damned_institute | Night 44: Sun Room

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Night 44: Sun Room

[from here]

It looked like they were the first ones in the Sun Room this night. There weren't any monsters in plain sight, which was a good sign.

Or was it? Getting held up by a monster actually sounded kind of nice, for once. If it was strong enough, it could keep Sync busy - maybe even enough to derail his plans. Of course, it would also put their lives in danger, but they were in tons of danger anyway. Whoever said "better the devil you know than the devil you don't" obviously didn't know Sync the Tempest.

So even though Anise walked into the Sun Room with soft, cautious steps like she usually would, the girl inwardly found herself praying for someone or something to intercept them.

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His twin played at silence and Albedo disagreed. Oath-breaker, blood betrayer; terrible and traitorous heart pounding too loud. Again, the weapon felt his attack glance his counterpart, and again, he was pleased. Again, he felt like it wasn't enough. Unlike the other games, this grew worse as it continued, the sense of fulfillment it had offered was slipping away. Because Rubedo still breathed, perhaps. Because that second heart still beat. And he was not allowed to stop its pounding.

Albedo didn't waver when the next shot went off, aimed for his skull but received off-center. The left upper part of his head exploded in a shower of gore and brain matter. Again, sight dropped out, awareness fizzed and darkened entirely. Function of parts of his right side ceased momentarily, and he unwillingly dropped to a knee. It was dark, like unconsciousness made sweet, but it slid away all too quickly; mind regenerating along with matter. There was clarity, for a second, as he stared at the floor on his knees. Clarity and understanding, of this day and every one before it and every one that would come after. Everything fit for a moment, and in that peace, Albedo felt miniscule, insignificant. In that supreme wisdom, Albedo re-found purpose, and he re-experienced fear.

A Song started up again, soft and sweet, heartbreaking and dissonant, to thrash in his skull. It would not falter again. "'His ways are very dark," Albedo murmured. "It may be that the things which we call evil are good, and that the things which we call good are evil. There is no knowledge of anything.'" No... No knowledge of anything but what was, and this... They... had become something else.

Something altogether separate.

He moved to his feet in an instant, and held out his hand, almost apathetic in his resolve at the moment. Crackling blue energy grew at Albedo's fingers and shot out over Rubedo's head, to rain down electricity on his most beloved (most hated). There was no longer any difference.

Junior watched long enough to see the explosion of part of Albedo's skull before trying to get up, so desensitized to the gore (his brother's, came the vague thought), so lost in his own anger that he didn't even flinch. It wasn't enough, not so long as his twin could still regenerate. He needed something more, something unattainable, to be able to kill him and remove the threat of U-DO.

He was still struggling back to his feet when he heard a noise coming from Albedo's general direction. Words, possibly, though anything more than that escaped him. Not that he cared. Junior could hear the crackling, though, and looked up again in time to see the electricity shoot out.

There wasn't enough time to move quickly, not with his body in so much pain, and the attack found its mark. It did about as much physical damage as everything else Albedo had thrown his way up to now, but the current surging through his body hurt far more, traveling from the base of his skull all the way down to his legs. Junior screamed in pain, in outrage, surprise, or maybe a mix of all three. The gun's metal only helped to conduct it, the mixed sensation of burning flesh and electric shock causing him to drop it and the redhead crouched low to the ground, trying to curl in on himself out of reflex.

His blood thrummed. The vibration of the jolt echoed through him as it placed its mark, Rubedo's body faltering and curling in on itself. The smell of charred flesh rose, and it appealed to him (repelled him), and he found his lips grinning. The Song rose in him, harsh and fast, and he took a step forward, waveform rising around him again. Something quick and severe, and then this would be done.

The Song dropped out without warning, head pounding in pain. Albedo snarled, understanding in an instant. He was not allowed the final blow. He was not allowed to finish this. Frustration crushed him, and he cried out in anger, hopelessness.

And then the Song called out again. And it was okay. Because there were other ways to spend the night; other torments to wrack upon his dear heart's body.

After suffering injury after injury, the pain was starting to become overwhelming. He could stand, if given enough time, but didn't want to. The desire to run from the problem (again) was intense, but he had a brother to stop. This was a task that had been given to him, and him alone. By his own declaration, he was the only one allowed to take Albedo out, and everything within him clamored for it, craved it and drove him on to keep trying.

