012 » i know you feel so alone

[receptacles]

fanart by ta_mozuki.
for luocha at casketeer.

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[receptacles]

[ In the empty, somber chamber surrounding Hoolay's cell, with the bodies of the prison guards and the borisin all around them, Caelus is the first to speak:

"Hanya." His tone is carefully, carefully flat. "Is Luocha still being held in this prison?"

They've all spent a sickening few minutes in silence, taking in the damage, and the relative hopelessness of their situation. Hanya herself, who has long been prepared for the worst, hasn't lingered over her comrades' bodies, but Caelus had to stop looking at them, because the sight of torn and mangled flesh, bones broken in half by borisin claws, was starting to make him feel sick. Dan Heng and Moze are both made of sterner stuff than he is, and took up the burden of examining the bodies for clues and materials, but Caelus — Caelus has just been sitting in the corner for a while, holding on to Xueyi's broken body while gnawing at his bottom lip.

Hanya pauses. Her sister is precious to her, but Caelus's attachment to the shattered vessel has puzzled her for some time now; she already explained that Xueyi's soul has moved to the cycrane that they released, and that Xueyi has already gone to alert the Arbiter-Generals, but for some reason, the Trailblazer would not be deterred from holding on to her sister's small, inoperational shell.

Now, given his question, his behavior is starting to make sense.

"Yes," she says slowly, having already caught on to his line of thinking, now wrestling with the centuries-old rules and regulations that she has long internalized. "He hasn't been transferred yet. I believe his cell is on the floor above this one. But..."

Dan Heng has gone stiff in the way that he always does whenever Caelus mentions Luocha — which, at this point, is almost never. They never really spoke about why he reacted the way he did in the wake of finding out what Caelus and Luocha did together, and sometimes Caelus wonders, in a slightly self-centered way, if Dan Heng was jealous. But then maybe it was just that there was a part of him that did not like the idea of losing a member of his precious family to someone that he himself had introduced to the Astral Express, as if being undone by his own hubris. And it's too late now to fix whatever shattered, and what's done is done, and he never actually asked about what happened when the Ten-Lords Commission took Caelus to the Shackling Prison, perhaps because he himself spent so long imprisoned there that he didn't want to hear the details — or maybe because he saw the slightly hollow look in Caelus's eyes afterward and guessed.

In any case, he's already caught on to Caelus's train of thought.

"Do you think he would help us?" the Vidhyadara asks, rising slowly from his position on the floor where he has been inspecting a dead borisin brawler's body.

"Who is Luocha?" Moze asks from his position along the wall, in a tone that suggests he is slightly petulant about being left out.

"He's — it's a long story," Caelus mutters, unconsciously petting Xueyi's hair in a vague effort to self-soothe. "He's in jail here because he smuggled the Stellaron onto the Luofu originally. Dan Heng and I... know him, sort of." He is leaving out several key details, all of which Hanya and Dan Heng know, but which Moze does not. "But I was thinking... if he's still here... he has special healing powers, right? Dan Heng, you said he could even heal Xueyi, even though her body is inorganic..."

"Getting him involved in this could be dangerous." Dan Heng is standing with his arms folded, faintly irritated, though his usual cold demeanor won't quite allow him to express it. "Even talking to him could be dangerous. He still hasn't divulged his motives. For all we know, he's in league with the borisin, and they're here to get him out, too."

"I don't think..." Caelus says slowly, uncertain of his own words, "I don't think he would be involved with something like this. If he wanted destruction — it wouldn't be like this. And he was... nice to us, originally, at first. I think, if we asked... There's a chance he would help..."

He doesn't sound sure. He doesn't sound sure because he is the one who committed unspeakable sins with Luocha and inflicted unpardonable sins upon Luocha, and however conflicted he may feel about it, he's certain that it doesn't matter to the man himself. After all, Luocha most likely hasn't forgiven him.

Maybe Dan Heng hasn't forgiven him, either. "You don't know that for sure," he says firmly, still staring impassively at Caelus where he's been seated in the corner. "Need I remind you that you are not the best judge of character?"

Unhelpfully, Moze seems to have caught on. "Oh, that one. He had a different name in the report." One-shouldered, and as seemingly indifferent to the situation as ever, he shrugs. "Well. I'll leave it to you, Madam Judge. I don't know the man well enough to make a decision. But a proper healer would help us stay alive for a little while longer, and it would be hypocritical of me to not believe in prisoner rehabilitation."

"Releasing a prisoner to help with a prison riot would never be allowed under ordinary circumstances." Hanya casts her cold grey eyes in Caelus's direction, equal parts concerned and curious. "But then, there is probably no greater possible emergency within the Shackling Prison than this. Luocha is a prisoner that I would characterize as... generally pleasant, though he has not been cooperative since his last interrogation. Moreover, Caelus, given the circumstances in which you last saw each other..."

