deercountry | 15 . JOHNUARY

[ he's very aware of his breathing now that it isn't guaranteed. the next one he draws is long and deep and does nothing to ease the renewed anger that sends his daemon pacing for want of an outlet. ]

Purgatory.

[ he knows it's not the same. he knows his work has not been undone. the work had never been for himself, but it's hard for this not to feel undeserved. asriel used to be grateful he didn't end up where he thought he was going to end up, but he didn't disprove the very idea of the place to end up in something like it.

asriel has not come this far to be discouraged by something so foolish, and so he channels that rage into something productive. ]

No matter. [ and just like that, he's done feeling it. ] If it's about solving a puzzle, then we should have no problem between the two of us.

[ they were going to do research anyway and this is not the doorway's plan working as intended!! that's the hill he'll die on. ]

That's the spirit.

[ But he says it grimly, like a man bracing himself. John leans towards a table, the movement telegraphed so Asriel can hang on and take a step with him. He draws out a chair, hooks out another at its side with his foot, and folds awkwardly down to sitting with his notebooks. ]

They aren't typically complex. We're being pressed into certain behaviors, that's all. When there's a lesson to learn, they have to club us over the head with it.

[ it's awkward but manageable. he has to think about moving together and cooperating instead of doing as he pleases. this seems basic, but asriel is not accustomed to yielding to what other people are doing.

it gives him an idea, though. ]

It must have to do with coordination. Having to be in constant contact limits what can be done.

[ he's not thinking about it any more deeply than that right now; why would pthumerians care about human feelings?

stelmaria stays nearby, neither of them interested in being any more apart than they need to be, and it's a silent comfort asriel won't admit he appreciates. as close as she is, she is ever mindful to avoid touching john, of course. ]

[ John goes tsk like he has bad news to deliver, and laces his fingers. After a moment's consideration, he leans in slightly to Asriel's grip on his arm. ]

When I say lesson, it's more in the sense of storybook morals. Sharing is caring, that sort of thing. This is just our latest trust fall.

No, that's really not going to work for me.

[ it's like a slap in the face to be beholden to this shit again. ]

Oh, for— Asriel!

[ he can't ignore her when she snaps at him where he can hear her for real. stelmaria is tired of his aggravated seething because it's setting her teeth on edge. asriel mentally adds to the list of all the ways none of this is okay. ]

Fine. Empirical data. How have you solved these trust falls before?

[ He tips his head in sympathy, unruffled, and unlaces his fingers again to begin drumming them on the table. If this jostles Asriel slightly and continuously, John doesn't take notice. ]

Some are seasonal. They do a special boat ride every September... show you all the corpses you've made until you confess the crimes. That's a common theme: get you to talk, open up, really get into your feelings.

[ He turns to Asriel, uncomfortably close, flat amusement in his eerie black eyes. ]

So: I can make it a quick death?

I wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction.

[ spite, above all else, continues to be a hell of a motivator. if he's uncomfortable about their closeness, it's difficult to tell; all his grievances currently rolled into a general look of intense displeasure. ]

I have no choice but to sit here if you feel the need to unburden yourself, but I see no point in engaging in worthless sentiment.

[ it's the same pigheaded blustering he always gets into whenever anyone tries to make him do or care about something he feels is beneath him. ]

We'll call worthless sentiment the last-ditch plan, then.

[ He drums his fingers again, then stills. When he regards Asriel this time, it's slow and thoughtful. Possibly ominous. ]

This one isn't routine, not as far as I've heard, but there have been a few cured by touch. It's never just contact. [ Their keepers draw intimacy from Sleepers like blood, whether they crack him into telling a story or cuddling Corruption away. ] It's always in the pursuit of some storybook gesture, some poetic irony.

[ He turns his hand over on the table, palm up, and holds it out in offer. God looks Asriel dead in the eye and asks to hold his hand. ]

Nearly February, right? Season of bonds between people.

[ asriel shoots him the sort of look that has made lesser men wither, and that's before he's even offered asriel his hand. he suspects it will be somewhat less effective, but it's not like john is his enemy anyway.

far more subtle is the way he glances for an instant in stelmaria's direction at the mention of touch, though. make that two last-ditch plans, because it's debatable which option would be worse.

compared to what he's thinking, the offer to hold hands is just funny. ]

... You're serious.

