nysalogs | ( closed ) february catch all

[ There is something about seeing someone else's naked and raw emotion like this, especially from someone who carefully crafted their visage as someone so bright and cheerful, that strikes Percival right in his heart. Though it's almost second nature for him to be harsh, perhaps to even try and slap some reason onto his friend, he can't bring himself to. This Cain is a Cain too vulnerable and distressed, and he won't risk it.

He cannot string any sort of story together based on what Cain is telling him, but that doesn't matter. At a loss for what else to do, he goes with instinct, and pulls Cain towards him in a steady, warm embrace. ]

I would not hold you back if it were. For what reason would I? [ He's quiet, just so only Cain can hear him, though they are alone in the wilderness. ]

Percival—!

[ His voice breaks on the name, cracks, turns into something wounded and aching. But some of the wildness is leaving him, reason returning to his eyes — and with it, heartbreak.

That thing, whatever it is that he's seeing, of course it can't be his brother. His brother is dead, has been for years. There's no way it could be Abel out there in the jungle, looking not a day changed since the last time Cain saw him — not a day older than how he was when he died.

And even without that logic, Cain knows: Percival wouldn't lie to him. Percival wouldn't do this, keep him from something he wants so desperately, without truly good intentions.

That doesn't make the sudden wrench in his chest hurt any less. That doesn't make the sudden loss of his brother a wound opened afresh all over again.

Cain crumples in Percival's arms. He slumps against Percival, staring at Percival a moment longer, still hoping, searching Percival's face for any sign that for some reason it might be a lie — but of course there is none, and tears spring up from the corners of Cain's eyes, hot and stinging. Cain lowers his head to Percival's shoulder to hide them as they drip down his cheeks. ]

[ Percival was raised with the idea that showing such emotion was a weakness, even if, at his core, he was the picture of someone who struggled with that idea and the desire to be kind and compassionate to all. He doesn't know why Cain tends to wear a mask as well, but this, he can actually accept as something that a man has his reasons for.

So to see that mask crack in front of him is shocking, to say the least. His heart races with alarm upon hearing his name being said with such anguish, and when Cain crumbles in his arms, Percival is there to catch him. He searches his face desperately, trying to figure out some way to comfort the other man. He can practically feel his own heart break when Cain's eyes glisten with tears.

This is clearly a matter that dregs up unpleasant, upsetting memories for the other man... so he won't ask any questions.

He simply stays where he is, holding him, running a gentle hand through his hair, and despite the setting of his own boundaries, shifting to press a kiss to the other's forehead. ]

It's alright. [ It's not, evidently, given by how much pain Cain is still experiencing, but he can't think of anything else to say that might soothe him. ]

[ It's not alright. It's not alright, it's never been alright, it couldn't be. But held close in Percival's arms, gathered up against Percival's broad chest, dampening Percival's shoulder with hot tears, it feels like maybe it's not quite as awful as it could be to have this hope of his brother being alive ripped away all over again. It was a false hope, Cain tells himself that, reminds himself over and over again as he stands there, letting Percival stroke his hair. A false hope, worse than no hope at all, and he knows that he should be glad Percival was here to stop him.

He is glad. He is, even if it doesn't feel like it. Truly, he is, and it gets easier and easier to believe that as he matches his breathing to Percival's, using the beating of Percival's heart to calm himself down. He can feel the press of Percival's lips on his forehead still like a brand, and it feels like the only part of him that's warm, the rest of his body chilled through.

Finally, when he's gathered himself enough that the tears have slowed, his face still damp but at least his eyes only prickling, he nods. He doesn't lift his face, but he does lift a hand to curl his fingers in Percival's shirt, holding on — holding Percival back. ]

I'm alright. Whatever I saw... it can't be real. [ He still feels brittle and unsettled. He can't bring himself to lift his head and look into the jungle, afraid that the spectre of Abel will still be out there. But he owes Percival more than that, some sort of explanation. ] It was my brother. Ah, looked like him, at least, but I know it can't be him. He died years ago.

