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

[ He does know how deeply Ganymede means it. He's so forthright about these things. Blunt and honest. He's taken so much time watching Michel, learning him — trying to hold onto these pieces of him, even as he loses the context to know what something like an "engineer" even is. He knows full well how hard Ganymede is trying for his sake. ]

That's exactly what I mean, about reality and your willpower...

[ Perhaps Ganymede should look into this second Blade Brandier, Albedo? A man who can actually roll 20s? Such a pity they probably haven't talked.

But Michel lets out a quiet sigh, more contentment this time than anything. It's foolish, absolutely. It has no connection to the reality that he's observed, empirically, in the last three battles for himself.

Which path would be worse for him? If he takes up a sword and wounds an innocent person yet again? If he refuses to carry one, and finds himself powerless to help the people right in front of him? He might be powerless even with one. He doesn't know. ]

...If I can find a way to safely carry a weapon again, then I will. I'm not undermining the suggestions you've made. I just... can't risk another failure. If you're stunned and can't use your dance, for instance. I'll give the armor another try and see what I can come up with.

[ Ganymede's reference point of engineer shifting from programs to mechanical things, which in some way isn't too far off from being connected to 'mech' things in a way, right? Fragment does probably have ship engineers and the like, it's fine (?), it's endgame it's fiiiine.

He blinks a bit at the comment about his willpower. He feels like he missed something, but that's fine, he still likes the compliment. ]

...I do have a real strong willpower, so it is really sweet you said that.

[ Ganymede doesn't give a rat's ass about Albedo! He's just some stupid manlet. He only needs one Blade Brandier and that's Michel, thanks. Maybe Michel will somehow get blessed by God and suddenly be rolling 20s himself or magically hit all the things.

Or at least more...whatever the case, Ganymede has an incredible amount of unwavering faith in Michel's abilities. He will literally kick a person in the dick, mouth, or wherever else that is very painful if they shit all over Michel within earshot. Consider it the ultimate act of pacifism. ]

Stunned? ...Alright. I believe in whatever you'd be able to come up with too. You should be able to find your own solutions to this problem as well, because...it should just be like that, that's all. [ crying ] When you're done with the armor, though, you should show off to me first.

[ So he can stare and start walking into walls in their McMansion every day since that. ]

[ Michel would have believed that he had strong willpower before all this... but, it's fine. He isn't going to sink into a haze again, having just been lifted out of it. Even if his mind feels foggy still. Even if a little part of him has to wonder if the problem is within him, and not the game's coding. These things don't happen to anyone else with such consistency. Most likely... he deceived himself about his view of his own willpower, and the faultlines in his mind and his heart are just now becoming impossible to deny.

No. He has plenty of time to brood on this later. For now... focus. ]

R-right. It should be like that.

[ Or, maybe the problem is that he's too aware of reality...? But he blinks at Ganymede and tilts his head in curiosity. ]

...I will, then. I didn't know you were so interested... I suppose swords are more your domain than mine.

[ Ah, except Ganymede doesn't remember. But Michel will still show him his video game background coming through in his armor design. This time, he's determined! ~~And his determination will be doubled when he sees Ganymede's thirst, thanks.~~ ]

[ Whatever the case, Ganymede blinks at the response and leans to press another, gentle kiss to the other male's lips, soft and true. A bit more lingering, before he reaches into his inventory for something else.

The other should recognize that he's bringing out tea. ]

Here, another healing item for the wounds you've sustained.

[ Ganymede blinks when he tells him 'swords are more than your domain than mine'. Unfortunately even if Ganymede spoke about sword dancing it was far and few in between; he has enough information and context for himself being a dancer to know this. His memory of 'four years of captivity' that returned do not involve his thoughts about sword dancing either, so nope. He does not recall. ]

What do you mean? How is it more mine than yours?

Thank you.

[ Well, the tea is more palatable, at least. And Michel is no longer unresponsive. He reaches over to accept it with his good hand, the warmth of Ganymede's kiss still lingering on his lips.

Everything still hurts. But he knows from old habit that the hurt is preferable to the numbness. He can endure this, like he has before. ]

Ah... Your traditional dances include sword dancing. I think those were your family's specialty. I... did see you perform some, once.

[ It still feels strange to talk about these memories that only he holds now. But if nothing else, Ganymede trusts him so deeply that he never seems inclined to doubt Michel's words. A slightly harrowing possibility when Michel no longer trusts his own mind — but also deeply touching. ]

[ It's alright...we all know Michel likes only one kind of sausage, but he just nods at the expression of gratitude right away.

He's glad he is at least able to accept this much, even in the wake of everything. ]

...Really?

[ But no, he has a spell when wielding a sword feels familiar. Where sometimes he's danced in the kitchen in their McMansion, holding a knife for some inane reason. ]

You saw me perform? What did you think, when you saw the performance?

