driftfleet | JULY PLANET MINGLE

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JULY PLANET MINGLE

Who: YOU. ME. EVERYONE.
Broadcast: IF YOU WANT
Action: YEAH!!!!!
When: July!

[Congratulations to the crews that did not get themselves blown up! Welcome to the Blue Planet, a planet full of charming islands and even less charming weather patterns! Are you going to take the time to enjoy the beach? Help out with the local Nunnilis population? Get caught in a storm with another person and have a rating boosting sexual tension moment? The world's your oyster!]

[Yeah in other words: ITS A MINGLE GET IN HERE]

[July Planet Info!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Caesar gives Joseph a withering look, a mask for the insecurities he's trying not to focus on. His pride won't allow him to bring it up explicitly, but the unresolved tension sings in the air between them, whether either of them say it out loud or not.]

[Anyway: the dirty look is for Joseph's lack of creativity as much as it is for anything else. He picks up a handful of sand and lets it trickle through his fingers to the ground, where it stands in an improbably tall spire, held together with Ripple.]

So cheat.

There's a life outside of it.

[He doesn't know why he says it exactly as is the case with most things he says. The tension between them is certainly mounting and the raw nerve that Caesar struck hasn't stopped throbbing. It's not fair of Joseph to say and on some level, he knows that. He even feels guilty about saying it. But on the surface, where his mind is the most, he's not aware of any of it and he certainly doesn't feel guilty about it.]

[Caesar keeps treating it like it's some small thing that he died. He keeps acting like it's a joke or like it doesn't matter. Joseph can joke about a lot of things. He can smile through even more. But this isn't something that he can. And it's not like he doesn't try to understand it from Caesar's perspective. He knows he can't, not really, but he's tried. He's tried again and again when he's on his own to understand why Caesar would treat it so facetiously, but he always comes up empty-handed because he doesn't feel like he could if he were in Caesar's position. Maybe it comes down to being different people or maybe it comes down to Joseph being self-centered. He doesn't know nor does he care which it is, he just knows he can't understand it and he gets frustrated.]

[And that frustration rapidly shifts towards Caesar which is probably why he just now pettily and childishly lashed out at him even in a small way. Furthermore, he doesn't even have a single thought of smoothing it over or trying to take it back. Joseph speaks thoughtlessly, but that doesn't mean he speaks meaninglessly. Too bad if Caesar doesn't want to hear it. Joseph is not obligated to protect his feelings, or so he tells and reassures himself before any guilt can creep in. It's not fair, he thinks, that he should have to consider how Caesar thinks and feels when he believes it's pretty obvious Caesar isn't thinking at all about how Joseph thinks and feels.]

[So, to hell with it. He won't say anything further, his jaw tight and lips pursed as he is almost now hyper-focused on what he's doing, but he's not going to apologize for saying anything.]

[It hits him like a blow to the chest: Joseph's particular brand of sudden, blunt honesty. It's not even vicious. It's not meant cruelly.]

[It doesn't matter. It hurts anyway. Because the truth is, Caesar doesn't know this. Not know it, the way you know what the back of your hand looks like or what it feels like to be hungry - not the way he knows what anger is like pulsing in his veins, or how it feels to fight or to hurt or to be alone. He doesn't know that beyond Air Supplena, beyond the Pillar Men, beyond family and legacy and fate, there is a whole world that could have been open to him. That he dismissed, from Joseph's perspective, because of arrogance, because of pride. Because of the rage that he's never able to fully escape from.]

[He has never been more conscious of his ignorance than he is now. It opens him up from the inside out, creating a vacancy in his chest, and he's reminded again of bloodlessness, of bitter cold, of seeing death blank and inevitable before his eyes and regretting not the life he was losing but the lack of destruction left in his wake.]

[Joseph is a child. You're such a little boy, Jojo. But he isn't cruel or vindictive or petty, not the way Caesar is. And he's never left Caesar behind.]