[ he still hasn't accepted, however. ]

A troubling thought if the Pthumerians are interpreting seasonal traditions literally.

[ he has a point here, but this could also be considered stalling. ]

Is the poetic outcome all they ever want? Some people would kill to get out of this situation.

[ because it's not like it's any less true if he didn't point it out. it likely says something about him that asriel automatically assumes bonds will be used to manipulate, but given his track record could anyone blame him. ]

[ John does well with withering; he's loved Mercy too long not to. He just shrugs, and never mind that it jars Asriel's grip on him a bit. They're already ridiculous, wedged in next to each other with Asriel glaring from too close up. ]

Hard to say what they want. Free entertainment, maybe. A stab at human poetry from something that doesn't really get humans, or poetry.

[ There's something wry in his voice again. He knew someone like that, once. If she'd ever developed a sense of humor, it would've scared everyone shitless. ]

Have the locals declared February relationship month because that's what the Doorway stands for, or decided it's what the Doorway stands for because they always pop up in February? Which came first, the Pthumerian or the egg?

[ He still doesn't drop his hand. ]

[ and so asriel reaches the point where he's exhausted all his arguments, and the only choice left is the one he doesn't want. it's worth noting that few people have managed this, but that doesn't make it any less annoying. he should see it coming when stelmaria doesn't butt in; she's just waiting for him to catch up to what she already knows — which is that it won't kill him. quite the opposite by the current laws of the land, actually. ]

Prepare yourself.

[ asriel is the picture of reluctance, but he's at least considerate enough to offer a warning before he lifts his hand. he doesn't hesitate after that — having no problem with the execution once he's committed — but once it's done, he finds his aversion to the whole thing begins anew.

he remembers now why he can count the number of times he's ever held hands with someone on the one not holding john's. it feels strangely vulnerable, so he's thinking about this way too much. you can tell plenty about a man from his handshake, so why not this? in effect, it's probably more comfortable trying to hold hands with an armoured bear. ]

[ This is a delightfully ominous start to the act of holding hands.

The effect hits the moment they break contact, and John hates it all over again— he wonders if this could actually kill him; they seem to change the rules of his own immortality every time he looks away— but then Asriel takes his hand, and the relief is instant. He settles into it, shifts his grip, tries to pretend Asriel isn't stiff as stone and this isn't hilariously awkward. It's not the worst he's endured for a curse.

It would be kindest to keep speculating, treat this like research. But as the silence hangs, he finds himself in the grip of the inevitable. ]

I do hate to do this to you, but someone has to say it. [ John looks at him with a fresh spark of amusement in his inhuman eyes. In his most grave and godly voice, he says: ] Lord Asriel Belacqua, you take my breath away.

[ If Asriel drops him in disgust and the curse hasn't lifted, the joke will still be worth it. ]

[ in his experience, no one has ever started anything with "I hate to do this to you" and ever really meant it, so this already has asriel expecting the worst.

he can feel stelmaria's amusement, too — the traitor — and she would love it if asriel would lighten up a little.

predictably, disgust is the motivating factor behind dropping john's hand as thoughtlessly as he does, at which point the curse is happy to inform them that more testing will be required.

angrily, uselessly, his frustration snaps and he punches down hard on the adjacent tabletop. it's a painful jolt that travels right up his arm to the shoulder, and with another wordless snarl, asriel takes john's hand up again. ]

You like to push your luck, don't you?

[ that's a dumb question he doesn't need to ask and a sorry attempt at deflection. this was never guaranteed to work, and asriel had already set his expectations low, but there was a particular sense of dread now that wasn't there before at having even fewer limited options. ]

[ This goes about as well as he could've expected. In the caught-breath silence, the slam of Asriel hitting the tabletop is very loud. John leans away a little, caught between gratified and apologetic; he steadies forward when Asriel snatches up his hand again. ]

On occasion.

[ He lets them both settle a moment, as Asriel catches his breath. ]

Let's assume we're not meeting criteria. Any better ideas?