[ Percival responds in the way he would hope someone else would treat him, if he were ever to break down like this. He stays silent while Cain cries, never faltering in his steady embrace, and simply letting him be. As long as Cain wanted to keep himself buried in his shoulder, perhaps to spare himself from having to openly grieve in Percival's sight, Percival would stay.

He feels needed.

And he wants to be here for him, the feeling overwhelming any prior decision to keep distance between them. ]

It was some sort of hallucination altering your perception. [ He's still not pulling away, and will only do so once Cain wants to separate. ] You do not have to explain anything right now. Not if it's too upsetting.

[ It's an out. One of the few times that Percival's offering one, the few times that Percival's letting Cain off, telling Cain that he doesn't have to explain anything. And yet... and yet that makes it worse, somehow. It makes it feel even more like Cain does owe an explanation. Percival's being kind, even with the mess between them, the careful distance that Percival's chosen, and yet here he is, comforting Cain, holding Cain in his arms, letting Cain cry on him without even asking for anything in return.

For once, it feels... easy to explain. For once, Cain wants to.

He shakes his head, still without looking up, but the words come freely. It's not any more upsetting to tell this than it had been to see Abel, at least. ]

No, it's... It's not too upsetting. It happened a long time ago, before I even came to Idelva. When Torhid fell.

[ He doesn't mind continuing to hold him. Not right now, anyway, when it seems to help the other man calm down. But they do need to move, lest they risk whatever gave Cain those visions coming back and claiming either of them again. So, he leans down, lifting the other man into his arms and continuing to walk as he speaks. His own voice is carefully low. ]

How did he die?

[ It says a lot to how shaken Cain is that when Percival scoops him up, Cain doesn't even make a token protest, just curls himself closer against Percival's chest, buries his head a bit more against Percival's shoulder, all the better to make sure that he doesn't accidentally catch a glimpse of the jungle and whatever might be waiting out there in it. He's at least in control of himself enough to shift his arms, looping them around Percival's neck to make it easier to carry him, but that's it; otherwise, he's not quite limp, but he's unresisting, a small, unhappy weight in Percival's arms. ]

In the fighting. I've told you some of it, how Torhid was rotten, eaten away from the inside by its own corruption. My brother was an officer in the army, and he was in the capital when the great destruction came and the fighting broke out. Right in the thick of the worst of it.

[ For some time, the only sound is Cain's voice, low and unhappy, and the crunching of greenery beneath his feet. At times, it's easy to forget that Cain bears a heavier burden that he lets on. This serves as a cruel reminder that that constant smile is likely for the benefit of others. ]

Tell me about him. [ This time, the if you wish is implied. They'll soon be out of the area, but his physical and emotional support stays. ]

[ Cain doesn't speak for several minutes. It'd be easy to think that he's not going to, but the reality is that he's gathering his thoughts, trying to collect himself. Speaking about his brother isn't easy for him even with those who knew Abel; he barely speaks of his brother with Leona, has had a single conversation about Abel with Reinhardtzar, and only because Reinhardtzar had cornered him at his brother's grave. Of all the secrets that Cain keeps, the memories of his brother are some of the things he keeps most guarded.

Having them brought to the surface brings the grief swelling up, too close to overwhelming him. With it, comes all the things he doesn't want anyone to know. The guilt, the regret, the ever-present ache. The thought that's always lingering in his mind that it'd be better if his brother was here instead of him, that he's the one who should have died—

But he swallows all of that down and focuses only on what Percival had asked him, and though his voice is thick, still a little wet, he manages to eventually answer. ]

He was... very kind. He was the perfect big brother. He doted on me, he always made time for me even when he was busy, he spoiled me rotten... Our parents died when I was young, and he practically raised me. For a long time, he was all I had.

( closed ) february catch all

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject