standvastig | Abraxas Inbox

[This spiritual plane is a strange place. Each world builds upon empty space: his labour to rebuild simple and unchallenging. He had refashioned his life and reframed his understanding of the world, finding himself on the outside of society more often than not. Isolation means he finds this world unpleasantly quiet and peaceful to the point of pointlessness.

But home is wherever you lay your head, right? Hendrik understands that and he shall not take peace away from the man. In the end, perhaps home is who you lay your head upon moreso than what.

His eyes narrow in focused thought.]

No. Why must you worry after me after all I have done?

[He blinks once at the question. After all he has done? He could probably ask after that, but it strikes him as unimportant right now. So he answers what seems like a simple question to him.]

Because there is nothing else demanding my attention? Because it is not normal to be irritated?

[Well, maybe succubi are usually irritated before they eat.]

[Hendrik enjoys a simple, peaceful state of mind. Freed of his memories, he looks peaceful and satisfied, living hand to mouth working the countryside. It was brought to his attention those memories are absent upon one's first visit to this curious place. But the experience of seeing their absence within his friend makes his eyes widen.

It tells him there is nothing ordinary about his anger. He remembers being at peace without his experiences informing his behaviour - yet he cannot appreciate their absence. His memories are important.

How they came to be fraught and destructive is beyond his grasp. He relaxes his shoulders - nerves still tense - and glances aside for a moment.]

You mistake my irritation. It lies not solely with you.

[It is with Carnelian - or the monster who had worn his skin. Another fact he cannot - refuses - to grasp.]

[The pale person looks off to the side, making Hendrik focus on those demonic eyes as they come to rest on him again. There's a distant feeling that he should probably be wary, but there are no personal memories to make him fear or feel threatened by this monster's presence.]

I presumed that you were probably hungry.

[But if it isn't that...? What can he possibly do?]

Is there anything I can do?

[Jasper closes his eyes, wishing he could voice his thoughts. By the time Hendrik awakens from this place he shall remember all that was said. Confessing he wishes to be remembered as a comrade and a friend - it would carry from this world to the next. He thins his lips and chooses not to beg.

Besides, this man killed their friendship. His ignorance of his plight is not easily forgotten nor forgiven.]

Not in this world.

[He opens his eyes and looks at his old acquitance.]

Though of course I wonder why a human wishes to help a monster like myself.

[Why does he want to help a monster? Humans and monsters do not necessarily get along. And yet...]

I cannot ignore what is right in front of me.

[The words flow out of him without any hesitation, and he affirms his resolve with a nod. There isn't an ounce of guile in his voice.]

You have not attacked me or harmed anything this entire time. Why should I not help you?

[It seems utterly simple yet he cannot accept this extended hand of friendship. There is no desire to mislead the man after manipulating him for years.]

You are not in possession of all the facts. I would not take advantage.

[Not when it means rising something as serious as building on their relationship.]

[Hendrik stares at the man in front of him for a long moment, brows knitting together in thought. One would think there is a hint to be gotten from everything that is being said.]

You could tell me. Otherwise why would you still be here with me?

[Indeed. Why would he? Jasper brushes his fringe, taking a moment to cast it aside as though ignoring his worries.]

What would you have me say, friend?

[Friends. There is warmth in that word.]

I should rather talk when you are in your right mind.

[Friend. Hendrik tilts his head, wondering about the warmth in the endearment and how it contrasts with ... everything about this situation right now.]

I suppose then it would make sense why you say "friend" and have not smiled this entire time.

[Friend. Colleague. Rival. Enemy.

Jasper turns aside and protects himself with his shoulder before looking at the ground. Hendrik is renowned as a saviour - an idol of his country. His own accolades matter not in comparison. Though he decides not to pursue his anger about that and clenches his right fist. This situation tries his patience.]

I doubt I possess any reason to smile when talking to a brick wall.

[He steps close and raises a hand - willing to slap this fool awake if he has to.]

Wake up, man!

[Slap.

Hendrik startles awake, his hands reflexively squeezing down on the ones still in his grip. He looks around in confusion, blinking as his mind tries to make sense of the vast difference in light; in contrast to the sunny fields of that dreamscape, the outdoor garden only sees the little lighting visible of a sunset beyond the walls of Castle Thorne.

Dreamscape. Though he is sitting, Hendrik sways in place, amazed by the memories flowing back into his head at a rapid rate. He is barely able to acknowledge the man across from him, let alone say anything that will make any lick of sense in the moment.

But he knows that what he saw in that other place is not the same as what he sees now. And once he's able to make a deliberate decision on the matter, he firmly clenches Jasper's hands.]