So despite the pain and the loss of blood, he reached for the gun again. Some withheld static discharge shocked him as he picked it up again, causing Junior to grimace, but he forced himself to hold onto it this time. Again, he raised it and stared past the barrel as he heard his twin cry out, though the reason was both unknown and unwanted, and fired twice.

Humor and anger clashed within him with no regard to the user; mind dividing and subdividing to renew itself and come together again, the same outcome wanted no matter what path was took--one's destruction. And of which? It mattered not. One needed to be destroyed, and that was known. Nothing else mattered or registered. He understood in an exceedingly simple way. Both could not exist in tandem with each other. Not now. Not as such. And so they wouldn't.

Rubedo made to rise, and Albedo's eyes drew to him, head tilting. And now? Would his twin strike out blindly again, like the definition of insanity in truth? And what would that do, Rubedo? How would that assist him in his quest? Bullets would not destroy him. They would tear and destroy, but never in a way that gave permanence. No, that way was....

Closed to him as things stood. There was no meaning in this, and he knew that now. And even so, Albedo reached for the strings of fate around him, drew violet and magenta to a shuddering blaze. But Rubedo moved first. With a quick trigger-finger accenting a quicker temper. His shots were true and laced the white-haired Variant; head completely exploding in the first shot, the top of his chest following soon after. Body dropped, arms hanging by threads crushed underneath, and the room darkened suddenly in the absence of Albedo's radiating glow. Silence fell, in the moments remaining.

Slowly, after a pause like it was final, like a teasing breath, a different glow lifted, a languid regeneration starting where gore now laid.

Edited 2009-10-26 04:08 (UTC)

Both shots hit, and with it went the unnatural aura. For a few moments, Junior's vision was completely dark, and in those moments he could feel his heart pounding, the adrenaline surging painfully as he waited to hear a noise, his twin's laughter, anything. His anger was beginning to subside, and the realization of what had just happened hit him with a wave of nausea. That couldn't have been all it took; that shouldn't have been possible, not when Albedo had just been regrowing his limbs just a few minutes prior.

He pushed himself into a standing position, groaning at the pain as he did so, and saw that the light had come back, showing him exactly where Albedo's body had fallen. It was both a relief and horrifying. Slowly, he headed over and stood both threateningly and protectively over that body. Junior watched, waited, poised to shoot again if forced. Subdue his twin, not kill. Not again. No matter how angry he got, he could not forget that.

[From here.]

He approached the center of the Sun Room wordlessly, his feet padding quietly against the rough texture of the rug. The movement came without conscious thought or effort. Automatic, as though his presence was the most natural result. Instead of running away. Instead of keeping to that order. Rubedo would be so angry, but the youngest could not ignore that glimmer of peace, of that distant hope of a fight's end.

Truth, unfortunately, proved cruel.

Moonlight from overhead illuminated the scene before him. The details slowly unfolded, like words on a page: a brother standing barely on his feet, smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, gunpowder mixed in blood choking senses. A mess at Rubedo's feet, only recognizable by the uniform and the glow. Light worked at the unidentifiable ends as recognition rose fiercely at the sight. Nigredo understood almost immediately, and in that moment, he felt reality crumble just a little bit, as though his constitution was built of sand.

For Albedo was Albedo, but not. He was shot down (shot through), head gone and pieces missing. His mind associated this to the time in the courtyard, but in retrospect, this was much worse. Much, much worse.

After all, the one responsible wasn't Albedo's innocence but rather, his own twin.

The emotions formed since the beginning of the night bubbled over, and the child choked out a sob, loud enough to perhaps alert the eldest. Something shook within him, something tore and died, and believing his brothers had tried to kill each other, Nigredo wept.

Edited 2009-10-26 07:07 (UTC)

Silence surrounded, and consciousness ceased. Had it been moments--minutes? Had hours passed or decades--Had eternity drifted by as he waited in the wings? The sense of oblivion received became freeing, an abrupt and endless thing given by the one that he wished it from. Time passed. And no time had passed at all.

Enough of his mind had been recreated within his skull for Albedo to regain consciousness. His own misguided logic understood mere seconds might have passed, and something in him mourned this deeply. Something in him... Wanted the truth behind his desire. Wanted more than anything that lies he had told himself as he slept; soft and gentle things to help him sleep. Rubedo might kill him one day. Rubedo might rip his endlessly-beating heart out, and with his hands, lovingly sooth it to stillness. His twin, looking at him sweetly, covered in Albedo's own blood as he smoothed down Albedo's hair. The last loss of consciousness, and Rubedo's face the last thing known. Rubedo destroying the life Albedo was never meant to have. Never meant to receive. Because then... and only then... he would be free.

