towerofanimus | I got so brave

Entry tags:

I got so brave

Characters: Summoner and Handmaid
Setting: Stairs and then… elsewhere?????
Format: Action????
Summary: The Summoner looks at his life and his choices. The Handmaid gets an earful about it
Warnings: Romantic incompetence. Everywhere

[He should really get more in the habit of thinking before he does anything]

[This is, of course, not the first time he’s come up with this truly revolutionary new plan for his life, and indeed it will not be the last. He is nothing if not stubbornly incapable of weighing the pros and cons of a decision before slamming into it face first. Kiss first? This is really not a situation he ever thought he’d find himself in, and he is uh… quite distracted this evening, rolling back and forth between whether he is still 0kay with what all happened with the Highblood or not]

[And well… being distracted, while climbing stairs, with dat rack? Only bad things can come of this. Watch out…]

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Ah...

[Well then. Right]

[He is just... Well first he notices he cut his knee open and wipes the blood away]

[But then he... shuts down a little bit, setting his head in his hands, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, going... very very still]

[Okay. This is really. Okay. Fine. Expected even. Yes... it's... He feels sick...]

[At least he's not staring at her anymore????]

[And now panic mode officially engages.]

What did you expect?

[It doesn't come out nearly as biting or insulting as she intended. There's a desperate note to the Handmaid's voice that she despises, and that just makes her sound... Scared, really. She's being pathetic and weak and...

Wow. Getting attached. That's totally what this is, isn't it?]

[...catches the tone in her voice. But only sort of. It sounds far enough away that he doesn't really think to wonder why she sounds... scared. Or desperate. Or whatever the hell that emotion is]

[No, mostly what he catches are the words because they are THE EXACT WORDS he currently berating himself with, and the external echo of them does exactly nothing for his state of mind]

[Curls in on himself even further, folding down between his knees and arms covering his head. It's been a long damn time since he's thought about his dead fucking moirail, but right now, she is pretty much the only person in all the worlds that have ever or will ever exist that he wants to talk to right now. And by talk I really mean curl up with in her recuperacoon and not come out for a week. But. Details]

[The way he curls in on himself is what gets to the Handmaid. It's the same way she'd react every time Lord English did something particularly horrible to her, and being the cause of it for the Summoner is not what she wanted. There's still that self-sustaining part of her that keeps insisting that she shouldn't care, that Lord English would have her head for this, but he isn't here. And honestly, at the moment, this seems so much worse.

Not that she knows how to fix it. Actually, there's probably no way to fix it. After a long, awkward moment of silence and stillness, she reaches out to touch his shoulder just barely, berating herself all the while.]

[It's... Alright, he's not so far gone that he thinks she's his moirail come to rescue his sorry, shaky, pathetic self. Wishes don't work like that. Nothing works like that, or at least... nothing in his life anyway. Maybe there's some lucky as fuck blueblood out there who can summon their moirail from the dead, but...]

[But that's stupid. He's such a mess, and he knows it if he's thinking ridiculous fairy tale things like that]

[Still, at her touch, he makes this faint, high sound in his throat. Not exactly a whimper, but something close to it. He wants her to stay, if only so she can offer that point of reality at his shoulder to focus on. But he wants her to leave just as much. He has to be alone with this, accept it somehow. Cause she's right. There isn't any way to fix this. Damage done. Now he has to figure out how to recover, or die trying]

[Oh god, she has no idea what to do. That sound has an effect on her that it definitely shouldn't. The desperate, brainwashed part of her is still insisting that this is going to get her punished severely, but maybe that's reason enough to do it. She braces herself, takes a deep breath, and scoots an inch or so closer, squeezing his shoulder.

Is this right? Is this what she should be doing? Why is she even doing this? It would probably be ten times easier to just run away.]

[Probably... except he's going to make it quite a lot harder to run once she really grabs his shoulder. Because that pings all kinds of things in him, things that say she is the closest thing to comfort he'll find so he has to take advantage of it. She's definitely not his moirail, but she'll do. He can use his imagination or something]

[He moves suddenly if maybe... sluggishly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling himself over towards her. He doesn't really... try to sit up or anything though, so he ends up lkjsdf hiding his face against his arm and her body, which is awkward as shit but. Leave him alone. He has a good excuse]

[The sudden movement makes her freeze up. She's half expecting an attack, because that's the only reason anyone has ever moved towards her, but before she can move away he... Hugs her?

What.

She has no idea how to react to this. Does staying here frozen work?]

[Yup. Works just fine. Even if she is too warm for him to properly imagine, he makes do. It's nice to just have someone to cling to when the entire platform upon which he has built his life is in the midst of collapse :T]

[Kind of... nuzzles her dress??? And pulls his legs up onto the couch, curling in towards her even more. Slowly turning into a useless ball of emotion and shivering]

[She is having a complete and utter internal freak out right now. She's never been this close to someone or this affectionate with anyone, but at some point instinct kicks in and she slips an arm around him loosely. She wants him to stop freaking out and just be all confident and stupid and frustrating again. What are they even doing?]

