altimit | [closed]

( He keeps his gaze ahead, claymore still drawn. )

... What's it like, having so much space in your chest?

( Referring back to a conversation. )

[ megan rom is murmured from hani's mouth before they answer mithrun. the rocks impede the incoming dark horse, which is a terribly unfair name to the human part of it. ]

Well! [ a thoughtful hum. ] What's in your chest right now?

( He watches the dark horse struggle against the rocks for a moment, falling slow into a stance to leap - like an animal. )

... So much of everything, I think it might burst.

( And then he's off, coming up real close to the monster with a Death Bringer as the Dark Horse breaks through the rocks, its form a little more haggard from the damage - in time for Mithrun to meet it with a blade thrust into the horse's neck, twisting around to lop the whole thing off in a critical hit. He shifts to run the belly of the rider through with his blade, just as it raises its own blade to strike and shield to defend. )

I wouldn’t say I’m much of an expert.

[ they call out teasingly, “hey, mister. over here!” the rider’s eyes start sliding their way, having forgotten there was another player here in the midst of all the horse slaying and potential belly slicing. in comes the bright disco stick, hitting the creature in the face. a moment’s distraction but enough for mithrun to finish it off. ]

But I’ve felt cracks that I thought weren’t possible. Before Justy-kun, even. When Gani-kun… [ they trail off with a smile. ] Sometimes, I feel like bursting, too.

I don’t think I’m remotely close to being full? That’s a handful of people out of the dozens I’ve met and hundreds I’ll meet. Maybe we only imagine a limit. And maybe we don’t realize we’re not empty until that person has already settled into our chests, in our hearts.

( He listens to Hani speak as he beats off the shield with the sheer force of his claymore, the thrust of his blade too powerful in momentum to quite block - it's a normal hit, but a critical, and it runs the rider through.

It hangs there skewered for some few more moments before it finally dissipates away. )

... I see.

( He looks back at Hani, a nonverbal signal that he'll be proceeding so they don't get left behind, and starts off again down the stony corridors. )

... You think we're alike, right?

( Or rather, you think we're very different - Hani being of the conviction that they're all particularly unique. Or so Mithrun understands of them. )

[ with an air of someone who’s just here for a nice little scroll and some interesting scenery, hani follows along. ]

Us? We are indeed different, you and I - but we’re similar in some ways.

[ they stretch, interlacing fingers high above their head. maybe in another life, mithrun and hani would be like their hands, closer to mirror images of each other. but hani was born worshipped as a near-otherworldly marvel, carefully loved, body unscarred. that tachibana boy. then again, if mithrun’s scars didn’t exist, would they be similar still? ]

Do you have any thoughts on that?

( Maybe it's all the fire from earlier, or maybe they're just lucky, but this stretch of the way doesn't seem to feature any monsters, even as it narrows into a one way path.

Mithrun keeps his gaze fixed ahead, suspecting something will pop up eventually.

He doesn't really know the words for how he wants to reply to Hani - he wouldn't know them even if he weren't speaking backwards. It's a level of feeling and introspection he doesn't understand, can't see. When he sees himself in the water, it sees his reflection blurry. )

... I prefer me to you.

( Envy.

It's a general feeling - not rooted in the strange tangle of the three of them, though he sees shades of it there. He doesn't want to change, he has a goal in mind he can only complete while he is himself - he cannot and would not be them.

But there's something about being relatively alone in your experience, and finding someone similarly alien, and then - finding they are so blithely bright; curious and open to the world about them. They don't find themself so defined by what they lack.

As they walk, the air gets thicker, and heavier, in some subtle way - like two frogs in a boiling pot. The tell of a Dark creature watching them from some distance, no doubt. )

[ hani makes a soft noise that becomes a sigh, their head turning to catch the eyes watching the pair of them. the skull devilgon that slinks out of the darkness of the path ahead interrupts their conversation.

hani casts their first spell, their second, their third in quick succession. earth to impede, fire to provoke, water to stagger. usually touched with luck and power, all three spells fail to thwart the devil in any effective way, as if reflecting the vague impatience of their caster.

mithrun’s answer will have to wait until they’re done with this fight. and they’ll run their SP into the ground to do so as quickly as possible.

the devilgon stalks closer as hani’s fingers flex around their weapon, mindless malice meeting grim indifference. they fling a bottle of whiskey this time, a weak givak don to fan the flame, before a sharp merue rom vaporizes for critical damage.

yet the monster stands. ]

( He doesn't know what that sigh sort of sound means, but he doesn't really have a moment to dwell before their malevolent visitor reveals itself. He's quick to dive into battle, claymore already at ready, and elements exploding around him. Mentally, he tracks how much SP that must be taking Hani - they'll burn out quick if this thing isn't dead soon. So be it.

