caughtinanetwork | 1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

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1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

[Wow, Darkleer is actually communicating with the network on a whole for once instead of being a miserable hermit. Must be a special occasion. Does anyone know his wiggling day?]

Now then. Have we all cleansed ourselves of the mess and done whatever strange death rituals foreign species feel the need to do?

[Okay, maybe it is just Darkleer being a coldhearted dick. Eh.]

I believe we should focus on the more important matter here. I have seen discussions scattered throughout the network, but it would be best to have all our thoughts and speculations focused in one place on both the destruction of those so-called faeries and on the recent appearance of that Carol individual.

For those of you who are oblivious and prone to missing the obvious, things are changing in this place. It would be best to be prepared.

[Don't be fooled, he's not doing this to be nice. He's doing what any troll knows to do: looking out for himself and the few he cares about. If that means even faintly working with others, well, he'll learn to deal.]

[Also, that's all the network is getting from him. Click goes the camera!]

[Filtered to Summoner]

[Darkleer hesitates before sending this one out, although his voice is just as stoic and stern as ever.]

Since your children in particular seem to be taking this badly, perhaps it would benefit you to know that those things which followed us were nothing more than mere robots. The technology may have been organic in nature, but it was still nothing truly living. No pain, no loss of life.

That's all.

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I'll stay until you do.

[Which is sounding strangely like another event that wasn't too long ago but details. Darkleer isn't comfortable bringing that up again.]

[He also isn't comfortable asking just what's wrong, not yet.]

[A rather weary stare, mouth frowning.]

...Seriously?

[Ha. He didn't expect that one. Darkleer feels some bit of smugness at that, but keeps up his impassive facade.]

Is that going to be a problem?

[A barely noticeable whine grates in his throat, sighing in deep before stepping back, looking down, eyes searching the ground. Then angrily, he opens the thermos and tilts it to his mouth, drinking quickly, and wincing from the temperature of it. Lysunder pulls it away from his mouth, caps it, and turns to start walking.]

[Yes, it is a problem...]

I'm sure there are others things that need to be done. Instead of linger around here, that is.

[Fortunately for at least one of them, Darkleer doesn't particularly care if it is a problem. Undoing his hair tie, he begins to follow after Summoner. If he wasn't talking, he would be no more noticeable than a shadow.]

Everything I need to do can be accomplished, presently, over the communicator. Besides, I would not be merely lingering.

[He would be making sure Lysunder doesn't do anything idiotic. Like not sleep. Or not take care of himself.]

[The way Darkleer is following him is unnerving. Lysunder feels his hands shake a bit more, curling his fingers tight around the thermos, his other hand balled tight into a fist. Worried, why's he worried, is it because Darkleer is following him like that? So silent, stealthily, it's nerve wracking. His wings flicker and he swallows, looking back again, still there, but he can't hear him besides his words. Why's he following him?! What does it matter!? Leave him alone, this is frustrating and annoying and kind of terrifying and dear god he's getting really anxious. A deep breath and he stops, looking over his shoulder, a heavy swing of his horns revolving around him.]

Just leave me alone, what...what--wh...UGH. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT TO ACCOMPLISH!? [Says turning around quickly, stepping back. His head shakes, letting out a shuddering breath. The scream came out a bit clearer than his voice was allowing, perhaps due to the tea and just how loud he yelled. It echoed around the trees and even made him jump. The Summoner's eyes quickly closed, hand slowly moving up to press at his eyes as his lids squinted tight.]

I won't sleep.

So just go. Being here w-w-w...[Swallow.] Won't make a difference.

[The intensity of the scream makes Darkleer jerk back as well, eyes wide and hands balling into fists. He can feel his heart pounding in his ears. This was a bad idea. He should have recognized that from the beginning. Those final words carry a sting to them, but isn’t it true? Even he wasn’t sure what he was doing when he first even thought about sending a private message to Lysunder.]

[Just because they’ve had some conversations with one another doesn’t mean anything. If there’s someone he wants to see, it’s certainly not him.]

[For a moment, Darkleer only stands there, stance suddenly and quite clearly submissive: head down, shoulders hunched, and fingers finally relaxing to simply dangle at his sides. More than a couple of times, he looks up as if he wants to say something, hand twitching, but he always returns to the default.]

[Finally, he persuades himself to speak.]

…I know.

[His gaze is hard, staring at him, eyes glassy.]

Then w-w- [He closes his eyes, lowering his head as he sneers.]