[ He can think of a few, each more intrusive than the last: matching their breathing patterns; whispering secrets; fully embracing, for no other reason than some Pthumerian finding it twee; something about mouth-to-mouth. ]

[ asriel bites back the urge to shoot the question down at once and continue being as useful as a stone wall, mostly because he already has ideas and has concluded that he still hates every single one.

stelmaria paces near enough that her tail brushes against his leg, which is more significant a gesture than it would seem at a glance. they orbit each other with the natural ease of two bodies which have always done so because they are never not aware of the other, and so even their little collisions aren't accidental. she recognises the struggle this presents, but anything more would be too obvious and only worsen the problem; reassurances in their quiet way. ]

It might not even be a universal solution. Why not make it the worst thing you could think of? In all likelihood, it gets what it wants every time we try and fail.

[ sure, he's an optimist, but not about curses intended to force people into uncomfortable situations. ]

I doubt the solution is purely physical. If that were the goal, there are far easier ways of achieving that outcome than this.

[ surely pointing that out as clinically as possible will make it less ridiculously awkward. ]

[ John accepts this with good grace, mild and resigned in contrast to Asriel's animated fury. ]

The worst thing I can think of is likely to involve more viscera than the worst thing you can think of, I suspect. Cultural backgrounds, and all.

[ This is said concerningly deadpan. But he leans in over the table again, settling the way he might when faced with a research problem. He smooths and resettles his fingertips against the back of Asriel's hand, a thoughtless little motion of self-reassurance. ]

We've had any number of curses that press for... metaphorical closeness. Secrets, fears, confessions. I can only think of one that wanted, you know, a physical solution, and even that didn't have a one-size-fits-all. [ If he makes it sound awkward, it's because it was awkward. ] Which brings us back to trust falls.

[ that strikes him as unexpectedly funny. it must be the absurdity of all this again on top of his nerves. it's probably a bad sign. ]

Maybe not. Needing to carve someone's heart out was always on the table.

[ you can't help where the mind goes. ]

I've noticed you've mentioned trust falls a few times, though.

[ asriel assumes it's a nervous habit. what does he know? he is possibly projecting, considering how quickly he jumped to adamantly refusing to share earlier.

he is trying to ignore that hand entirely, but he's always had this problem with failing to not think about certain distractions. ]

If you have an idea, you might as well say so. If I were going to hit you, it would've happened already.

[ comforting? ]

[ This startles him into a low huff of a laugh. ]

How's this, then. I'll tell you something very personal and sad, and if that fails to touch your heart, plan B can be to literally touch your heart. Nonlethally, mind. I'm very gentle.

[ The joys of necromancy! It is again unclear whether he's kidding. ]

[ something unsaid passes between him and stelmaria again that draws asriel's attention from john momentarily this time. she is now, as ever, his last vestige of caution and the fact that he does not veto this idea at once has apparently been a (reasonable) cause for concern.

neither of them reflects on the fact that they automatically assume plan B is the more likely outcome. he isn't easily moved and doesn't expect that to change. necromancy is also the obvious place where his mind goes — it's not his fault, it's fascinating — and all the implications that go with it that he can only guess at. pain seems obvious, which is still easier and preferable a thousand times over to having to share anything personal, and it shows. ~~some men would let someone handle their organs before they'll go to therapy.~~ ]

That's seems like more effort on your part, but if that's what you want, I won't object.

[ He did not expect grave commitment to what is ultimately a bit. John lifts his free hand to rub a thumb at his temple again, looking both troubled and accepting. ]

Then let's start with the easy bit, and hope we don't need to get hands-on. [ He gives Asriel's hand a little squeeze as he says it, to make plain that this is another unreasonably obvious joke. Before Asriel can rile at this, he cuts in: ] Look, I'll find something relationship-themed to share, in honor of the season.

[ Something about craving connection, he doesn't say. The longing for touch doesn't feel so foreign to him, but he's aware of the itch every time Asriel drops his hand: there's an urgency underlying the breathlessness. Contact being as crucial as air, something along those lines. He gets the poetry of it. ]

This one's no grand secret. Not anymore, anyway. [ He goes wry again, and silent, for just a beat too long. Then: ]

I have a daughter.