"I know," Caelus interrupts, equal parts ashamed and weary. Xueyi feels so small and light in his arms. "I know. But... But I can't think of a better option. Because — what's left? We lock ourselves in with Hoolay and wait to die, like Moze suggested?"

"It's a reasonable suggestion," Moze says, unreasonably.

"We aren't going to die," Dan Heng replies, firmly and with utmost confidence. "Caelus, calm down. You're starting to panic, and this is an idea you've gotten because you're panicking —"

"Try not to hold it against him. Of the four of us, he's probably being most affected by borisin lupitoxin right now. I don't have any more doses of the medication on hand." Calmly, Hanya stares in her usual lifeless way at the ceiling, as if trying to map out the most efficient way to immediately warp the one floor up it would take them to get to Luocha's cell. "Nevertheless... the suggestion in and of itself is not one that I am unwilling to try. The matter of Xueyi is irrelevant — she will be fine — but there isn't another criminal in the Shackling Prison that would be more likely to help us with Hoolay's escape. Moreover..."

"Moreover?" Moze asks.

"At the very least," Hanya murmurs, "Luocha has no interest in escaping the Shackling Prison." She closes her eyes briefly. "So: let us, as they say, give this a shot." ]

[casketeer]

[It's unfortunate, isn't it? It's practically unfair, isn't it? That things would circle back here, right here, despite Caelus's very best efforts to move on and away. Ludicrously bad luck? A sadistic whim of fate? The true answer probably lies somewhere in the middle. But the answer would also be little consolation to have, anyway, when the result still remains...

The internals of the Shackling Prison are ever shifting, ever adjusted--maybe the route taken now is vaguely familiar to Caelus, or maybe that's just his imagination. The holding entrance that Hanya unseals, too, is functionally identical to that doorway Caelus was led through once before--maybe just a gimmick of the architecture, uniform design to contrast the labyrinth hosting it. The cell they step into...looks exactly the same as the cell he was closed in that time past. Down to the shape of the room. The table in the back. The seat in the middle.

Though at least the table is empty, this time. And the man shackled to the chair is wearing a black pair of pants, this time.

Half-bent in something between meditation and dozing, same as before. Straightening at the sound of the cell opening up, same as before. ...Several people are trailing inside, and under just about any other circumstance this deviation from the usual interrogator-flanked-by-guard-pair would be something promptly noted. But, it's what they say about how one's attention can funnel down to a single point sometimes, at the cost of registering anything else...and here, after all, there's also the sight of Caelus's face. (The sound, too. Of that unmistakable Stellaron's hum, in the vessel's chest. For even with the passage of time, how could one forget? The tone of that intangible beast as it once feasted secondhand upon his body, insatiable and relentless--)

No initial farce of cordial smiling or impassive neutrality this time. There had been no warning of this; soundproofed within, all that has transpired outside this cell is unknown, much less the convoluted series of events that have driven this specific group of people here. In a split-second's unguarded and unfiltered moment, the faintest flicker of genuine surprise crosses Luocha's expression--before something frigid swiftly sets in atop it, prompt as shutters slamming shut, thinning his mouth and sharpening his glare as it lances straight at Caelus.]

--Once more? [Immediate and incredulous and honestly rather uncharacteristically plain, but there's a very visceral memory being unearthed about now, you see.] Surely these wardens haven't already exhausted all other ideas this soon--

["No. There has been a change in agenda." Hanya speaks first, smoothly and bluntly taking up the mantle of explanation as she draws forward; perhaps a subtle kindness on Caelus's behalf, or perhaps simply the urgency of the situation and a shift into her proper Judge's mantle. Prompt, firm, dispassionate. "Prisoner Luocha, yet to receive a proper sentencing, and currently being held for your claim of responsibility in the Luofu's recent Stellaron disaster...do not consider this an emancipation. Your trial still awaits you. However, due to current highly exceptional circumstances...you are now to contribute service, temporarily, to the Shackling Prison." She draws to a halt beside the chair, tone still calmly even, if not perhaps taking on an extra layer of flatness as she goes through the apparent verbal motions. "Rejoice, and marvel at your strange fortune; this is a privilege which many prisoners here would not enjoy in a thousand Xianzhou lifetimes."

Awareness of the other faces now gracing this cell is properly filtering in with this interjection, rather impossible to ignore as it all is. Luocha's posture squares where he's seated, as his glance tears from Caelus to study the lifeless gray of Hanya's instead.]

