one need to have stored up to attempt to quell a god-like power? )

No. ( The Siphon itself seems to be going well, as far as either of them can tell. What they've managed looks stable, but they'll only know for sure when they test it, and there's still more to do before that day comes. )

Erm...

( She claps her hands together as she broaches the topic. Even Kate knows that people don't take news like this well. Knows that she wouldn't, if the shoe was on the other foot. It would be so much easier just to avoid this conversation and worry about it after she was done, but she remembers Glacius' message the last time she died, his reaction when they spoke after she came back to life.

She can't let it go unsaid, no matter how much she'd prefer to. )

Gonna help Sorrow with his work on The Door. ( That's innocent enough, but she inhales and continues before he can say anything else. ) Might have to help suppress its power, if it comes to that. ... Not sure if I'll make it back.

( Well. Hope will revive her eventually, she's sure, but—

Well. )

[That seems to shock Glacius into silence—he's silent for a moment as he tries to figure out how to respond. Of course he does not like the idea of anyone helping the gods; in the alien's mind they have always been nothing more than parasitic jailers, a self-interested race that thoughtlessly invokes the suffering of others so that they may sustain themselves. The only one that had ever seemed able to look past their own survival to consider the repercussions of their actions enough to actually want to change them regardless of the costs had been Delight... and look where that them. Turned against each other, wrapped up in a war against genocidal robots that they have no part in... Glacius will never approve of or trust the so-called gods of Hadriel.

That makes it extremely important to have someone that he does trust working in tandem with the parasites on The Door. The ice alien has had to realign his priorities lately, what with the ever-declining health of his partner... but The Door is still a beacon to him, a promise of deliverance from the suffering and danger in this city. He knows Kate sympathizes with the parasites, but he trusts that if they acted too far out of line and somehow tried to sabotage their prisoners' only means of escape, his friend would stand against them. So while he may not approve of anyone helping the parasites, he does approve of her choice... or he would if not for that last stipulation, those words that lance right through to his heart like a hot, searing knife.

Glacius lowers his eyes, his hands tightening into fists as he battles with grim acceptance he is not yet ready to surrender himself to. The Door may be a beacon to him, but even it cannot compare to the way she lights his life.] Is there... no other way? I know I speak often of sacrifice, of how the good of the many are more important than the good of one, but... I cannot lose you. Not again. And I had always thought that we would go from this place together, at peace because we knew we were both stepping into something better.

( Delight shook all of them. Even now, Kate finds it difficult to trust the gods, to want to interact with them as she would have before. But ultimately, they are the natives of this world, and therefore the ones who offer the most insight into anything here. Until the day they're no longer useful, what choice to any of them have but to at least tolerate cooperation? (She realises, with a sinking stone weight in her stomach, that this argument falls all too close to the one she told herself to get through The Agency. As long as it offered them something, they had to tolerate it.)

But there are other reasons, too. Promises made to her best friend, all firey hair and boundless amounts of her namesake. As long as she believes Faith would still support them, Kate can't find it in herself to drop any allegiance totally.

Then, further still than all of the discussions about supporting the gods, is something just as important: keeping the people here safe. Suppressing the signal of power might just keep them off the Null's radar a little longer, might prevent another invasion. She doesn't know for sure, but with the destruction of the last one still visible in how many buildings simply no longer exist, rubble swept away when Hope recovered, is it really worth running the risk of a second simply to avoid the risk?

She could die either way.

She threads her fingers together, squeezing tight for a moment. Keeping quiet would have been easy. She wouldn't feel this knot in her stomach which leaves her wondering if she's doing the right thing when the people she cares about most in this city seem so horrified by the prospect.

But it's for their sakes that she wants to, isn't it? If there is another invasion, they could be injured, killed. She doesn't want to know what could happen to Carlisle if the Null terrorise the city again. )

I don't think so. ( Unless Tranquility was lying about his ability to affect the Door, of course. ) I'm not going to do it unless it's needed. Might not be as bad as I think, anyway.

( That last sentence is weak, because Kate has such trouble believing that to be true, not after everything she's heard, everything she's seen and experienced from the fragments themselves. ) But... Just. I needed you to know. If it does happen.