[ One child by blood; by any other metric, the number is a nightmare to unpack. He'd rather start touching hearts. John shifts his grip in Asriel's slightly, betraying restlessness under his steady tone. ]

I wasn't exactly around when she was a kid, so we've been trying to catch up. You could call it a work in progress. [ You could call it more unkind things than that, but he likes to give himself some credit. It's been a bad year. ] Everything I can do, and I've still never had the hang of that.

[ it's amazing how after all of asriel's work on Dust and how to control it, he still doubts his intuition. he knows how it works, but he has a hard time submitting to the process — and asriel has no excuse, given stelmaria's explicit warnings, but he chooses to ignore it anyway. he likes what he thinks and he's sure this is a gamble he can win. he always wins and it's only a little pain, after all. he won't have to do what he doesn't want to do because lord asriel gets what he wants because he wants things more powerfully than other people, and so on.

stelmaria couldn't know what john would say, but she knows how well asriel has painted himself into this corner to save face. he doesn't consider that she might know better because only one of them has ever been completely honest.

his mistake, of course, was believing there was nothing john could ever say that would get under his skin. arrogance. his daemon gives him a long, knowing look before stalking off with a growl. their separation no longer strains their bond how it used to, but he remembers the feeling keenly enough that it might as well.

asriel is silent for too long after that, but there is nothing good nor clever to say when one half of you has abandoned the other to reap what he's sown. ]

Effort counts for something, I'm sure.

[ Well! That's something. John hadn't been tracking the cat too closely; she hasn't been particularly talkative, and he's not well-versed in regarding an Omen as an extension of some singular self, when the only Omens he spends time with are an entire can of worms. No one's ever met his in a situation that didn't involve bloodshed. Usually she's the one shedding everyone's blood.

Still: he watches the split with a little furrow of startled fascination in his brow. As she stalks off, he tracks the movement out the corner of his eye, drawn again to the intangible weight of her.

There's a surprising number of people with odd souls, in this town: two-part melanges and muddied hundred-part infusions and his own cohort of walking black holes. He's never quite seen a person split in half. One essence in two shapes, not evenly distributed.

Asriel couldn't know how darkly funny it is. ]

I like to hope so.

[ He's saying nothing in particular, politely glossing over whatever just happened there. Even more politely pretending there's nothing to read into it. ]

I'd like to have something there, you know? It's been a shaky start, and her mom and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye.

[ This is a very funny understatement. ]

[ it's the politeness that gets him. asriel wishes john had been a little crueller because then he might've had a defence for that. he's bracing for the barb because there isn't anyone he can think of who would've passed up the opportunity to kick him when he's down. asriel doesn't begrudge them for it — he never set out to make friends, he set out to win a war.

here, this earns john a small measure of respect, and his prize is something asriel wouldn't even consider a secret if he wasn't being held hostage and threatened with real human connection. ]

I also have a daughter.

[ a fact he's shared with as much scholarly detachment as he can muster. he doesn't know what else to say about it, which feels uncomfortably appropriate. ]

But I never called myself a father.

[ it's difficult to know the exact meaning of those words because asriel isn't sure either. a confession? an admission of guilt? the same lie he's used forever to deflect any responsibility? yes. ]

[ That would do it. John can recognize a breakthrough when it's laid in his lap, the hesitation over a touched nerve. He has gone carefully still and thoughtful in the face of Asriel's uncertainty. ]

It's a learning curve. [ He slants a wry, awkward smile, as though he can invite them in to the same pathetic little club. He won't mention that he's a whole world's deadbeat: playing the Father, capitalized. ] I'll let you know when I've learned it.

[ don't murder her best friend, he thinks, but he bites his tongue. ]

Don't get me wrong; I'll not be made to apologise for it. The work was too important.

[ asriel knows he'd do it precisely the same way if he faced the same choices all over again because he can't regret the mission.

still, the fact that he and stelmaria have always remained divided on the topic of lyra proves it bothers him sufficiently without oversight from the local gods, thanks. ]

You try to give them a better world to live in. That should be enough.

[ now it's his turn to take vague stabs at things, although admittedly not because he's trying to spare john's feelings. these are the platitudes asriel has contented himself with for years; it's all he's really got right now. ]

15 . JOHNUARY

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cw: suicide joke

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cw: mention of child death

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