[ Ganymede asks, tilting his head. He wonders what he looked like then. There is even an ache in his heart, to still return to that. He thinks maybe, a part of him misses that. The declaration he made when he lost his memories still sitting deep inside of him and not forgotten even when he forgot all else. But still made such a certain comment nonetheless. ]

[ He's allowed to be picky!! He takes his time with the tea, eyeing Ganymede over the top of the cup. Maybe he's also recalling some of those knife dancing incidents...

He's so grateful to have those memories back. At least he can do this, now. ]

I... don't like being in crowded places. But while you were dancing, I didn't see a single other person in that crowd. I remember hearing the applause afterwards. I think I even remember being jostled. But when you dance, you outshine the sun. ...You were incredible.

[ And it suited Ganymede. He always looks so vibrant, so at ease in his own body wherever he is. But never moreso than that moment. ]

[ He sure is, wink-wonk. Ganymede smiles a little, gentle and soft when he notices Michel eyeing him over the cup like they are both high-class folks, which. Well.

That isn't exactly wrong either (he has no idea that Michel is thinking of silly knife-dancing escapades in the kitchen. He'd be kind of embarrassed if he knew.)

Though, the comment brings something like warmth to Ganymede's cheeks all the same. ]

...I wish I could remember it. But, hearing you say that, I can believe it. Maybe even imagine just a little.

I don't have any memories of my performances anymore. I hope I can recall them someday. Until now, one of the most treasured ones will have to rest with you. I can't complain, knowing how you still can recall it fondly at all. And because it's you.

[ There's another person out there who has the memory of a performance, from an earlier time, though that individual isn't Michel, so. ]

If I could have made it so enjoyable for you, it made it worth it. Even if you were out with so many people. I can't wait...to show you more of my performances too, in the future.

...I'm certain you'll remember someday. But until you can, I'll hold it with care.

[ A precious memory, for both of them. And one more promise to chain Michel here. He feels the weight of each of them; if he ever allows himself to lie down to rest, he knows it would be beyond his strength to rise again. But he needs them, too. Just a little further. ]

I'm... looking forward to it. Even if it's at another crowded festival. And even if I get sunburned again.

[ Even if everything goes perfectly, he wonders how soon that would be. How long will it take all of them to be in the physical condition to walk again? Let alone dance? What if Ganymede has lingering effects from his injuries?

He has to let his dreams and his desires override his doubts. At least for now. At least enough to carry him the rest of the distance. If he breaks when he runs up against the cold wall of reality, so be it. At least he will have made it that far. ]

[ ...That's the first time in a long, long while he's heard Michel say that anything will happen with any bit of certainty. Ganymede resists pinching himself. Can it be really that easy for him to turn everything around? Maybe...both of them are desperate to see that it is true.

Whether it's from stubbornness, desperation, or something else. He moves one of his hands to bring it over one of Michel's, the one he isn't using to holding the tea with, and cover it with his. ]

...If you get sunburned again, I'll just kiss them away. You said that I'd done that before, right?

[ Either way, Ganymede has never had any doubts that Michel wouldn't hold such a memory so dear. He's clumsy at some things, but when it comes to things like this, and being considerate, he considers Michel's thoughtfulness an incredible asset. Ganymede could probably learn from that, and speaking of his injury, he'll definitely have to ask for more painkillers when the nurse comes around. ]

Though, I don't think I was—am—a fan of crowds much either.

[ Look at this: a small but very tangible miracle. The tiny flickering ember of Michel's heart holds these little sparks of certainty for the people he loves. He can at least still do that much.

He can't move that shoulder yet; but there's nothing wrong with his fingers, and he's able to give a tiny squeeze to Ganymede's hand in return. ]

You did. You... never seemed to get tired of touching me...

[ He remembers the way Ganymede had flitted around his kitchen, a ball of restless energy. How he'd turned towards each tiny brush of contact like a flower growing towards the sunlight, unabashed in his enthusiasm. The thought makes him squeeze Ganymede's hand gently again. ]

...I never noticed, because you were were so intent when you danced. You never thought twice about the audience, that I saw.

[ But that's not what Ganymede means, he thinks. The lingering fear from memories he doesn't have now... he rubs his thumb distractedly over the back of Ganymede's palm. ]

[ Michel's heart is a precious thing that should be protected. That said...feeling the soft squeeze to his hand is wonderful, so afterwards he will simply intertwine those fingers. Perhaps to strike home on his next words as well. ]

That's right, I don't. I never will.

[ Ganymede can only imagine how many instances he might have taken to touching Michel whenever he can just because he can. The shift in their fingers' position doesn't prevent the second squeeze, though it means it conjures a gentle smile on Ganymede's face. If Michel's shoulder wasn't so injured, he'd lean against him, but alas. ]

No, somehow I feel that putting on a show for an 'audience' is different. After all, it's so much easier when you're in the middle of an 'act', even with so many eyes watching. The hardest part might be when you're expected to talk to the crowds after the performance...I have a feeling I wouldn't—I don't—like the idea much.