[The towering ice alien seems to take a long time to digest that. Outwardly, his cold and stoic appearance does not change; he's all hard armor, sharp points of spikes and mandibles, his piercing gaze somehow even sharper. Yet he knows that she can easily read the vulnerability that he shares from the subtler signs: the crease at his brows, the way knuckles and tendons jut out from the pale white flesh of his clenched hands, the slight quavering of his operuclum here and there.

And then there are his words, laden with knowing and sorrow and sincerity, more emotion to them than he would ever reveal unless with a person he trusts and loves with all that he is.] This place has taken so much from me... my people, my world, my old sense of duty and purpose. It has taken parts of my body, ravaged me with scarring, and has even claimed some of the friendships that I dared to make here. One might think that would be enough loss for a lifetime, but there is always more to lose, for now it threatens my partner and even... even my sister.

[He lifts his eyes to look to Kate now before flicking them away, as if worried that this honorific might still be too much, might still be found offensive despite all they've been here together. His people have always been reserved, slow to open themselves up to others unless they have proven themselves, but Kate has done that in spades. She had done it long ago, in fact, and every little thing they've gone through together has only built on that niggling feeling he gets when he's around her. That sense of happiness, that sense of belonging and understanding... he had not been able to place it before, but now, with so much on the line and so little point in holding anything back, he thinks he just might be able to.]

You are like family to me. And so I want to resist this with all that I am because of that closeness... Makers, I want so badly to stop you like we both know that I am capable of... but I know that I cannot. I would make the same decision if I were in the position to do so, so what right do I have to hold you back from yours? [Glacius tries to smile as he stares straight ahead, as if there could be a better outcome on the horizon or as though he can simply ignore the problem by keeping his gaze fixed away from it, though of course neither of those things are true. So the smile is empty, more anguishes than anything. He finally looks back to Kate, knowing this might be one of his last chances to.]

Just promise me that you will tell me if there is anything I can do. I am not ready to just... surrender you.

( She has a million things that come to the tip of her tongue, each shift in his body language standing out like beacons against his icy exterior, little things that have been picked up over all this time stuck here, relying on each other's presence to get through countless scenarios and nightmares dropped upon them by the gods.

All of those words and half-formed ideas and arguments drop off into nothingness the second the word sister rolls off Glacius' tongue, and her expression freezes in almost comical bewilderment.

That— )

...You just call me your sister?

( The question stumbles out from her lips before she has a chance to think of any better response. But doesn't that make sense? questions the voice in the back of her mind, an echo of a long gone presence in her life, a flash of blue hair and the sense of home.

Doesn't it? Because who else in this place could she possibly think of as one of her own in the way she thinks of Glacius? Who else would she so easily trust to have her back in the way she would expect from Faith or any of the others, never needing to ask for his help but simply having it? Who else in this city has been here for every second of hellish time, solid as... well. )

[Despite himself and the fact that he was ready to commit to honesty in his feelings, Glacius' eyes still widen a hair as he hears the word repeated back to him—as though he's worried she might disapprove of its use. He forces himself to keep eye contact, though, his remaining mandible flaring as he does.]

... I did. You have been here with me since the very start of it all. You were ready to fight at my side back when we were still getting to know each other, when we were both prisoners of that nightmare of Ultratech... and you have fought at my side ever since. I used to think that what I felt for you was just the bond that two warriors share—an admirable, noble thing!—and it brought me solace. It still does.

But now... [The alien holds perfectly still for a moment, then lifts his broad shoulders in a little shrug. A remarkably human gesture.] Well. You have done far more than just fight with me; you have listened to me, seen to my injuries, even safeguarded the secrets of my people. As a result, I feel as though you understand us in a way very few others do, and there is a far deeper solace in that. It seems that the bond we share has grown into something greater than warrior-friends, and now you are the closest thing I have to family in this place. You do not have to feel the same way; a part of me would be surprised if you did. But I could not let you go into this without knowing that. It would not be fair to either of us.

Edited 2018-11-05 18:37 (UTC)

( It's been a long, long road for the two of them, ending in a place she would have never could have predicted them being, both individually and together. The title doesn't offend her, not at all, a soft fluttering and knot in her stomach, the gentle twist of something she's not able to explain. The same thing she felt the first time she and Faith used the phrase best friend, or hearing I love you said in all sincerity.