[There's nothing to say. Except all he wants to say is I didn't know. This moment seems stolen from the jaws of fate, and it's ruined effortlessly, accidentally, by things that Caesar simply doesn't understand.]

[He is a Zeppeli. He was only doing what Zeppelis do.]

[His movement is abrupt, abortive, clumsy, a child's surging demand for comfort after reprimand: he lunges across the space between them and buries his face in Joseph's shoulder, his breathing coming sharp and harsh as though it's happening all over again. He can't even manage a sorry, not with words - there's only the tight wrap of his arms around Joseph's middle to communicate all the things he can't imagine, all the wrongs he doesn't know how to admit to.]

[Joseph sees the sudden and abrupt movement out of his periphery. He's ready and half-expecting Caesar to tear down his sandcastle just to be an asshole. (And, okay, maybe he'd deserve that.) He opens his mouth to say something, brow furrowing. But instead of a castle crumbling and spraying everywhere around him, Caesar lunges into him and Joseph has to catch himself with a hand behind him. His natural impulse is to think the tension's snapped because it's gone so suddenly and so he starts to rise, but Caesar's arm wraps tight around his middle and...]

[Joseph doesn't know what's happening or what to do. His own anger is still there, but it simply flies away from the forefront of his mind. He expected Caesar to get angry. They both have short fuses. Different triggers, but still the same hot and quick tempers. It's the only way Joseph has really ever known for either one of them to deescalate situations where there is tension between them like there was a second ago. They fight and then they let it go. That's how they do it. The only time they didn't do exactly that, Caesar walked away and he never came back. Joseph couldn't stop Caesar and he couldn't get to him in time. Even though this isn't exactly that, he can still feel his heartbeat quicken those few, agonizing and seemingly eternal seconds where he is simply frozen in place.]

[He had started to get up. It's still an option. He could still get them back on the right page of the script where they fight and forget about it after a few minutes of fuming with bruised egos. Just as it's an option to stay which in some ways is a terrifying thought because Joseph senses a fragility from Caesar he's never seen before. It's terrifying, if he's honest. More than just getting off-script, he doesn't know what it means and he doesn't know how to fix it or make sure Caesar doesn't splinter into further pieces. Putting them back where they're supposed to be seems a lot less viable when taking all of that into account, but Joseph also struggles with being still and steady. While Joseph can put on a good show of being independent and knowing what he's doing in any given situation, a lot of it is bullshit. It's just smoke and mirrors. He needs movement and he needs noise to find his footing and to get ahead.]

[It's been mere seconds, but Joseph feels like he's been suspended in indecision for minutes at least. He's too afraid to make a decision, but really he's afraid of being wrong. He considers what to do. He even considers finding a way to get angry again so he doesn't have this sick feeling in his stomach, but he can't seem to get his hands around it again and bring it back. He bites his lower lip before finally, finally settling on what he should do.]

[Joseph slowly unfreezes, a hand slowly coming to rest right in the middle of Caesar's upper back. It tremors only once in the air before it touches him. He has to adjust the way he's positioned, but once he does, he's able to lower himself back down to the ground easy enough. His other hand has patches of wet sand clinging to it, but he doesn't think to wipe it off. He just wraps his other arm around Caesar and says nothing. He's still afraid and unsure, but at least he made a decision.]

[It's stupid, Caesar thinks a fraction of a second after he moves. It's stupid, this thing he's done, the opening he's left. He doesn't believe Joseph would honestly try to hurt him badly enough to drive him away for good, but if you leave your side open, sometimes things happen by accident. In the best case scenario, he'll be pushed away gently rather than harshly, his vulnerability treated with pity rather than revulsion.]

[Anger begins to quicken in his heart almost immediately. It's easy, just like it is for Joseph - a reflex. When Joseph moves to stand, he holds on more tightly, partially out of stubbornness and that burgeoning anger and in part because of fear. If he's hurt one more time, he thinks he will snap, throw Joseph down in the sand and lash out with his fists and his words. The worst part of this is that, despite everything he's feeling right now, the fury bleeding out between his ribs, he knows he has no right to be angry. He doesn't have a right to anything. He's dead.]

