crescentview | 🌸FALL CATCHALL🌸

[It's a million small things that whittle him down over the night, finally slipping out the doors when he can't take any more of the forced honesty and strange looks and tight spiraling of inadequacy in his chest. He doesn't want to be alone - that much was true when he spoke to Ellis. But he also didn't want to be feeling whatever it is he's currently feeling, a stubborn looming mountain of emotions that crumble into undefinable pieces if he looks at them too closely.

Syrlya had already gone home earlier in the evening, visibly upset. So Otegine had kept to himself, curled up out closer to the beachfront properties, throwing rocks into the surf until he'd had enough of sulking over himself, before trucking back off towards his farm at an ungodly hour of the night.

He doesn't speak a word of it to Syr in the morning. Or in many of the following days. He just shoves himself right back into work he should have been doing days ago, trying to pick up on the farming where Syr had needed to handle all on his own.

It's while he's out in the middle of his own fields that the birds start to circle. Nothing confusing at first - maybe they were looking for seeds or bugs. All the more for them, he could use the help with the vermin. But when they start to land on him, tugging at him with pecks of their beaks, he starts to stumble with a sqauwk.]

O-Oi, hey, what's going on--?? H-hey, knock it off...!!

[He tries to gently swat them away, but they turn more persistent. Seriously... in the middle of his guilt-laden work day??

After a few failed attempts at trying to deter the birds (including a single attempt at running away that only proved that the birds do have eyes), the Touken relents, shoving his shade hat off to the side with his hoe and gloves.]

Fine, fine, I get it... geeze, you guys just won't let up. [He flinches at a tight tug against his hair.] I know, I know, I'm coming...

[Where are we going, birds?]

Edited 2023-03-01 06:13 (UTC)

[To hell.

Or, more accurately, the birds are leading Otegine to a quiet little clearing in the forest. It’s not especially deep in the woods, but it’s off the beaten path enough to be private enough. Owen sits in the clearing, accompanied by other birds and small animals.

He doesn’t look up, attention seemingly in the squirrel he’s holding a seed out to.]

You made it.

[The squirrel takes the seed, and Owen watches it run away.]

[Oh.

This is a lot of animals and he suddenly feels like an elephant in a porcelain shop, a little hesitant to break the distance until the birds yank at him hard enough to get a choked "ouch".]

Owen...

What's going on? I thought you didn't care about animals. [The wizard doesn't look completely put upon at the moment, anyway, but... this was Owen. That could change in a heartbeat.]

Edited 2023-03-01 06:30 (UTC)

And you said you couldn't understand animals, but you still managed to follow them here, didn't you? Maybe you're not as ignorant as you believed.

[Checkmate, even if there's not really anything to prove.]

Come on, sit down and stop looming over me.

[...

He grimaces, looking like he just bit into something bitter, but the expression fades.]

I want to talk.

[...

Ah. His mind can't help but jump to the only conclusion that makes sense for the last few days: What had he done this time? Maybe the aftermath of that party had given Owen an ultimatum of some kind. Maybe he was realizing he wasn't going to get what he wanted with Otegine. A sad truth, but... one he can brace for, even if it makes his stomach churn a little.

...But no, no, let Owen have time to speak.

He winces slightly, but does as instructed, finding a clear spot nearby and lowering to his knees. It takes effort to not go straight into seiza, but he's too tired to bother with the formality just yet.]

...

Okay.

What about? I'm all ears.

[His eyes narrow, catching that wince. Must be jumping to the worst possible conclusion, and it’s not like Owen can blame him for that. Who wouldn’t be wary?

It does make Owen feel a bit off-kilter, because he already didn’t know what to say. He just knows something needed to be said to clear the air between them.]

I don’t love you.

[Great start. He is absolutely nailing this.]

…But I don’t hate you, either.

[Maybe he likes him, just a bit. Maybe that’s enough for now.]

Maybe I want to give you a chance, but I don’t… know if you want me to.

...

Eh?

[What?

He was expecting a scolding, not... whatever this was. So all he can do is stare at first.]

I... uh...