[ Which pretty much probably confirms Michel's suspicions that even without memory he isn't necessarily bothered by crowds. He can picture it easily in his head without having memory as to why—but he can also draw on his previous interactions in Fragment too, when he went to a couple of events with so many people hanging around like some parties or even in the very beginning. He hasn't forgotten the uncharitable feelings lingering then, though he doesn't regret some of those meetings—Michel's included, of course. ]

"Never" is a little...

[ But, can he tell Ganymede that's unreasonable? He can't imagine a time where he wouldn't want to touch him. Even now, when it feels tempting still to retreat back into that void where nothing can touch him again... Ganymede's warm hand against his is an anchor that isn't painful. ]

I would be terrible at any of it. But... I can imagine how the performance would feel different. You know every step. In a way, those people don't matter at all. You could dance the steps without them altogether.

[ At least... that's how Michel would see it. Does Ganymede's love of dance make that more true, or less? Does he love it because he can share it with others? He knows Ganymede always loves him watching. But maybe there's a little quiet hubris rekindled in his tired soul, too: he doesn't doubt that he's special to Ganymede, even if he doesn't understand it, or grasp what that means. ]

You were hanging back at the party as well. The day we met.

[ Ganymede looks at him in those beautiful red eyes of his like he knows what the other man is about to say, not because he's psychic but there is something like a logical conclusion to such words, mayhaps. Even if he doesn't know the exact ending to the sentence. He decides to lean upwards simply to kiss his nose instead, it's fine.

He is clearly intent on proving his point. ]

That's right...I think. That's probably why it feels different.

I would never make you dance in front of a crowd, unless, well...

[ In the middle of his marriage ceremony; there is probably going to be a little crowd, he thinks. He's already fantasizing again. Ah, it's wonderful to be able to think of this all over once more, even without explicit details in his memories to guide him. ]

...I remember that. I went on over to you, and you asked, 'Is this wall, perhaps, too crowded for another person?' After I had rudely asked if I could help you. At that time, I think I was practically a different person than I am now. Maybe.

I had a special nickname for you in my head at the time, that I didn't say.

Wait, what do you mean, "unless"?

[ Ganymede? That's a very alarming thing to say? Michel pales a little further, not making the mental leap just yet. All he's seeing in his future is paralyzing awkwardness and humiliation.

Would he do it for Ganymede? Very likely. But he's still holding his hand a little tighter in terror at the thought. Good time to distract him with nostalgia. ]

I-I can't believe you remember that... What nickname?

[ Thinking back... Michel was a very different person then, too. The man he is now would never have approached Ganymede. Or Sinclair, or Oriade. He would have walked away in annoyance when Fai played his prank, rather than retaliating. He likely wouldn't have stayed at the party at all beyond picking up his equipment. Has he gone backwards? Or is it, at least a little, that now that he's no longer alone he simply lacks the aching need to reach out to others? Perhaps both. ]

[ Ganymede's mind has a bad habit of being distracted in lala land even now. But, it's fine. ]

Oh...you know, when we get married. It'd be kind of like, romantic, you know? Maybe.

[ He tacks on a maybe because he does have eyes and might have noticed Michel growing pale and his tighter grip on his hand, to which he grants a gentle squeeze. Ganymede thinks he should have clarified a bit sooner too.

As for the nickname ~~thank god I found it~~, he has to go into his Greek mind palace to search for it. Once he comes out, though... ]

I remember a lot more things if it's just about you! Anyway, the nickname was Sir Winter Frost Bat Knight III. I was thinking of using it at one point, but it slipped my mind, and I kept getting distracted.

[ But now Michel knows! Those times sure were different. Even Fragment can't take away the earlier days of Ganymede recalling how irritable he was at the thought of people socializing with him. He even kind of was pretty rude at people for awhile and chased off this girl too, with his terrible attitude. He planned to do that with everyone else too, now that he thinks about it. But...

...Well. He didn't. ]

Edited 2023-12-01 04:00 (UTC)

[ When they get married. Dancing with Ganymede...

Michel rubs his thumb lightly over the back of Ganymede's hand, trying to ease his death grip a little. It would be romantic. Like the first time they'd danced in Mac Anu, when he was just beginning to realize that Ganymede made his heart beat faster. ]

I wouldn't describe that as a crowd. [ Blissfully ignorant to just how many people Ganymede intends to involve, help. ] But if we practice for long enough first, that might be... acceptable...

[ A few years of practice, at least. He thinks he could do that.

But he blinks, slowly, at the data that Ganymede unearths from the Greek mind palace. What... ]

...Congratulations. You might have heard me laugh several weeks sooner if you had managed to say that with a straight face.