Then why even try? I'll be fine. Okay? I'll always be fine.

[He... he knows why Darkleer tried, why he messaged him, why he's acting like this. He's pretty sure he knows, and is pretty sure Darkleer doesn't, or is at least reluctant to admit why. Summoner is empathetic if anything, and he can tell, but he doesn't want that to be the issue. It'd be easier if Darkleer was still an emotionless wall to him, still contesting him as he did when he first arrived. That would make this all easier.]

[This place is a lie, a false paradise that will only go away and it's useless to make anything more of his time here besides calm leisure before his unending war wraps around him again. When the cries of his men and the sounds of lance and claw echo around him, drowning out the screams and illusions in his mind. Unlike this place which is so quiet, there's nothing else he can hear, and there isn't even anything he, or anyone else can do to stop it. And that's fine, it's his burden alone. This blue blood executioner will only confuse himself further by continuing these encounters, and Summoner really doesn't need-- He sees the other's hand twitching, subtly, Lysunder's eyes dragging slowly up to look at Darkleer's face again, as if scared to lock gaze with him for a second time, despite his spectacles--

He really can't afford to make attachments.]

Okay?

...No you're not.

[If it wasn't for the utter silence all around them, his quiet words might have been missed.]

I don't think you've been fine from the second you arrived here. Maybe before then.

[Darkleer has always had a carefulness to his voice in general, the tone and speed of someone who considers his words carefully and with some thought. Right now, however, they're even more careful, almost tentative, as if he's not sure he's allowed to speak.]

[It's been obvious since day one. They're little things that appear in conversations, slips of the tongue that reveal more than the immature child the Summoner plays himself as. It's easy to forget those moments in the face of such an overwhelming personality and act, but they're still there.]

[Darkleer doesn't raise his head.]

If you don't care for my presence... I will not bother you.

[And he takes a step back.]

[He swallows, a weight in his chest causing his whole body to feel like it will collapse at any moment. Though, that probably isn't helped by his exhaustion.]

That's not-- that isn't the case here, it is not that I don't care, that is not a thing that is happening.

It's. [He finally manages to lock his eyes on where Darkleer's should be, irises and pupils moving around before finally staying still at one point, right in the middle, no longer searching for a gaze he can actually see.]

You, you-- You shouldn't care. You, you have those kids to look after anyway, right? I can handle myself, and. Um. What, whatever problems I may or may not have.

But this isn't about how I feel about yo-yoou-- you.

...I do.

[There's just a small roll of his shoulders, a miniscule shrug.]

But... they have survived on their own for a long time yet. They... don't need me to hover over their shoulders. But you...

[He trails off and shakes his head, abandoning his own words halfway through the sentence. It's not his place. It's not his place and it will never be his place. It would be better for both of them if he left.]

All I know, Cavalreaper, is that I do a great many things I should not do or have done, but... I have regardless.

And you do not take care of yourself well, only others.

How can I take care of myself here? W-w-what is this place even? I don't know anything about a life so...

Quiet. I can't handle this, y- you. You can't hear it. I can hear it, it's like, I'm asleep right now, I, I- [He drops the thermos and brings both his hands to knead hard at his forehead, covering his eyes.] I wish sleeping still worked, but now, now it's just ...

When it's loud I don't need to hear it, I can't, everything else drowns it out, but here, here that snap and boom, it. It was- was so loud. It's all I can hear now. [Summoner sighs, wings slicking back behind him. it would be better for both of them if he left.]

[So that's the problem. Of course. The explosion of the faerie devices. And couple that with someone who's so used to constant war, who was taken from the middle of one...]

That's not going to be something you'll get over on your own. Not properly at any rate.

I don't need to get over it, I need to go back!

[His eyebrows furrow, slouching into himself more, hands gripping at his face harder.]

I need to go back, and see them, and be there for them, and know that I can be there to support them and... I, uh, d-d-d-damnit!

You can't.

[Just slightly, his voice gets firmer and this time, it's a step forward.]

You can't go back, not right now. So are you just going to give up?

I know, I know. I just, being here is a thing I don't w-w-w. I don't want. How can you stand it, not being w-w-w... Not being where you should be?

[He ducks his head down more before going to crouch down, wings smoothing out over the grass as he curls into himself, hands going to grate hard into his hair, mostly like splitting his scalp here and there, but Lysunder doesn't seem to mind. If anything the pain will drown out the pounding in his skull.]

