driftfleet | (no subject)

Shh, shhh, [Sorey shushes Mikleo when he begins to apologize, hand going up to his hair to stroke it gently. Mikleo is both strong and unsteady in his arms, against his chest, clutching at his back hard enough to hurt but breath fluttering in his throat. Sorey supposes it doesn't actually matter how long it's been; they've never been apart for longer than a handful of days and Sorey had felt off-kilter the entire time. For Mikleo to be like this- it must've been longer than that.

It had been something they'd both acknowledged, silently, as Sorey proposed his plan in Lastonbell. He'd seen it there on Mikleo's face when he'd come to the realization, eyes sharp and wide, lips pressed together in a thin line. It made little difference; they were all going to be risking their lives with no guarantee of survival. Mayvin had insisted Sorey use Siegfried and though he'd promised, though he thought he'd resolved himself it still took Heldalf's immeasurable strength and the cries of his friends to actually do it. Confronting Heldalf that final time carried no certainties, for any of them, but in a way there always was one:

Sorey would not be going back with them. Whoever survived.

And in that short span of time Sorey knew Mikleo had realized it, came to terms with the knowledge of it, and accepted it as part of Sorey's own resolve. They could face Heldalf with nothing less than a willingness to do whatever it took to free Maotelus from him; there was no room for doubt. So they'd both accepted the inevitability of their parting by not talking about it, not thinking about it, by pointing both of themselves forward and thinking only of the world, of others, of what had to be done. Sorey knew in the quiet of camp at night, as he laid down and caught Mikleo staring at him by the firelight, that Mikleo was thinking of what they never talked about. How eventually, Mikleo would have to say goodbye to him anyway.

Sorey really has it easy in that regard. He's not the one who has to live with his mortality, after all. Those two weeks following Mikleo's death here in the Fleet had been more than enough to know that he wouldn't survive it a second time so he can admit to himself his own selfishness, at least, to know that even if he's lost in time, he'll have Mikleo there when he wakes again...if he ever does.

To have this here, outside of Glenwood and their purpose and their answer feels a little like cheating, but Sorey will take it. He'll take it for his sake, and for Mikleo's. When they return back home Sorey, he'll just fall back asleep, but Mikleo will be in a world still filled with malevolence and hellions, less his best friend and partner for many of his own lifetimes to come.

Sorey draws back and holds Mikleo's face, wiping his tears away with his thumbs, leaning in to kiss his forehead on the gem of his circlet just beneath his bangs.] I'm here, [he confirms, because he knows what lies just beneath the surface of that observation. You're not there. You're not with me. You're not home.]

Edited 2017-04-23 05:55 (UTC)

[Sorey's echo of this new reality he finds himself in just makes Mikleo want to weep harder, but he knows if he allows that of himself it'll take far too long to stop, and he doesn't want that. He doesn't want to waste another moment of his time with Sorey on crying, even if they're as much tears of relief as of sorrow. Tears for time lost, maybe, for the loneliness he's been carrying and concealing from the others, even if they know already, even if he knows that they know. That's not the point. The point is that Rose had enough on her shoulders already, and crying isn't going to earn him any sympathy. He's not the only one who misses Sorey, and at least he'll live long enough to reunite with him one day, assuming he survives their journey for that long. People like Rose and Alisha don't have that luxury. They could be long gone by the time he wakes.

Gramps... Gramps, too, would be long gone.

Right now this is all they have.

He blinks rapidly, forcing himself to meet Sorey's gaze, to let his eyes cast over every feature. Turns out he does still remember the face in front of him, the colour of his eyes, the gentle smile gracing his lips. His hair is sticking out in all directions from sleeping so long, and Mikleo reaches out to pet it back into place, the gesture instinctive, one he's done hundreds of times before. He can remember griping as Sorey tilted sleepily into his hands - seriously, how do you manage to get it to bend like this every time? - and the way Sorey laughed and undid his work with a single scuff, his hair hopelessly ruffled the way he liked it. He'd tsk and leave it be, or sometimes he'd flick a bit of water to flatten it, and Sorey would sulk, and-

-he pulls back his hands abruptly, moving one to cover his mouth, as if that'll help, as if that'll hold in anything his body is threatening to let out in these tremulous moments as he takes in the words, the touches, god, even the scent of him, earthy sweat and morning breath and the lingering fire of Lailah's pact all wrapped up in one body with a dozen other subtle smells he can't identify. He'd gone for months trying to accept his fate, one he'd have to endure for centuries without this, any of it, and to have him here, awake and alive and holding him like this is just...