We've... been over this already. During the hurricane, right? It's okay. [His hand lifts to rub at his neck. It's fine, not to be loved. It's fine. Owen knew. The ache he feels will fade like it always does.] I'm glad you still don't hate me.

But...

A chance for what, exactly?

[The look he gives Otegine is unimpressed.]

Idiot.

[He huffs, but there’s no heat to it. It almost sounds fond.]

Do you really think things are the same now as they were during that storm? Of course they’re not.

[…

Well. In for a penny.]

At the resort, I saw you in a dream. A memory. I watched from the moment to you were forged to the moment you were summoned and everything in between, even when there was nothing to see. I told you I would give you a second chance, because you knew you would break your promise. You… still have that chance. If you want it. If you don’t, then… that’s. Fine.

[He can’t look at Otegine as he talks, frowning down at the squirrel still on his lap as if it’s to blame.]

[Things aren't the same??

...

No. No, he supposes they're not. He's spoken far too much with Owen since then, seen his body, felt the ebbs and flows of human pleasure. He... desires more, now, than he used to. What he wants and likes and craves. And...

He saw a dream.

It renders the Touken silent for a long moment. From his forging to his summoning... but that was so much time. And with nothing to see... did Owen know he was gone, then? Or... had his life been so inconsequential that there was nothing to remark upon?

...

In the exhausted state that he is, the sentiment hurts deeply. Another mistake on top of mistakes.

His exhale is sharp as he struggles to get his knees under him, fists against his legs. Seiza. Practiced, polite, painful, exhausted, exhausted, exhausted.]

I never planned on withdrawing my word from you.

I can't protect everything. And I know you're powerful enough to protect yourself. You're not weak in ability or conviction. And I'm... not something you need, to live a free life.

If you still want it, I'll still try. I cannot take burden for your choices or mistakes. But... I gave my word. I want to keep it, as long as I can.

[He just wishes he could be better at it.]

[The sudden formality gets Owen to pause, and it… hurts, in a strange way, that Otegine seems to believe the wizard is - disappointed in him. Maybe this is what he deserves, after how he’s treated him this entire time. Maybe Owen was just fooling himself when he…]

If it was anyone else, I’d be insulted. Because you’re right, I don’t need anyone to protect me… But…

[His tongue feels heavy with the wait of the words.]

That’s not the point of all of this, because even if I don’t need it, I might… want it. I want you - not just your body, as nice as it may be, but I can’t put a word to it beyond that. These feelings are saccharine and suffocating and they’re all because of you, and I feel like my insides are going gooey and rotting like fruit left in the sun but I don’t - hate it. I want more of it. I want you to stop looking so sad because of me.

[He’s a greedy, selfish man, after all. He wants everything Otegine can give him and more.

He wants to be wanted in return, too.]

Protecting me is a task you’ll have forever. So you’ll have that to look forward to.

[He's wanted.

...]

I...

[...

Why?

It aches. It aches and tugs and burns inside his chest like a flame to the core. He sits on his response with a tongue that won't move and a throat that locks up. Eyes that have never been good at hiding can't leave Owen - surprise, followed by confusion, by longing... and then a deep, sudden fear that takes it like a cloud and draws him right back to hesitancy.

To want, and be wanted in return.

...

The last few weeks drag him open like nails to a raw wound. He'd told Owen so long ago, stood his ground that he was kind because it's what he wanted done to him. Because part of him craved it, and wanted to see others happy. Owen, at the time, hadn't agreed.

Is that what you want? For people to break you down until there’s nothing left?

He could argue against it then, when spring was fresh and his heart was still full. Now, though...

Maybe Owen was right. And maybe... whatever it is he wants from Otegine... maybe it's not something he can provide. Maybe it's not even what Owen wants. He remembers the change in energy, in attitude, how he smiled and taunted and paraded himself around when Otegine hadn't been himself. A self Otegine somewhat hated. Was that what he expected?

He doesn't know. He's scared to ask. An empty, hungry chasm in him wants to beg for whatever feelings Owen has to be scooped out in return, to replace the pit that eats him with inadequacy, a rope frayed too thin and ready to snap.

