driftfleet | Jan 3rd

[Sorey stops by the showers quickly to hose off, since he's been guts-deep in engine grease practically all day, and ends up back at Mikleo's quarters within a half hour. He hasn't spent much time in his own quarters since the whole malevolence ordeal, and he hasn't slept in his own bed since Mikleo returned. Mikleo hasn't kicked him out yet though, so...]

I'm back! [honey, I'm home

Sorey bends over to take off his boots at the door.] Hey Mikleo, think we could transfer some plants over from the garden on the Iskaulit to here? Dezel said he'd like it if the air was fresher.

[Mikleo glances up briefly with a smile to greet Sorey, but his gaze goes back to his work quickly after- he's counting stitches and doesn't want to mess up. Two, four, six, aaaand knotted. Next line. He's patching up a robe that looks about his size but not really his colour- it's probably another one of Belth's.]

You'll have to ask whoever takes care of it, but I don't see a reason why not as long as we look after the plants we take. I think we have spare room in the cargo bay, if you want to set up a planter box or something.

I kind of want them all over, though Dezel's quarters would take priority. [Sorey reaches past Mikleo for his sewing supplies, at the sure way his hands move across the stitching.]

You're getting really fast with that, [he notes, digging through his pocket for the button he'd popped off his skirt earlier and plucking up some random cheap thread.]

That might take a while.

[Well, at least they know they'd be well cared for, with three seraphim on board. Four, when Zaveid comes around. If he comes around.

He nudges his scissors in Sorey's direction with a foot. His other project can wait until he's finished with this one- he's almost done, anyway.]

You'd be better if you practiced, too.

I wish I could! [Sorey plops down on the floor in front of the bed, dragging the scissors over with his foot.] If I had the time to practice everything I'm bad at, then- well, I guess I wouldn't be bad at them anymore. [a keen observation]

Such astute wisdom from the legendary Shepherd Sorey, as always.

[He has to put on his best poker face to keep from smirking. It's not like he doesn't know that he has an advantage here; as a seraph, he can stay up all night practicing this with no ill effects; he doesn't need to pause for food or anything else if he opts not to. Humans have to pick and choose what they do with their waking hours, and Sorey's priorities sometimes differed from his own. He's better with leather, anyway.

Doesn't mean he can't occasionally humble-brag about it. He's really pleased with how far his skills have progressed, especially here when they have all this free time.]

Oh, shut up. [But this is nice, here, quietly working in the same space as Mikleo. If he's perfectly honest, Sorey could probably admit that without these moments alone with Mikleo he'd be having a much harder time...readjusting. They've gotten back to the point where the silences aren't always stifling or laden with bad feelings so they can properly indulge in each other's company. It's settled Sorey's nerves like nothing else.

...he's also gonna wait it out and see if Mikleo volunteers to show Sorey what he's been working on or if he's waiting for Sorey to ask.]

[FINE HE WILL SHUT UP

At least for a bit. He'd been close to finishing anyway, so the silence lasts as long as he needs to complete the final row of stitches, tie it off, and steal back the scissors from Sorey to clean up. Once that's completed he sets it aside and unfolds a bundle of black-trimmed white cloth from the other side of the bed, holding it out in front of himself to ponder it, glancing over the side of the bed at Sorey. Hmm. Hmmmm.

Then he leans over and deposits the fabric over Sorey's head and shoulders with no warning or preamble, his tone as casual as he can make it.]

Here, try this on for me.

[JUST A SHEPHERD'S CLOAK, NBD]

[Mikleo works at three times the speed Sorey does, so he's just finishing up with his shirt button by the time Mikleo dumps something onto his head.] Ack- hey.

[He sets aside his own project and pulls it off to send Mikleo a look, flapping it out and holding it-

...he lowers it slightly.] Mikleo, [he chokes out.]

[Oh geez, he knows that tone. Mikleo shifts somewhat awkwardly on the bed, brushing off some nonexistent thread. Time to pretend like this isn't the least bit emotional.]

Don't start, you haven't even checked if it fits yet. [It does.] And I'm pretty sure the central embroidery's a complete disaster. [It isn't.] I should've made you try it on sooner, it's too long in the back. [It's fine.] The feathers aren't even the right size. I kept telling Dezel we needed something smaller, but he didn't want to disturb the birds. You know those giant sparrows on the last planet-?

[Please stop him, he's rambling.]

[Normally Sorey would be merciful in a situation like this. Mikleo hates having his kindness pointed out, hates it when people make a big deal over his caring gestures. Sorey will sometimes poke fun but he tries to be considerate with this because he doesn't want Mikleo to hate being kind because the attention embarrasses him, but now...with this, a gesture like this, he...]