He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He can only recognize this for the blessing that it is, and everything else can wait. It's enough to not feel so alone anymore, to not feel like someone carved in half, to not feel like he's held together only by the hope of one day, one day, if I do enough, if we fix the world enough, if I work hard enough, I'll see him again.

It's enough that Sorey can smile like this and say he's here.]

[Mikleo reaches up to smooth his hair and Sorey instinctively tilts his head into it when Mikleo suddenly jerks back as if burned. The look on his face is too raw, too tormented for Sorey to stand so he reaches up to hold his face again, cupping a cheek.]

Hey- hey. I think we did enough holding back, right? [Both of them there, at the end, stifling their fears and worries and fury so they could do what needed to be done. It had been a silent agreement they'd made after viewing the history of Camlann's fall; Sorey had watched Mikleo's back go ever more rigid as they watched Muse scream for her baby, as they watched Michael raise the knife, and he's sure Mikleo had been watching as Sorey stared at the body of his own mother, curled around her premature baby messily swaddled in a blood-stained cloth.

When they'd woken he'd seen it in Mikleo's eyes, the same Mikleo had seen it in his:

Please don't ask.

And from there it was business as necessary. Not a complete death of emotion but enough so they could manage, a compartmentalization so they could fulfill their respective duties. Gramps's death had broken that, had rattled them both enough that they couldn't remain unaffected but they'd both tried so hard and in the end, Sorey remembers hoping that Mikleo would realize with him asleep and the world relatively safer than before, it wasn't necessary to keep that promise anymore.

Apparently he'd been wrong.]

You can be upset, [Sorey tells him softly, hand moving to stroke his hair, because Mikleo has always stifled himself somewhat but this is even worse, as if he's trying to swallow his own heart. He'd done it when Muse died, he'd done it when he'd demanded Sorey to use him as a weapon, and he's doing it again now.] You can be upset, Mikleo. We've got time. [Here, in this strange in-between place, they have all the time in the world.]

[Mikleo swallows hard, his gaze darting to meet Sorey's, then away, then back again- not quite panicked, but resisting all the same. He'd fought against his own feelings on everything for months now, barely giving himself a moment to stop, to breathe, to think about it, too afraid that if he let himself slow down he'd break entirely. Losing Gramps had almost ruined him, just a step away from shattering the fragile calm he'd been clinging to since he saw the faces of Muse and Michael, the circlet on the woman's brow and the baby in her arms, and put two and two together. If Sorey hadn't had the strength to keep moving forward, he'd never have made it. But since then it'd been one thing after another- battling Heldalf, their sacrifice through Siegfried, rejoining with Rose and then more fighting, on and on. They had rested a few days in Elysia, since they'd all been even more exhausted than when they'd fought with the dragon in Glaivend Basin, but after that...

He finally gives up on trying to focus on anything and just closes his eyes, tilting his head towards Sorey's touch, unable to bear the thought of letting go again. This is ridiculous. He's being ridiculous.]

I-I'm not... I'm not upset.

[He knows he doesn't look convincing, doesn't even sound it, but it needs to be said. No matter what grief he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what it's like to have that gaping, bleeding wound in his heart suddenly close over, that empty void in his soul filled again. Sorey's here. No amount of lingering misery can negate that.]

I'm happy... Sorey, I'm really happy to see you, I...

[The tears come again, and there's no fighting it; they spill past his lashes no matter how hard his eyes are clenched, and he's as helpless against them as that first night after the battle, barred up alone in the pilfered remains of Sorey's home, clutching some old shirt to his chest like a child. He'd sworn to himself that there'd be no more nights like this again, that he'd give himself this one, that he'd get it all out and over with and then it would be time to get back to work.

(He'd given himself two or three after all, he thinks; it'd felt like weeks, but when he emerged to find the others the look in their eyes had asked the unspoken question, isn't it too soon? And maybe it was, but he'd never been one to just lie around.)

So here he is again, pitiful, too weak to even keep his own promise. He should have forged an oath, should have made it stick. He's weeping and there's not even a proper reason for it anymore, with his one and only sitting in front of him holding him like this, who's suffered the same as him without the long separation, who's being so, so gentle. It isn't fair.

Stop crying. Stop crying.]

[Even when they don’t intend to, they always end up complementing each other. Somehow Mikleo’s tears help Sorey hold back his own when he thinks about everything, about Heldalf, Symonne, his friends, Rose, Gramps. It’s as if Mikleo is crying for them both because he knows- he knows it’s not just grief or upset, that Mikleo has always been the practical one between him so he’d hate to waste tears on something that isn’t even a problem. Sorey was always the one worrying and agonizing over what-ifs and could-have-beens, and Mikleo was always the one to rattle him out of it so this isn’t Mikleo emotional over the pain he’d felt before. It’s probably more than that. It’s more than Sorey wants to think about right now; about how when they go back, he’ll be going back to sleep, and Mikleo will again be alone.