"Contribute service"... [Repeated softly. His eyes narrow slightly, with a faint frown to accompany the mental calculus promptly being taken up here. Quite aware as he is, yes, of just how exceptional this statement is.] Is that so? ...And just what sort of highly exceptional circumstance is prompting something like this, I wonder?

["A borisin prison riot, boiling down the long and short of it." Moze has found a new spot to lean nonchalantly against as he spectates towards the back of the gathering, one shoulder against the cell doorway, arms folded. He shrugs slightly at the look Hanya levels at him across the way. "May as well get to the point, we don't have a lot of time here."]

Surprising news, if that's true, [Luocha remarks, and he studies the doorway himself for a moment as if he could divine the mess beyond it.] Shall I recall correctly, that the Shackling Prison has not experienced such a breach in more than a few Amber Eras? ...And this must be quite the considerable one, or you wouldn't be here. [Well, 'you' general. ...Really quite the motley crew here. Each face is peered at anew: Moze's casual observation, Caelus's averted eye contact. Dan Heng's returned look, expression cool yet undermined by his faintly defensive position taken up beside Caelus. Then to Hanya once more. Luocha's head tilts slightly.] Something of this magnitude...my, then it must be the Warhead they've come for. Hoolay, wasn't it? Naturally. [Here, the faintest lilt of a gallows sort of humor.] You all must be swallowing a great deal of pride about now. But would Jingliu not be the more fitting prisoner to call upon, for such an event as this?

[Maybe it's a bit discomfiting to some other parties, how swiftly and idly Luocha narrows into the details with just Moze's statement on hand. For her own part, Hanya doesn't sigh visibly--to her credit--but there's a further flatness to her answer that lends to the impression all the same. "That's not an option. She has already been transferred to the Yuque, for further interrogation. And so, it has been assessed that your abilities will be most useful to us at this time."]

Yet still, you hesitate to unlock these shackles.

["Prisoners are not to receive requests. However, they still hold an ability to refuse. Should you agree, you will be under observation for the duration of your service, and attempts of your own to escape will be met with immediate and sanctioned execution. ...Should you decide you won't cooperate, you can instead stay locked here, beholden to however the tide turns outside. Which will you choose?"

The pause that follows this is more drawn. Luocha's expression falls entirely blank, in the thought that seems to transpire for the next few seconds. (...The temptation to refuse is quite strong, in truth. Caelus's presence on the periphery, no matter how Luocha tries to disregard it at the moment--that might have a larger hand than he'd ever admit, in the flare of pure undiluted bitter pettiness that crosses his mind. ...But those are feelings that speak, and so they're set aside. More objectively--tactically speaking--weighing this development against certain plans for the future...hmm.)]

...If he fully breaks free, the Warhead will seek the destruction of this ship by any means. Unifying those disparate clans as he could, perhaps he might even succeed. Now wouldn't that be troublesome? [Troublesome for the Xianzhou, or troublesome for something else? Luocha isn't about to elaborate on that slow assessment spoken aloud, it seems. But wherever the answer falls, it seems to settle his decision after another pause.] Very well. Finer details on the aftermath can be negotiated another time, when such a luxury is attained. For now, my only term is that I'll need my blade and my focus, if I'm to ply my healing with proper effectiveness. Grant me these--temporarily, naturally--and I will assist.

[Centuries of rules and regulations still weigh upon her hand, doubtlessly. But Hanya does well not to show it too visibly, as a light touch of her fingertips disengages the Luocha's ingenium shackles.

"So long as that blade never points towards us. Or, again, execution will be swift. ...Follow me, but your coffin stays under lock."]

I rather guessed that it would, yes.

[It's not as if Luocha tries to draw anywhere near him, when they all collectively move out of the cell, promptly as he steps to Hanya's direction instead. Dan Heng's tangible wariness at Caelus's other shoulder is for naught. Yet still, despite the time passed and the situation now at hand...Caelus could probably still catch a trace of the scent of pale flowers, as Luocha brushes past him without a second glance.]

[receptacles]

[ That smell.

The smell of white flowers fills Caelus's lungs, cloying at the back of his nose and his throat. Sends him flashing back to it again, all of it: the hours and hours spent desecrating Luocha's body in that mad state of physical bliss and spiritual torture. How many times did he wring pleasure out of the merchant? Sixteen? Maybe twenty? It felt like longer, at the time. It was both heaven and hell, at the time. The fact that the blond is wearing black pants now is Caelus's confirmation, hope against hope, that it wasn't all a dream.

(He was wrong. He was wrong about not being able to enjoy it later, much as it pains Caelus to admit it. Even though he'd done it in a sick state of disconnect from his own body, even though he hadn't even been sure if he could get it up at the time — he's thought about it since then. Basked in the memory of Luocha like that, so lost in a haze of pleasure that even his ferocious pride had been worn away by the relentless tide of Caelus's twisted affection. And he felt guilty about it, sure. Liked it, sure. Human beings are complicated that way.)