[They are participating in the palest of troll rituals okay shut up and enjoy it Handmaid]

[But wow okay he... doesn't feel better exactly when she she puts her arm around him. That whole thing about how he's a failure who can do nothing to help his people is still definitely a giant, hollow space in his chest methodically eating him alive. But he does feel... more real? It's strange. Hard to put into words, so he doesn't bother, instead making another one of those high throat sounds. This one is... more satisfied though. Distressed, yes, but encouraging her to just... you know... stay there. Exist for him. That'll be good enough. That's all he needs]

[The panic is subsiding, if not her nerves. This actually is sort of nice, in an oddly frightening way. That noise makes her feel like she's doing something wrong, or not doing something right, and she doesn't want him to leave, not that she'll let herself admit it. As strange as this all is, she's horribly starved for affection. After another second or so of internal debate, she tightens her grip on him into an actual (if not awkward) hug.]

[Oh good, well then... in the apparent tradition of this exchange, he escalates it even further, scootching up a little so his head's against her shoulder instead of her ribcage, and wrapping his free arm around her]

[And he hmm's faintly. He's... settled. Comfortable. And also apparently gives no fucks that he's clinging to her like a tiny lost child at the moment...!]

[Oh. This sure is a thing that's happening, and she has no idea what to do with it. For a second she considers asking him what the hell he's doing, but even though she knows she's going to regret all of this later and hate herself for it, she doesn't want to ruin it. It's nice to be needed, and nicer to be needed in a way that isn't destroying lives and causing chaos. Not that she knows what to do now.]

[Tis okay. He doesn't really... expect her to do anything else. He is mostly just going to sit here and shiver and wonder about the purpose of his life for awhile. He keeps sort of... almost losing touch with reality, rolling himself up in memories and old conversations he used to have with his moirail. Their various feelings jams and how those went, and how trivial it all feels against... this... empty, broken, useless feeling here]

[But every time he starts forgetting to breathe, he remembers the Handmaid here and comes back to himself. Deep breaths. Keep going, keep going. His moirail probably would have told him not to let this break him. Nothing can break him, he is too good for that]

[It feels entirely hollow even if it keeps him afloat for now...]

[She's thinking entirely different thoughts, like how enraged Lord English would be. But if he isn't here, and their world is destroyed (and maybe, just maybe, he was with it), she could be different here. Maybe not normal, since a majority of the trolls she's met aren't worth socializing with, but free. For the most part. She can't leave the tower, and she can't die, but there's no one dictating her every move here.

So, very experimentally, the Handmaid wraps her other arm around him and makes this totally an official hug. Or maybe an official snuggle. He is kind of clinging to her there, but she doesn't hate it, which is saying a lot.]

[Fuck yeah, this is an official snuggle to him okay okay. And since he didn't expect her to do anything else, he's surprised enough when she does that he opens his eyes and shifts a little bit to look at her. His voice is... miserable and barely there but...]

Thank you...

[...WHICH IS REALLY a stupid thing to say since it's her fault he's doing this at all, but... she could have just walked away instead of sticking around, so I guess he's thanking her for that]

[Or something. Lord, he's a wreck]

[Another first! For a second, she looks shocked, then distinctly uncomfortable. The Handmaid has no idea what he's thanking her for, since yeah, this is her fault in the first place. She bites her lip and averts her eyes, shrugging. What the hell is she even supposed to say to him?]

[...nothing. Would be good, yeah. He doesn't really expect an answer anyway and a moment later, he's back to leaning against her, eyes closed, drifting between real and not, trying to figure a way to fix himself]

[Man, Handmaid, you are really gonna have to shove him off if you ever want free reign of your body again lskjdflj This whole clinging thing is not going to stop anytime soon]

[She's starting to realize that, but for the moment she's still mostly okay with this. And anyway, part of her knows that as soon as she pushes him off and leaves she's going to have to think about what this means, and she isn't quite ready to do that yet.]

[...baww Handmaid. Well as time goes on, he kind of... stops quivering at least. His mind isn't any more organized, but the sudden, numb panic reaction has finally worked its way through his body. This is probably not to his benefit in the long run since it was only the OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD thing that was keeping him from crashing completely. But for now he feels... slightly more normal. Only slightly though, and that's obvious in the weird distance in his voice, like he's not really talking to her at all, instead simply voicing a thought to the empty air]

So what do I do now...

[She's pretty much been asking herself that for the last month. For a long moment, she doesn't respond.]

I don't know.

Me neither...

[Well... you're no help at all, Handmaid...! That'll show him for trying to get advice from strangers!!! Or something. Honestly he doesn't really feel like that. He's just kind of... restless now, and he shifts like he might finally leave her alone... Except another wave of... apathy hits him before he gets too far, and so he's back to leaning on her again. No really. What is he supposed to do now...]

Alternia is gone anyway.

[Or at least, she's praying it is. She's starting to get a bit restless, too, because that panic is taking over now.]

[...this is the opposite of what he wants. Although he supposes if he fails in the end... maybe it doesn't matter. If the highbloods really can't be taken down, maybe that's the best thing for them. To all be dead]

[Wow, he hates that that thought even crossed his mind, and he... doesn't respond, kind of locking his jaw and trying to wrestle with all this sudden existential despair]

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