Mikleo, [he interrupts, bowing forward and drawing up his knees to bury his face in the cloak (the stitching is beautiful, the length is perfect, it looks just like the one he had to leave on that planet he ruined)] it's wonderful.

[Maybe if he doesn't say anything else, Mikleo won't be able to tell that he's crying.]

[The interruption is enough to make Mikleo pause, shifting his gaze back to Sorey. He knows the other too well not to recognize the signs- the way he's hunched over, the way he's hiding his face, the way his shoulders carry the slightest tremor. Even when Sorey tries hard to hide it, Mikleo has grown up watching for it, his own emotional well-being tied so inextricably to that of the human always by his side. For years, together, they'd shared too many joys and sorrows to count, fought and challenged one another, cheered and loved openly or wordlessly. He's never needed a pact to know on some level what Sorey is feeling.

So he can tell, but he pretends not to. He leans back to wait until Sorey is ready, his shoulders slumping in relief. Sorey would probably be grateful even to get a lackluster replica - he's just that kind of person - but he's glad to have enough skill to make one that's close to how it should be.]

...Good, then.

[It takes a little while, but Sorey finally pulls back and sniffs hard, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve before standing up hurriedly. He pulls on his fixed shirt and buttons it up, then lovingly pulls the cloak on over his head and adjusts it over his shoulders. It even feels similar; a little heavier maybe, but that's not necessarily bad. The materials found here would be different after all.]

It's great, Mikleo, look. Alisha would be so impressed. [Sorey holds out his arms and turns in a slow circle. He remembers pulling things out of Mikleo's workbox after he'd died, examining all the projects he'd never finish and weeping. It seems like he can't stop the tears because he has to reach up and cover his eyes again, those weeks of grief resurfacing as he bows his head into his hands.] I l...I love it. I really love it, Mikleo, thank you...

[Mikleo watches him turn in silence at first, taking in the way it flows as Sorey moves: the ripple of the fabric, the look of the embroidered patterns in motion. It does look good. Sorey looks like a Shepherd again, officially. And it's not like he'd ever really needed it - the cloak had been a symbol and an image to the public - but it was important, regardless. After so long, it had been strange to see Sorey without it these past few months.

This looks right. It looks better. Like being the Shepherd fits Sorey more than ever before.

He hates to see Sorey crying over it, though, so after a long moment he moves to the side of the bed and tugs on the front tails of it.]

Come here, geez...

[Get down here, he's gonna hug you.]

[Sorey shuffles forward reluctantly before finally submitting, kneeling in front of Mikleo and leaning forward to wrap his arms around his waist, burying his face in his lap.]

I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I'm alright, [Sorey mumbles, but it's probably not convincing given how he's still crying in little shuddering gasps into Mikleo's clothes.]

[Mikleo winds his arms around Sorey, one hand lifted to brush through his hair soothingly. He can be aloof at times, but he's not heartless. It isn't a chore to comfort his closest friend. Doubly so when it's a grief that they genuinely share, in a way that the others might not be able to understand. This is one more step in the healing process, but it's a long, long road, so they can't allow themselves to step backwards when they've only just begun.

His tone is gently scolding when he speaks up again.]

Don't lie. We both know you're terrible at it.

[His fingers curl, holding tightly enough in case Sorey tries to pull away for his sake.]

We're supposed to be honest about this, remember? It's okay to not be okay.

[Yeah, that's right. Just what he'd said to Mikleo, that moment in the water tank.

Sorey clings to Mikleo for a moment, trying to calm down enough so he can sort through his feelings and put them to words. Because it's not just grief catching up to him, it's not just the selfless gesture, it's not just any one thing, but,]

I th- [He stops. Takes a breath. Keeps his head down.] It's just that- that of all people, for- for you to give me a Shepherd's cloak is- is really comforting, Mikleo, and I almost didn't- [He clutches tighter, shoulders starting to shake anew,] I almost lost you, and-! [He can't, can't, he can't finish-]

[Mikleo closes his eyes and holds on a little more tightly, resting his head on Sorey's hair.]

I know. I know. It's why I wanted to do this.

[He doesn't know entirely, not really; he can imagine how it must have felt, based on how he himself had felt when Sorey was falling. That ache, brief and bitter and compounded upon itself as he'd watched the malevolence consume his friend, as he'd felt their pact rip through his soul and terrify him for the first time ever. He'd known in that moment that he was lost for good, and it frightened him too much to think about Sorey being left alone in all of that. Running would have saved his life, maybe, if he stayed far enough away for the connection to be weakened, but what good would that have done if Sorey couldn't be purified? Lives would have been saved, maybe. Zaveid and Dezel wouldn't have been as hurt, fighting him. So much damage could have been undone.