But he doesn't. He stays quiet, fists balling up painfully.]

...

I can't. [It's weak. There's no confidence behind it. His chest hurts. But he's too exhausted to force up a smile.]

I can't give you forever. I... don't know how much time I even have left.

I want you to be happy. I want you to have someone you can trust. I... I want it to be me. But...

[...]

Y-you were right, you know? That this all would run me dry. [A tired, shaking laugh. Humorless.] I thought I could manage with everyone, but... I don't know what's wrong with me now.

I never wanted you to feel like things were out of your control. But all I did was force things onto you, right? I hoped you might... [Might what? Feel comfortable? Open up? It's all that, and something else, something he doesn't know how to voice. So he stumbles on his thought.] ...I don't know. Maybe it really was to just make myself feel better, in the end.

...

...

I'm sorry. I can protect you, as long as I can. But I...

[Does Owen trust him with any more than that? He doesn't know. Maybe no one does. He doesn't blame any of them. So why does it make him feel so angry at himself, that he wants to be trusted? That he wants to trust Owen??

That he wants to feel wanted? That he wants to be able to feel safe with Owen, even though he doesn't think he can ask?]

...I don't know what else I can give you. You...

You deserve more than that.

Edited 2023-03-02 16:27 (UTC)

[This probably requires more delicacy then Owen thinks he's capable, honestly. Seeing the look on Otegine's face makes him want to grab him by the shoulders and shake, rattle his skull until he stops thinking so much and stops assuming and putting words in Owen's mouth. Again, he still can't fault him, but the thing the spear isn't getting is that some of these things simply don't matter. A part of Owen doesn't really want "forever", for as pretty a word as it is and as much as it sounds wonderful, deep down he knows there's no such thing as forever. Spirits fade, weapons rust, and eventually all wizards will become stone. "Forever" is a vague, impossible notion - but until tomorrow would be good enough, too.

As long as Otegine has is good enough.

He moves, shuffling over to Otegine until their knees touch. It's a mimic of Otegine's seiza, and he reaches out to put his hands over his.]

How many things have you forced onto me that I couldn't say no to? Not some curse or meddling from the Goddess and the things on this island, but you? Stop taking the blame for everything. It's unnecessary - and if I hated it, why would I be here right now? Do you think so lowly of me that you think I'm not capable of making this choice, that you've put some sort of sway on me that I cannot escape? That's awful egotistical of you that it makes me wonder if you're really the Otegine I like. Has that different Otegine still lingered, poisoning your ego? He's a fleeting fancy, but I much prefer the one that isn't so unbearably smug.

[He's not sure what else to do. One of the chickens comes up to them, pecking gently at Otegine's leg and Owen shoots it a look before turning his attention back to the Touken.]

I don't want more then you can give, not like this. It's already more then I've gotten from my entire world, and if I wanted to break my toys I could do that with anyone else. It's disgusting and miserable and exquisite and delightful, but you're... something different to me. For as weak and pathetic it feels being all torn up by these feelings I can't explain, being around you is worth all of that.

[He's fully aware he's rambling, now, but he's not sure when he'll actually get the chance to say everything he needs to. He's not even sure he's making sense, everything so murky and convoluted, but the wizard still wants to try. There's still the chance Otegine will be through with him, will be so convinced he's shamed himself and disappointed Owen and Owen isn't sure he can combat that.

He's a bad person. He doesn't deserve Otegine, so how can Otegine think he deserves better?]

What I deserve doesn't matter anyways, you know? I don't care about that. Half the people I've met think I deserve to die, you think I deserve to be happy, and those are things that cannot coexist, right? So it doesn't matter. It's just a stupid belief because you're missing what's the important part, here. It doesn't matter what I deserve, or what you deserve, or about every little thing that weighs on your mind. What matters is what we want, today, while we have the time to enjoy our choices. I don't want better. I don't want someone else, not right now.

[...]

Do you get that?

[What they want, while they have the time.

...

