standvastig | Abraxas Inbox

[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.]

[Somehow, the admission in a peaceful, quiet setting hurts more than anything Hendrik has heard roared in the middle of a battle. It takes effort to not look crestfallen, confusion leading to him clenching his hands where they have taken to rest on his knees.]

I do not understand why. It is ... difficult to fathom.

[He hates to even think that Jasper would have such a dark side to him, even knowing the sheer amount of wrongs he has allowed by helping the Lord of Shadows.]

I have always thought you upright. An inspiration. Someone I aspired to be. Even if I did not always agree with your manners, I always thought you were a professional when necessary.

[And because of that, he doesn't want to dilute that mental image with the negatives that he knows to be true.]

Hendrik, I...

[Jasper stops himself, tripping over one word after another, followed by a period of silence that lasts seven or more seconds. Memories remind him of hearing those feelings before. Right before he breathed his last and lost his chance to respond. Each second counts as nine and he runs a hand through his hair before clenching both at his sides.]

You have no idea how late you are with those words.

[He clenches his fists once again before stretching his fingers. Perhaps this distress is his cross to bear.]

[There is a lonesome air to this entire conversation, like a crevasse runs between them and divides them thoroughly. He can only guess how long it took for that gap to form, somehow having missed when a faded friendship turned into something bleak and ... dark, for lack of a better word.]

I only know that I am late. There is no excuse.

[Just as there is no excuse for Jasper's misdeeds, there are none for his own.]

I cannot blame that monster for my blindness. It would also do no good for anyone.

[But he doesn't know where to go from here. Even speaking to these lengths is a lot for him.]

[Hendrik seems lost and adrift while sharing his feelings. The man stands lonely, like a tree buckling before a storm. He listens with closed eyes and an objective mind. Days of offering guidance and advice have passed him by. Perhaps those days shall come again. Perhaps not. He only knows he is grateful to be alive to have this opportunity.]

No. I suppose not.

[He could offer his opinion but chooses to listen.]

[He knows he can't simply dwell on these feelings, especially when the incidents themselves that led to this were so far in the past. He knows, but he has to allows himself a moment to mourn, much like he mourned when he finally had a tent built in Last Bastion and had a moment to himself.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at Jasper. Even if the other man doesn't meet his gaze, he can say what's on his mind. Perhaps it's even a little easier this way.]

Someday I will make it up to you. I do not know how, but I will.

[Jasper turns his face away but in the next moment chooses not to hide. He stands firm and shares his panic and weakness: caution of another and fear of rejection twisting his expression into something fearful.

His gaze searches for something reassuring and he finds it by looking at his hand. A bridge across the divide. He sighs, exhausted by his emotions. It takes a moment but he unclenches his fist and offers his hand - and within his eyes shines hope for the future.]

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standvastig - 2022-03-20 02:55 (UTC) - Expand