Neither Hanya nor Moze seem to take note of the way Caelus's breath stutters in his mouth as Luocha passes him. Dan Heng does, though. The Vidhyadara narrows his seafoam green eyes, places a hand lightly on Caelus's shoulder.

"Caelus," he says sternly, though there's a touch of care beneath the surface. "Get a hold of yourself."

Hesitating for one moment, Caelus soon nods, squares his shoulders, and follows the others outside.

Luocha will find it easy enough to determine just how bad the prison riot is. After all, the bleeding corpses of a Wraith Warden and the borisin hunter who killed her are lying just outside of his cell. There's no saving either of them at this point; they're both stone cold, rigor mortis fully set in the limbs. Well, the borisin is a little fresher — Moze landed the killing blow as they were attempting to get into Luocha's cell. But, of course, the dead beastman should be the least of Luocha's concerns: the fairest assessment, looking at the sea of other corpses littered about the Shackling Prison, would be that Hanya's prideful tone was deeply misplaced. The Ten-Lords Commission was clearly not prepared for an uprising meant to free the Warhead, and the prison wardens, collectively, are on their back feet. The Abominations of Abundance have the run of the place now, and there are more borisin on their feet than dead Wardens on the ground.

To wit: it isn't too much of a stretch to say that if Caelus, Dan Heng, Hanya, and Moze are the only human survivors still in the prison, well, Luocha has clearly not been recruited for the winning side. But perhaps that's not so surprising at all. If they had things well in hand, they wouldn't have come to him for help, now would they?

Luocha's rapier is not stored in the cell itself. Prisoners' belongings, after all, should be kept well away from their prisoners. Hanya takes them over to a secondary location, a sort of gate that requires a judge's authorization to access; calmly, she draws a hexagram seal with her hands, which unlocks the mechanism, then draws a second, heptagonal seal. A portal within the gate opens. There are most definitely some other sealed artifacts from other prisoners stored in it, but these are irrelevant for now; the only things of value to them at the moment are the beautiful white rapier and the golden pendant that Luocha always had wrapped around his hand, which soon emerge from the swirling void.

Hanya makes another seal with her hands, closing the portal. Then she returns Luocha's possessions to him.

There is a moment's collective awkward pause. One of those subconscious things, during which no one quite knows what they are waiting for; after a moment, though it involves slow consideration, Caelus realizes they are waiting for him. Luocha has his rapier and his focus now, as requested, and they have all gone silent, forming a sort of semicircle in which his work might be done, and it is Caelus who has been holding Xueyi's body, this whole time.

Carefully, quietly, at last — he kneels to the ground and sets her down. Her body is actually not so damaged as that of some of the flesh-and-blood Wardens nearby who are utterly beyond repair. It is clear that Xueyi has been crushed by a cruel and uncaring hand, but that has amounted to mostly internal damage; her outer shell is mostly fine, which is part of why Caelus hasn't found it off-putting to carry her all the way down to Luocha's cell.

Dan Heng's gaze moves from Xueyi's body to Caelus's face, and then to Luocha's eyes. He does not speak, but his expressionless mien communicates faint judgment, tinged with betrayal. ]

...Can you fix her?

[ The Trailblazer's voice is quiet, low, and laced with the rusty edge of disuse; he's been silent for the past hour or so, ever since he finished suggesting the idea to break Luocha out of his cell to begin with. He can't seem to muster the nerve to look Luocha in the eyes — but for a moment, yes, a moment, those golden irises flick towards green. ]

[casketeer]

[A measure of aloof confidence in the presence of prisoners, even feigned, is probably somewhat required conduct for all wardens of the Shackling Prison. This is a conclusion Luocha had already drawn some weeks earlier--several interrogations into his own personal inmate stint--and so he doesn't particularly begrudge Hanya's motions of unfounded pridefulness in the face of the...everything, afterwards, just outside the cell. Mess would probably be describing it too lightly, yet somehow the term still feels apt, as the myriad corpses are observed along the way. Fallen wardens distinctly outnumbering fallen borisin by a considerable degree...it's not difficult, no, to already get a distinct sense that the Ten-Lords Commission will not be the party doing anything victorious in this particular altercation.

