thecapitol | And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me

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And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me

Who| Initiate + the Signless, Terezi, Sigma (and any others whom he would go to, PM or hit me up elsewhere if you want in). All separate threads.
What| The Initiate gives a warning and request.
Where| The Signless's room, Terezi's room, Sigma's room.
When| After running into the Psiioniic.
WARNINGS| Language. Pale heartbreak. Mentions of a formerly-terrible person doing terrible things? Skewed sense of what garners a death sentence. Probably a slap or two. (Probably going to be some wibbly wobbly time madness.)

Now, now at last that he's left the Psiioniic's side, he can come apart, is what he thinks, but it ain't true. It's always one thing after another, one trial ignored, another break all the fuck postponed. Hold together, hold together, that's all it is what he keeps doing. It's what he keeps fucking telling all everybody, just motherfucking hang in there. It is not. Fucking. Working.

He's angry, all sharp and sudden for a good ten seconds. If he was just allowed to be what he was he'd be fine right now. If he'd just stayed a goddamn monster he wouldn't have to deal on with none of this. The Psiioniic's threat? Shit would be a joke. A joke what he'd be laughing his damn ass off then and still now.

The moment passes though, as it always does.

He just promised his death to an ex-moirail ex-friend what don't remember him no more. All this time trying to stay alive and now this. He can't even curse himself for impulse or stupidity because his mind ain't changed, it still sounds as to be just.

Either way, he has to hold together. He can't all fall apart up as of yet. He has to let them know, them what it's being relevant to. In place of the anger, he's almost numb. He regains that quiet hollowness as like he held when he was Avoxed. He trails through the halls all like he's being one, eyes down and careful not to touch nobody. He keeps the cleaned off side of his face facing the wall wherever all he can. Soon, he can come apart, but not yet. Not yet.

He knocks on the door.

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He swore he wouldn't pry. He told himself repeated that it wasn't his place to. But maybe now it is. At least to get proper knowing of it. He's her matesprit and a motherfucker of faith. He's suppose to support her as the former. He knows he bothers her with the latter.

He breathes deep.

"DID YOU ALWAYS GET FOR HATING THE FAITH?" He asks. Quickly, he follows it up, saying, "I know a lot of motherfuckers what do, and I guess as they got their reasons to and all. WHAT WITH THINGS BEING AS THEY ARE. As they were up on Alternia." As they are so as the Psiioniic should scream aloud when he's near. So as every first meeting is marked with suspicion by his kind because he's a motherfucking cultist, more than because he's being a troll. "WITH YOU, WASN'T SO SURE AS IT WAS BEING THE SAME. Is it?"

Did you always get for hating the faith? She should probably be more surprised at this question than she is. But she's not. There's no secret between them about how she feels about his faith. She tries not to be too vocally opposed to it for his sake, but it's difficult to hide how uncomfortable it makes her.

"No, I didn't care before. It didn't bother me." She fidgets on his knee uncertainly, her thoughts drifting back towards the room. He was right. This isn't a question that she really wants to answer. But she had said anything...

"I didn't have any opinion--not until Gamzee started murdering my friends and going on about how it was some work of his faith." She grimaces at the mention of that name, her mouth pulling into an unsteady frown. Her attention turns towards her hands, idly picking at a loose thread on her shirt. "I hated him for it, and it by association. But there were...other things. I didn't learn about them until I was here. Stuff that happened--or will happen, if I go back."

He wishes it shocked him. His breath does come in a little sharper but only barely. If anything it's only an extension of timelines and how as his own lot-- their lot, the Makara line, is to being. It's another bit of hammering on the fracture what's already there. There's no surprise.

Mostly, it's just motherfucking sad.

He leans forward slow, and lifts her up off of him, taking to rise to. He nods out to the room, where all they can maybe make a pile. Talk about this.

"IF IT'S BEING TOO MOTHERFUCKING MUCH, YOU AIN'T GOTTA SPILL IT TO ME. Ain't gotta bleed out no more pain. BUT WHAT YOU CAN... S'just, I ain't want to make the same mistakes. YOU SAY WE'RE DIFFERENT, AND I KNOW YOU WANT TO BELIEVE IT. But it's for such small reasons, paltry little motherfucking things, we is. MY SEER, I NEED YOUR SHOWING OF WHAT SHARDS NOT TO PRESS, LEST I DIG TOO DEEP."

Terezi stands when he lifts her, her hands briefly touching his forearms to steady herself. As much as it's a gentle touch, it's also a trusting one. Even for as unsure as she is about this topic, she doesn't hold any of it against him.

He nods out towards the room, and her hand takes his. She doesn't say anything for the moment, only leading him out into the bedroom again. She lets go of his hand there, but only to grab the pillows off of the bed. Into a pile, they're arranged on the floor with the blankets stripped off the bed and thrown over-top.

Only when that's all done does she pause to turn back to Kurloz, not yet seating herself.

"I didn't think that you would want to hear it," she says in the same quiet and uncertain voice as before. "You like him, for whatever reason."

"You like me, for whatever reason," He says simply. He doesn't mean it to taunt. Only to point out facts. He takes her hand and watches her as all he settles himself on down, waiting for her to join him.

"AIN'T LIKE TO HEAR A LOT OF THINGS. Motherfuckers talking shit up on faith. WHAT THINGS AS WE TALKED ABOUT ALMOTHERFUCKINGREADY. Don't mean as it ain't need saying." He brings her hand up to his lips, laying kiss atop it. He gives her fingers a light squeeze and looks on into her eyes, as he always does, even knowing she can't see him.

"YOU'RE MY MOTHERFUCKING MATESPRIT," He continues. "Ought get knowing of these things."