Selfish, though. He'd been so selfish. Becoming a hellion and staying by Sorey's side had been preferable to the thought of losing him forever. The thought of not staying with him had hurt more than the transformation ever could. He won't apologize for that - it would never be sincere, as it's not something he genuinely regrets - but he can try to make amends for that choice. Giving Sorey this comfort, and the cloak, is a start.]

[Sorey lays there in Mikleo's arms, lets himself actually cry and feel for a moment and he's both ashamed and relieved. He hadn't wanted to show Mikleo this. He'd even been tempted to go into Mikleo's comm to erase the messages he'd left, even though he'd already listened. It didn't seem right, that he should be allowed to show this grief, to own it, when he's the reason this happened. When he's the reason Mikleo turned. The reason he died.

The guilt will eat him alive and he knows it. If he gives it even an inch, it'll tear him to pieces all over again. Anger, fear, they have no hold on him like guilt does.

And it's that guilt, and his terror of it, that drives him to say what he knew he never say to Mikleo otherwise, face hidden in his clothes like a child, taking in the scent of a fresh mountain spring around the salt of his tears as he manages finally to say it.]

I'm sorry...I turned you.

Edited 2017-01-24 04:58 (UTC)

[Mikleo does nothing at first, his body going uncomfortably stiff and still. It takes him a long moment to recover, brushing his hand through Sorey's hair again, though there's a decidedly tentative movement to it this time. This... this is unfamiliar territory. And it's only after he's really, really considered those words that he realizes he hasn't personally heard them from Sorey regarding this until now.

He's held grudges before, when he felt wronged. Resented the lack of apologies. This time... not at all. He hadn't noticed because he hadn't considered it important enough to want.

I didn't blame you. I didn't hate you or anything. But you already know that, don't you?

It doesn't stop Sorey from dwelling on it, though. That much has been obvious since the day he came back. Sorey's been so close since then, clingy almost, taking care of him as much as possible, barely refusing even the slightest request (especially at the beginning), giving him time and space instead of asking him too many questions. He'd almost fallen a second time, by himself, because of holding too much in. it's the reason they'd vowed to be honest with each other going forward. And yet this, of all things, is what Sorey has been holding in for months.

Idiot. You should have said something sooner.

He's not even sure if he means Sorey, or himself.

It would be so easy, he knows, to brush this aside. To console Sorey and tell him it's okay, it doesn't matter anymore, it wasn't his fault. Part of that would be true; they all shared the blame, after all, and he chose to fall when Sorey did without feeling much in the way of regret. Sorey turned him because he allowed himself to be turned.

But it's not okay. It does matter. And it would be irresponsible and illogical to suggest that Sorey isn't to blame for what happened. He is. If the blame is shared, it still means that Sorey has to share it, too. That is perhaps the hardest thing to come to terms with: the idea of blaming him at all. He's always hated when others criticize or blame Sorey for things; to blame him personally would be contrary and cruel. He already blames himself eno-

....

He already blames himself, whether anyone else does or not.

Slowly, his fingers ease off again, granting only a few more gentle strokes before going still once more. He moves his hands to touch Sorey's shoulders, to push him backwards instead of holding him close- to force him to show his face, so Mikleo can look him in the eyes, miserable and tear-stained and grieving as they are.]

Sorey, look at me.

[His own eyes are calm and serious, his voice soft, as if afraid of his own response. He doesn't know if this is the right thing to do, or the right thing to say, but he's promised to be honest, too.]

I know.

[It's okay to acknowledge that you did it. That you were wrong.

That... you hurt me.]

...I forgive you.

[I'm still with you, no matter what.]

[Mikleo goes still and Sorey's heart thunders so loudly in his ears he's sure he'll go deaf. He freezes too, shoulders jerking as he tries to quell his sobs, as his hands and arms and insides quiver and shake in the wake of his terror. He knows, he knows Mikleo doesn't hate him for it, because if their roles were reversed Sorey would never hate Mikleo, but-

But they never talk about it. They've never- so even though he wouldn't, he can't, he still could and Sorey would never know.

Would that have been better? Sorey never knowing for certain, but still knowing in his heart that Mikleo doesn't blame him? Which will be worse? Mikleo telling him he can't deal with this, breaking down, feeling anger, regret, fear, or Mikleo brushing it away? Sorey don't say that, it's not your fault, I should've-

Neither, both, they would both be horrible. Sorey wouldn't- he can't handle Mikleo blaming himself, can't handle hurting Mikleo with yet another one of his selfish requests. He knows what he's asking here, and he knows Mikleo must know, but Mikleo could never-

Sorey, look at me.

