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(no subject)

Who:

whats_a_sneeze
What: Ain't no rest for the wicked
When: November 4th
Where: Some....where in the village
Summary: Mithos returns from the dead (nothing new here). Sayo finds him and offers her help - he couldn't hide forever. ...But what to do with him now?
Rating: No more than PG

[It’s déjà vu, waking up sprawled out on his side with his last recollection being one of dying. Even the white cotton New Feather pants are the same, and the underlying anger that rises up quickly once the sluggishness of suddenly coming to in very different circumstances than the ones left behind passes. Mithos pushes himself up with his hands. Gingerly, his fingers brush over a newly formed scar on his torso – one of several courtesy of Yuan. His expression darkens in the way that only his grudge can cause. The next time he sees that miserable traitor, he owes him. Big time.

He stands.

Or rather, he tries to, but the command gets lost somewhere on the way to his legs. One readily kicks out; the other refuses. He stares down at it, mind buzzing. He hits one hand across his thigh. Nothing. Not even the pins-and-needles tingle of shaking off numbness. He tries again, striking harder.

It might as well not even be attached to his body. This is where his expression turns to one of blanched panic. Another attempt at standing up, more frantic – the right leg begins going through the motions, but it’s useless without the other. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out where he is. His journal – where’s his journal? He can contact—

It’s sitting right where he left it, at the house. Up a creek without a paddle. He has to get out of here; he can’t stay out in the open where anyone could happen upon him like this. ...He still has three good limbs, and he’s nothing if not persistent. If he can support his weight on his one functioning knee, and drag himself with his arms...]

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Because I want everyone I care about to be themselves.

... and I want you to be you, and me to be me.

[She puts her hand out, unsure if he was willing. Probably not, but she wouldn't feel right if she didn't offer a hand to help him up, or to hold.]

Regardless of everything, it's how I've come to meet you, being so different.

[A pause... and she furrows her brow.]

You're not in pain, are you? Does it hurt?

[Why does she have this diffusing effect on him? When did that start? She doesn't fault him for being the way he is. She doesn't want him to change himself. She...cares about him. Or says she does. Humans have said a great many things to him, but this... He doesn't know. She wipes away all of his certainty, pulls apart everything he thought he knew. Why is he so weak against her?

He eyes her hand. The doubt is visible, the distrust. Then he looks down to his legs. His voice is quiet, but the acrid edge is still there. He needs at least that much distance separating them, even if part of him just wants to take her hand.] ...No.

[lightly prodding the left leg, gaze fixed on it] ...I can't feel it at all.

Do you know what caused it? [She's hesitant to ask, because....]

[His fingers claw into the ground his hand leans on, shaking with anger. His narrowed eyes remain pointed down, boring holes into the dirt like acid.] It was that miserable traitor, Yuan! He killed me!

... Killed you...

[A wave of guilt rides over her.]

I'm sorry. I didn't know... I wish I could have done something.

[She jumps to her feet, frowning, looking around.]

I need to find something to help you walk—

A-ah, do they have things for that at the shops?

[DIZZY FROM EMOTIONS AND STANDING TOO FAST AAAH]

P-perhaps a stick...! Would you mind a walking stick??

[What could you have done? he's about to ask sharply, perhaps mostly out of confusion. She would really try to help him...? But isn't that what she's doing now? He too looks around, then at her, briefly. But it's easier to keep his gaze averted.]

That's...fine. [and he's accepting her help. He doesn't know how to talk to her, how to be around her, when the yelling and anger are stripped away. It's uncomfortably foreign.]

[Give her a second, she's looking around for something. Anything helpful... Ah, well, this'll have to do. It's tall enough to keep him upright, anyway. She comes back over, offering his new 'cane'. It's a good thing we're surrounded by a lot of trees, you know.]

H-here. Will this help?

[Unconsciously putting a hand out to hover at his shoulder again, because she worries. God, does she worry about everything, always. She can't help it, you know. You all make her blood pressure go up, with your craziness.]

[He jabs it into the ground and, firmly gripping with both hands, pushing off the ground with his good leg, he struggles to pull himself up. The process is slow, but he rises. Hyper-aware of her hand hovering over his shoulder, her eyes on him as he tries to steady himself.

Trying not to think about how much more tedious actually moving will be. It's incredibly frustrating, being even further reduced from the powerful being he once was. That seems like a distant memory even though so little time has passed.]

... Where... will you go, Mithos-san? [She's pretty concerned about the fact that you're injured, but the chance that Mithos may get into another fight makes her even more worried.]

