peripheries | IC Contact

If only.

[Paul submits to Kaworu's cautious, gentle touch with a smile like a narrow, bloodless wound. The light pressure on the sides of his orbital ridges reminds him of how he soothed Kaworu's allergy-swollen sinuses, and the reflective effort to drain Paul's clogged tear ducts draws a deep, wordless sorrow out of the cold nothing in his chest.

The bird's resumed transcription pulls Paul's focus away from Kaworu, albeit with reluctance. He doesn't want to turn from this soft, futile effort yet, the faint wash of pale hope that maybe, if he lets Kaworu's fingers linger, they'll work the alchemy that Paul can't-

But the continued fact of her presence means that there may be a way to yet heal Kaworu's wounds at a time of his choosing. The words in the abruptly finished letter - that Sophia retrieves, emerging from his sleeve to bound up to the desk, so that Paul doesn't have to leave Kaworu behind - say as much.

Somehow, Paul isn't surprised. What else was Merlinus doing when he was lost, except trying to find his way back to Kaworu? (One way, or another.) He holds the letter up so Kaworu may read it too, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around Kaworu's shoulder.]

...there must be a way to find him. [For the benefit of Kaworu's tear-blurred eyes and thoughts.] That's what this means. A way to find him, and to bring him back. The Old Man wouldn't have sent you a message like that otherwise.

[He wouldn't have given Kaworu false hope, even to give a final farewell.]

[Paul's turn leaves Kaworu feeling rather undone. Like there's more things to say, more things to do, but he simply didn't know them. So all he can do is live with the tugging desire to give more, and do more.

So instead, he uses his thumb and forefinger to firmly wipe the tears from his cheeks and eyes so he can read the letter. This time, he follows the tug.]

Us. He sent us a message. It was addressed to us both.

[Paul is clever. Therefore, it's something he's chosen not to see. So Kaworu will help him see it anyway. It's what Paul would want.

He rubs at his face with his heel of his palm, forcefully, trying to steal himself to endure the very idea of hope.]

He's told me about these things before. These places. And these words. They're from his home... but that can't be...

[How could the Old Man be at home? People who left could not be contacted and their omens vanished. The Old Man's omen was right there...]

[Paul is clever. Kaworu is relentless. The two of them make a good pair, Iskierka's Sleeper thought--thinks--and so the Omen reflects. She clacks her beak for emphasis, for attention, when Kaworu says both. Paul's message mattered as much, she knows that; Paul matters as much.

But exerting as much effort as she has, tiny fragment that she is, is fast wearing her thin. She writes one last shaking word on the fresh sheet Sophia's revealed--help--then drops the pen with a clatter and sticks her head beneath a wing.

The words would come again, pushing and insistent, puddling in her head until she could find places to put them. Til then, let her rest.]

I wouldn't say 'can't' about anything here.

[Every rule this place has set has been arbitrary, prone to exception. The evidence of this rule's exception is inconvertible, at least so far as this: Merlinus' Omen is here, writing messages that supposedly come from him. They contain instructions and sentiments that Merlinus would write.

(It could be another lie, but that's a possibility that Paul doesn't need to burden Kaworu with. And if it is a lie - if this is another game - Paul will

take care of it on his own.)]

He said that there was another person with him, didn't he? One who came back. If we can find her, we can ask her what she saw, and how she managed to return. He seemed to think that she would want to rescue him, so she may be an ally.

[This is a puzzle that can be solved. That's the impression his steady tone and slight, firm nod are meant to give, anyway. Determining the identity of this stranger, then working out the meaning of the thirteen (not the Pthumerians--too convenient, and not a task Merlinus would set his little bird) targets, then retrieving Merlinus from wherever he is reaching out from - these are things within their reach.

It's a simpler riddle than the pressing from Kaworu and the Omen to acknowledge a thing Paul hasn't even denied. He saw the message to him. He understood it. Merlinus knows what Paul did, and he's holding him to his vow. He's giving him an opportunity to make an attempt at repair. It's more mercy than Paul deserves, and of course he's grateful, but it would be selfish to tell that to either boy or bird.

And if he lies long enough about who he's protecting with his silence, maybe he'll start to believe it.]

I'm going to find her. I'm going to bring him back.

["It's not your fault."

That's what Paul had said after another day Kaworu spent waiting for the return of the Old Man at the beach. He'd waited until the chill in the air made his hands hurt and the lockjoint on his arms return. Truthfully, he hadn't felt it.

Yet, he can't shake the feeling that it is his fault. Paul, he thinks, is being delicate, trying to spare him from hard feelings after already enduring suffering. It's thoughtful, but Kaworu feels like the thought is starting to decay him from inside out. Like a wound that was spared salt but never cleaned.

But now, this is something he can do. An opportunity to purge that feeling, to fix what went wrong, and to do something for someone that's done much for him. Even if it was easier to pretend not to notice than to show appreciation. This is his will and he will act on it.]

We will.

[It's Paul's turn to say it, setting aside the letter so he can take Kaworu's hand and squeeze it too-tight, slender bones pressed together through fragile skin.

He knows the cadence of that determination, fierce and grief-stricken. He tells Kaworu it's not his fault because it's true; he tells Kaworu it's not his fault and knows it doesn't matter, because Kaworu accepts Merlinus' disappearance the way Paul has accepted it, which is to say not at all.]

It's going to be all right.

Yes. It will.

[When Paul takes his hand and squeezes it, he leans forward to bump his forehead against the other boy's.

Maybe he can't quite believe Paul when he says that what happened to the Old Man isn't Kaworu's fault, but he can believe this. He can believe there is something he can do to save the only father figure he's ever had and he can believe that, with Paul's help, they'll bring Illarion back. They fit well together. If someone can do it, it's the two of them.

He squeezes Paul's hand back, feeling the firmness of his fingers and the strength of his grip.]

We will.

IC Contact

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject