altimit | .:Oh shit it's November:.

[ ...Aw. Look at Michel's tomato-colored face. Ganymede is trying to figure out why he's getting so embarrassed, though. They've slept in the same bed so many times already.

And he watches the other fish for his glasses. By the way, Ganymede is also now wearing a long t-shirt and rather short shorts. Your welcome. ]

We could both eat breakfast in bed, then. That counts as rest, right?

[ Ganymede goes to grab a little table to move it closer to the bed, settling the plates there. The food's traditionally scrambled eggs, with some orange juice, and toast. Once he gets into bed, he hands a plate to Michel. Was his eyesight always this bad in-game...? ]

This. Did you really need to wear glasses to eat your breakfast, though?

[ Um. Michel might be rather giving away the fact that he can see perfectly fine by the repeated peeks he's sneaking towards Ganymede's hemline.

They're both tired. Emotionally drained. But a simple happiness isn't necessarily one without value. ]

...I suppose that would count.

[ He takes the plate without a second thought, though his brow furrows briefly at the memory. Ganymede bringing food to Gorre... he really might have starved without that. ]

Thank you... [ Too late to escape the call-out, is it? ] ...I-I could find the food, at least. It's just... strange to have them again. I keep feeling that I'll lose them.

[ Nice one, Michel. He notices the unsubtle peeking, and Ganymede may be raising eyebrows at him, like he just knows. He has eyes too.

Anyway, enjoy this spot of little happiness while it lasts. ]

It definitely counts.

[ ...He had been hoping still at the time to have been able to bring Michel back home with the promise of food.

Ganymede considers taking his shirt off and throwing it at Michel playfully but he will also table that as another matter for after they're finished eating. He picks up his own plate too. ]

If you keep them safe in your inventory, you won't have to worry about losing them, right? ...Also, it looks like you can find more than food? If you don't be honest about it, I won't reward you.

...It just feels strange. Being in my own body, having my own clothes. The habits are completely different.

[ He doesn't feel like he should have an "inventory." But the glasses vanish into them again after a moment. One less thing to worry about.

And, one more thing to be distracted about. He clears his throat a little and looks down at his plate. ]

My vision isn't all that bad. It's mostly for the light filtering. I can see most objects well enough...

[ Is that honest enough to get his reward? He flicks a quick hopeful look over at Ganymede~~'s thighs~~. ]

Are they completely different? Your face still gets red easily.

[ Ganymede remarks in a dry tone, because of course he's poking a little fun. But, Michel is as handsome as ever, and he doesn't care whether or not he is in 'his own body' or otherwise. Michel is Michel. ]

Most objects, like human beings?

[ Well, he isn't under the covers even though he slid back onto the bed. If Michel wants to stare ~~at his thighs~~, he can do it as much as he likes.

That being the case, Ganymede hums a little, before leaning in to press his lips against Michel's at the hopeful look in his eyes and face. He murmurs against them softly: ]

...I probably shouldn't be rewarding you right away.

I should have made my avatar less pale, too, while I had the chance...

[ But it's just a tiny grumble. He misses the slightly sturdier muscles, the... well, other things. But that's eclipsed by the relief of being himself again.

He doesn't fear or despise this body anymore. It simply... feels different. He sneaks another tiny glance at Ganymede, still half distracted in his staring — and a little of the blush is creeping up his face again — when Ganymede catches him with that soft kiss. He smiles a tiny bit against it, tilting his head just a little. ]

N-no, probably not. I still... have a lot of things to make up to you.

[ If it takes Ganymede longer to forgive, that would be more than understandable. ]

[ Michel's development... ]

No way, because then I wouldn't be able to as easily see you blush. Like now.

[ He sees the little blush! Ganymede isn't exactly smiling just yet. He did that when he first saw the other alive...he thinks? It was actually kind of a blur through the weight of everything, and startling relief that was overwhelming in every aspect of the word.