It's a rambling, that borderline cocky tone he's always come to expect from the wizard, self-assured and picking every insecurity apart before Otegine has time to rebuttal.

...

He doesn't understand what blossoms in his chest. Uncomfortable and full, complicated and twisting, pleasant in beats and horribly vulnerable in others.

It's the first time, he thinks, that's he's ever heard Owen not fall back onto what he himself deserves. A willful rejection, a choice to look for something different.

To let himself not be something that deserved to die, or deserved to be happy. To just be.

To be Owen. And to want him.

...

The Touken's posture trembles, shame brief on his face under the scolding, taken over by a touched expression that tightens at the eyes, the mouth - a telltale struggle of holding back an emotion that wants to vibrantly find release. But his hands carefully turn to take the chilled grasp of Owen's fingers into his own trembling palms. A soft grip, a squeeze, a slow lift to meet him as he bends at the waist to bring his knuckles to his mouth. Not quite a kiss, but contact nonetheless, his expression breaking for a moment underneath the touch.

What they want... what he wants...

...]

...

...

Would you tell me, then? What do you want for yourself? Right now. For anything.

I... [A hand moves to the front of his shirt, a grip at his chest where both fullness and fear scream.] ... I don't want to let this heart decide for anyone but myself.

[Otegine’s hands are so warm - maybe it’s just because his own body has no warmth of its own, it being one of the many stark differences between them. He’s come to learn that while they’re so incomprehensibly different, they’re also more similar then he thought possible. There are some things about him Otegine might never understand, and there’s some things Owen may never grasp, but there are things Otegine can understand better then perhaps everyone else.

To be so, so alone for so long…]

I’ll tell you on one condition.

[His lips quirk into a smile - soft, sad, fond.]

You have to tell me what you want. Be honest with me, no matter how greedy or selfish it makes you feel to admit.

[A beat - he’s sure Otegine will agree, so he only allows a moment for it to sink in before continue. His voice is softer now, Owen feeling far more vulnerable now then when this conversation started. Then he’s ever been in his life, perhaps. There’s been plenty of moments where he’s been weak, overwhelmed, absolute devastated - but never like this. Never because of opening his heart to someone else. It’s always been about power, conquest and control, not the careful nurturing of something tender and sweet.]

I want you by my side. I want to see you when you’re happy, when you’re devastated, when you succeed and when you fail. I want your best and your worst, want to know your strength and your weaknesses. I want to… be together with you, and try everything I’ve never been able to do before because it’s never been possible for me alone.

[Is this love? Is this what Rustica is chasing with the constant search for his bride? Probably not. It’s terrifying, to want this much from one person who could be gone in an instant, who isn’t even from your own world.

Gaku was right. He was afraid of losing all of the lovely things with Otegine, but… he was right that Otegine wasn’t that sort of man, too.

So it’s okay. No matter what Otegine says, he’s confident things will work out.]

Whether that happens is up to you, but that’s what I want.

[As Owen talks, the Touken's eyes stay on him. A careful, attentive devouring of every word, his grip never leaving the wizard's hands.

Is it up to him? It's... never been up to him before. To be the tool, to be the malleable unchanging one, life dictated always by another, comfort always in the instruction of another, worth only placed in what he could do for another... to be given choice for something so enormous, and yet so fragile...

Is he allowed that? That moment of choice, to pick where he wants his present to take him?

...

He has to catch his breath, an emotional pause to look Owen over, to slowly nod his acknowledgement with exhausted eyes that shine over but don't quite tear up. Not yet, not now. He's held himself together this long. A long and trembling breath leave him, in and out, before he intentionally brings Owen's hands back to his mouth - this time, to intentionally brush a kiss against the fingertips. Until his words catch up, he doesn't want the space to stay still and stagnant. The coolness of his touch, the delicacy of the raw power he knows lies behind it...]

I've... never been really good at this even on a good day... but...

[Be greedy. Be selfish. Forget the past or the future... what does he want now?

...]

I want to see the shape of your life.

I want to watch how you learn and fight. I want to be there, to help lead you to victories you can be proud of... to hold you up when you've been knocked astray.

