Day 67: Breakfast

[knightspirit]

For the first time since Kyousuke arrived, waking up didn't feel the slightest bit strange or out of place. It was still like night had suddenly stopped, with nothing in-between then and now, but instead of being disorienting, or like there was something missing, it was like waking up from a nightmare. His breaths came heavy and anxious, everything flooding back to him, but unlike last night, he had more mental clarity, and he actually understood what it meant.

Sora... was dead.

After a moment, his breathing seemed to ease up, and he sat up slowly, and simply stared down at his blanket. The motion hurt quite a bit, a lot worse than it had yesterday morning, but he seemed to be in decent shape, all considered. Sore, battered, a little faint, but compared to worst of it...

He wondered if he should feel upset right now, or want to yell, or cry, but the truth was, he didn't. If anything, he was just numb. Tired and listless. He wasn't sure what to think or feel about anything, but somehow it seemed distant and disconnected, like something that hadn't actually happened. Yet, if he lingered on it too long, the lifelessness grew into something nauseating, heavy and constricting in his chest, and he didn't even notice until he realized he was gripping his bedding unnecessarily hard. So he forced himself to relax, and not focus on it too much. ... He preferred the cold sort of nothingness.

When the nurse arrived, she wasn't empty-handed, unfolding a wheelchair by his bedside and looking at him expectantly, as if she wanted him to settle himself into it. Looking at it was strange and uncomfortable, and he found himself refusing automatically.

"... I can walk fine. I don't need—"

"What you don't need," the nurse said sternly, "is to be overexerting yourself. You got to walk around yesterday, and what do you do? You go and reopen your injuries! Honestly, Mr. Taylor, you might be young, but you need to take better care of yourself! Today, you're resting, and if you're good about it, we'll see about maybe taking the chair away tomorrow."

That was bad enough, but then she wouldn't even let him wheel himself, and pushed him along from behind. This was totally unnecessary... But though it made him feel helpless, Kyousuke didn't have the energy to argue, so he let her do what she wanted. She asked if he wanted to make a quick trip the bulletin, first, but... Would the news be there? There were people who deserved to know, but there would be reactions to it, questions he didn't want to answer, and feeling his stomach give a lurch, he decided he didn't want to deal with it. Any of it.

Once in the cafeteria, the nurse asked him about breakfast, but Kyousuke insisted he wasn't hungry. ... He wasn't. Sensing he wanted to be left alone, she wheeled him off to an easily overlooked portion of the cafeteria, but quickly returned, setting food and some juice in front of him, "just in case." She set a small paper cup with a couple of painkillers on the tray, and after that, she left, leaving the boy to stare down the meal he didn't really want.

[ Kratos! ]

Comments

[skeletonenigma]

For the same reason Skulduggery didn't press about the lion-shape, he didn't press about the reanimations. Different universes, indeed. He hadn't come across a single difference between their universes yet. Granted, this one really depended on one's definition of reanimations, but the basics were the same. Reflections in Skulduggery's universe couldn't use magic. Neither could zombies. Anything brought back by a Necromancer was... well, they could barely be considered human, let alone wield any sort of magic.

Skulduggery was different. The exception to the rule, as always. His mind, his consciousness, his very essence had come back intact. He'd never felt a particular inclination to follow any Necromancer's orders, which meant he wasn't a reanimation. He was still him. His own person.

That was what made Lord Vile so hard to understand.

Gabe wasn't exactly making himself any easier to understand, either. For a long moment, Skulduggery stared down at where Gabe had taken his hand on the table, making no effort whatsoever to break away from the contact. Maybe he thought Gabe's empathy would help relieve some of what he was feeling, but if that was the case, he was disappointed. Magic didn't work during the day.

"You know about Necromancy," he said slowly. "You recognised it the moment you laid eyes on it. But you didn't run, you didn't... fight." Not by any traditional definition of the word. "And this morning, you approached me, like I was just another acquaintance. Why are you helping me?"