The skeletal creature feels the impact of the attempts, but its grin only seems to widen as it how it cuts through Hani's magic, raising its bone-white blade to parry Mithrun's own swing - Mithrun narrows his eyes in mild annoyance.

And then there comes the dancing flames - the explosion and injury that seems to force it to stumble backwards. Mithrun seizes this chance to bring his blade around for a Death Bringer, slicing through its bloodied body brutally, though he fails to crit. Through the vaporizing flames, he combos into a normal attack, then a Calamity for little damage and a normal attack again, trying to keep it preoccupied and hold aggro while he waits for Death Bringer to come off CD.

He glances back at Hani, wordlessly - they'll be able to react before he can pull back his blade for his next strike, but he doesn't know if they're going to run out of SP in the process. )

Edited 2023-08-28 00:12 (UTC)

[ the way mithrun’s claymore dances in heavy swings and swift arcs speaks to how practiced he is at doing these runs. it’s something to admire; if only there was a moment to just stand back and watch him in his element. he seems to be doing a good job of holding the enemy back, giving hani time to regenerate some SP. the ticks are slow, but if they can time it right…

the moment mithrun glances back, hani is ready to give it another try at boiling this thing alive. it’s always a shame to waste too many bottles, but it is how it is. hani tosses four in wide arches, the bottles landing in strategic positions around the devil rather than on it.

the first givak don hits only one out of the four, dealing minor damage. the second one, murmured with enough force that their voice rings through the decrepit corridor, manages to shatter the rest, amplifying their attack despite the lack of critical force. the rapid flames surround the devilgon and brings it to its knees for the final time.

be quiet in death until you need to exist again for the next group. ]

( Mithrun watches its final, hellish moments, claymore still at ready, should it have some final trick up its sleeve. It doesn't, though; it passes, contrary to its nature, peacefully. Only when it's fully dissipated does he finally rise up, and sheathe his claymore.

Wordlessly, he turns and returns to Hani, and, after a moment of studying them and confirming to their condition, he reaches into his inventory. He offers them two bottles of sake: the two he'd had left over from an evening drinking with Tylor. Clearly, Hani makes pretty good use of these. )

[ that took longer than hani wanted. they still feel a little keyed up from the battle, but they let go of their weapon, letting the staff dematerialize into their inventory.

a breath. then, oh -

they manage a smile. mithrun’s offering is probably just that, a pragmatic exchange rather than a gift. it’s… still something. still cute enough that they laugh a little as they slot out two cocktails to make room for the sake. ]

Thank you… Mithrun-kun, Morgan-kun.

[ now that their hands are free, they take both of his. fingers curl into scarred skin, stroking, contemplative. finally, hushed: ]

Earlier… what you said. Did you mean me, or… the idea of me? The idea of what you think I am?

( The idea of them?

They let Hani hold onto his hands like they're doing him a favor while he considers what they mean. The thing is - can anyone really know another person? Don't people all just tumble through life, seeing a picture of a person through their rear view mirror, and never head on? He's not a complex person, but, Solipsistic as it might be, he can't expect anyone to really know him, the way he can't find himself to really know anybody else. Every man is an island. Such that it is.

But maybe Hani, Hayanari, feels there is a true, objective self, that can be quantifiably be defined.

So he looks at them, even though he doesn't know if he sees them as they are. )

... What are you?

( I don't know. That's his answer. His idea of Hani, yes. But he doesn't know Hani to know if what he thinks Hani is and what Hani feels they are are one in the same.

So, what is Hani? What is "me"? )

[ who are they? who is hani, this person who doesn’t even have a proper name. who is hani, who loved and laughed with a heart untouched, a mona lisa that would watch the louvre burn and smile still. and hani now, who loves and laughs is… ]

… More brittle than I realized.