Mikleo's expression is calm, quiet; pure, like the still surface of the world's cleanest lake, like the gentle burble of a snow-melted stream. Sorey can't help but stare. Mikleo has always been beautiful. Not just because of how he looks but who he is, found as a baby beside Sorey in the forest, a child of the world with Sorey a child of men. Once in a fit of arrogance he'd wondered if they were created for each other, as they giggled and read together their favorite fairy tale, the water seraph and the man who loved each other from afar.

I know.

Sorey clutches at Mikleo's clothes. Could he? Could he be blaming Sorey? It's no less than he deserves, no less than Mikleo should do, but if he hears it he thinks he might die here, just lie down and die. Mikleo is both a part of his world and is his world. Sorey will have nothing if Mikleo tells him he can't-

"Seraphim are incredible."

Mikleo blurs in Sorey's vision; he reaches, his voice high and weak in his own ears-]

Really? Mikleo? You really-?

[Mikleo's face is cool in his hands, always cool and clean as glass. Sorey gazes upon his face as if he's finally seen the true face of a god.

"They'll forgive just about anyone of anything. Even things that don't need to be forgiven."

Sorey kneels there at Mikleo's feet, reaching up in prayer, in reverence, as he looks upon the one person in this entire living universe who could tell him what he needs to hear to be truly saved.]

[Mikleo's eyes widen gradually as Sorey reacts to his words, stunned and struck speechless. He'd expected- well, not that. Something else. More tears, or denial, maybe, some crazy martyr's insistence that he couldn't be forgiven for whatever stupid reason he might concoct due to the guilt he's been feeling. Joy would've been better, a sign that he'd done the right thing, that Sorey might feel relief or even happiness that it's okay, that he's not angry.

This... he hadn't expected this, at all, and he doesn't know how to take it.

I don't want it.]

Stop- stop it-

[The words are out before he can even think about them, leaning back, one hand lifting to press against Sorey's forehead, fingers trying to cover his eyes. Cover what he sees. He feels half-panicked, scrambling for solid ground again, for some semblance of familiarity, for how they were before. Anything but that, that look-]

Stop looking at me like that...!

[Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, after all. Sorey's looking at him the way Alisha used to, the way the humans unfamiliar with witnessing the power of a seraph would stare in awe and wonder. Sorey's looking at him the way he does with Lailah sometimes, a pillar of age and wisdom and guidance and it's wrong, it's all wrong. Sorey's not supposed to see him like that. Sorey's supposed to laugh and tease him, elbow him and tickle him and call him Meebo just to get him angry, Sorey's supposed to see him as a friend and an equal and not anything higher, anything more.

I don't want it.

I don't want this to change!

Panic gives way to anger, and he finally shoves Sorey off and stands up, fists clenched at his sides.]

Can't you just say 'thank you', you idiot!?

Mik- [Hands go over his eyes and then Mikleo shoves him off, and for a moment Sorey feels a stab of hurt and rejection so sharp that he just wants to get up and run.

Then he gets a good look at Mikleo's face and it clicks, that he's embarrassed, that Sorey asking him like that is the same thing as whenever Sorey tries to compliment him or talk him up, or tell him he's lovely and he gets all pissed off and avoids it by calling Sorey biased or some other such nonsense.

He never gets it. This has always been a point of contention between them, both back home and here, the differences between humans and seraphim of which Sorey is becoming ever more aware. Sorey always let it go before but enough, it's enough, they're never going to understand each other if they don't talk about it. Or argue, which is probably what's going to happen judging by the look on Mikleo's face.

So he stands up too, straightening out the gift Mikleo made him.] No, I can't! [He wipes his nose angrily, a little irritated that he's still on the tail end of a crying fit.] What's the big idea, why are you upset with me?

Because...!

[Mikleo gestures, frustrated, as if that alone would ever be enough to clear the air. How does he explain this, when he doesn't even understand why Sorey would show him a face like that, why he would ever be able to revere or admire his family as they're some otherworldly beings? They're different, they have powers, sure, and some people worship what they don't understand, but not Sorey of all people...]

You're looking at me like it's some great, amazing thing, that I can forgive you. Like it's unnatural, when it isn't that at all! If our roles were reversed, if I'd been the one to corrupt you, wouldn't you do the same for me!?

Yeah obviously, of course I would, but I wouldn't tell you how you're supposed to feel about it! [YA DICK]

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