It's an honour she isn't entirely sure she deserves. The kind of thing that can only set up for disappointment.

After all, she failed her last brother, didn't she? Let him die through her own selfishness. )

I—

( What can she possibly say about, or to that, considering the reason this conversation began? )

Thanks, Glacius.

( And a hand reaches out, wrapping around the back of his despite the chill it sends through her arm. )

[It's not reciprocation, not outwardly anyways, but Glacius does not seem hurt by it. He's too busy being surprised by the hand that finds his; it is smaller, lighter, so much softer than his own... yet the differences do not stick out in his mind as much as they usually do. He knows this moment is significant. Despite the way they're built physically, and the worlds they were brought up in... they're not so different in the end. The fact that Kate is trying to express that via touch, which is something she's averse to with others...

... he does not want to assume, but—well. Perhaps that is the reciprocation he was privately hoping for.

The ice alien's surprise bleeds away into a warm smile, and he turns his hand over to rest palm-up, the better to gently clasp hersi n solidarity.] Of course. Anyways, this old friend has one last hopefully-not-final-request: come back alive. I am not the only one who needs you, you know.

( Her friends taught her to accept touches, to allow them to drape over her and draw her into hugs, and the love she's found in Hadriel taught her to seek them out, to relax and know it isn't the end of the world to be affectionate.

If anyone in this city deserves her affection, even if it's as small as the brush of her hand against his, it's Glacius. If he can't have her words, her echo of his term, because her brain still fizzes and shorts at the thought of saying it to anyone who isn't Marc, he can — at least — have this. Her hand rests there, in his, as she pulls in a breath.

Stay alive. )

Should be able to manage that.

( If Tranquility keeps his promise. Though whether she'll wish he didn't is yet to be seen. )

[Carlisle glances Kate's way as she enters the garden, giving her a polite nod -- she would not be the first to come to his garden to clear her head, as he assumes she's here to do. Without the trees surrounding it, the greenery sticks out like a sore thumb in the ruins of the park, and more than a few people have wandered his way seeking the peace and repose his private sanctuary offers. Unlike most of them, Kate is a welcomed face.

... generally. They haven't always seen eye to eye, and he can't help but wonder if what brings her to him today is something he'll find palatable. He hasn't the time or energy to deal with much that isn't these days --his hair is just a little more colorless, his eyes glowing just a bit brighter with every morning that passes.]

I haven't many of them to spare anymore, but I suppose I could find one for you.

[He keeps his attention on the coilers before him, their thin vines timidly wrapping around his forearms as he prunes away.]

( They've worked incessantly on the Siphon, and it might just work, given a little more time. Kate hopes, anyway. The item is the most promising thing they have for this.

And she can only hope they'll have it perfected before she's needed for this. )

Need you to not flip out on me.

( Which is... a very encouraging way to start this conversation as she watches the vines crawl up his arms with curiosity dancing in her eyes. )

...Been talking to some of the gods. About The Door.

( Before he begins to think it's because of him, or his condition. )

I make no promises about 'not flipping out' on you.

[At least he's honest about it. He clips another few leaves, fighting the stiffness in his hands as he clasps the shears.]

And what do the false deities have to say about the Door?

( Well. She's done this twice already now, and she has Tranquility's word that he'll keep her alive. (She's not entirely sure she believes that, but it may just soften the blow a touch.) Eyes follow the movements of his hands, arms folding in on herself as he keeps working.

Maybe the distraction will be good. )

They're going to experiment on it. ( Isn't it always a sign of something when Kate actually deigns to use subjects in her sentences? When she speaks just that bit more slowly and clearly? ) Try to stabilise it. I'm going to help them.

( They can talk about the possible outcomes of this in a moment. For now, she just plants the idea. )

[Another snip.]

What you do with the beings who feed upon us like parasites is no business of mine.

[Though the tone of his voice as he states that says yeah, he'll be pretty judgmental about her choices. His hands still, shears over another leaf, his eyes flicking to her.]

... Unless you believe I would have cause for concern.

( Taking this slow is for a reason, Kate reminds herself as irritation flutters in her gut. Carlisle's health is... well. There's not much of it left, honestly. She wants to do this right, but it doesn't come naturally and Carlisle's tone only serves to make her wish she'd stuck to the comfortable and easy method of doing what she wants without telling anyone.