[But in the end, unexpectedly, impossibly, Joseph doesn't move. Doesn't push him away. Doesn't fight him, doesn't taunt him, doesn't even speak. He just holds Caesar and lets himself be held. Caesar's stomach jumps like he's fallen from a height, a lump rising in his throat, and all of a sudden--]

[All of a sudden, he thinks this is the best choice he's ever made. This one small choice in a series of disasters, this was the right thing to do.]

[Which doesn't mean he has any idea what to do now. This isn't an area he's even remotely familiar with. He knows how to fight. He's learning how to joke. He doesn't know how to be kind, or how to request kindness from someone else. That's something that, maybe, someone was supposed to teach him somewhere along the way, but the lesson never got through, or else he simply didn't care to pay attention to it.]

[Paranoia and self-consciousness tell him to let go and back away. Instinct tells him to stay, to trust the hand at the small of his back to be, if not gentle, then at least fair.]

[So he stays, his nose buried in the crook of Joseph's neck, overwhelmed with the scent of sea and sweat and the new, strange tension of uncertainty.]

[After a while - he doesn't know how long - he mutters something inaudible, shutting his eyes against the salt spray.]

[The longer Caesar is there, the more Joseph feels he should say something. Words float to the surface of his mind, but it's like they're in another language that he can't wrap his mouth around enough to say without butchering them. Maybe something he's heard before would work better, he thinks.]

[He tries thinking of things his grandmother had said to him when he was younger and upset about something. She wasn't completely silent whenever he'd go to her worked up over something and looking to her to make it better. She spent a majority of the time just stroking his hair and listening to him ramble on, talking himself into circles and working himself up more and more until he got too exhausted to say another word. But she'd still say little things here and there to make him feel better. Thinking about those things a little more though seems a little patronizing, something you'd say to a kid and not really fitting for this situation. Joseph tries to imagine what Lisa Lisa would say. Caesar knew her far longer than he's known Joseph and there had to have been times when he stumbled. Even if she wasn't encouraging and nurturing in the traditional sense, there had to be things that Lisa Lisa would say that would embolden Caesar again. But Joseph hardly knows her when you get down to it. He trusts her implicitly as a student should their teacher, but he doesn't know what she'd say in a moment like this.]

[In the end, he's left only with himself and he's not very helpful in making this any better or setting things right. He's left mentally fumbling around, trying to find something meaningful to say that doesn't come across as some kind of condescending platitude. The only thing that he can do is just sit here and be quiet and it eats away at him because he should be able to do more, he thinks. He should be doing so much more than being helpless in the wake of whatever's happening to Caesar right now. Even his frustration with himself that he can feel starting to spark again isn't really enough. There's no fire, just dull embers that barely have any glow to them.]

[So, he just holds Caesar a little tighter to himself because that's all he has to give. He closes his eyes in their shared silence and simply focuses on being quiet and still, drawing slow breaths that are gradually lowering his heartbeat. He only opens his eyes again when he thinks he hears and feels Caesar say something against his shoulder.]

Caesar?

[For once in his life, Joseph is thinking too much. What he's doing is perfect. Caesar wouldn't have been able to predict it, may not even admit to it later, but this is what he needed: to collapse for a little while and have someone there to hold him up.]

[Maybe it's selfish - maybe he should be supporting Joseph more instead. But this seems so vulnerable to him that he's already exhausted, weak-limbed, as though he's run a marathon. He can't imagine doing anything more than this, than simply letting himself be held in silence.]

[He certainly can't imagine talking about it. What would he even say? Where would he begin? Sorry isn't even the right place to start, or an adequate thing to say. The word is too short and simple to encompass everything that Caesar's feeling right now. What he's sorry about is so specific - hurting Joseph, leaving him behind - that without going into detail, he'd be lying, because there are some things about his choice that he doesn't regret at all.]

