no emotion that's worth having

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Though Zeph did not react particularly explosively or perhaps in a way fitting to his confession, Sam could at least tell by the change in the atmosphere that this time, he had been believed. He pressed his lips together, clung to his own arms and stared at the floor, sure that now the rejection and disgust was coming. It had been delayed, but he was sure he'd hear the door slam soon, Zeph leaving-- He looked up at the pacing and authoritative tone, surprised and yet not at the same time, his paranoia and his sensible mind both there somewhere. "I...even if you could sort things out in Torchline, I can't just leave the Grounds. It's complicated, with the Ascended and the Voice. I have to stay and fight." Sam's voice wavered a little: he really, really didn't want to, still thought it was a bad idea as he had when they'd first discussed it, but he couldn't afford to annoy his Goddess any further. "Besides...I don't know where Amalia is, or Ronin for that matter, and both of them don't like me very much. Maybe even want me to be dead." He squeezed his arms, looked up with a smile that was meant to be reassuring. "You don't have to fix my messes, Zeph. I appreciate it, but...I got myself into this." — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

Zeph

Ugh, idealism. "Why?" you ask Red, turning back to fix him with a that's-fucking-stupid glare. "Why'd you gotta fight? Why's any'a this yer problem?" Seriously- if the gods wanted to duke shit out on a cosmic scale, why'd every damn Joe Schmo gotta be dragged into it? You rake a hand through your curls, clearly irate at this nonsense.

At least here's a problem you can kind of fix. "Neither'a 'em been seen in Torchline fer months," you tell Sam, your hand now moving to rub your neck. "Remi's off in th'woods, an' 'sides, th'Biter's in charge now an' I'm sure he's done worse." Seriously. You don't know what, but you'd believe it. Again you begin to pace, arms across your chest. "An' you told me Wessex was gonna kill ya a'fore- what makes y'safer here, where she's head bitch?"

Clearly you're annoyed. Your voice is clipped, your strides loud, your brow furrowed into a deepening frown. This whole damn situation is shit, and if it's too late to save James from his mistakes you can at least attempt to keep Sam from ruining his life. At last you lean against a wall, not looking at Sam but instead at the ceiling. "Gods, Red- I'm tryin'a help ya. Why can't y'just let yerself live for yerself, just once?"

you're not a bad person
for the ways you tried to kill your sadness

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam flinched as Zeph yelled, no good response to it. He had many the same questions himself, could hardly find good answers for them when he'd had weeks to think, never mind when they were demanded out of him in an instant. All he could do was stare, watch Zeph lean against a bookshelf and hold his own arms, glancing down to the now-ignored tea cups by the stove. "...You're right about Wessex, but...I think as long as the Voice tells her not to, she won't hurt me. I hope..." Sam sighed; at least it was good news that Ronin and Amalia weren't in Torchline; perhaps that meant he could go back some day, see all the things he'd missed. Even still, he couldn't see a way to leave before Flowerbirth. If he was gone for Longnight, he was pretty sure the Ascended would be unable to fight the monsters, and while that was what he wanted, he couldn't imagine the hell that would come his way in repayment for that. "It's more complicated than that. I know...I know you're trying to help, but if I just run from this now, it's going to come back later worse and bigger." It was hard to explain to anyone not acquainted with the Voice just how permanent, wonderful and painful the bond to her and the family could be. "You can't protect me from the Voice, if shes mad. Wessex. Anyone else, if they come in enough numbers. I don't want you to feel like it's your responsibility." — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

Zeph

You didn't exactly yell, but it's certainly about as close to it as you've come in a good while. And as you fume against the bookshelf you can tell that Sam is uncomfortable, arms wrapped around himself and voice wavering. Damn it all, but it seems so fucking stupid in your eyes. You want to grab the boy and shake him for not accepting your offer, for not leaving all the stupid obligations and messy risk-of-death situations he's wrapped himself up in behind.

You step towards him, hand outstretched--

--and place it heavily on his shoulder, dropping your head and closing your eyes as you come face-to-face with the Ascended once again.

"Fine, Red. I ain't gonna push it." Wearily you shake your head, your dark almond eyes looking for his. "But y'ain't alone in this, so don' take it all on yerself. Y'ain't my responsibility, but y'are my friend. An' Torchers, we look out for our crews. Stand by 'em. Right?"

you're not a bad person
for the ways you tried to kill your sadness

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam kept his eyes to the ground, caught not just by Zeph's words but his own mind, which pulled him in two directions. One half was hopeful, fantastical, dreamed of saying screw it and moving back to Halo, getting back to the map store with the nice view, swimming in the ocean, living with friends...the other half was realistic, knew that he had obligations, that no matter where he went he always seemed to take bad luck. He closed his eyes at the hand on his shoulder, a deep sigh leaving him in lieu of tears. "..Right. Thank you. You're...you're one of the best friends I've ever had." Trying to give a genuine smile, even though it faltered a little, Sam briefly touched the hand on his shoulder. "I wish I had met someone like you earlier. Before I got myself caught up in...everything. If...if someone had been like you when I was 16, I wouldn't have..." Not finishing his thought with words, Sam waved a hand about. "But I did, and I have to deal with that. I have to. Just, maybe-" Daring to let himself touch that hopeful half of his mind for a second, Sam asked: "-After Deepfrost, if...if I'm okay, could I maybe...come to visit? To see if Torchline really is okay for me even after what happened." — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

Zeph

The temptation to whisk him back to the portal grows stronger by the minute; you have to swallow down the urge, to remind yourself that he's an adult and not the sixteen year old who made a stupid choice. Coulda shoulda woulda's never helped anyone.

"I'll expect ya then." Y'know how people sound when they're trying very hard to say something with absolute confidence, even though they're not absolutely confident in it? You don't sound like that. You sound absolutely convinced that this visit is going to happen, and your smile seconds the notion, crookedly convinced and assured as it is.

you're not a bad person
for the ways you tried to kill your sadness

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — "Yeah." Sam replied, with much less enthusiasm and a waning smile. He felt a oncoming doom about the Longnight that was swiftly approaching whenever he let himself think about it too hard, and there were more than a few loud voices in his head that said the trip would never happen. It was nice to dream about it, though; to imagine everything turning out okay. In that interest...he sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Um..." It felt extremely awkward to ask this, given the timing and their relationship, but Sam had few others he could trust with the request. "I do need to drink from somebody before we do it, and I don't have anyone...you don't have to, but it might help-" He awkwardly stuttered out, waving his hands about in vague gestures meant to imply Zeph was under no pressure. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.

Zeph

You turn your smile up a notch as his wanes, as though to force some light against the darkness that peers through the windows of the shop. Yes, you will see him; yes, it will all be sorted; yes, this is insanity, but it is temporary.

And of course you agree to let him bite you, awkward though it may be. And of course it is awkward, but you're used to it now, adjusting your boner and not meeting his eyes as he sends waves of bizarre desire through your system. Then there's tea to drink, and small talk to make, and eventually the long trip home to get started on.

The moment you leave the shop your expression falls and darkens. "Fuckin' fuck," you find yourself muttering, tightening your coat around your shoulders and glaring at the sky. "Fuckin' fuck fucks, Red, don' you fuckin' die."

{fin}

you're not a bad person
for the ways you tried to kill your sadness