(Well, perhaps wants is a bit much. She can't say she wants to risk touching the Door, particularly. But she wants to make sure that the people here are alright.) )

It's likely I'll have to use my powers on it. ( A deep breath, her voice far more even than she expects it to be. ) Not sure how badly it could hurt me.

[The shears in his hands remain stationary, his attention trailing back to them as he tries to swallow the apprehension welling in his gut.]

I see. That you are even telling me is a complete surprise, I will admit. You have never deigned me as one who deserves to be 'in the know.'

[His expression softens just a hair as he searches for her eyes, his brow furrowing.]

You will recover should something happen, though. You wouldn't- you wouldn't die for this.

( Don't snap at that, Kate. She turns the tight jaw into a shrug. Maybe she's learned her lesson on that front. Or maybe she's trying to, anyway. It's a step taken, because Carlisle is one of her longest remaining friends here, and after all the lectures, she has to try. )

Rather not. ( And that's the truth. She doesn't want to die, but it's stupid to pretend that she's not risking it by doing something like this. ) But don't know what might happen.

( All she knows is that, if she does have to die, that's better for the city than going through another attack, or suddenly dealing with monsters bursting through the Door. Or any of another million things that might happen if it's left unchecked. )

[The glow of his eyes remains painfully bright, nearly enough to hide his pupils entirely, but that vivid illumination makes it all the more obvious when his eye twitches.]

Then you don't risk it.

[He puts it so simply, with far fewer words than he would normally use. Perhaps he's holding his tongue, perhaps he knows Kate has heard his arguments before, or perhaps he's just tired. No matter the reason, his brief answer and impassive tone likely say plenty about how he feels regarding this plan of hers.]

Don't ris— ( The affronted echo of those words cuts off with a hiss and a glare. The Bond gleaming in Carlisle's eyes unnatural, ever unnerving, piercing and bright as the irritation she feels at the very idea of not going through with it.

Some danger has to be faced, even if a person doesn't want to do it. Even if her stomach knots itself at the prospect of the pain, the wear on her body, the possibility of dying regardless of Tranquility's agreement. One person's pain, or even their death, is nothing compared to the maybes which run through her head. The possibility of the Null finding this place due to flares of the Door's energy, or the power doing worse still. )

Carlisle. ( His name snaps off her tongue, the prelude to an argument which...

Doesn't come. It dies in the air instead, caught in her lungs and forced out with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. )

I have to. ( Wouldn't it be better if she didn't, if she could just ignore this and live life as normal in the city, but she can't. Not when it comes to this. ) Can't risk something worse happening 'cause I didn't want to get hurt.

[The shears in his hand snip tightly; his mouth, on the other hand, does not, with his immediate thought slipping out in an instant.]

It's not you being hurt that worries me.

[He pushes air through his nose in a huff, his eyes affixing themselves on his work, as though not looking at Kate herself might help him control his temper.]

There are other people here who can help them. People- people with loyalties to those parasites. People who have no one else. Let them do it.

( Wow, Carlisle. Kate's very nearly stunned silent for a moment at everything said there, the anger she's been trying to curtail flaring bright the second those suggestions leave his mouth. Someone else, as though they matter less than she does. As though Kate doesn't have the weight of a promise made to Faith hanging over her, to do what she can to save the gods from all of this. )

No. ( That icy calm spreads over her, flare of anger cooled to a chill that numbs the rest of her. ) I wanted you to know. Didn't ask for your permission.

( After everything, every argument they've had, Kate knows better than to think she could just avoid telling him. But even that isn't enough.

Then, a moment later: ) You know anyone here who has the same abilities I do?

( She still wouldn't ask them to take her place, but she's been here for so long and she can't think of another person in the city who can do what she does when it comes to powers. )

[Carlisle's eyes stay on those shears in his hand, but the injury is bleeding across his face like a wound reopened.]

I do not, but I don't presume to know everyone here and their abilities, and neither should you.

[He sucks in another breath, trying to steady himself; he feels his eyes watering at the very effort, and hopes his tears won't emerge blackened with ink. His own voice is as icy as his partner, but lacks all the warmth the alien manages to carry beneath his frozen exterior.]