[ No, more likely Michel would have given an incredulous stare. But he lets out a quiet huff of an exhale now, the shadow of a laugh. ]

[ Feeling the light, gentle caress, Ganymede can't help but brighten up instantly; he'd be hoping a lot for a dance. Him in Michel's arms as the other man dances with him, his wedding attire swooping along with each delicate movement, and, well. When they had danced in Mac Anu that sure was in Fragment, even if some parts of the conversation regarding himself are fuzzy. ]

I can teach you! You'll be a top-tier dancer underneath my instruction in no time!

[ He seems so happy. Wow, Michel is prepared to handle the crowd of himself and his family, huh? Even a certain memory gives him information about how big his Greek family is, and also he wants to invite friends, so...

But, there's the soft almost-laugh that escapes Michel. The kind that brings a gentle joy which makes Ganymede's heart race with glee and pride that he made him laugh at all. ]

Oh really? I probably should've said it earlier on, then. But, it's making you laugh now? So maybe it's good timing anyway?

[ Giving the other male a bright smile at that. ]

I think it would be best to lower your expectations... just a little...

[ "Top-tier" is certainly beyond him. But he'd be very content if he could manage not to trip over Ganymede or himself... He has a hunch that Ganymede's notion of proper wedding attire is going to give him a few more things to tangle himself in.

For a flicker, he can almost picture it. His own image is still blurred to him. And the crowd... better to leave that a blur. His answer to Lily feels so absurd still. There would be no way Georges or Didier would be able to make time to attend...

But he can imagine Ganymede's smile. The way the light would illuminate those beautiful green eyes, looking at no one but him for as long as they danced. ]

You don't change.

Nope! In this case lowering my expectations for my teaching skills is not acceptable. Even if it takes years, I'll get you there.

[ Ganymede very maturely sticks out his tongue, but then...he gives Michel a smile. Considering that his wedding attire is smack-dab in the middle of 'wedding dress' in a literal sense, he would be right that there is going to be a lot of things to evade getting tangled in...ganba, Michel, we believe in you!

...Though he does understand that maybe he won't see Michel at...theatre dancer in like, under a year or something. ]

Well, I'll take that as a good thing. Though, maybe...I have changed a bit. In small ways, but not in a bad way.

I don't remember much of my former life, but I remember my time here too, and some of the things I had thought. I don't think I would be thinking them normally, from the beginning of all this. But, I think I'm happy, that I'm able to think the way I do now.

[ He smiles a little, a bit softer to himself. It's been a long journey, it feels like, and they still need to go the rest of the way. But, for himself, for Michel, for Uta, and all the others he cares about, he has to do his best to ensure he fearlessly faces the past, present, and what's ahead as no one but himself. That said, he does tug at Michel's arm. Perhaps a soundless inquiry to lie down, with him, in the infirmary. ]

[ Well... that's fine. They have as long an engagement as they want for Michel to practice during. And if Ganymede would like to show off other dresses so Michel can get in that experience not tripping over them... so much the better.

Michel makes a soft noise of agreement to that tug and lets himself sink down onto the infirmary bed, resettling his good arm around Ganymede's waist. The ache of his shoulder doesn't bother him much now. The healing items dulled it somewhat, and besides... it's preferable to feel something that proves he's so indisputably here. ]

...You may have. At the beginning, you held yourself apart. Now...

[ He thinks of Kara's painting, of Ganymede and Uta and Oria. Of the obvious rapport Ganymede has with the group. He gives him another reassuring squeeze. Now, Ganymede has no reticence about sharing the warmth of his heart with others. It's — something, to believe that not only terrible things have happened in this world. ]

[ Like this, perhaps it is easier to cuddle close to Michel without fears of exacerbating his injury as well. Because of course Ganymede is still concerned about that, and like this, his eyes even close.

He was actually asleep for awhile due to his sudden fainting from over-exertion in being in too many Wave fights and all that, but he can probably do with more rest anyway. To say nothing of the fact Michel most desperately needs it himself. ]

...Now, I can look someone in the face and not look like I want them to disappear. For the most part...

[ Ganymede says softly, and he means to say something, but with the light squeeze, somehow that relaxes him even more. And, really, it shouldn't be so easy for him to drift back asleep, though he does, with the name of Michel's name uttered softly, almost as if he's going to say some other things. But, maybe that's good enough for now. ]

[ "For the most part." Michel lets out a tiny huff of amusement at that. It's not quite humorous, and it's not a laugh at Ganymede's expense. It's just...

He thinks he can understand that sentiment. More than a little. It's been a strange journey, and he's not quite certain yet where he ended up himself. Maybe that's just one more facet of being unable to picture himself right now. ]

You've grown. ...Rest well, Ganymede.

.:Oh shit it's November:.

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