Not why are you spending time and energy on me - although there was probably an element of that - but Skulduggery was more objectively interested in Gabe's motives. Standing his ground in the face of Vile? What was he used to back in his own world?

[impudentsongbird]

Gabe blinked at him, his expression genuinely puzzled. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked back. "Most necromancers never find the self-awareness or the care to turn their backs on their magic. You have. You wouldn't act so ashamed by it if you hadn't." Because he did act ashamed. Just the question alone was an act of shame. The way he felt the need to joke about his state of being--to distance himself from it. The fact that he faltered. "You need all the help you can get, and with what you're resisting, you deserve that help. Who would I be to refuse you?"

Certainly not someone Gabe would like to know. And he certainly wouldn't be proud of himself for doing it or feeling it. Just that thought, that he wouldn't, made something in him untwist.

Of course he had to. Of course he wanted to. Not doing so just because he was human--it was an excuse, not much else. He wasn't powerless. Maybe he didn't have the extent of magic he used to, but that was no reason to go running from things in which he'd taken such pride and pleasure before. He smiled at Skulduggery, squeezing his hand, and there was a gleam of mischief in the expression now. "I'll admit you startled me, if that makes you feel any better."

[skeletonenigma]

Who would I be to refuse you?

Never mind refusal. He'd offered his help. He'd offered it long before he had any idea Skulduggery wasn't just another power-hungry Necromancer. Skulduggery wasn't sure if that was sheer naivete, or something much more sinister. Who would he be? He'd be normal. He'd be human.

What kind of shape-shifting sorcerer wasn't human?

Skulduggery's head was pounding far too hard to even consider the question right now. He let it sink into his free hand on the table with a short groan. Maybe sometime later, when his body was letting him think again. Maybe then he'd corner Gabe and get some straight answers out of him, or - more likely - solve the mystery himself. If everyone here had a fictional representation in someone else's universe, it might explain why Skulduggery had been so unreasonably mistrustful of Gabe when they first met.

Someone laughed. It took Skulduggery much longer than it should have to realise it was him. His own laugh sounded like it was coming to him in stereo. That probably wasn't healthy. "It doesn't, but thank you for the effort."

Skulduggery wasn't going to offer up details unless Gabe wanted them. And if that was the case, then... well, Skulduggery wouldn't hold back those details. Gabe had earned himself nothing less. After everything, after all the dark magic and death and the lingering intent to kill someone, Gabe just accepted it all - and still had enough of a sense of humour left to make a joke. He'd earned himself anything it was in Skulduggery's power to give him.

[impudentsongbird]

"Anytime." In spite of Skulduggery's first reaction to groan and slump over, Gabriel grinned. He wasn't entirely sure what that reaction meant, especially given what Gabe had just said himself. It didn't seem to include a desire to know anything else, however, so Gabe decided to let the topic pass by.

Did he want to ask details? he wondered. Did he want to oblige Skulduggery to give him details? That depended on what he was asking about, really. Maybe not his past, back home, and how he came to be like that. Not yet. But the rest ...

"What did Landel do?" he asked. "Whatever other magic you use instead of necromancy--can you still use that? Or is Landel forcing you to the latter?" If so, and Gabe wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Landel was doing just that, then Skulduggery was definitely in need of a bit of help.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery was silent for a moment while he composed himself, reaching for a state of mind where he could answer the questions he should really have been expecting. This was a good chance to go over some things himself, too, more objectively than he'd managed before. As if this was just a story, happening to someone else, and Skulduggery needed to make all the competent decisions for the incompetent main character.

He lifted his head and let his hand fall back onto the table. "Elemental magic. Control over the four elements. Yes, I can, but it requires a much clearer focus than Necromancy does. I was drugged beyond all comprehension last night, and given incentive to become who I was before I decided to give up Necromancy. A singularly unpleasant man, to say the least."