I won't forgive you if you die to this, Kate. Spit upon me and my concerns all you want, but I will not forgive you for putting him through that, and willingly.

( She doesn't, but if no one else with those powers is coming forward, what can be done about it? She can't just allow this chance to slip through their fingers, her life be damned. Guilt is a knife in her gut but she needs to ignore it, she has to. She's had this conversation twice before now and each time makes her wish she could simply ignore this chance and simply remain out of it, but how can she?

Why can't he simply understand this the way Glacius or Ignis did? Why are they once again back to it all being about how this will affect Glacius after every exhaustive bit of effort she's thrown at saving Carlisle because she doesn't want to see him die? )

Good job he understands this.

( Sure, Glacius doesn't like it either, but he understands this far better than Carlisle is trying to. Between the two of them, the temperature could freeze water, could blow forth a blizzard and leave the world around them trembling. But they're no elemental users, and perhaps that's for the best. )

He accepts it, Kate. That does not mean he likes it, nor does it mean that your death would not rend his hearts in twain once again.

[Carlisle's response simmers more and more with every word, his gut starting to boil. He tries to clear his throat, and finds it clogged with ink; swallowing it down does little keep it from affecting his tone, leaving his voice raspier than he'd like. He does his best to keep it down as he asks her an honest question, a genuine inquiry he has asked himself many times now.]

What is most important to you? Your determination to leave? Your principles? Or those who care most for you in this world? Who you presumably care for in return.

Edited 2019-01-13 22:57 (UTC)

( Somehow, she doesn't expect the question and it shows in the pause, the flicker of emotions over her face which are quickly shuttered down into a far more familiar blank expression, contained in the depths of her eyes before her gaze drops somewhere else. Anywhere else.

What kind of question is that? builds on her tongue, defensive as ever (but doesn't he always make her so defensive, placing her so far under the microscope that she feels the need to retreat into every old habit she's ever tried to shuck off?) and she holds it there. What's most important to her has always been clear to Kate, as obvious as the colour of her hair.

It's always been the people she cares about. Hasn't it? Her silence stretches longer as the words rattle around in her head. She's doing this for Glacius, for Carlisle (though he seems not to see it), doing it so that any risk to the city and its inhabitants are minimised, so that the Null don't end up picking up on signals from The Door. So they can continue working on it and eventually...

Eventually everyone can go home, if that's what they want. So that she can return to her world and the people she cares about there, so Glacius and Carlisle no longer has to live in a city where the gods continue to manipulate their behaviours, so that Ignis can return to his duties, everyone in the places they should be, rather than this hodge-podge city. )

It's not that simple. ( Those words come out so quietly that Carlisle might just miss them with her head turned away from him. It isn't. This decision isn't just about one thing, because working on The Door comes with a whole domino effect of reasons — from the people she cares about here to her determination to leave, with a million things in between. )

I'm not doing this because I want to die. Don't want to at all. ( And it's not simply because she knows that everyone she cares about here would have a whole lecture prepared for her if she did. Dying is painful, and no matter what promises they have of Hope's revivals, the fact is that they could lose that at any second if things go wrong. If The Null manage to kill him. )

There's millions— ( Or more, if she's remembering her conversations with Sorrow correctly. ) —of Null wanting everyone dead. You. Glacius. Everyone. Have to fight 'em all over again if they sense The Door. Without a warning. ( It's bitterly humourous that Delight's betrayal gave them the warning they needed to expect that invasion, and that might just have saved things from becoming worse. )

Know my death'll hurt people. ( Strange as the sensation might feel, she does. That was made so clear that she sought them out before undertaking this ) ...You think I don't get that?! ( And it's here that her tone really trembles, that the softness of the previous sentence is caught in a harsh gasp, as flashes of all the losses she's lived through circle through her head. How could she not understand? After losing her parents, after losing Marc? Failing to protect Faith in Hadriel?

Her hands shake and she clasps them together until her knuckles turn white, trying to still them. Those failures, the what ifs rise anew, knives of sharp agony in her chest. )

I can't fuck up again, Carlisle. I can't.

Edited (sentence order) 2019-01-15 20:14 (UTC)

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2.8/ closed/ i'll walk through fire with you

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