[He doesn't want to lie to Joseph. He doesn't want to explain it, either, because if he did, he'd have to talk about things that don't bear saying, how his anger keeps him from thinking, how he misses the future that he always wanted but never really believed would come, how right now it feels like Joseph's the best thing that ever happened to him and how strange that sits with him after everything they've been through. How he hasn't felt safe in years, not up until right this minute, with Joseph's grip tightening and pulling him close.]

[At the sound of his name, he goes a little red, frustrated and embarrassed, still hiding his face in Joseph's shoulder where he can't be seen. After a moment, he says it again, in Italian this time, because sometimes he really is a coward.]

Perdonatemi, per favore. Non volevo che ciò accadesse.

[He doesn't look up until he's sure his expression is back under his control; once it is, he loosens his grip a little and glances up at Joseph sidelong.]

I ruined it. [A pause, then all in a rush:] Your castle.

[It's true. His foot got tangled with the front turret somehow; there's some serious structural damage to the front wall.]

[This is not his main concern right now, but who knows? Maybe the bullshit will be sufficiently distracting.]

[It's hard for Joseph to tell if what Caesar is said was meant for him or if it was only meant for Caesar. Caesar knows full well that Joseph's Italian is nowhere near sophisticated. It's barely passable, in fact, for getting around Italy and he's only managed to pick up a few stray words and phrases beyond the usual tourist-fare.]

[Wherever it was intended and whatever the exact meaning of all the words together, Caesar can't mask everything about what he said. He hides his face when he says, still muffling his words but not enough to obstruct them. There's a shame, a regret, a... something, a rawness in his voice that Joseph feels he implicitly understands. And so, when his attention is drawn to the castle, he doesn't immediately try to pull back to what Caesar just said. He doesn't try to force Caesar to put it into English or to elaborate any further on it. Whatever wounds Caesar was trying to show him, Joseph wasn't about to start poking and prodding at them.]

[He looks over at the sandcastle, his expression a little blank and a little numb. It's almost as if he doesn't even really see it or know what Caesar is talking about even though his eyes are clearly on the damaged part of the wall.]

[Normally, he would have lost his cool about it. It's true the tide would have eventually destroyed it, but that didn't give Caesar or anyone else the right to end it before it was time. Of course Joseph would have reacted in the explosive manner he always does. But right now, he's not at all concerned about it. In fact, up until Caesar pointed it out to him, Joseph had forgotten all about it.]

[He shrugs a shoulder.]

I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single person in history that built a wall that didn't expect it to get messed up at some point. Don't worry about it. [He lets the bullshit be mostly distracting. He even adds to it a little, the hand still covered in sand ruffles Caesar's hair.] We've got time before the tide comes back. We can still fix it.

[Guilt settles in his stomach again when he sees the look on Joseph's face. Blankness in someone normally so animated looks off, wrong. Worse, he knows it's his fault. Joseph would still be enjoying himself if it weren't for him.]

[Sometimes Caesar thinks it was easier when he was alone - just him and the training. Lisa Lisa was there, but it wasn't like this. She never needed him. They were never friends. Joseph is his friend, now, and Caesar is finding that that comes with responsibilities he wasn't ready for and has no idea how to handle. If it was just him, no one would care that he'd died. No one here would know. Wouldn't that be better?]

[He shivers against the breeze, his fingers curling together where they're hooked behind Joseph's back. It might be better - but he still doesn't want to let go. Joseph is right: he is raw, ashamed, he feels small, he feels shattered, he feels guilty. He hurts too much to hide it. And he's still afraid - of the things he dreams about, the things he remembers, and the things he's starting to imagine - Joseph finding his body in the dim light of the manor, the blood bubble bursting in his hand, leaving sticky residue on his fingers.]

[Joseph's hand in his hair makes him wrinkle his nose and laugh, just a little. It's a desperate, too-high laugh, a little bit shaky and ragged at the edges. (He doesn't know what he's doing.)]

Maybe we can make it better. Stronger.

[No idea what he's doing. Just fingers digging into Joseph's back for stability, still pressed close, eyes open too wide against the sun so he can see every muscle moving in Joseph's face.]