Sorey bites his lip and curls around Mikleo, drawing him against his shoulder and wrapping his arms as far around him as he can. Hearing him trying to choke back his sobs is tearing his heart up because this is the worst part. This is absolutely the worst part; Sorey has always been shoving the difficult things onto Mikleo, often unintentionally, but just as a matter of course and this is no exception. Mikleo will have to watch their human friends die, will be living in the world without Sorey for who knows how long, will be carrying on and Sorey will be none the wiser. It’s leaving Mikleo behind that Sorey can’t stand. No matter how necessary it is, how they’d all agreed it was what had to be done, it still feels like abandoning him, like leaving the village without saying a word to him, like telling him to go back home all over again and after everything they’ve been through together, Sorey isn’t sure he can do that anymore.]

I’m sorry, [Sorey whispers shakily into Mikleo’s hair, though he knows he’ll catch hell for it. We all agreed, or there’s nothing to be sorry for or maybe even don’t insult me, but he can’t help it. Seeing Mikleo in pain is almost enough to make him regret his decision, almost. It certainly drives home what he hadn’t been able to fully grasp before when Mikleo told him that he’d be lost in time: it’s not himself he has to worry about, though he can allow himself this little bit of selfishness, he thinks. Going through life without hurting anybody else is inevitable, and while Sorey’s inflicted his fair share of wounds and then some he’d never wanted to hurt Mikleo like this.]

Idiot, [is Mikleo's instinctive response, unable to help himself. There's no anger or venom behind the word, only frustration and the same sadness already conveyed through his tears. It isn't Sorey's fault, so he's not asking for any apologies. He can blame Heldalf, he can blame Michael, hell he can even blame Gramps for raising them into the roles they eventually stumbled upon (although that itself feels like a betrayal, kicking sand in the face of the seraph who raised them with such love and care; whatever his motives, the choice had always been theirs). He can't blame Sorey, though, not ever. They'd done their best with what they were given. There's no helping that the consequences hurt.

If he were human, maybe, if this separation were permanent and he'd grow old and die like Rose, like Alisha, never seeing Sorey again... well, things might be very different. He could be angry, frustrated, spiteful of the fact that Lailah, Zaveid, or Edna could wait around for as many centuries as it took and he'd be gone, gone, gone, long before Sorey so much as stirred. A part of him would rather have died fighting Heldalf than endure that fate.

As a seraph, he has the luxury of hope.]

I don't want you to apologize... I don't need it. Just...

[Just for a while, let me have this, please.]

[Mikleo shudders in his arms so Sorey swallows anything else he was going to say and just curls around him, stroking his hair. He knew before saying it that Mikleo wouldn't want apologies, that there's really nothing else any of them could've done but it just doesn't seem fair. So much of the world is unfair, and so little of it is because of malevolence or hellions or anything a Shepherd can fix. People die and are separated from their loved ones; family buries family, friends bid farewell to friends. Humans are ugly, tangled messes sometimes, and sometimes seraphim are too.

He and Mikleo don't even have it the worst. At least they'll see each other again; of that, Sorey is certain. And though this feels a little bit like mourning for their future, Sorey lets himself feel the longing and regret he hadn't allowed himself to feel while traversing Artorius's Throne, the sorrow he had refused himself as he'd approached Heldalf slumped over and dying. He bows his head over Mikleo, presses his face into his hair and allows himself his own moment of weakness here, with just Mikleo, where he can be nothing but just Sorey.]

[For a while - longer than he cares to admit - Mikleo stays like this, lets them just... be. They'd needed to take comfort in the presence of one another for a long time now and had never been given the chance before their separation; even if it hasn't been months for Sorey, that doesn't make things any easier. For him it all must be so fresh, fighting their way through Camlann and the broken throne, freeing Gramps, saying goodbye to everyone and beginning the process of purifying Maotelus. If he needs this, he can only imagine how Sorey must, as well. Even if three months of Sorey's absence stung like a still-open wound, he's had three months to accept their history, three months to distance himself from the loss of Gramps and his mother.

He clings as long as he can allow the embrace to distract him, finally (reluctantly) pulling back. He holds Sorey's face in his hands, examining every inch of him with more care and scrutiny this time.]