[He shivers in the cold, considering her question for a long moment. He can't...live by himself like this, can he? Staying put would be easy, but he would have to leave the house eventually, for food and other things. Imagining himself hobbling slowly around the village, prone, vulnerable... But where else is he supposed to go?]

...I'll be fine on my own. [Lies. Total lies. Maybe if he can get his journal and get hold of Kaori...]

[...

Worth a shot. She may be oblivious half the time, but she knows that's not true at all. He's hardly able to walk around, so taking care of himself as is? He'll get himself into trouble, or worse, dead again.]

You...

You can come home with me! Yuan-san may try to find you, or someone else, and you'll be out in the open if you have to go back and forth on your own... So you can stay at the apartment, until it's safe...!

[His eyes widen in confused surprise, quickly settling into a scrutinizing look. Her brand of unconditional kindness just isn't something he's used to. It was one thing to be like that over the journals, when she was unaware of who was writing to her. But face to face, knowing who he is, and still showing that compassion... She doesn't make sense.

But...

...is that really such a bad thing? What he'd always searched for... The thought echoes through his mind, ringing almost painfully. Letting go isn't that easy. Handing any piece of himself over and risking that he'll never get it back in the same condition, giving someone the power to break him...]

[He shakes his head firmly, and will attempt to walk off. He can't, he just can't...] No, I don't need-!

[--Except he doesn't make it very far at all before he accidentally puts too much weight on his left leg and it crumples beneath him. Falling, flailing, reaching for something to stabilize himself on...]

[She's already moving in, and he doesn't have a chance to crumple before she reaches out and holds him up, almost into a hug—not her intention for something like that, but all she can really think is to keep him from falling face-first into the ground. Regardless, she has an arm around him, holding him carefully, very carefully.]

... [O-oh—she draws back when he gets that leverage again, her hand still on his back until she finally lifts it hesitantly away. And she nervously looks down.]

I'm sorry.

I thought you might—I didn't want you to hurt yourself, I mean...

[His body tenses as she holds him, definitely not missing out on the very protective, almost...maternal vibes of the gesture. It takes a moment for him to begin recollecting himself.]

[Upright again, and he has to look away. The trees on the side of the road are very interesting right now. If he has that much trouble taking just a few steps....]

I... [terse, hesitant, trying to pull a coherent thought from his racing mind]

I've gone and made things awkward, haven't I? [She smiles a bit.] Has it been long since you ate? I know my cooking isn't much, a-and I might have forgotten some dishes, but I'd be very glad if I could make you something...

I just relearned how to make dango again, and I thought it was really tasty, so if you like those, I can make some....

[s-sob sheepishness is just all over the place]

[...give in. There's a long pause, and still his gaze focuses elsewhere. How long has it been since he'd last eaten? He has no idea for how long he was dead... He can't even recall eating the day he'd been killed. Taking proper care of himself had lost priority after his sister's departure, falling to the wayside as grief pushed violently past it to the fore of his existence.

Brusquely, he nods once. The gesture is so minute, it could easily be missed if one isn't looking too carefully.]

[She's relieved that he's not pushing away anymore, that he actually has some sort of willingness to her offers. There's a small, glad smile as she turns toward the direction of the apartments, her hand still hovering, always hovering at his shoulder.]

It's not too far of a walk—if you want, I can stop by the item shop and find something much more suitable for you than an old stick. [Not that she knows what a wheelchair is, but still. Priorities. But she's leading the way cautiously, regardless.]

[And he follows alongside her. Slowly, eyes bent downward to carefully monitor his movements (a convenient excuse to not look at her too), but letting her lead him nonetheless. It...doesn't mean anything. It's what needs to be done for survival, nothing more...

Even he knows that's a lie, but lies are often easier to swallow. Small steps.]

...Alright. [A shirt would be great too. He can't help but wonder briefly if she still has the belongings he'd left behind in his rush to leave, that last time...]

[Don't even sweat it. She's already considering it, herself.]

I, uh... haven't moved any of your things from the room. I'm not sure what's left in there—I didn't want to disturb what wasn't mine... Are you cold? Should we get a jacket real quick while we're here?

[.....Oh. How can she be so...nonchalant about that? It feels like a taboo subject; they both know it's there, but that doesn't mean they have to talk about it. More maternal vibes, making his mind race against his heart.

His shivering answers that question sufficiently.] Yes. [striving for cold, detached. The fewer words, the better.]

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1/3 because whirling vortex of emotions

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done

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