Not that Luocha's entirely sure even this motley party he's just joined will fare any better either. Hm. ...Oh, he's hardly very concerned about his own wellbeing--that is not in question, in the end--no, he already knows that he will persist regardless of the outcome here. (This is as flat and unfeeling a certainty as knowing stars will dot the cosmos awhile yet.) But now it's a matter of what shape that persistence takes, and whether things are about to become highly inconvenient. The most ideal outcome for the Luofu...would be authorities outside the prison being alerted swiftly enough for an intervention of reinforcements to arrive in time...and perhaps there's a chance, in that direction. It will probably all be very dramatic, and at least a little interesting to observe. If this group can simply bar the Warhead from exit until that time, it might just be enough to not waylay the Luofu's future prospects too terribly...

Such thoughts circle about. They pointedly evade other thoughts. The kind that want to emerge every time Luocha glances at the back of Caelus's head, or even so much as catches him on the periphery of sight as corners are turned, trailing behind. The Trailblazer might try to keep out of the way now, yet the incessant terse hum of the Stellaron inside him is nigh impossible to tune out this close. Just as it had been that time before. An unpleasant association, now. (.....Unpleasant, and yet something else too, something he simply declines to examine at all. The thorny twist of feeling is unhelpful currently. But after the sixteenth bout of painful pleasure--after the twentieth--one's body, alas, does not so easily forget in the face of reminders. It's an ache, or maybe something more like a--)

They arrive at the gate, to the portal of "criminal accessories", doubtless one of countless folded spaces throughout the Shackling Prison. Calmly, efficiently, Hanya opens it and plucks out what is needed: a rapier, a pendant. --Perhaps it's a little strange to the uninitiated eye, that Luocha reaches for the pendant first; the slight sigh that passes between his lips as soon as it's returned to his palm is almost imperceptible, but there's a slightly more noticeable faint bow to his head--as if to some unseen patron beyond--as he winds its chain back into place about his wrist, brief as the moment might be. Still, the rapier is a welcome restoration as well, even if Luocha must take care to point its tip immediately to the floor under Hanya's lingering stare. And the coffin...oh, no, he wasn't expecting to so much as glimpse it in this particular portal. The sense of absence speaks for itself. Either further secured or perhaps even already taken to the Yuque for further scrutiny, no doubt...but he has enough to work with for now.

Speaking of work.

The awkward pause feels longer than it is, as awkward pauses are wont to do. Every other eye turns Caelus's way, and so Luocha finds there is no choice but to look directly at him once more as well...and only now does the familiarity sink in, of the shape the Trailblazer has been carrying around this entire time. In all honesty, Luocha's attention had completely glossed over the crumpled presence of that puppet vessel until now--for, various reasons--and so there's a twinge of surprise, to notice it now. Though it's fairly easy to guess what's expected of him, even before Caelus sets the body down and quietly makes the request.

Luocha is silent for a moment longer than strictly necessary. He does meet Caelus's eyes, at least for that flicker of a second where their glances coincide. Gold upon green. Luocha's expression is nearly about as impassive as Dan Heng's in this moment, impressively, though a sharpness still remains in the eyes leveled Caelus's way. Simultaneously difficult to read, yet very clear. Something vindictive, perhaps. ...But, in the end, whatever it is doesn't reach his spoken word at length.]

I have already seen to this one once before. I suppose Dan Heng must have relayed the tale... [Here, his eyes finally shift to meets Dan Heng's faintly judging stare evenly as well. (Ah, a pity, this one is still quite a pity.) With the evenly calm cadence of a doctor's manner, Luocha draws forward and kneels down beside Xueyi's body opposite of Caelus, focus deliberately affixed only upon the puppet frame now as he opens his left hand over her torso.] ...Greetings once more, Madam Judge. We really must stop meeting like this...

[Not that she can hear him yet, of course. But it won't be long; the pendant hanging from his wrist suffuses in that verdant sort of glow his healing seems to invoke, and this time the damage being tended is rather more robust, which means the results are rather more distinct. Promptly--bizarrely--there is the soft clicking and clacking of internal ingenium parts realigning themselves, broken limbs resetting. Contrasted against Luocha's projected nonchalance, his free hand even reaches down to very gently cradle a cheek and turn the puppet's head properly facing up and level, as tendon-cords in the neck tie themselves back in place and damaged cortex components repair under the un-cracking skull-facsimile shell. A minute barely passes; the puppet's eyes flicker open, ruby red as customary, if not still blank. The jaw moves next, clicking, parting. "Re-calling...recalling..." Xueyi's voice slurs and skips on the first word, but drones clearer in the next few repetitions, flat but functional. Luocha draws upright.]

Hm, she hadn't yet left this vessel the last time...but it seems she hasn't returned to the usual repository either. Would that be correct?