I'll never give up, ever. That isn't something I can allow myself to do. Giving up isn't a choice i get to make, it's selfish.

[With how Lysunder is crouching down into himself, it's easy for Darkleer to stride over with just a few long steps. Leaning down, he goes to wrap a large hand around the troll's wrist. As he draws himself down, he bows his head enough so that he's staring right over the rim of his glasses into Lysunder's eyes.]

[The last time they met, when he removed his glasses, it was probably easy to ignore how open they are. How much they give away. They were both intoxicated, after all, and everything was hidden underneath a false kind of hazy pleasure. But now, there's nothing to hide behind. Everything is out in the open.]

[All the exhaustion, the weariness, the pain and misery, the concern- it's all there. All there alongside a kind of jaded age that shows that 200 sweeps can be far too long.]

[His voice is still very quiet.]

I don't. [Then he adjusts the angle of his face, and the shades are back in place again. He tries to tug Lysunder onto his feet.] What is also selfish is refusing the help of people who are concerned about you. Do you believe you are doing them a favor?

[The hand gripping his wrist makes him jump, and his jerk away from his is violent, almost popping his arm out of joint. The movement is soaked in fear, but he stops once his gaze locks onto Darkleer's, hands shaking, wings spread.]

[Seeing Darkleer's eyes like that meant something, even with them as barely noticeable slits. He felt like his own eyes were going to start betraying him, and they get glassy, but he keeps his lids open, knowing if he was to squint it would ease the salty liquid from his sockets that he was doing so well to hold back.]

Ha...

Th-

[He feels the tug on his wrist, but he doesn't allow himself to stand up, looking down to the grass, eyes searching various strands, wings slowly going to lazily press against the ground behind him.]

Them-- but. No one here should be concerned. It's pointless, this is pointless.

Yes, well, there are a lot of things that should be, no doubt.

[Heaving a heavy sigh, he kneels down properly and guides his other hand to Lysunder's upper arm.]

But we don't get that so easily. Come now. [Another light tug, and he'll pull him up with him if he has to.] Back to your camp.

[He lets out a slight whine when Darleer grabs his arm and tugs again, but he reluctantly stands, wings buzzing slightly before folding behind him. He doesn't want to be here, here as in Vatheon, here as in this forest, here as in right here, with Darkleer, grabbing his wrist and arm, and caring about him.]

[Empathy, right. Sometimes it was painful being so empathetic; and idiot could could see this as pity, and Summoner really really wished he was less intelligent then what would be considered 'idiotic'. That would make this easy, that would make this ...]

[A sigh.]

[Daaaaaamnit]

Fine, w-what- what ...Fine.

[Even with those wings settled and Summoner on his feet, Darkleer doesn't let go of his wrist. It's more a precaution than anything else. After all, the other has already proven he's more than eager to try and make a run for it, or lie through his teeth about himself. All he has to do is bring the fool back to his camp, clean him up, force him to sleep if he has to...]

[And completely ignore the emotional implications of all of this. For his own sake, if nothing else.]

[Quietly, he begins to pull Summoner along towards the direction of his camp. After a few minutes, he speaks.]

I don't know what anyone is going to do with you, Cavalreaper.

[Let alone myself.]

Are you- you. Are you really saying that to me? Or is that more to y-y-yourself?

[He eyes the hand on his wrist intently as they walk, his nostrils flared, actions stilted and rigid.]

[There's a pause in the conversation, and Darkleer just keeps moving. It's only when the camp is in sight does he answer.]

I don't know.

[And that is the honest truth.]

[He ushers him to sit down at one of the benches so that he can get a better look at his face and utterly wretched physical condition.]

[He feels ...so young right now. Just the way Darkleer is treating him, inspecting him, like he's one of the kids here. It frustrating. Part of him is starting to relax a little though. Was this pity something like what the other felt for those younger trolls? Something lusus like instead of anything else? Thinking of it like that made this a bit easier to mentally deal with.]

W-w... What?

[His wings shrink behind him, back curling forward and torso crumpling into itself as well. He does his beck to glare but it's really too weak to portray his agitation.]

What do you think?

[Sighing, Darkleer sits back on his haunches.]

Have you been eating better than you've been sleeping? Or are they both just as abysmally bad?

[This whole exchange is starting to feel a bit more comfortable to Darkleer as well. Without the emotions in the way, the basics of this remind him of times he's had to deal with other Archeradicators who've had some of the same problems, or at least similar ones.]

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