Hey... hey. Are you okay? Are you healthy, do you need a drink or something to eat?

[He can't just sit around weeping; Sorey's here now, alive and awake, and he needs to make sure he's well, too.]

[Sorey tips his head into Mikleo's hands again, reveling in the cool touch and closing his eyes against his own grief. It's all right to feel these things so long as he doesn't wallow in it. He can feel the Shepherd's pact here, his connections to Lailah and the others there same as ever, and he's not sure but he thinks he can feel a very thin, nearly invisible thread to Maotelus, but...that could just be wishful thinking. He should still conduct himself as a vessel to him, though. Just in case.]

I'm okay, Mikleo. I'm- I was tired, before, but I woke up just fine. I don't need anything. [The way he reaches up to hold onto Mikleo's hands belies the truth. He might not need any food or water, but he could use Mikleo's company.]

[Mikleo has to watch him for a few moments more, his nerves too frayed, his heart still pounding too quickly, to take Sorey just at his word. What he finds is satisfying enough that at last he can relax a little, hands shifting to brush gently through Sorey's hair instead, coaxing him closer again. He may not be fine with everything - how could he be, so soon after their lives were ripped apart in every way imaginable? - but if his physical needs are met, Mikleo can work his way up from there.]

If you change your mind, just say the word. Without knowing how long you've been asleep...

[He trails off, trying not to think about how three months is how his mind fills in that blank. It might be different for Sorey- it could've been moments, days, years. A century could have passed and how would any of them know, if Sorey doesn't?

He'll likely keep worrying for a while, but it's almost pleasantly normal for him to do that. It's not the aching, lonely concern that he'd carried for months, gazing up at the sky wherever they happen to be traveling, looking for a distant pillar of light, wondering. For him to be able to look Sorey in the eyes and see if he's tired, listen for the growling of his stomach, feel his body to make sure he's eating enough... it's so much better. Just the way it ought to be.]

It's okay, I'm okay, [Sorey is quick to reassure him, because they're both sad and wanting and have missed each other, in their own way. Mikleo perhaps more literally, with months between their last spoken words, but feeling Mikleo ripped away from him before consigning himself to a potentially eternal sleep was just as jarring.

He leans closer when Mikleo pulls, wrapping his arms around him again and feeling Mikleo's hands grip the back of his cloak.] We can- we can take our time here. We can enjoy this. [Maybe not enjoy, exactly, since they're technically kidnapped, but there are advantages to being stuck here. Least of all is the opportunity to see his loved ones again.]

[It's such an alien concept to him, the thought of... of actually being able to relax, to take his time, to even stop for a second. He's gotten so used to pushing himself harder, resisting whenever he was urged to slow down. Quiet nights that he used to find relaxing, waiting while the humans slept, training or conversing with the other seraphim, have become a source of stress and too much silence. He probably still has bruises from whenever Edna smacks him for pacing excessively. But here...

He's still so tense, but he tries to let himself calm down, pressing up close to Sorey and clutching at his clothes. He nods, resting his chin on Sorey's shoulder, and quietly breathes in his presence for a while.

It's hard to stop, but... he can get used to this. It's okay.

We're okay. Lords but does that ever feel like something from another life, but it's familiar and comforting, too.]

R-right... our job's done. It's fine...

[It's so rare for Mikleo to indulge in his comfort like this, and though Sorey still feels shaky over a million things he can feel the strength returning to his limbs as he strokes Mikleo's hair. The two of them supporting each other has always had that effect; that somehow, by propping each other up, they each become that much steadier.

Once it seems like Mikleo's calmed a little, once his fingers don't clutch so tightly and his breath brushes soft across Sorey's neck he pulls back. He touches the backs of his fingers to Mikleo's cheek before leaning in to kiss him. This is something they've only had here, this special new kind of intimacy. Sorey hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it until now.]

I love you, Mikleo.

[For a moment Mikleo just waits, allowing the kiss and those quiet words draw out of him another rush of memories, things he'd forgotten back home but still wanted, had left unspoken.

"I'll tell you if I remember."

"For real?"

He remembers. He remembers clumsy, awkward handholding and embraces and shy, sweet kisses shared here. He remembers Sorey's red cheeks that first time, with Clay and Allen looking on as he declares the nature of their relationship in human terms. He remembers it never, ever being a joke, but that they'd discussed it more seriously later, those playful touches becoming more true, more intimate in the privacy found behind closed doors. He remembers the promise made when they were young when he'd given his true name, a promise renewed now that they're old enough to understand what it means.

He remembers. Of course he remembers.

