012 » i know you feel so alone

[receptacles]

fanart by ta_mozuki.
for luocha at casketeer.

Comments

[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? ]