I want to feel dangerous with you. Needed, with you. I want to remember the feel of your hands and know them as well as the grooves of my own blade... so I can commit them to memory.

I want to show you fields of flowers, and worn down streets. I want to watch you be able to connect to the world... I want to see the moment you can recognize your name, and mine, and know that I want them to be together.

I want to be there every time your face turns up with disgust, and when you grow cold with anger, and when you soften with your smiles. I... want to feel safe in your touch. Useful to your desires. Treasured by your words. I want to know that I can break without shattering, so long as I'm in your hands.

I want to be able to know what it's like to live, and I want to learn how to embrace your freedom... as long as I can.

[He brings Owen's hand up to his own face. Cold against heat, a tactile reminder. He's here. He's not there in the fire, there in the void, there on the battlefield. Here. With him.]

Maybe there isn't an Owen for anyone's future. Or an Otegine. But... I still want you, Owen. In my present. Regardless of my future. So long as you'll have me.

[Somehow, despite everything - or perhaps because of everything - Otegine's answer is as surprising as it is exactly what Owen was expecting. He was certain that Otegine wanted him in some way, that this wasn't entirely one-sided, but it's still staggering.

It feels like a vow more then a confession, like there's a weight to this moment that's binding them together, a promise without the words. Not quite, not as risky, but it feels like it may be the closest Owen gets. He's not as concerned about that as he thought he would be, choosing to ignore any "what ifs" that could get in his way.]

That wasn't so bad, was it?

[He feels lighter - the weight hasn't entirely lifted, and there's still so many thoughts and feelings he can't even begin to express tumbling around in his thoughts, but just this much has him feeling... relieved. Happy, almost, which isn't a feeling Owen is used to - not when it's so pure like this, from something sweet like candy and not joy from the expense of others.]

Seems we're on the same page with what we want, which is pretty lucky.

[He leans up on his knees, further into Otegine's space. There's a light in his eyes that isn't usually there, his expression not hiding anything that he's feeling.]

...Can I kiss you?

[In some ways, that might have been the catalyst. Doing something he was so sure Otegine wouldn't want, out of a desire to lash out and humiliate him and take something he assumed would never get otherwise. It was a stupid impulse born from a stupid feeling, but they've gotten this far. Otegine has defied every expectation he's had, and it's just made him feel more and more.]

[He stays still as Owen adjusts his weight, letting the wizard lean over him just as Otegine had once done to him in turn before, weeks upon weeks ago, asking the same question.

His laugh stutters, emotion heavy behind his breath as a smile cracks his face, a mix of both relief and overwhelmed vibrancy meeting that spark and feeling almost intimidated, at where to go with this. This, whatever it was, raw and new and strange. But it was here. And he didn't quite hate it.

His hands gently raise to drift his finger tips against Owen's jaw, a hesitant nod quickly turning into a confident one, a desperate one.]

...

Y-yeah.

I'd like that.

[He closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. It’s chaste, all things considered, Owen not pushing for anything deeper, anything more intense. It’s the sentiment, the feeling, behind it that he craves more then the physical intimacy, so he pulls back after a moment.

(There is still a part of him who wants to keep kissing Otegine, to get lost in the comfort of him, but it’s not the time or place for that. Not with their emotions still raw and exposed, like nerves plucked from their bodies.)

He rests his forehead against Otegine’s, eyes closing. He feels fuzzy and fluffy, everything else falling into the background. All of his words have left him, tipping out of him with his worries. He can let Otegine do the talking for once, give him the space to keep voicing his desires. They’ve found a together, so he can see about easing up on some control. Willingly, at least.]

[The desire to perform, to impress, it falls to pieces under how simple Owen keeps the gesture. Otegine follows in suit, letting a hand lower to Owen's chest to keep them balanced, a loss of the breath between them, missing its presence the second it ends but not dating to ask for more.