[The change between the dreaming and waking worlds is a strange one. Deep, frenetic breathing. One second of peace. Time flies by while he finds himself assailed by a multitude of information for the senses. Sitting instead of standing. Hands clenched instead of raised. He sighs and pulls his back - disconcerting he cannot when they struggle to move an inch.

Hendrik. The man grows angry with his actions but what of his words? He forces his voice to sound neither frustrated nor fretful - to share no emotion.]

Release me.

[Patience. Impatience. He can more so see rather than hear those feelings in Jasper, even with the diminished amount of light. And yet...

He leans forward, peering at Jasper's very human visage -- as if soaking it in, committing it to memory. His voice is low, careful and quiet and lacking anger.]

Are you going to leave?

[Jasper draws in his shoulders and holds his breath. He curls much as he can of his fingers, trapped within that crushing grip. He reaches within for where his pride dwells and pushes it to the fore. Presenting himself as calm and collected in the face of bother and distress.]

Do you want me to?

[The restlessness remains -- not that Hendrik cannot understand why, considering what has just happened. But he feels like his answer will hold off any negative reaction from Jasper, if simply because it seems like the most peaceful answer he can give.]

No. I want you here.

[There is no doubt in his voice. No frantic scrambling of assurance. Even before he receives a response from Jasper, he releases the other man's hands and leans back so he isn't sighing directly in his face.]

Thank you.

[The gentleness flows in one ear and refuses to leave the other. Jasper looks at his hands with an expression that is out of place - mildly bewildered in his attempts to understand what Hendrik means by offering gratitude. He withdraws his hands, turning over his nails to scrutinize and inspect them.]

What are you thanking me for? I hardly did anything.

[He silences himself from asking further questions. Eyes narrow, brows furrow and he glances around before looking at Hendrik.]

Edited 2022-03-18 18:08 (UTC)

That is precisely why I am thanking you. You could have done any number of things, and you did not.

[He didn't take advantage of the situation. He had every opportunity to make him act the fool or try to garner sympathy, and he did not.]

I do not presume that you could not have affected the scenery if you so wished.

I have affected the scenery quite enough, I think.

[What else can he call the devastation he wrought upon their home? A desolate wasteland of burning fields and ruined homes. That Hendrik speaks thoughtfully is a pleasant sound for his soul.

Less pleasant is the unspoken subject of his ghostly appearance.]

I would not interfere further.

[Hendrik's eyes narrow at the mention of "affecting the scenery quite enough," but he soon eases and looks away as he realizes that Jasper is likely speaking to reality more so than what had happened in that place. The Horizon.

With a slow nod, he looks to the little magical stream that feeds this particular garden. It's a distraction from ... other things on his mind.

He abruptly recalls something that had happened repeatedly in that dreamscape.]

I continuously referred to you as a succubus.

[The comment passes without remark. He leans forward with feet pointed inward, following the direction of his old friend's gaze. For a brief moment, he has experienced true connection with someone, a fact that makes him disinclined to argue.]

It is noticably hard to realise I am not a woman.

[He hardly sounds amused - neutral, really - but he doesn't sound frustrated, either.]

[Hendrik just groans at that, recalling how many times he kept referring to Jasper as a succubus and implying that he was going to eat him.]

It is noticeably more difficult when your hair is down, which was not the case in there.

[His expression shifts into gloominess as he thinks more on Jasper's appearance, thinking more of the most ... obvious of oddities in that place.]

You looked very ... washed out. Like color was being leeched from you.

[Jasper feels his own expression shift. In resemblance to the lifeless colour in his cheeks, his human colour drains away. The gloom in his thoughts becomes an overbearing weight upon his shoulders and he winces as it crushes him into the ground.

A tired noise comes from his lips. Barely concealed exhaustion, poorly hidden resignation. He is not afraid of this upcoming discussion but it occupies every thought.]

It is more my natural colour to be sure.

[Not entirely. He falls silent. How does he share that other secret?]

[There is obvious reluctance in Jasper's reaction, but he does not run away -- a small comfort considering what else is trickling into his mind. He grimaces at the mention of "natural color" even before he's had a chance to mull over what that means.]

The clothing you wore was also unlike anything I have ever seen. Dark. Very dark.

[In his head, he's already jumping to conclusions, but his heart is reluctant to give them voice.]

Was that... Is that who you are?

[The enquiry is reluctant and gentle - a comforting lead into an issue that is difficult for both of them. He stiffens from head to toe and closes his eyes, taking time to find his nerves. While he could deny that half of himself, he would be absolving himself of blame and denying his innermost feelings.

After a few more seconds, he has a simple yet complex answer.]

It is part of who I am.

[His hatred and despair given literal form. Is he a man or monster? He hardly knows but it hardly bothers him, either.]

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