Mikleo leans in, pressing his lips against Sorey's to respond in kind, and he smiles enough to let it reach his eyes this time when he draws back.]

Mm. I love you.

[Sorey knew all along that he'd been lying back then. Something like this, he could never have forgotten.]

[Laughs a little bit, even though Mikleo saying it aloud still dusts his cheeks a little pink. He strokes his fingers against Mikleo's jaw again, playing with the tips of his hair.] I know, [he answers cheekily, thinking back to that evening in Elysia where they'd shared that quiet moment staring over the clouds.

"I'll tell you if I remember."

There had been too much to say, too much to go through. They'd never get through it in time for what they had to do and even if they had- well. Sorey's not sure he would've been capable of letting Mikleo go. Maybe that's why Mikleo decided against saying anything at the last minute.]

"I know", he says... geez, you know you could have said it back then, too.

[There's that fond exasperation again, as he tilts his head into Sorey's hand, lifting his own to press against it. He hadn't said it back then for a reason, and Sorey hadn't pushed him for the same, he suspects. There had been no room at all for any doubts in those days. The weight of what they'd have to do with Siegfried, with Heldalf, had been enough. They couldn't have allowed even the smallest reason added onto the list of what could make any of them hesitate. It's why they'd worked so hard to tie up any loose ends before venturing to Elysia. It's why he'd kept his mouth shut until now.

If they lived, he could wait until Sorey woke up. If they died, he would never have forgiven himself were it caused by his own selfishness. Sorey understood, and that's what matters in the end.]

S'why I'm saying it now. [Pulls Mikleo down with him as he lays back down, absolutely 100% cuddling as he wriggles an arm beneath him and brushes his thumb over Mikleo's cheek, taking it all in. He'll never forget Mikleo's face, not if he sleeps for a thousand years, but it's still nice to be able to see him, hear his voice, see his expressions and know he won't have to say goodbye for as long as they're here.] I could say everything else on my mind too, if you like. [to embarrass you which is half the fun] About how you're so beautiful, and how much I love your voice, and-

[Mikleo's response is, of course, predictably aggressive. Cuddling is one thing - he's fine enough with that, since after enough months of painful separation he no longer cares - but all the compliments... ugh, no. He presses a hand up to Sorey's chin, as if that's enough to keep his mouth shut.]

Sh-shut up, I don't need to hear it!

[Despite his outward resistance, though, it's half-tempting to just let Sorey keep going a little longer. It's been so long since they had a bickering session like this, so long since they could truly smile or laugh or argue, or... anything. He'd never wanted anything about Sorey to become nostalgic - it makes everything seem so much further away - but he doesn't know how else to define this feeling.]

[He laughs, even though he sorta bit his tongue a little with that shove, because Mikleo getting flustered and giving him attitude is so wonderfully and comfortingly familiar that it's almost like being back home in Elysia with everybody, their lives never more complicated than the next puzzle in the ruins to figure out.]

Mrk- [Bites gently at Mikleo's fingers to get him to let go, wrestling with him and making a grand mess of the bed and covers.] Oof- You don't wanna hear it? There's no reason to hold back anymore, right, so...!

[Ewww, get that mouth off his hand. Mikleo withdraws only enough to reevaluate his attack, shifting to tickle at Sorey's sides instead, rolling to try and pin the other down against the bed.]

I can think of plenty of reasons for that, thank you...!

[NOT TICKLING!!!! Sorey fends Mikleo off the best he can, but he's quicker and those slim fingers can get past his defenses so easily! Curses!!] Ahahaha- Stop! There's no r- heeeeheehee Mikleo stop, stop! Stop being so shy, aren't we dating?!

[Mikleo does stop tickling, reluctantly, but only because Sorey's flustered enough that he can get his fingers around Sorey's wrists, pressing them to the bed. Hah, pinned.]

One has nothing to do with the other! You're just saying it to rile me up!

[LIKE HE DOESN'T SEE YOUR MOTIVATION YOU NERD]

That's slander. [Pushes a little bit against Mikleo's grip, but doesn't really put his heart into it.] I wouldn't lie to you anyway, so it's the truth.

Edited 2017-05-26 05:10 (UTC)

[With their hands otherwise occupied, Mikleo has no way to retaliate for that except to bump his forehead against Sorey's, not quite hard enough to be a full-on headbutt, but not exactly gentle, either.]

Just because you believe it doesn't mean your motivation is pure, you know.

[hey ow, so mean]

Do you want me to mean it? [Mikleo usually gets so uncomfortable with his open displays of affection, but...maybe after the time apart, he needs it.]