["...Yes," Hanya confirms. Still dead calm...but shifting to kneel beside Xueyi herself, now; focus promptly elsewhere, she's already not even looking at Luocha in favor of cradling her sister's puppet's head under her hands, studying her features carefully. "Normally, she would have returned to the Hall of Karma by now...but she was going to deliver an alert about the situation to the Seat, first. If she's being recalled, then she must still be outside the Hall...so soon, she'll return here."]

Very well. She should find that body fully functional, when she does. Now then...that which is seized, must be repaid.

[It's about the only fanfare made, and accompanied by Luocha taking a step back to actually plunge the tip of his rapier into the floor this time. Instead of rapping upon stone, the blade seems to briefly strike upon intangible water--flickering, welling, flowing out and flaring into a wide barrier of phantom petals all about the group. The air now grows positively thick with the scent of pale flowers, flowing warmly like a breeze over a garden; anyone sporting any cuts or bruises from previous borisin altercations will already find their wounds beginning to close. Something rings like a very distant windchime, just on the edge of hearing from no particular direction. ...Out of everyone here, Dan Heng's probably most familiar with this skill.]

So long any of you stand within this field, any wound will gradually heal. Take care if you plan to step out of it at any point. It will follow me, but there may be times I will not follow you. [Luocha calmly explains as much, to everyone else less familiar with it. Then, he casts an expectant look across the group overall.] And what is the plan from here, then? I assume time will be of essence, as soon as the second Madam Judge returns to us.

[receptacles]

[ This is actually the first time he's seen the full force of Luocha's healing capabilities. It seems unreal. So far from what Lynx and Natasha do; so far, even, from what Bailu does. Watching Xueyi's parts slide into place, knowing that it means Luocha is not just capable of healing people but things. The idea that Caelus ever thought he was simply a friendly traveling merchant who dabbled in healing seems laughable now. What is this man if not some scion of a god?

Caelus knows it's stupid. He knows it's incredibly, incredibly stupid. But he can't help the way he feels, anyway: as Luocha raises his rapier, plunging it into the ground, the Trailblazer can't help but think to himself: there goes the most beautiful man in the world.

And it's stupid. Right? When Luocha probably hates him now. When he'd looked at Caelus, inscrutable, as though he'd seen something no more interesting than an insect or a bit of dirt clinging to his shoe. When Caelus is fully aware of the crimes he's committed to land himself in this sort of place — and yet, and yet, and yet. Can't help it, when the familiar scent of pale flowers clings to the inside of his throat, and a Pavlovian response at the back of Caelus's brain associates the relief from the warm touch of Luocha's healing to the same sort of relief he'd gotten each time the man brought him to completion. He still remembers that, try as he might to forget it. That Luocha taught him how to crave that cycle of pain and pleasure from the absence of pain.

(And he wasn't — wholly complicit. Right? On that day of madness — was it really all his fault? There had been a give and take to that, even then. He had...)

Moze's voice interrupts Caelus's thoughts.

"I have a plan," the hooded envoy says, breaking the silence. "Though you don't have to like it."

There's another slight pause, at which point Dan Heng asks, "What's the plan?"

Moze turns to Hanya, who is now cradling Xueyi's body. "Judge," he says curtly. "The Luofu's prison and the Yaoqing's prison are different, but both are of Vidyadharan make. Am I correct in assuming there's a function that seals all the floors from each other?"

Hanya stares at Moze with an expression that is quite possibly more expressionless than her usual expressionless face. It is possible that she is understandably disconcerted by Moze's apparent familiarity with prisons, and also by his disrespect, which is probably due to his familiarity with prisons. "The Shackling Prison does have such a function, for use in the exact scenario of a riot," she says slowly. "But it requires authorization by a judge at the central terminal, and acceptance by two wardens in Grimfrost and Pyroscape Hold respectively."

"In other words, we'd have to split into three separate groups. You'd be at the central terminal, and two of us would have to pose as your wardens and initiate the acceptance protocol."

"Yes. What are you planning? Xueyi has likely alerted the Seat of Divine Foresight by now, so we've foiled the borisin on that front. But they likely also wish to seal the prison and take it over for use as a fortress. Would we not be playing into their hands by sealing it entirely?"

"Hoolay's forces are currently spread throughout the prison, massacring your colleagues. If we seal off their movements and create three separate 'tiers,' that gives our teams in tiers 1 and 2 an opportunity to pick off the borisin while they're confused and locked into place on their floors. It also gives us an opportunity to rescue any survivors among the Wardens while we're at it." Moze shakes his head, patiently explanatory. "Oh, just so you know, I won't volunteer for the team that will be locked in at the bottom with Hoolay. Even if Jiaoqiu is still alive, he won't be of much help to you, so you'll be on your own with the Warhead. Who is almost certain to kill you."