Ganymede huffs a little at the smile too, liking to see it when he pulls away, but refusing to say that. ]

That's right. You need to start with apologizing for all of those things too.

Then, telling me everything. First, though, you need to eat. I'll be pissed with you again if you don't.

[ Either way, Ganymede hasn't exactly forgiven him just yet. ]

[ Michel's expression sobers quickly, and he ducks his head a little. Although... where does he even begin? He turns the plate awkwardly in his hands and stares down at the food.

He doesn't much feel like eating. But that's hardly new for him, and he wants to at least show his appreciation for Ganymede's effort. He pokes a little at the eggs with the fork, gaze cast down still. ]

...I'm so sorry. For opening your door like that. For... the way I acted at the tower...

[ It was Gorre, yes. But Gorre was still made from him. He swallows uncomfortably. ]

...I don't know how to make those things right.

[ It's nothing new, but there is no way Ganymede is allowing the other to escape that at all.

He watches him carefully as his gaze flickers downwards after the light poking at his eggs. There is a small pause on Ganymede's part. Is it because he's about to say that he forgives him? That he is about to let him off lightly and hug him? No, he already embraced him quite a bit.

This is not the time for that. ]

...That's only two things.

You also hid that something was happening to you, and who knows what else you have been keeping away from me. Apologize for that too.

[ In comparison, the fact that the other had his door opened like that hardly feel like anything. In reality, Ganymede doesn't think he faulted him much for the door at all, in fact. As for the tower...that's a little more complicated, isn't it? ]

[ Michel falls silent in turn, weighing those words. It wasn't quite accurate, but... he doesn't want to make any excuses for his choices, either. He's hardly aware of how long the silence is stretching as he considers it. ]

By the time I was certain, there wasn't much remaining. We were all losing memories. I had... no way of knowing that mine was any different than anyone else's. I thought it was only paranoia on my part. That what I was becoming was simply who I am without those memories of happiness to soften the edges of my personality.

[ But Ganymede's point holds true just the same. ]

But I understand if you aren't able to trust me again. ...And I'm deeply sorry for that, as well.

[ He's still angry about this most of all. But to Michel's credit, Ganymede listens, and he listens closely.

He frowns, going quiet for a bit, considering his words. Are they just simply excuses, the words he is saying? Or are they the truth? Ganymede does...actually still trust him, that's not in question. He just wanted to hear an apology for that, but he sullenly doesn't make that clear just yet.

Then: ]

...Before the tower, you said you didn't want to see my face ever again.

Apologize for that too and kiss my hand as well.

[ Ganymede sets down his fork and holds out his right hand delicately to Michel like he's a delicate and high-class prince. ]

[ Ah. The memory comes back when Ganymede mentions it, recognition and guilt lighting Michel's eyes. He bows his head a little more deeply. ]

...I didn't want you to be hurt.

[ Ah. And more than that. He remembers the emotion choking him, Gorre's algorithms twisting his hurt into agony that needed to cause pain as release.

He reaches for Ganymede's hand, still not glancing up to his face, and slowly lowers his head to brush a warm kiss to the back of it. ]

And I'm... so sorry for my words then.

Hmph.

[ Good, because that comment seriously hurt. He doesn't care about the intentions in this specific, exact case.

And he knew...that was Michel too. A comment that was potentially a combination of nothing less than abject fear and the desire to say whatever cruel words cut most. But still himself nonetheless; he believes he can figure that better than anyone else. The gentle kiss against his hand sure is something, hands tingling lightly from the kiss; an action that shows as much remorse that ekes evidently out of his voice. ]

...You will make up for breaking your promise.

How? Make a new one with me. Promise me that it's no longer trying your best to remain by my side, but that you will. No matter what happens.

That you won't give up, and whenever you have troubles, you don't hide them. You tell me. Even if you don't realize the source or whatever. Get it?

[ Ganymede closes his eyes, letting out a small sigh. ]

The fact that you had been there for me so many times, and I couldn't be there for you until it was almost too late...I won't ever forget that. Understand?

[ Each word is like a weight. Dragging him down, anchoring him — either, both. He keeps his head bowed over Ganymede's hand for a while longer, eyes closed. As if half in a dream, he brushes another featherlight kiss over his knuckles.

This is penance, isn't it? It feels poetic. ]

...You were there for me. I was able to hang on a little longer because you were always at my side. Even when I wasn't certain I knew myself any longer.

[ He finally lifts his head again, lacing his fingers together with Ganymede's as he leans in to kiss his cheek. He's clumsy with his words at the best of times. Let alone now, with both of their emotional wounds so fresh. But he does know what he owes here. ]

...I will promise.

[ Right now it doesn't feel triumphant. But someday, perhaps it will. Perhaps if he wasn't the type of person who preferred to run from his problems, things would never have escalated as far as they did. So... the least he can do is face his mistakes now. ]

[ Ganymede doesn't say anything, letting silence stretch into a few awkward moments. Then, a few tears slip down his cheeks, as he leans a bit into the kiss.

No words saying that it's unreasonable to expect such things follow, or any replies with a condition.

...He can firmly trust that the other man's promise is true. Ganymede releases a shuddering sigh. ]

I'll accept those words when we're standing at the end of this back home, together.

[ Ganymede moves still to lean his head against Michel's chest. He wants to hear the sound of his heartbeat. He's trying to hold back tears from all the words that have been shared and so many emotions that bubble up. He speaks again, voice small: ]

...I was really scared I had lost you.

Are you hurting anywhere? Does anything feel off?

[ Their food is going to get cold. ]

[ Ah. Just like with Hani, he still doesn't know what to do with those tears. He's not experienced enough at handling emotions like that directed towards him. His hand lifts, falters, then finally settles on the back of Ganymede's head to gently pet his hair.

The heartbeat under Ganymede's cheek is steady, a little fast from nerves. But quiet and steadfast and so very human. He brushes a fingertip very gently over Ganymede's cheek, rubbing at the traces of tears. ]

...I-I'm sorry for frightening you, too.

[ There are more apologies still. He suspects he'll be tripping over them for a while, not unlike the clutter he'd grown used to leaving in his wake in his room at home. Familiar chaos, the product of his own clumsiness and thoughtlessness. ]

I... think I feel like myself again. [ In all senses, positive and negative. ] Fatigued. I'm more sore than anything. You were injured more than I was...

[ Maybe that's why people choose to cry on him- just kidding, though. Ganymede does easily let the other pet his hair gently.

Feeling the heartbeat at all is a relief. It's proof that he's here. That nothing that happened yesterday was a dream. He hiccups and lets out a small sob after feeling the gentle touch against his cheek, tears starting to flow even more.

So he's not moving himself anytime soon. ]

...I-Injured? Only my head still hurts.

[ Ganymede isn't thinking about the emotional damage on his part again so he's thinking just physical even though the other kind of mentioned it a bit earlier.

Thankfully thanks to a place that went up, he can get some painkillers but that's neither here nor there. ]

W-What about other wounds? [ Emotional, he means. ] When your door opened, I-I saw...

It does?

[ Michel frowns a little, wrapping his other arm around Ganymede protectively. The petting has turned to careful probing, fingertips sliding gently over Ganymede's scalp in search of bruising. He didn't think he'd taken a hit like that during the battle...

He'll force him to go to Netslum shortly, once it opens. But for now, he'll simply fret as he can. His worry keeps him from doing more than flinching minutely when Ganymede asks about "other wounds." ]

...Mm. It's what you saw before, isn't it?

[ He thinks Ganymede may have remembered. It seemed not everyone lost as much as he had, while Gorre was taking over. He's quiet for a minute, picking his words with care. ]

When I was losing my memories... those were what remained. Because they were data. [ He saw it again and again and again and— ] I-if there's anything you still want to know, I believe I can speak about it now.