'Incentive' was putting it lightly, but Skulduggery couldn't get into that just yet. Not until he determined whether the doctor had been telling the truth about a group of hostages somewhere in the Institute, when he would probably need help rescuing them. "I don't know how much of it is permanent," he admitted with a sigh. "The drugs likely won't be, but Necromancy is addictive. If I have access to it from now on, and even the slightest nudge in that direction, Landel won't need to force me to do anything."

[impudentsongbird]

"We'll have to come up with a way to encourage you to reach for something else, then," Gabe said thoughtfully. "Like how chain-smokers use candy. And I've seen an alcoholic teach herself to drink milk instead. Things like that."

He was still holding Skulduggery's hand in his. The Archangel looked down at it with a tilt of his head, stroking the back of the sorcerer's hand and concentrating for a moment. Not much at all. He wasn't sure if it was because of Landel or if it was because of the strain of leashing Skulduggery's necromancy the night before, but nothing happened.

"I don't know if I have the power to add in a loophole," he admitted, "but instincts are powerful things. Like muscle-memory. How did you train yourself to use elementalism again over necromancy, back when you quit the first time?"

[skeletonenigma]

Magic was a lot more dangerous than smoking or alcohol, but Skulduggery chose not to mention that. Gabe's point, after all, was sound. Instincts really were powerful things.

"Through sheer force of will," he answered. Plus being driven insane by an evil god, living in fear of any of his friends discovering the truth, and endless amounts of practice, but those were just sidebars. "After a while, mostly force of habit. All of my power was channeled into a suit of armour. As long as I stayed away from that, staying sane was relatively easy." It was Skulduggery's anger he'd had to control, more than the fading addiction. Losing control for even a second might have snapped Vile back into place, with or without the armour.

"Landel's changed the rules, of course," he added sourly. "I don't need the armour anymore. I can think of a lot of people back in my world who would love to know how he managed that. There's one problem with your suggestion, Gabe. I won't have any muscles."

Skulduggery's face had blanked again, but there was a trace of amusement in his tone for those last words, if the discerning listener was listening closely.

[impudentsongbird]

"You must have a very muscular will," Gabe observed, and though his turn of phrase was humorous there was something genuinely thoughtful in the observation. It was a compliment, because it was true. It wasn't easy to quit something cold-turkey, but if Skulduggery had done it, he was very strong-willed.

Not that Gabe had any reason to disbelieve that, even with the little he knew of the man.

It took Gabe just a moment to realise what the joke was, but then he laughed. "I can always make some for you," he offered. "I like making things. I'm good at making things. I made rosaries. I bet I could make you some muscles. Or at the very least, attach some puppet strings."

The fact that Skulduggery could even approach this with amusement was a good sign. A very good sign which did even more to relax Gabe, in spite of the manner in which he'd woken that morning.

[skeletonenigma]

"Rosaries," Skulduggery said, because someone had to point out the obvious and it clearly wasn't going to be Gabe, "are very different from muscles." The ones he had now would do until tonight, even if they were sore.

Puppet strings put Skulduggery in mind of Larrikin, who occasionally made puppets with his spare time during the war. Most, if not all of them, were representations of the Dead Men. It was strangely unnerving, being forced to watch one of Larrikin's puppet shows and seeing an eerily accurate little skeleton dancing around on puppet strings.

"As long as you're not attaching them to me," he decided. "Landel could easily exploit that. If he doesn't already have a set of voodoo dolls in whatever passes for his office, he really doesn't need the idea."

[impudentsongbird]

"But if he does already have a set of voodoo dolls in his office, then he's already had the idea and it won't change all that much, really," Gabe pointed out, eyeing the man critically and with a kind of earnestness that belied any indication that he wasn't serious. Because he was. He was amused but he was turning the idea over in his head very seriously.

"If we made them magical strings," he said thoughtfully, "we could make them so only certain people could touch them. That way Landel wouldn't be able to use them himself, and he'd get frustrated by being unable to. Like Tantalus."

The ensuing discussion, interspersed with actually eating, lasted until the bell rang for the shift-change.