This passed in an instant, consciousness regained to the sound of crying, and in this, Albedo felt familiarity pulsing under the constant thrum of the Song. In this, Albedo felt an answering echo of sorrow, dark and deep. It pulsated upwards without warning, slipping down as he finally opened his eyes in the form of tears. As if from nowhere. The weapon remained confused, and strangely sated, when he saw Rubedo standing over him, gun at the ready. Like a vision, like a promise. Like a dream of what was to come. "Let me tell you a story, Rubedo."

Because I will open my mouth in parables. I will utter hidden things.

"You once had many brothers, and one of them became lost. In this story, you go after him, leaving the others together, and search, many days, many nights, countless and unnumbered. Your quest takes you far through space and time, and you become saddened, lose hope. But you continue on. Because you believe you'll find that brother.

"And when you find him? You'll rejoice, cry to the others that he's found--say to him, I have loved you more than the others--My brother was dead and lives again; he was lost and now is found."

My punishment is greater than I can bear.

"But you didn't, Rubedo. You didn't."

Edited 2009-10-27 04:31 (UTC)

The time seemed to drag by agonizingly slowly. He could barely hear the noise, but he was familiar enough with tears to recognize it. Nigredo? He should have gone on through, or at least listened and not looked. Perhaps it was someone else who had been watching, someone who might not have been able to stand the sight. He didn't know. A wave of dizziness hit then, and Junior found himself falling to his knees beside Albedo's body as the head finally finished forming. He was vaguely aware that he was in desperate need of medical attention; the blood loss and the guilt were one and the same right now, fleeting thoughts whose lasting results would have far more impact in the morning, provided they lasted that long. What had he just done? It was all a blur, rage incarnate and yet again something he couldn't control even if he tried.

But he could listen. He could hear Albedo's story, and did; he saw the tears in his twin's eyes easily with such little distance between them now, and tears began to well up in his own, though he tried to blink them back.

"You don't know anything..." he repeated, though less harshly than he had earlier that night. Albedo couldn't have known, because Junior had never told him, but the story was apt for their situation. His pulse may have still been rapid, but his breathing was shallow so the redhead couldn't tell him now. He couldn't tell how he had rejoiced and he had cried at seeing Albedo alive; he had gone through space-time and back for the sake of his twin. Perhaps it had taken far too long before he had done it, with some impure intentions, and perhaps Albedo had been physically dead before he'd lived again, but Junior had lived that story. No matter how much they may fight, how many times Albedo angered him or terrified him, he did love his twin more than the others. Because they'd once been one. Were one once again, as far as he was concerned.

He thought he understood Albedo, then, in a brief moment of clarity, and would have sworn Sakura was whispering for him to make peace with his twin. The dangerous aura was gone for now, and although he couldn't let Albedo hurt anyone else if it surged just as violently as before, Junior gave his twin a pained smile. "Remind me to tell you about it sometime..."

[skipping Nigredo with permission]

The sobs continued, a cacophony behind his mind. It seemed a deadly accompaniment to the chorus in his head; some kind of forgotten memory seeking to tear itself upwards. In this, everything canceled out. Everything slid away. Except Rubedo. Clarity always existed for him in this way. And so, Albedo heard the words said like he couldn't hear anything else, he saw the shine of matching tears in his twin's eyes, and for a solitary moment, Albedo felt something that could have passed for a bond trying to reattach itself between them.

But that sound continued, that sobbing now duplicated through memory, fortified through a loss that remained--a sorrow that had become ever-present. And something was wrong about this. Something was inherently wrong that he couldn't yet define. Something beating against him to move, to do something, anything! Anything but lay down and wait for a death that wouldn't come.

...And why, he thought suddenly, would he be waiting for that?

U-DO's presence rose fiercely around him as he jumped backwards into a crouch. Something like his own brand of hate now shone, years and a decade too early for the fierceness of it, the intensity. This, too, lasted only moments--there and gone, now covered up by madness. Albedo laughed, cruel and bitter, tipping into a sadistic humor. "Tell me about it," the entity chorused mockingly, lacking any tones that had passed for normal. "On your deathbed confessing your sins."

