15 . JOHNUARY

[necrolord]

Who: John Gaius and company.
What: All around him, John's friends and loved ones begin to shed their skins. Also: Riteoir.
When: January
Where: Gaze and the new city.

Content Warnings: Tagged in headers as needed. Note all the usual warnings of this character.

Comments

[slightlytaller]

"... I'm not saying that you'll go after her,"

He said in soft, level tones-- recalling everything he had known about the life and experiences of Alexandria to find that lightness he needed. Life as a mage, even a third rate one, didn't lend itself towards sincerity or working with others. While he could do so, and had done so a multitude of times, there was always an edge he couldn't cross.

But, in another life he had known.

Anna wasn't that only one left with memories of a life that wasn't her's.

"I'm saying that I need more information. This is all beyond anything I know, and anything oh my Earth. But, I'll learn it, if you'll help me. I'll do whatever I can to help my friend."

[necrolord]

"How did she take that pitch?"

He's gone wry, gentle but not sympathetic. John has closed himself off: he settles forward again, drops his hands to lace his fingers, rubbing his thumb along the edge of a palm as though to soothe himself. There are still bits of flower sticking to his shirtfront, but he's moved on.

"I can only guess at her story, and it's not the kind to tell at this table." The implication that he'd tell it at all nearly gets him shocked, but they seem to let this pass on technicality. "This one's out of my hands. Ten thousand years is hell on anyone, and to dig out those stories isn't a kindness... it's better to let it lie."

They don't shock him, because he believes it. More than not.

[slightlytaller]

"... That's right, the timer."

He had been so caught up in frustrations that he had forgotten this detail. How much longer did they have, he wondered? Could they stall it?

He heaved a sigh. The story John told was roughly the same as what Duty had said. Softer, not as abrupt, and not with the tones of reproach and objection.

Waver was aware that he was an outsider; Anna had never treated him as such, and talked to him as if he knew exactly what she referring to.

"Honestly? I don't think she can even imagine a world where anyone can help her." He said, shoulders visibly slumping. He had planned to have his emotional guards in place and approach John as Lord El Melloi II.

Instead, there only sat Waver Velvet. Or... Perhaps Mackenzie.

"But this is a world where time doesn't work the same way," he added, musing now. "It can flow as free as the tides, and pluck any version of us from any time out of the sea."

It was a sea that bore the wishes of generations and only promised the unknown. Like Okeanos, the sea that would forever be his rival for his King's attention.

"There's evidently another world where I'm reunited with the first man I loved," he said quietly. "That's not a world I know beyond these shores. I don't doubt that there's a world where we can free Anna Amarande from the burdens of Apollonia."

[necrolord]

It's a nice sentiment. John's expression draws slightly, shadowed with something weary and dark, at she can't imagine a world where anyone can help her. It doesn't really lighten at the pep talk, the quiet belief that anything can happen because the alternatives are too bleak to bear. That one good ending must promise the possibility of every other.

Around here, it's always the same tune: people say rebirth and renewal, but what they mean is that every wound will heal without a scar. No fire, no flood, no ashes for the phoenix— no life you have to trade for a fresh start— just a blind hope that it all stops hurting, even while everything else stays the same.

Their time is up. God looks tired.

"Some burdens," he says, "are too heavy to cast off. You just learn to bear the weight."