The crowfeathered assassin catches an inquisitive look from Luocha, and elaborates, for his benefit: "Jiaoqiu is my friend — another messenger from the Yaoqing. The borisin took him as a hostage. If they're smart, they've kept him alive for negotiations, and if they're idiots, they've roasted him over an open fire and are currently enjoying Foxian steaks. Best to recover him alive if possible, but don't linger much on it if he's already gone." One-shouldered, the envoy shrugs, and then continues: "Anyway, if no one else has any other ideas, I propose three teams: the judge and her sister for the central terminal, Dan Heng and I for Grimfrost Hold, and the other two for Pyroscape Hold."

Dan Heng's tone is sharp. "I object," he says swiftly. "Hanya and Xueyi make sense. But why split me and Caelus? We're both Nameless from the Astral Express, and we know each other well. He and I can take Hoolay, if that's your consideration, and you could take Luocha to Grimfrost Hold."

"Skill mismatch," Moze replies immediately, as if he expected this particular objection. "I'm an assassin — I won't need the prisoner's healing skills. I'll work better with someone who can handle a crowd of borisin on his own. Which, of the six of us — really only leaves you, doesn't it, Imbibitor Lunae?"

Dan Heng falls silent, but the glare in his green eyes speaks volumes. For one thing, he probably doesn't like Moze knowing more about him than he knows about Moze.

Moze shrugs it off. "Look, it's also better for your friend," he says, with a slight bit of softness in his blunt voice. "He lost his head to borisin pheromones twice getting down here, and both times he did, he took a swing at you. I assume the healer will help him with that."

Though he's been silent thus far, Caelus flushes slightly in shame. Moze's assessment is only the truth, of course. He's not afraid of the borisin, but breathing around them does something to his body that he can't explain to himself — and he had attacked Dan Heng in a panic, partly because Dan Heng was the most familiar object in his vicinity at the time.

Dan Heng is still scowling. "I don't want him paired with Luocha," he says flatly, which is getting closer to the truth of things.

Moze, unfortunately, seems to be the argumentative type. "Why? What is he, an ex?" he deadpans, impeccably funny.

Caelus has half a mind to take the man to one of Back'n and Forth's shows to have him give the comedians a run for their money. He would laugh if it weren't so close to the truth. ]

...It's okay, Dan Heng. Moze's right. It's for the best. [ Caelus's voice feels husky from disuse; he clears his throat before he continues. ] Of the six of us, Luocha and I are probably the least likely to die fighting Hoolay. For different reasons, yeah... but if I die before the generals get here, then the Stellaron explodes, and that takes care of that problem. You know?

[ Moze's eyes widen slightly, in a way that suggests the question What Stellaron? — which is interesting, and means that wasn't in the report to the Yaoqing. But whatever, Caelus figures. It's not really that big of a secret, in a life-or-death situation like this.

"You are not going to explode," Dan Heng says, affronted. "You're coming home with me. Don't even joke about that." ]

I'm not joking...

[ Sighing — he knows how Dan Heng gets when he's like this, and Caelus loves him, but now really isn't the time — the gray-haired Trailblazer turns to the one man he's been avoiding this entire time, this despite the fact that Caelus himself was the one who suggested roping him into this whole mess. ]

...Luocha? Are you... okay with this?

[ And it's stupid — this isn't the time for this, and Luocha kind of is an ex — but, all the same, Caelus has never felt so nervous in his life.

(The Stellaron's bass-pulse is racing.) ]

[casketeer]

[Hanya isn't the only one giving Moze a long stare, at length, as the man sets down his idea and a Discourse proceeds to ensue.

It's not even that it's a particularly bad plan, objectively speaking. In fact, from a tactical standpoint, it's really rather sound. With the very limited manpower on their own side at hand, and the breakout in itself already a mess made, the next best option is damage mitigation--if they're all to make being alive worthwhile for the interim, anyway, until either they're overwhelmed or reinforcements from the Seat arrive in time. Divide the enemy into sections, divide themselves accordingly, salvage surviving wardens as they can be found...

But then there's the finer details, and practicality still does little to alleviate the sheer awkwardness of more...emotional, reservations. Dan Heng's the first to promptly vocalize an objection about the team sorting, for honestly fairly understandable reasons; Moze, unaffected by the politics of this particular sticking point, argues accordingly; Caelus chips in. Luocha remains silent throughout. Though the look he's been levelling Moze's way does border on incredulous for just a flicker of a moment, when exes are brought up. It really does border on comical, in a way, just how very close that nearly strikes. ...Honestly, though.

Ridiculous. This entire situation is ludicrous. In the detached sort of way that one wishes for the impossible, Luocha entertains the brief and terribly appealing temptation to just turn and walk away from this entire gathering without another word. Maybe pick his way back to that cell and settle for awaiting the outcome after all. Let all this get ironed out by other parties and wash his hands of it, disruptive Borisin influence regardless.