He stood, and haze rose behind him, tall and thick. It wavered there, like a shroud flitting in the wind of a soul spirited away; almost like a dream fading from memory, flickering in the dim as if it wouldn't stay. Then it dove down into the now-grinning weapon, extra energy bubbling upwards. He clasped his hands in front of him. "I'll pray over you." Because I will still be alive long after you are gone. There was something bitter underneath, but in this moment, Albedo only felt a smug satisfaction. Wanting death? No, that wasn't him at all! He had transcended above such petty fears, such desperate claims, and the one who wanted death...

Was kneeling before him, broken and proud. Rubedo must long for death, after being the hand to deliver it to so many. After tearing Albedo into pieces to reform into something new and lacking such delicacies that he had before. Rubedo's guilt, his sins, must consume him. To this, Albedo felt something like joy, and his expression heightened, power coalesced faster and shot forth in a line like an arrow, a blur of haze instead of a line of light. "It's over." It came out like a scream, like a whisper. It was a promise, and no longer could it be easily applied to simply one of them. No longer was relief so clear in its path.

Because he didn't want it. (He wanted it.) Life, and the absence of it, was perfect, just the way it was. Now.

Edited 2009-10-27 20:24 (UTC)

He should have known better than to get so close, to think it might have been over. It was probably the biggest mistake Junior had made all night. He realized the danger as Albedo got back up and jumped away from him, that aura coming back just as strong as before. It wasn't anything foreign to him, and he usually thrived on that sort of danger; right now, though, he wasn't up to 'usually'. He didn't feel like tempting fate or Albedo's madness. The redhead started to move out of the way, trying to dodge that one last attack; an attack that was, again, something he was all too familiar with.

But he'd already lost so much blood and energy that his body was beyond reacting the way he wanted it to. It was sluggish, barely moving at all as the attack headed right for him. Not good...

The haze of energy tore into him with explosive power, cracking several ribs and barely missing a lung as it went through. Another scream was ripped from his throat, voice already sounding hoarse and ragged from the cries it had given earlier; this one just added another to the tally. There was no time to argue, shoot off a cocky remark, and certainly no time for a retaliatory bullet. He was completely spent. His body slipped backwards to hit the tile, parts of his body drenched in blood. Junior coughed, practically heaved, to regain the breath he'd just used up. Soon enough, the coughing slowed, but with it slipped the redhead's consciousness, leaving his body poised on the edge of life and the oblivion denied to his twin.

Albedo was right, the fight was over.

Edited 2009-10-27 23:36 (UTC)

The shock was perfect. The breaks came clean. Tears and sobs brought themselves to an end as one brother rose triumphant and another fell. Blood rushed and screams faded, and Nigredo couldn't think. Couldn't hope to think.

Still, his feet moved without him, and the child drew closer to Rubedo. Some habit--some instinct refused to touch the body, and instead, he hovered near his brother's mouth, searching for the basics. While common sense might have prodded his attention toward the cause in the room, Nigredo paid no heed. He only wanted life, a sign of it. Anything.

There was air, and Nigredo felt a fear quell while numerous others rose in its place. Rubedo was breathing, but the intervals were shallow and light. Becoming lighter. Reeking of blood. Green eyes blinked rapidly; he pulled away to steady them on the one across the way.

As was expected, Nigredo said nothing to Albedo. He merely stared at his white-haired brother with vacant eyes, the lack clear in the expression.

It ended like defeat. The win a loss, the success a failure, and as Albedo hit his target and the body fell, the weapon felt nothing close to satisfaction. Because this was neither outcome he had desired, and currently, neither could be fulfilled with the restrictions placed on both twins. This game, this dance, he had been given tonight, turned out to be just another torment in a long line before him. Because nothing had changed (but everything). He watched apathetically as Rubedo lost consciousness, and considered his next move, unhappiness threading his being.

...His next move having nothing to deal with the black-haired sibling that shifted from the shadows, and as Albedo's luminescence lessened, he wondered, exactly, how long Nigredo had been so close without him knowing. Unsettled from that, he watched as Nigredo dropped to his knees and checked their sibling over, searching for signs of life. He would find them. Albedo couldn't kill him like this. And Rubedo wasn't currently able to kill him. It was all so funny!, but Albedo couldn't find it in him to laugh. Instead his lips pursed, and he suddenly wanted none of this. Energy thrummed within him, begging him to force his hand again, but Albedo was sick of false promises. Sick of misguided hopes screaming at him. Of seeing through a glass, darkly, and then face to face. And either way, he knew in part that it remained false--he knew, but was not known in return.

