[superhell pcs] thancred

[voidshift]

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[voidshift]

And how do you think they would feel about that? If they knew you might not be lost to them forever, but you were here just-- at peace with never seeing them again, with-- how much do you think they're at peace with your death?

[his voice is a little more forceful, there, ears flicking and slightly pinning back.]

[onlythans]

[It hits him harder than Gideon's punch had, just some few bells before.

It's strange how he can almost imagine it — how vividly it all comes back to him, every bit and detail of that moment on the Ragnarok, Alisaie's tears and Alphinaud's pleading and G'raha's lashing tail, only instead of the near-lifeless body of someone deserving of such anguish and turmoil, for an instant in his mind's eye he can imagine how his own corpse would look there instead. He can imagine his own waxy flesh, his closed eyes, his spent breath.

He can imagine two small fists beating on the chest that housed a failed heart, each pounding impact accompanied by a wail. Wake up! Wake up, damn you, wake up! You can't — you can't!

How much does he think they're at peace with his death?

(Hasn't he been asking himself all this time, where is she, I would've thought she would've found me by now?)

The breath he draws, then, shakes like a leaf in a windstorm.]

I couldn't bear to look them in the eyes, if I took that chance away from another.

[Accepting this as his fate would've been so much easier, if he hadn't been made to confront what he wants.]

Why should it be me? Why me and not one of them? Why me and not you?

[voidshift]

Why not you? I swear, you heroic types are all the same, it's always oh, I couldn't, and no, I'd feel awful-- you know something? Eto told me, once, that she didn't feel that much of a need to go home. That she could be at peace with it, too.

She told Four that. I asked her if she knew it when she killed her.

[he's bristling, still, hair tentacles writhing.]

You never-- you never ask what other people want. None of you. I mean it, don't you fucking die for my sake, I can't do that again.

[onlythans]

Rynlan —

[And that's enough, at last, to prompt Thancred to set his hands against the lip of the pool and shove himself up and out of the hotsprings, cascading water as he heaves himself up onto the patio and reaches on reflex for one of Rynlan's hands.]

Ryn. Ryn.

[It's not like he can't already guess the answer himself, but failing to ask is a point of contention at the moment as well, so: ]

...What do you mean, "again"?

[voidshift]

[he's probably getting splashed, but- he can't really bring himself to care. he'll dry off. he just takes in a slow, steadying breath, exhales it, tries to keep it measured. too much. that was too much to say.]

...what do you think I mean, Thancred.

[it's obvious, he's sure. but:]

It's already been me, once. It shouldn't have been.

[rynlan leaves it at that, though, not elaborating any further.]

[onlythans]

...I know. I do know. I know how it feels to be left to live with it.

[Someone owned a ring once, and now it's on a chain around Rynlan's neck instead of on someone's finger where it likely belongs.]

I've no intention of inviting a second demise. Or of letting one claim you, either.

[voidshift]

You'd better not. On both counts.

[he still doesn't want to die-- he just doesn't want to be sacrificed for, either.]

[onlythans]

Let's make a bargain of it, then. Sturdier than a mere promise, since you'll owe me something in return. Fair?

[voidshift]

Fair, depending on what you want to be owed.

[always clarify the terms beforehand.]

[onlythans]

Remind me of the perks of living. And of fighting to have them again.

[a couple smooches wouldn't hurt either probably]

[voidshift]

If you need the reminders that badly, you're worse off than I thought.

[the smooches can be negotiated.]

...fine. I'll consider it a deal.

[onlythans]

Mm. A deal, then.

[He reaches up, winding one of Ryn's tendrils of hair around his finger.]

Now, back to that bit you were saying before, about the things I want to offer you...

[voidshift]

[oh, that move's a little bolder than normal-- one ear flicks.

he thinks he likes it, honestly.]

Oh? What about them?

[onlythans]

I suppose I wonder how curious you are to find out.

[voidshift]

Is this an offer to take my mind off things?

[onlythans]

Something like that. Don't think I don't expect you to fight it every step of the way, either — the more you cease to be upset, and resume being a brat.

[voidshift]

Calling someone a brat as a way to get something is a new one to me. What happened to flattery?

[onlythans]

What happened to flattery, indeed. I can recall dispensing rather a lot of it, but you seem less inclined to return the favor.

'Tis a fine line between shyness and reluctance, and when I can't tell the difference, I assume the latter.

[voidshift]

Oh, you're offended that you haven't been flattered sufficiently.

[he's settled in with his legs crossed, at some point-- elbow propped on his knee, chin in his palm.]

That was impressive, last night. Handling a giant sword with two knives.

[onlythans]

There is something rather satisfying about being appreciated by my attractive comrades, I won't deny it.

[Hm. Cute.]

Ah, you were watching our little spectacle, then?

[voidshift]

Of course I was. Hard to miss.

[thancred you were fighting at the onsen.

after a moment, though, he pivots right to:]

Are you all right, after that?

[onlythans]

...Well.

[looks down at the big ugly bruise emblazoned square across the middle of his chest.]

Nav throws a punch like a runaway behemoth. I'm fairly certain I felt something rattle, taking that one.

[voidshift]

[he shifts, reaching out, gloved fingertips gently touching that bruise. barely enough to make contact.]

Not enough to rattle out of place, I hope.

[onlythans]

[Mmmmmmmm. His lips part a fraction, drawing in a slow breath at the care inherent in the touch.]

I did feel something. Difficult to say whether it was real, or merely a powerful memory. Having not observed any ill effects yet today, I was ready to assume it was the latter.

[voidshift]

No pushing yourself, then, until you can tell for sure. Where?

[he keeps his hand where it is; he doesn't want to press on the bruise, but he does move his hand to feel around it, applying gentle pressure to make sure nothing seems to be fractured or otherwise damaged.]