...But no, no. Stay the course, says principle. The contract has already been accepted; the commitment has already been made; the ease of certain future plans do rather hinge on this being resolved. ...Not as if he hasn't had to deal in worse duress than this in the past already, anyhow. Not as if having to coordinate with someone he's already had the (dis)pleasure of...dealing with, far too soon before, is an impossible thing. Yet another discomfort to weather. How many times has it been already?

"Are you okay with this?" So Caelus asks, with an uncertainty in those gold eyes--with an anxiety thrumming in the incessant pulse of that Stellaron--as if the nerves were genuine. Luocha, bitterly, cannot help but wonder why.

But he's practiced enough with expressions divorced from all thought within. The slight smile that settles on his features now is a detached thing, the emptily polite kind at a service desk. All business, and directed more to Dan Heng and Moze than Caelus himself.]

Well, my own opinion has little bearing in the grand scheme, doesn't it? I stand here currently only at the pleasure of the Madam Judge, after all, on the terms and conditions of her contract. If it has been determined that this is the best way for me to contribute service, then so be it. [...Here, a sidelong look to Dan Heng in particular, the smile ever-so-briefly curving into something almost knowing.] ...So long as it remains within my power, few things die under my watch. Much less explode. This much I can assure.

[As Dan Heng would know better than most, all things considered. Which he's evidently well aware of, and still very unhappy about, if the deepening of his frown and the narrowing of his eyes in response is anything to go by.

But time is of essence, and the argument closes there.

The group parts ways accordingly. Hanya, drawing upright with Xueyi's puppet still cradled in her arms, imparts a few last directions on the best pathways down to the lower levels and the sealing terminals for each of them before setting out for the central terminal herself. Moze is brusque about heading off immediately afterwards, though Dan Heng lingers just a little longer; Caelus is given a brief grasp at his shoulder. "Be careful. Don't...do anything you'll regret. As soon as this is taken care of, we'll meet back up." Then, a last long look leveled Luocha's way. "...If anything happens to him..."]

Then it'll be on my head. I'm aware.

[There's clearly no reassurance drawn from the nod of deference Luocha levels Dan Heng's way. Then again, nothing Luocha could do or say at this point would likely ease the scowl on his face--and Dan Heng could hardly be blamed for that. With a single and very stiff nod back, he peels off to the sound of Moze calling up ahead.

And then it's just Caelus and Luocha, left to their own devices.

...The silence that ensues is probably a near-strangling one. In reality it only stretches a couple of minutes or so, punctuated by the tap of Luocha's boots as he sets off in their determined direction without waiting to check if Caelus follows. (He knows that he will, of course. Can tell just as easily by the proximity of that cosmic thrum housed in his chest, too, still equal parts grating and strumming upon nerves.) Still, minutes can feel like their own eternities in certain contexts. There aren't even any Borisin attacks to immediately break up the heaviness of it, as they begin to descend to the Shackling Prison's depths.

But, at length. ...At length.]

You've a friend who clearly cares about you a great deal. It's rather impressive, really, all things considered...

[Flat enough to nearly be idle, as if this were a passing remark to kill time on a longer elevator ride.]

[receptacles]

[ For a long few moments, Caelus's senses hone in only on the sound of Luocha's heels clicking softly against the stone flooring beneath them as they walk. It is a strangling silence, but the Trailblazer himself is loath to break it. After all, what is he supposed to say, in this situation? Even if he expressed that he was sorry for what he himself did, would it really mean anything, when he was the one who did it, and with such relish, such glee?

The Stellaron makes an uncomfortable, shifting sound. Silent, in the way that it always is, except for the way that Luocha knows how to feel for it. ]

...Dan Heng's always been a worrywart.

[ Just as flat, matching Luocha's tone. Caelus can't help but add a hopeful lilt to it, though, as if he can't help but feel some sense of relief over finally being addressed. ]

The Express is his family. It's... it's my family, too.

[ There's a bit of a hollowness to this admission. Not because he doesn't feel it, no, but because he is acutely aware of how bizarre it is, how strangely selfish, to talk about your family with a man that you yourself brutalized. What does Luocha care to hear this, if indeed he cares at all? ]

...So of course he doesn't want me to die. But if it was the only way... I guess it wouldn't be so bad.

[ He has no idea what possesses him to say this, or why in any universe he's saying this to Luocha of all people, but it's as if something that is not quite himself takes over him, as the words calmly slide out of his mouth: ]

Death is just another opportunity to Trailblaze.

[ But would you let me die? Ah, now that's the underlying question, isn't it? ]