Nigredo lifted his head then, dragged his gaze to Albedo's and Albedo's eye twitched at the lack of expression. The urge to lash out at him, for looking so pitiful, was overwhelming, but not-- He couldn't. No. Couldn't. Not while Nigredo resided so close to Rubedo. It grated under his skin, and he pressed his tongue against his teeth. Did the baby want something? Explanations for the war that had happened in this room? What had he expected, from weapons? "What," he finally hissed, emotion seething underneath. He stared, frustrated, then continued, echoing a different moment between them. "Do you expect me to be anything else than what I am?"

We're weapons. We're monsters. We destroy. He would have baited Rubedo with these lines, but his twin laid silent at his feet. And Nigredo... He would not say that to. The baby, daddy's darling, should understand more than most.

Was Albedo only looking for an excuse? His waveform shuddered, emotions fluctuating. It didn't matter. Didn't matter now. Oh, no; that time was done. Ring the bells and turn out the light. Let the darkness come in again. Let him harbor his hopes and fears in silence, in solitude. There was never anything else. He already knew this. This, he knew.

Edited 2009-10-28 06:16 (UTC)

Albedo spoke in a manner Nigredo couldn't quite grasp.

Yet, he knew. The answer surfaced like bile at the tip of his tongue, but his lips refused to move. Declined to speak. Words were meaningless, empty. For all the elocution his brother held, he himself might have haphazardly known, there existed nothing to describe this. And what had Nigredo entertained before? The gain he once perceived was now (always) a loss. Brothers fought and died and no one--

Not one.

The shattered pieces of his consciousness drifted and settled, and base instincts took their hold. Nigredo's defined fingers curled into balls while the urge to cry surfaced once again. Except there were no tears; he had spent them all on the brother before him.

And in this, the child sent a memory, one in passing and overrun. A murmur to reflect another: {I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits, go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done it.}

Then, the pieces changed, an echo to replace a memory, something violet in the fringes. {I'll tell thee what I'll give thee.} Silence. {I'll give thee a pardon for this murder.}

Awareness dropped. The Song, his waveform: dispersed. His face wiped clean of emotions in an instant--he stood there dumbly, gaping at his youngest sibling. The aggressor to this crime was frozen, held by constraints of shock he didn't know he kept.

Nigredo had kept to the link between them when it should have been abandoned. Kept to, and sent, a memory of something he didn't remember speaking (that he remembered speaking), from a time that didn't happen (from a time all too clear), and perfectly Nigredo gave it to him, flawed only in content, not execution. But he, too, then. Had sent it--gave it flawed. He wouldn't call judgment on that. Here, it was close enough. It would have been done, one or the other of the two halves, and it was the truth. They were a pair of hearts in hollow graves, rotten, and rotting others; their vengeance like two chained bullets--brothers. Like treason, like the plague, and they took much in blood. But yet Nigredo continued, like the two guards of hades had not given rise to things that would plague his sleep.

No sweet and golden dream, for now Albedo woke.

Forgiveness?! If Nigredo knew the words he was speaking, and how did he know those words, was that what he spoke?! Forgiveness?! Something that could not be granted, should not be granted, not by him, and not for him. Forgiveness?! He didn't ask for forgiveness, didn't require the concept, and here Nigredo spoke, and here he offered on bended knee--twins, tied to destruction, and the third to reconcile? It was too wondrous, too marvelous, too tinged with disbelief. Albedo blinked in something like wonder, paused, and considered this choice in time.

...But Nigredo had offered his hand, and Albedo would see if the youngest knew how to dance.

The entity rotated a wrist, holding out a hand perfunctorily. His face grew solemn, serious--eyes angling respectful, bordering welcoming. He didn't send, however. No, he wouldn't. Not in this. "So you tell me? Sins have been forgiven? Have I loved much? But those who are forgiven little, love little." He gained a tightness to his mouth, leaned back on the lines that currently defined them. "An ancient truth, perhaps. That kindred do commonly worse agree than remote strangers."