...From the first battle.

[ Ganymede being swung around by Tavros (after being grabbed unceremoniously by the neck) so hard that his face was a bloody mess had consequences. Even if his face seemed to heal up with little to no scarring due to a lucky spot of fortune. At this time with injuries healing slow, it did jostle something in his head.

No apparent bruising, but if he touches a spot on the back of his head, he reflexively flinches. ]

That's right. In the mirrors, I think...

[ There's a small pause on his end, thinking. Ganymede can't remember his own memories, but the memories of other people witnessed in the mirrors...aren't those a different story? ]

...Was that woman the only person who treated you terribly? Before, when you had 'changed', there was talk about how cruel the world had been to you.

So, I want to hear it from you.

Ganymede—

[ He moves his fingers away from the spot, but his jaw goes taut. An injury like that, lingering this long...

He's tired. He's worried. And he's quietly, desperately afraid. He swallows carefully and lowers his hand to rub the back of Ganymede's neck. The topic isn't closed yet, not by a long shot. But if he presses now, Ganymede will think he's trying to dodge more explanations. And he supposes he owes him this. ]

Aimee... was the worst I experienced. But, no. It wasn't only her.

[ And he pauses again, because resolve or not, this is still hard. The worry throbs like an ache at the forefront of his thoughts. Pain on top of pain. It's no wonder that at times he believes it's all he can feel. ]

...I suppose I should tell you from the beginning, as briefly as I can.

...Michel.

[ Oh...wait, is he actually getting scolded for once? That's actually a little funny. Not that Ganymede is sincerely thinking that part himself, nope.

He does relax a bit into the slight rub against the back of his neck, though. It is also not that he doesn't address the injury, but it truly is a matter of 'one thing at a time'. Given the scope of the other topic, it'd be hard to address it all at once, after all. ]

From the beginning will work.

In your own words, I could know more.

[ And know who ELSE he might have to put a hit on when he gets straight on out of this stupid game.

It's fine. ]

[ He's being scolded! And he'll be scolded more when they're done here. But for now Michel allows himself to focus on the soothing motion of his fingers, feeling Ganymede relax under his touch.

He'll... have to think of what can be done about the healing. Someone here must have more medical knowledge. ~~And thank goodness Netslum arrives when it does and takes some of Michel's stress away RIP~~. ]

Very well. I don't see a reason to revisit anything Gorre said. He was well-acquainted with the facts.

[ Also this spares us the time paradox of the threads run in parallel...

Michel is quiet for a moment longer, sorting through his thoughts. It's fine. Brief, clinical, to the point will do. ]

I am intersex. I don't know if the doctor was unaware of it when I was born, or whether my parents ignored any information they were given in their excitement to have a daughter at last. I grew up... stifled, but happily enough. My mother and brothers loved me. My father was distant, but not harsh. My family is most likely not as wealthy as yours, but they're noblesse d'épée, and they trace that lineage back to the eleventh century. Image was everything.

[ That, he imagines Ganymede understands, even if his family is very different. ]

I was somewhat frail as a child from the complications during my birth. It wasn't unusual for me to be sick for weeks at a time. When I was fourteen, just at the end of the school year, I fell ill again. I was bedridden for a few months at home. I felt... so unwell that I was completely unaware of any other changes in my body at the time. But when I finally recovered, I was... as you saw me in that memory. Taller. Gangly. My voice changed completely. [ He touches the Adam's apple at his throat. ] I was ecstatic. I finally... began to match my own image of myself. My parents were less pleased. They were terrified of a scandal, and so they closed me in my room until they could decide what to do with me. Medical intervention, or religious — both, or simply waiting for me to wake up changed back as suddenly as I'd transformed in the first place.