[ in another life, it would have been more human. maybe that’s still the case here. humans ache over the strangest things. a single comment and a fire settles insidiously in their lungs.

this is how justy and hani are alike, their struggles seemingly invisible through the force of their smiles.

and this is where they feel the beginnings of something ugly in them. they’ve never minded being hani before because hani finds everyone beautiful. thinks the very being of each and every person catches the eye like marbles glinting in the sun. but if they suddenly become the hand stopping someone’s marble from shining, clutching it tight in their selfish, beautiful hands, then they -

maybe they’re wrong for mithrun? they had been so happy to be right for justy. but that’s how it is, they know, you can’t be right for everyone.

but you can learn to be less wrong, can’t you? hani squeezes his hands, unable to find the words. eventually, they just settle on a smile, a little frayed at the corners, but there. ]

( He lets them work it out, in all their quiet, in all their uncertainty. Mithrun hovers near the surface of all things; he isn't so good with people. Before, he could read them, but now looking at a person's face is like hearing the sound of a language he forgot. He doesn't know the nuance. He doesn't get the meaning. And he lacks the desire to know a person beyond their function, often. And perhaps Hani isn't very good at theirs - the one he's assigned them, anyway.

Brittle, like a machine? Brittle, like withered leaves? He considers this as the moments tick on, winding his way to the understanding that, like him, Hani might not always have a word for what they're feeling. Maybe they don't know what the feeling is, themself.

The smile settles in, and he studies it with his same, impassive gaze, and he doesn't say anything for a moment.

Then, finally, he slips one hand free. He brings it up, the arc of it slowing as it nears Hani's face like they might be delicate to the touch, might crack brittle like they'd said, and he lays a finger along the lips, at the edge of the frayed smile, the other fingers so light they brush against Hani's skin, down to their jaw. )

... I think I dislike you brittle.

( Maybe he can't understand Hani when they don't understand themself, but he can answer what he sees. He can speak as plainly as he can, from the heart, even if the effect turns around his meaning. )

Edited (forgot the effect,) 2023-08-29 07:56 (UTC)

Oh.

[ nearly voiceless, as though too much noise would disturb mithrun's fingers on their skin.

butterflies of happiness should be dancing around in their stomach right now, because mithrun initiating touch is rare. so precious. and what's even more so are the handful of words he almost never says: like and want and their counterparts. that only come out with careful thought and heavy consideration.

is this also happiness though? the knots twisting in their stomach? a little bitter, a little wistful.

hani presses back against mithrun’s fingers, swallowing fire and coal, mouth twitching slightly as they remain undecided on the topic of happiness.

but what they can say is: ]

I wish I could have heard that the other way - those beautiful words of yours. [ though they know what he means. as expected, they really don’t like that blessing. ] But thank you for touching me, and thank you for meaning it.

( There's an irony that's not lost on him here, that one of the rare times he finds the words for what he means to say, he's blocked from conveying it completely. Maybe it is, in some ways, just a sign of what his hunger doomed him to: this life of being a little bit out of sync with everyone else.

Such that it is. He can't do much for it. All he can think is that Hani looks nice while working through their unease. Maybe it's because he understands lacking. Maybe it's because Mithrun isn't looking really to thrive, but to find someone he can let himself end in.

Though he doesn't know it, the suggestion of a smile curves his lips, his thumb light against Hani's own. )

... If you ask me to speak honestly with you again...

( I will.

He trails off, intentionally. The conclusion of what he says would be flipped, but only if he says it. Better, then, for Hani to understand the things he leaves unsaid - and he leaves so many things in his head. Maybe it's best for anyone who wants to know him to start imagining what he's always leaving lying around in there.

For now, his touch lingers, and he looks like he means to say something else. Instead, though, he lets his fingers slip, and pulls Hani forward, to the end of the Area. There's a language of touch he's learning from Hani and Tylor that he's not yet so fluent in. But he has interest, slightly, in learning more.

Not long after they've exited the run and received the blessing Mithrun intended to show Hani, though, Hani will get a text, with the thing he meant to say: )

Let me get to know you.

( However brittle it may be. )

Edited 2023-08-31 08:30 (UTC)

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