Edited 2015-07-17 05:07 (UTC)

[The laugh is too thin and worn for Joseph to believe Caesar really feels it, but he wouldn't doubt the effort. Caesar initiated and went looking for the distraction. The only problem is that he went Joseph's route instead of his usual. Joseph would have to be an idiot (well, a bigger idiot than he already is) to not notice that Caesar struggles a great deal with optimism. He doesn't shoot it down when he sees it in others, but he very clearly doesn't know how to hold onto it for himself.]

[And there is something just inexplicably sad about that. No, not sad. There is something further than that. Sadness is a weight. It presses down upon you, it shuts out the light. This is different. It doesn't add, it takes. It steals. It digs until nothing is left but a hollow shell. It's despair, not sadness. Joseph doesn't think anyone should be like that, least of all Caesar, and especially not right now when he's alive and here and there isn't a single doubt about it. Those are the things that Caesar should be focusing on, should find hope in.]

[Well, Joseph supposes that until he can learn how to do it, he's just going to have to show him how it's done. Hopefully he's not as slow to catch on and learn as Joseph is, but if he is? Well, Joseph is just going to have to find it in himself to be the absolute paragon of patience.]

[He grins, crookedly. Unlike Caesar's laugh that comes out as a desperate plea for anything better than this, Joseph's grin is real when he looks at him. Bad things don't go away simply because Joseph chooses not to think about them long enough to let them affect him. But that doesn't mean there isn't more. (He's here and he is so alive.) Even with a great amount of fear or pain or even anger, you can still be happy and you can find something worth enjoying. It's all about where you choose to look. Caesar just needs to learn to look in different places than he's used to.]

We can if we cheat.

[Joseph's smile doesn't make the bad things go away. It can't make Caesar forget everything that's happened: the mistakes he's made and continues to make, the reality of his own death, the improbability of being alive again. His doubts are still here. His confusion, his loss is still real. He still feels like a traitor, he's still angry, he's still lost.]

[But that smile does prove to him that there is something beyond loss. If Joseph can smile after all of this - if he can take his anger and betrayal and hold them in his hand without getting burned - then maybe Caesar can do the same thing. It's his job to prove that anything Joseph can do, he can do better, after all. That's been the case since the moment they met.]

[There's something else about that smile, too. Caesar can't quite put his finger on it. He's an expert in smiles, his own and other people's; he considers it his duty to put smiles on the faces of pretty women, for example, and once or twice he got a smile out of Lisa Lisa that he treasured. But the look on Joseph's face is more important than any of those. It feels like an honor. It feels like forgiveness. It feels like friendship. And it's beautiful.]

[This time, when Caesar laughs, it's quieter, but it's also more genuine. It sounds like him, rather than him trying to imitate somebody else. Something in his expression relaxes in response to Joseph's - well, everything: his smile, his words, his closeness, his forgiveness, which Caesar has yet to ask for explicitly but which he now believes he has a good chance of receiving.]

[Unhooking his hands from behind Joseph's back, Caesar lets go - finally, and only belatedly astonished that it's been so long when he realizes that the air is cooler outside of Joseph's arms. He presses the flat of his hand to the center of Joseph's chest, grins, and shoots a charge of Ripple out at the same time he gives a little shove, intending to push him flat on his back in the sand.]

But are you as good at cheating as me, Jojo?

[Joseph tries to keep things light and easy most of the time, mostly for himself but for others as well. He tries to make them laugh whether it's with or at him. Usually with Caesar, it's at him, but once in a great while it feels much more like it's with him. Right now is one of the latter and it's better this time when Caesar laughs. It's far more like him than before. It's natural. And it's just nice to hear.]

[He lets Caesar push him over, laughing as he hits the sand even as the Ripple does sting just a little.]

I don't think I've ever heard a dumber question than that. [He points with a thumb to the center of his chest.] You're talking to a mastermind, Caesarino. But you should know that.

[He shrugs exaggeratedly.]