Dry sobs racked his small frame and nothing could be seen, but Nigredo kept to the tune. Full sentences formed without effort; borrowed from a brother's mind, guided by something he once gave no ear to. {He overheard it,} he continued. His physical voice choking, reason lacking. {That was the cause I said. It lay not in me to conceal it.}

He lifted his eyes to his older brother, caught by a feature well-known without understanding the meaning. {Let us reason together. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.}

[from here]

Klavier opened the door just enough to peer through before reentering. He wasn't so foolhardy as to just burst in without forethought; in fact, he was probably thinking more clearly now than he had been all night. The room still held that reek of recent gunfire, but there were no sounds of rushed movements or gunshots or struggles of any kind. The light that had washed continuously over the room since the moment they had arrived was gone. He couldn't tell what this meant, and for a moment, he thought perhaps Nigredo and Rubedo had, indeed, managed to escape the room.

But that theory vanished as he soon heard a voice, instantly recognizable both in voice and context, followed by a low distant sob. He moved in quickly, wariness giving way for dread, and nearly started when he finally came upon the scene. "Nigredo! ...Rubedo!"

The floor was splattered with blood and flesh (or was that cloth?). Nigredo, shirt even more heavily drenched with blood, kneeling on the ground with that sword hanging in his hand, sobbing over another small body on the ground. Rubedo, loosely holding a gun and lying amongst the gore. And Albedo stood above it all, not appearing the least bit guilty.

He couldn't tell if the child was dead or not from where he was, nor did he want to waste time wondering. Klavier moved in quickly to stand right beside Rubedo and Nigredo almost protectively, eyes focused on Albedo and warily gaging whether he was going to attack the lot again. He could ask the state of the children later. His main focus was stopping this from progressing any further and getting these two out. "Achtung! Enough! Stop this already! This is absolutely ridiculous! Look at what you're doing! To your own brothers! Leave it be!"

Edited 2009-10-28 21:04 (UTC)

An eyebrow raised, and he smiled, charmed. Mindless, Nigredo was or not; perhaps, but he understood the dance. There could be hope for the youngest, yet, if he didn't go on to-- Well, another time any way. He had no need for violence with Nigredo--by now, both twins had broke him enough. Albedo couldn't raise a hand for the threat of going against what he was given. And so?

And still, Nigredo persisted in his theme. How... interesting, intriguing. Albedo's eyes shone, some kind of glee mixing with an undercurrent of panic tugging at his sleeve at the blood on the ground. No. He would know. Rubedo was not dead. Merely close. And monsters were so hard to kill. Albedo wet his lips, poised to answer, when there was a distraction instead. The man that was a shadow earlier stormed out, an easy and willing target. And this yelling... Familiar? Oh, yes, that's right: this man had done this before, screamed at him for no reason relevant. Albedo's stance abruptly changed, languid pose stiffening, small muscles shifting under skin as blood was brought to a boil once more. Tension seemed to rise as the air thickened. But first, siblings. Always. The man was ignored. This time, Albedo sent, speaking in verse sardonically; asking, promising.

{It says I am whole. It says I am clean--All is forgiven, I've been... set free.} He eyed Nigredo, wondering. His tone grew flat. {So let the blood speak for me.}

Silence was a shroud, but that soon changed. His response had been a momentary lapse in attention to the... threat, as it were; laughable at best. Still looking at Nigredo, Albedo's head tilted to the side, then slowly rotated until he was looking at Klavier. There was nothing in the weapon's face that would beg one to remember humanity--this was a weapon, a predator, and for insolence, it promised death; detached and efficient, able and willing. He stared for a moment, boring down.

At his side, his fingers moved. "Then leave," he stated darkly, lowly, tones resounding. "Or take their place instead."

He moved as though to ignore, hands circling to smooth, to pamper the air around his brother's half-corpse. Impressions spoke briefly of first-aid, an act or two to stabilize the dying. Press against pressure points to slow the flow of blood. An Ether or two to mend the fissures and shattered vessels.

But Rubedo was too broken, too burnt, too smelling of raw and charred flesh, and Nigredo knew only of light and none of healing. This was a useless venture; there was no familiar technology, no reliable doctor to lean upon. His hand found Rubedo's, a finger sliding across the gun's trigger.

A shadow fell across his eyes, and he snapped. Head jerked and fingers flew, cross-hairs forming against the intruder, panic rising in the variant's eyes.

