interfaith dinner mingle!!

[stefanged]

Who: Interfaith Center regulars & the not-so-regulars (party crashers are welcome too!!)
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Interfaith Center on the Iskaulit
When: Forward-dated to November 4th

[The Interfaith Center sounds far more bustling and busy than usual - and anyone peering inside would quickly figure out that a communal dinner is underway! Take off your shoes and walk in: the lounge has extra tablecloths on the floor as well as buffet tables with non-alcoholic beverages and all sorts of food, including Jordanian cuisine (or the outer space equivalent of Jordanian food).

The board games are out of their hiding nooks; the furniture's arranged for the maximum seating possible; and even the teddy bears donated by Kitty & Winn are out for cuddling, should anyone want them.

The kitchen's bustling with helpers - Stefan's running around at vamp-speed to make sure everything's a) done on time and b) cooked to perfection - but he sure wouldn't mind an extra hand. And if you're still not up for some food? Well, the prayer rooms are open as usual. There's always a quiet moment to be found, even if the laughter's louder and the scent of freshly-baked mansaf's wafting through the long corridors.

Anyone and everyone who's ever been inside the Interfaith Center has been invited (via text message - and Stefan even used the fancy emoji). If you're not particularly faithful or devout? Well, drop by anyways. There's more than enough food to spare.]

Comments

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo winces at the sight of those tears; Sorey might be glad of it, but if it's just going to upset them both, what's the use? Is it really going to help? If they can't turn this around, it's only going to make things worse. They could repeat history, let this subtle poison develop into full-fledged malevolence, throw them all back into that awful chaos. It's a defeatist theory but that doesn't mean it's impossible. Hell, even unlikely. Better to shrug it off and keep trying to move on.

But... that's forgetting Lailah's advice to Sorey the whole time, about sharing his burden with his friends. It's forgetting his own request to Sorey. His... his last request. Sort of. The request he'd made knowing he might not come back, weeping uselessly in a shuttle as it carried him towards someone who was too far gone to be saved, even by him. The request he'd hoped could push Sorey forward, to avoid repeating their mistakes even if he had to do it without Mikleo by his side anymore.

Talk to someone, he'd said. If the thoughts and feelings you carried with you were too much of a burden, then it's important to share them with someone who can help you.

"Since we all just end up worrying anyway, you might as well tell us when something is wrong."

He reaches out, hesitates halfway, then firmly closes the distance to brush the thumb of his free hand against Sorey's cheek, beneath his eye, beneath the tears.]

Turns out I'm a hypocrite... that's not a good trait for a seraph, is it. A selfish Shepherd and a sanctimonious sub lord, huh...?

[He'd wanted it to be more of a self-deprecating joke than anything else, but his voice hitches near the tail end of the sentence and his gaze drops, his eyes blurring. Much as he'd like to blame the wetness on his cheeks on the water surrounding them, they'd both know it to be a lie.]

H-hah... geez... we really made a mess of ourselves...

[His fingers tighten around Sorey's, trembling under the surface, ripples spreading. He doesn't know what to do, either. He doesn't know how to fix this.]

[monolike]

Yeah, [Sorey whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek into Mikleo's hand, drawing in a shuddering breath. He draws their linked hands to press against his chest as they float there, treading the water just enough to avoid squashing the plants.] Yeah, we really, really did.

[And that's never going to go away. It's so scary, to look at what they have ahead of them and realize there's no precedent for it. For historians, for anthropologists, having nothing to consult to lend them guidance is particularly scary. Never in their lives have they experienced something like this, where their own failings and shortcomings have caused so much pain to themselves, and to the people around them. Sorey sometimes wonders if he'll drown in all this guilt and grief, but then all he has to do is look at Mikleo.

Mikleo, who trusted him immediately, who hasn't even paused to breathe when it came time to make the sublord pact again. Mikleo, who trusted his judgment and came into the water even though he was scared. Who trusted him enough to place his heart, fragile and quick-beating, right into Sorey's hands like he hadn't already crushed it once before, when he hadn't trusted Mikleo.

Selfish, short-sighted Sorey, who still can't let Mikleo go even after all of that.

Sorey turns his head, lashes wet and sticking together, and presses his mouth Mikleo's cool palm. He can feel the water purifying around them, as Mikleo pulls himself open inch by painful inch, as Sorey accepts both of their suffering as the truth in their hearts, at least for now. He can feel the plants flourishing in the bed beneath their toes, curling up into the clear water, the gentle laps of the waves they make slapping against the glass of the tank.

Everything is quiet and still.

Sorey reaches up with his free hand and presses it over Mikleo's fingers on his cheek, eyes opening. His hand is so much bigger...when did that happen?]

It's okay, [Sorey whispers, watching Mikleo's nose go red as he sniffs hard.] We'll be okay. You'll be okay. I can tell.

[nerdeology]

[Sorey's hand is impossibly warm despite the chill of the water, and although the cold is more his element it's soothing to his nerves, to his heart. His fingers curl, drawing in, allowing it to eclipse his own. The strength within those hands is one he's always depended on, but looking back, he can't remember clearly when he stopped reaching for them as much. He's never been the hugging type, never the first one to grab and hold on. It was usually Sorey who reached out to him, eager and affectionate. Mikleo's never been able to decide if it's a failing on his end or just part of his nature. Pride is such a terrible vice, but... Sorey understood him. Sorey never got mad about that sort of thing. He pushed on his own side but knew where the line was, naturally dancing around it without crossing over, recognizing Mikleo's heart as if it were his own. Sorey could be selfish, sure, but he's kind, too. It's always been so.

He can be selfish, too. There are things that he'd always wanted, even if reality told him he could never have it; he wanted Sorey to live forever, so they'd never be parted. He wanted to stay in Elysia, his beloved home, but he wanted to see the whole world, too. It really is no wonder that being torn between two paths can cause turmoil, that malevolence can form so quickly; life is a series of contradictions, of weighing choices, of following paths you might never have imagined that you would take. He knew Sorey would leave, but not that he'd become the Shepherd. He knew that they'd struggle, but not that it would be this bad.

He knew that it would be hard not to do their job here, but...

We're still together, though. That's never changed. Even when we were... like that...

Tentatively he shifts his body forward, sliding one hand free beneath Sorey's and winding it around the Shepherd's neck, holding him - holding himself - closer. It's harder to tread the water like this, but he's light. Sorey's strong. And the water is his; it won't let them sink.]

We'll be okay.

[His voice is hushed and tremulous, but the distinction is important, and it needs to be said. He knows it's not only him who's struggling. Sorey is suffering, too, and Sorey's not okay. Just because it's always been easier for him to smile doesn't mean it no longer hurts.

I can tell, too. And you can tell me anything.

They still have this. They'll always have this. If death can't separate them, there isn't a damn thing that they can't overcome.]