You've seen me in action. One second it might seem like I'm down for the count and then all of a sudden I turn the tables.

[In fact, as Joseph's been talking, he's been trying to keep Caesar's focus on the upper part of his body while he shifted a leg around, using his exaggerated shrug to move his hips inconspicuously. With everything in the right position and on his own cue, Joseph makes a move to shove Caesar in the chest with his foot. Naturally, he sends back his own charge of Ripple and tries to use the momentum to get himself back upright.]

Edited 2015-07-19 02:03 (UTC)

[It works - maybe because Caesar's distracted, maybe because his emotions are all over the place, maybe because the sun's in his eyes. Maybe just because right in this moment, he doesn't care who wins. He'll never admit it, certainly not to Joseph, but all he wants right now is the safety of a good fight. The outcome is inconsequential. This time, his pride doesn't rest on it. This time.]

[So his eyes are on Joseph's face, his smug smile, when his foot hits him in the chest. Turn the tables, Joseph says, and Caesar falls back on his hands in the sand, still laughing even as his skin stings with Ripple.]

I don't know, Jojo . . . I've seen you win, but I've also seen you lose your footing!

[So saying, he rests his weight on his hands and sweeps his feet out to kick Joseph's out from under him as he's still getting up. A charge of Ripple in this one, too, strong enough to spark off the sand beneath them.]

[You know, really, Joseph should have seen that one coming. He should have seen it coming a mile away, but he was too busy being smug and proud of himself that he really believed for those brief few seconds that he managed to put a nice cap on their fight before it could get anywhere. But he should have known better because Caesar has never been one to give up easy whether he wants to win the fight or not.]

[Joseph barely is on his feet again before they're suddenly swiped out from under him. He has only a split-second to see that Caesar's managed to charge the sand that's been sprayed upwards by his swipe at Joseph's feet and it's coming down quickly. He keeps the backward momentum going to roll away and down into a crouch, but he's not completely clear of the sand. At the very least, he manages to keep it from getting in his eyes and face, turning his head down for a brief moment until he's sure the sand has settled.]

I'm starting to think I've been a bad influence on you, Caesar. [He looks up, grinning crookedly.] That was dirty.

[Honestly, Caesar isn't all that honorable. He acts like he is, sure, like he's the perfect gentleman, respectful of the rules and guidelines of a good fight. But he knows how to fight dirty. Sometimes you can only win by fighting dirty. He learned that to his advantage when he was very young and angrier even than he is today.]

[This, though - this isn't about winning. It's about restoring equilibrium. And just as he knows that letting Joseph have a moment to rest is going to end with another dirty trick, so he knows that he'd much rather take the opportunity to taunt him than let it slide. Because it's fun. Because that's what they do. That's what friends do.]

[He laughs, raking his fingers through his hair to comb out the sand.]

Does that mean you're proud of me?

[Joseph stands back up. In one hand, he's palmed a small ball of sand and subtly charged it with Ripple to keep it together better while he talks.]

I wouldn't go that far, [he says with a small shake of his head.] You may have passed the test with Messina, but you still have yet to beat me.

Tell you what, [he tips his head a little to one side, looking marginally thoughtful,] you beat me and drinks are on me. But if I win, you owe me a meal. [~~SINCE FUCKING NIGHTINGALE IS TRYING TO STARVE HIM TO DEATH.~~] What do you say, Caesarino? Sound fair?

[Like Casear, Joseph really isn't all that invested in winning regardless of his competitive streak. ~~(Although being able to get food without having to go out of his way or being hassled would be great.)~~ The precise results of the fight matters very little when it's the bigger picture that matters. Adding a (friendly) wager to it is more about distracting than it is about winning or even placing stakes on the fight, although maybe it does still manage to make it a little more interesting. Things are supposed to be interesting between friends, after all. Either way, whether Caesar accepts the terms or not, this is what they do. This is who they are and this is how it's supposed to be.]

[Caesar purses his lips, digging his toes deep into the sand as he stands himself. Ripple spreads from his feet into the ground; he can feel it under him, and it's a good feeling, like the whole beach is his to control.]