There was a click, the gun steady in his hand. "Leave," echoed Nigredo hoarsely, eyes neither seeing nor believing the form before him to be anything but an unfavorable factor.

Something shifted. Nigredo blinked. "Take also my brother."

There was something in that look that was so absolutely chilling, more so since it came from a child. It made him remember the atmosphere surrounding his first meeting with the boy, only a good deal darker. To his credit, Klavier stood his ground and maintained steady eye contact with the boy during what felt like a long silence, but whether that was due to defiant resolve or simply being too afraid to look away was difficult to say.

Both boys responded one right after the other, something cold in each of their words. For the life of him, he couldn't pinpoint which he found the most disturbing, which in turn bothered him greatly. Klavier swallowed silently, fully aware that this should have been considered a blessing. Albedo seemed like he wasn't planning to attack (for now) and was willing to let him leave. Rubedo needed dire attention and this was his chance to get at least him out of here and to a safer room. But the thought of leaving Nigredo alone again weighed on him, especially with the click of a gun he hadn't even noticed moved to the child's hand.

He moved only his eyes between the two and then down to Rubedo. He didn't like this. Not at all. It was systematic, logical, but with people involved, it simply hurt too much to do. Klavier pursed his lips and, with one last look, quickly scooped Rubedo up off the floor. He moved backward away from the two (somehow reluctant to turn his back immediately) before turning and rushing from the room completely.

[to here]

Nigredo's echo was an amusement. Klavier leaving the room meant success to his original mission. Klavier leaving with Rubedo, however... Albedo seethed instantly, taking a step forward as warring instincts combined. What was left of sense inside of him understood entirely that Rubedo needed attention. And in the same breath? Rubedo was his, and the man couldn't just....

The Song rose infallibly, quick as a distraction in his mind, wrapping around him tight. Stopping patients from retreating was not part of the deal, now was it? Or stopping ones that would assist others so Albedo didn't negate on the other end of his deal--that rule, bound and ingrained into him despite his own will--no killing. But he knew. Knew more than anything. Rubedo wouldn't die. They hadn't had that fight yet, claws out and unnatural powers ablaze. And until they did, both would live. Horribly. Continue. Until it ended.

Violet had surrounded him again, rose up as Klavier make his move and left. As the door clicked shut, it died down somewhat, lacing across his skin like a lover's hand trailing. Gaze on the door, Albedo then looked at Nigredo. Baby had stopped playing the game, and after he was playing it so well, too. And then found his senses again, his seemingly emotionless mannerisms again; how drear. How boring. And Nigredo had allowed that incompetent fool of a man to take their sibling. How unwise.

Yes. How unwise. The man had left Nigredo alone with no distractions. A question rose to shoot at Nigredo, but Albedo conceded. There were things in the Institute that stalked the shadows, horrible monsters that came out at night, but none were worse than he was at the moment. None could touch what he was capable of. And Nigredo knew that. Clever, little brother. Very clever. Still protecting, in your hypocritical way. Still working against him.

But Albedo said none of that, that or the things that had already been said. Like he had noted, Nigredo had been damaged enough, and a toy wasn't fun if it was too broken. So instead, Albedo smirked, holding his hands out. "I sense our communion is done. How sad. I feel we were just beginning to know one another. But I'm... sure... there are other things that can keep us occupied, right?" He smiled. "You did come to play with me after all."

Edited 2009-10-29 17:41 (UTC)

Though his eyes trailed after the pair, Nigredo could not register the departure. Only an absence. A brother missing. Even fragmented as he was, the child understood he should have followed, taken after him like times before, but his legs wouldn't move. His knees collapsed. Nigredo fell against his hands--palms slipping, blood streaking--and shuddered in the resulting waves. He hadn't realized he, too, was hurt.

Pieces of his mind resounded in agreement. The violet haze fell away, and the child leaned into his forearms, head nestled against fists. An aspect of this moment felt familiar yet opposite: the witness now turned wreck. Beneath the strands of black hair, Nigredo looked up at Albedo, expression his usual vacant. And with the act, he understood perfectly. As he always did.

In the end, it didn't matter; comfort was not something he would be given.

"Play?" Nigredo repeated, one more echo for the count. Slowly, he pulled himself to a sitting position, arms cradling his midsection. The gun and the blade laid bare at his knees. "Yes," he continued without a smile. "Let's play together again."

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Night 44: Sun Room

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