[ Another pause. Brief, bare bones. ]

They couldn't stand to see me. And this isn't, to their regret, the eleventh century any longer... they couldn't simply turn me over to the care of servants without fear of some gossip escaping. So Aimee volunteered. She was a family friend, intended to be engaged to my brother. She... for six months, it was as you saw in the memory. [ And more. ]

The rest is as Gorre said. My brothers let me out of that room, and sent me to another property in Strasbourg when I was sixteen. I've been there since. So, really... I've had very little interaction with the world at all since then. As little as I could manage.

[ Unbelievable that Ganymede is on the other side of such things. He is such a perfect, law-abiding, family-oriented individual who does no wrongs at any points that he never has to be concerned with any of those problems at all. The soothing stroking of those fingers make him only relax further; hardly surprising, perhaps, since he was already feeling some of the tension leave him.

He lets out a small hum of agreement about ... yeah, not revisiting the facts (yeah...yeah.)

Ganymede doesn't know what 'noblesse d'épée' even means, though. Probably old money but fancier and in Francais. But, he does understand 'image being everything'. In a personal sense, because that's important to him even now. He wrote down things about his family, but he didn't include the fact they're rich because it didn't seem important. ]

Aimee...that piece of trash. [ They're all pieces of trash. ] But, I appreciate you telling me everything. You could've just brushed it aside, because it's painful to recount at all in any way.

...Though, I hope your mother and father run into a barrage of fists especially hard until their faces are unrecognizable.

Aimee too.

[ He nuzzles his head into the other male's chest. He reserves commentary for Michel's brothers but he wants them to experience a comeuppance of a sort too. They're not blameless. Still, the inbox messages are there where Michel spoke vaguely about his brother(s) before and can easily be retrieved (he rechecked them constantly in Michel's absence this is my excuse.) Maybe he hold his tongue on the slight chance Michel is fond of them; he has a strange feeling Michel might be even if he can't prove it with his missing memories.

He didn't sound like he had hated them, anyway. ]

You waited a long time for those answers. I... do appreciate that.

[ He brushes a light kiss to the top of Ganymede's head, mindful with his injury now, and gathers Ganymede carefully into his arms. He remembers those words to Gorre.

I wanted to be told freely about the things that had hurt him when the time was right...

He's been difficult for Ganymede. He does know that. Still so guarded, still so fearful. In a very different way than his family, he wonders if he's absorbed their fixation with image. He'd wanted so badly to be seen as a whole man. Strong, implacable. Resilient. But he's never been whole. ]

...And I don't wish any harm on the three of them. I hate Aimee. But that's not... what I want.

[ He has to believe that still, through the battered and bloodied pieces of what remains of his sense of self. Otherwise, there really was no meaning in heeding their requests and demands to come back after that battle. He has to... ]

Now can we talk about your injury?

Edited (verb tenses) 2023-11-11 18:16 (UTC)

[ The light kiss is more than welcome, of course, Ganymede closing his eyes as he feels the gentle brush...he missed this. ]

Well, I'm glad. Usually I don't have patience for that, but for you I'd make exceptions.

You deserve them, and a lot of other good things too. Including me.

[ A lot of people have treated Michel like trash. He will treat Michel like a King.

And not because he feels he has to. It is just because he wants to; the fact that the other has had terrible experiences is not actually the prime motivator though it does add onto it. It's funny, because whenever he was with Apollo and demanded answers, the man treated like the idea was foolish. Like it was his fault for seeking them, and not already knowing.

So in his heart, he hates not knowing. But he understands Michel's reasons for them; they're not arbitrary or foolish. Though he would not have desired to stay ignorant forever. ]

They're lucky you're so kind.

[ But Aimee will not live to see the rest of the year. There's a small pause when the other asks the question and Ganymede brings his head back so he can look at Michel, lightly confused. ]

...How do we talk about it? It's there?

Edited 2023-11-11 19:40 (UTC)

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cw: transphobia, mention of conversion therapy, gestures

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