Dinner and drinks on both sides, Jojo. Because I can drink you under the table, and you could eat me out of house and home. It's only fair.

[Never mind the fact that neither of them really have a house or home to speak of anymore. Here in the Fleet, everything is nebulous, uncertain in a very different way than it was in Venice. Moments like these must be clung to with both hands, moments that feel normal in the midst of madness.]

[Joseph seems to contemplate the counter-offer for a moment. As if it really needs any thought. Whether or not Joseph ends up winning or losing, there's food and alcohol waiting at the end. Of course, it'd be a little better if he didn't have to provide it, but he'll try to look on the bright side even if he loses. He rubs his chin with one hand as the one holding onto the sand ball disappears behind his back.]

Mm... [He breaks out into a wide grin.] Alright. Deal!

[It's the only warning Caesar gets before Joseph hurls the sand ball straight at him.]

[This time Caesar's ready for it. He knows an attack is coming soon, because he can sense the pace of a fight pretty well, even one that's mostly in fun - but when Joseph's hand disappears behind his back, he knows exactly where it's coming from, too.]

[He retaliates as soon as the sand ball leaves Joseph's hand, kicking up a spray of Ripple-charged sand. It locks together in front of him, a low shield, at the same time as it sprays forward to sting at Joseph's legs. If it manages to connect, it'll hurt badly enough to knock him down, but won't leave a permanent mark - he didn't put enough Ripple in for anything but a painful rash.]

[Unfortunately for Caesar, the sand ball is more compact than he expected, and the barrier he's built up is lower than he counted on. By the time he realizes the ball's ricocheted off the top of the wall and is flying directly towards his face, it's too late to dodge. He manages to spit a merda! before it hits him in the cheek and he's forced to stumble backwards, mouth half-full of sand.]

[Joseph was hoping to catch him off-guard, but wasn't counting on it. Still, it was hard to tell just how exactly Caesar would retaliate. He certainly had options between bubbles, sand, or simply getting out of dodge, and there was no way Joseph could account or prepare for all of them. The most he can do is expect that Caesar wouldn't simply move into defensive, but try to take an offensive approach.]

[After he hurls the ball, he doesn't chance moving forward. Instead, he leans back. It's only once Caesar's kicked the sand that he tries to move back, but the combination of gravity and Ripple outpace him by far and once more Joseph is knocked flat on his ass.]

[The sand on his legs feels like a small swarm of bees went to town on his legs. Naturally this results in a rapid-fire chant of owowowowow under his breath as he frantically (and being rather uncoordinated about it) tries to both get back up and get the sand off. At least until he notices that Caesar managed to get a ton of sand in his mouth from Joseph's brilliant strategy and then he's bordering on howling with laughter as if he's completely forgotten what he was doing in the first place.]

[There's sand on his tongue, between his teeth - it's disgusting, but, in fairness, not as atrociously awful as the last thing Joseph put in his mouth. He hadn't been able to get the taste of pigeon out for days. Spitting sideways ungracefully, Caesar manages to get rid of most of the sand, but a few grains still crunch between his teeth. He pulls a face at Joseph and kicks some more sand at him, halfhearted and Ripple-free; it barely brushes his toes.]

Oh, hush, you. Idiota.

[But he can't quite separate the fondness from the irritation in his tone, nor can he stop his eyes from smiling.]

[Two quick steps across the sand, and he's standing above Joseph, adjusting his gloves the way he does before an attack. But the attack never comes. He just reaches his hand down to Joseph, quirking one eyebrow in question.]

[Joseph draws his legs up a little closer to his body as Caesar kicks sand at him, even with as halfhearted and harmless as it is. He can't quite do as he's told and completely stop laughing, but he does manage to tone it down some. Not enough to speak, mind you, but it's probably carrying along the beach a lot less. That toning down, however, comes more from the necessity to breathe than because Caesar told him to knock it off though. His smile's still definitely wide enough that it might actually split his face in half. It doesn't even waver for that brief moment when he thinks he's really in for it as Caesar adjusts his gloves. He figures that whatever Caesar's about to do is going to still be worth it, but then nothing happens. He just offers a hand to Joseph.]

[Well, it seems that Caesar isn't all that sore about losing. (And he did lose if you ask Joseph, okay. And the very least, he didn't win over Joseph.) Surely if he wanted to keep this going or wanted revenge, he would have done something and probably look way more annoyed that he does right now. The last time Joseph managed to cram something in Caesar's mouth, Caesar wouldn't even look at him, after all. So, Joseph doesn't think twice about putting his hand in Caesar's to start hoisting himself back up to his feet.]

[Caesar hauls him to his feet, still smiling (it's creeping down to his mouth, now, the corners of his lips twitching in honest mirth). Once Joseph's on his feet, he wastes no time wrapping his arm around Joseph's neck in a friendly, if too-tight headlock. On the plus side, if Joseph can't breathe, he can't laugh at him, right? Problem solved.]

[But it's Caesar laughing now, light and breathy, like someone's just told him a very secret joke that he doesn't want to share with anyone. He musses up Joseph's hair with his free hand, and laughs and laughs, giddy and clear and happy. They must look so strange, he thinks deliriously, drunk on sun and sand and relief, and doesn't think about Atroma for a moment - just the beach and the temporary victory of Joseph locked in his arms.]

I'll get you back for that, [he whispers when he can breathe again, though he still shakes with laughter.] Sometime, when you're not expecting it.

[The headlock does cut off Joseph's laughter with a grunt as he's forced to stoop over. He doesn't mind it too much, however. Caesar seems happy in a way now that Joseph has never seen. And not just because he didn't know what Caesar had been holding onto for so long, which could have easily played a factor. But Joseph would like to think he would have noticed this difference if it was there before regardless of what he did and didn't know about Caesar. But it's always been missing in Caesar's smile and laughter until now because he doesn't just seem happier and lighter, he seems younger.]

[Joseph knows that Caesar's only a couple of years older than him, but he's always seemed so much older with how stern and serious he could be. Which hey, nothing wrong with a little maturity even if Joseph seems to barely have a grasp upon the subject himself, but there's a pretty big difference between being mature and carrying yourself like you're ten years older than you actually are. It's almost jarring to see Caesar actually looking and sounding like a twenty year old, but it's good to see that fatigue and hardness lifted away from him so easily if he just lets it happen. And, Joseph thinks, it's important he feel it for a change. Even if it's just for a few minutes, not feeling the weight of his family or revenge resting on his shoulders is something Caesar deserves here and now. After everything he's been through and everything he's given and sacrificed... So Joseph just stays put and lets him have it.]

[Well. Until Caesar starts messing up his hair more than it's already been messed up. Then Joseph starts swatting at and pushing on Caesar, trying to wriggle free.]

Hey, knock it off! [Okay, he might actually not be all that irritated, but seriously, man. Why you gotta screw up his hair like this?] You can try, Zeppeli, but you're never gonna get the drop on me.

[He could never have imagined himself doing this, not before Joseph. In his family, he always had to be the responsible one. With Lisa Lisa, he always had to be focused on training - because without it he wouldn't have survived her, and because he respected her too much to waste her time. It was Joseph who introduced him to the concept of play, first angry, then competitive, then this, whatever this is that Caesar doesn't have a name for. He's been allowed to slide into this slowly, like going toes to ankles to knees to hips into cold water, and now - now he's submerged, the water's over his head, and he finds he can breathe anyway and swim just fine.]

[It shouldn't have had to take dying to learn this. On some level, even Caesar understands. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment. It doesn't matter how it happened, just that it did. He's silently grateful, so much so that his stomach hurts and his eyes screw shut with the force of his near-silent laughter.]

[He tightens his arm around Joseph's neck, ruffles his hair more, pushing it back from his forehead so it sticks up at odd angles.]

Why would I, when you look so good with a bird on your head?

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