They're left in a delicate silence, cool against warmth, Otegine not wanting to remove his hands from where they rest at Owen's jaw, Owen's chest, as though breaking the distance will snap the moment they've given for themselves. Beyond that, though, churns the same maw that still dug at him, the same exhaustion that made it hard to open his eyes... and with his emotions turned to full exposure, it grows hard to ignore that even now, even in such a happy moment, he still feels tense.

With a slow and shaking breathe from his nose, Otegine slips the touch of his forehead away to lower against the wizard's neck, leaning into Owen's weight, pressing a temple to his pulse point as both hands go limp, hesitant, wanting to touch but not knowing where.]

...Stay with me. Please. [It's quiet and hoarse. His breathing still shakes.] Just... for a little bit.

[Otegine leans against him, and the wizard brings his arms up to hold him. It's a bit awkward with them facing each other on their knees, but he doesn't complain.

For now, at least.]

Of course. I'm not in any rush to go anywhere.

[Why would he want to leave Otegine in this moment? That's the complete opposite of what he wants! He didn't go through all the effort of talking to every bird he could find, including Otegine's own chickens, just to have an emotional conversation and then leave.

But he leaves that chiding be, as gentle as it may be, because he can tell that Otegine is... tired. Owen won't claim to know everything that he's seen and done on the island, and it's quite frankly irrelevant. What matters is that he has no plans to leave.]

Though, if the weather turns, we shouldn't stay outdoors. You can get sick now, can't you?

Mn.

[It's the barest of acknowledgements. With Owen's arms around him, Otegine can't help himself. His own hands find their place at the small of Owen's back, clinging to the fabric as his weight slowly goes limp in the wizard's hold, as though his body has been held up by a taught string just cut loose.]

Need to finish my work. [It's muttered. His arms weap a little tighter to Owen's waist.] Can't leave it all for Syr again.

[Even though Syr wouldn't want him to get sick either, or to overwork himself. But he doesn't know what else to do, to make things right, or to make himself feel better.]

[He brushes a hand through Otegine’s hair, considering his words and dismissing them immediately.]

Your farm won’t fall apart if you’re not working every day - and Syrlya can handle being without you. If he can’t, he can just ask someone else for help. I’m sure he has friends.

[“Friends”.]

Just relax.

[Easier said then done, maybe, but it’s definitely something Otegine needs to do before he collapses.]

That's not fair to him. If he can't trust me to do this, then...

[Then what? Syrlya had voiced his understanding, his forgiveness, his trust. It's not like he would throw Otegine out to the wolves. They were friends.

...

His sigh of resignation is irritated, frustrated, a little childish.]

I don't know what else to do. For anybody. It's what I'm made to do, to want to be a useful part of other people's lives, but I...

[He swallows, burying his face into the curve of his neck.]

I... feel like I'm going to crack in half, Owen.

[Usefulness… it’s not something Owen has considered much, at least as far as he’s concerned. He’s fiercely independent and doesn’t play well with others, and he prefers to cause problems instead of fix them anyways. Being “useful” is the complete antithesis of what Owen is.

But it’s the entire reason Otegine exists, to be useful to the humans that hold him. That mindset has had centuries to define him, and you can’t change a lifetime in only a matter of months.]

You won’t be useful to anyone if you can’t do anything.

[Which he feels is obvious, but it still needs to be said.]

You have limits, now. You’re flesh and bone and flesh and bone gets tired, weary. You have a heart that can only endure so much.

[Hums.]

To be as useful as you can be, you have to pick your battles.

[BUT HE WANTS ALL THE BATTLES!!! :( :(

Ugh. He knows Owen is right, though. He knows why the saniwa did this, but this human body still sucks so much.]

Doesn't help that I went and lost my mind for a day... I can't stand how I feel around everyone now. I made myself look like an idiot and I hurt a lot of people... what kind of a weapon goes and does that?

[And he had to see Owen have a disgustingly good time. Good content, but his self esteem sure still hurts a little if he looks at it too hard.

Mmmgh. He grumbles a bit, voice muffled against Owen's shirt.]

Get kind of tired of being told I'm a good person. 'M not a person. Nobody gets that.

Edited 2023-03-03 16:33 (UTC)

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