He tosses her words back at her, and she frowns ever so slightly, but not enough for any real disappointment. She wants to tell him that he's different, but he's already said as much. Different, but he claims that it's not as much as she seems to think. She doesn't have the heart to voice her thoughts on that: That he doesn't know Gamzee nearly as well as he thinks.

Even before he calls her his matesprit, she's already mollified by the kiss he plants on her hand. She's more than happy to join him in the pile, tucking perfectly onto his lap, curled up against him. It's one of the few places in the Capitol that she feels completely safe, even knowing the topic that they're about to broach.

"When I came here," she starts without much preface. "I hated him. A lot." It's better to get this off her chest as quickly as possible, before she starts to second guess herself again. "I hated everything to do with him. I couldn't stand the thought that he was out there, feeling so self-righteous about the damage that he had done, after everything we had struggled through as a team. Vriska, I could understand. Eridan, I could understand. They had never cared about anyone but themselves, and I couldn't even be surprised when I learned about their deeds. But this... He had never acted like that before. Nepeta and Equius had never done anything to him. But suddenly, they were dead, and he wasn't even sorry about it. I thought we were friends, I never thought for a moment that he had done it. Not until I was face-to-face with the proof. I was so stupid, and I hated him so much."

"When Dave came here, he told me what happened next. He told me that I had changed, that I was a mess. He told me that I had done things that I couldn't even believe... I let someone cure my sight. Kurloz, I never would have allowed that. I don't understand the person that I ended up as." There's a quiver to her voice, a sliver of desperation for him to understand how wrong everything was back there. "...Dave said that it was because I started hanging around Gamzee. I let everything go that mattered to me."

She frowns miserably down at her hands, unable to face him directly. If he was anyone else, she might not be able to tell him this; but he's right: He is her matesprit, and he ought to know.

"I don't want to be that person. I'm terrified of that person, and I don't even know how it happened. I don't know what he did, if it was him or his faith or something else... Whatever it was, I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with it."

She settles in his lap and his arms come up to wrap right around, holding her strong and steady. Being as solid a shell he can be as she exposes her wounds bright and raw to the world, and to him.

There's already a certain level of hollowness in him, carved out by Mituna, by timelines, himself and all other versions. His descendant is just one more and that little hollow space leaves just the right amount of room for ill and sick to crawl inside without distrubing nothing and none.

"SO, YOU HATE HIM, NOT FOR WHAT ALL HE UP AND GOT TO DO. But because he took you by surprise. HELD TRUSTS UP INS. Motherfucker made you care, before he took the rug out from under."

It's been a long, long ass time, since he thought about what it must be like, hating this one motherfucker so much, and accepting things as all like this from one what shares the exact face. The same body. Same voice but for alterations. Where he ain't being a scar by his future, he's being one by his descendant.

He wonders, for a short, sickening moment, how she'd look with teal-grey eyes. He imagines what sort of thing might convince her-- a cruelly thrown taunt what all might fool her in a moment's irrationality and hurt, to think she'd be better all with sight.

"OF NO KNOWING WAS I IN TIMES EARLY," He beings. "Care wouldn't have gone being likely none back then anyways." Not back then. No, there were few what all he'd have given a shit for back then. "BUT NO MOTHERFUCKING KIND OF HAPPY WAS YOU. You wasn't being well. ACTED LIKE WHAT MISTREATMENTS YOU WAS GETTING WAS DESERVED. Kept asking, why wasn't you angry?"

Because that was how he worked. Because he couldn't fathom not rearing up righteous for what things went down. He was wrong, but he also thinks that maybe he was right, in a way. A way what she figured out better than he did.

"THEN EPIPHANIES MIRACULOUS GOT FOR COMING DOWN. All got figuring did you and it was motherfucking righteous what things as you did all to protect yourself." He looks at her, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "YOU KEEP SAYING AT IT WAS ME WHAT HELPED YOU, BUT TEREZI, THAT AIN'T WEREN'T BEING ME. That was you. WASN'T OF NO ELEVATIONS FOR YOU. You was. DIDN'T DO NO SAVING OF YOU OR NO FUCKING ANYTHING. That falling dragon you told me on about, she learned to fly again her ownself. I AIN'T NEVER FUCKING FLOWN IN MY WHOLE LIFE, I DIDN'T TELL YOU HOW, I DIDN'T FEEL NO STRUGGLE ON OF KEEPING IN AIR, I JUST ASKED WHY YOU WASN'T. You saved you. AND I GOT MY BELIEVING YOU COULD DO IT AGAIN, IF EVER AS YOU NEEDED TO." His hands cup her face, tilting it up gentle. He kisses her forehead, and just for her, wipes away any mark of paint.

"Maybe you changed," He continues. "OR MAYBE YOU WAS JUST HURT AND YOU GOT TIRED OF PRETENDING OTHERWISE. Maybe them hurts just got on happening continuouslike. WRONG WENT THINGS BUT PERMANENCE AIN'T YET TOUCHED. You got it being all upon as to make for motherfucking whatever's right by you in such things known as permanent. YOU HAVE THE HINDSIGHT WITHOUT NEVER NEEDING IT TO BE A THING. Even if healing's too hard, you're not going to be alone."

Kurloz touches her face and lifts her chin, and she lets him. She lets him do whatever he likes because she's far too caught up in his words to care.

He's right. When she first came here, she wasn't happy. Not just for being in this place, but back on the meteor as well. She was downright miserable with their situation, tired and worn out. There was nothing for her back there, save for a few friends that she didn't want to disappoint. If she wanted to go back at all, it was only for them and not for herself.

Now he sits here, telling her that it was all her. He didn't do anything to save her; she had that power all along. But she knows that isn't true, not entirely. He was there. Even when he claims that he didn't do anything, it didn't matter. He was there when she needed someone to point out what should have been obvious.

"You showed it to me." Her voice is quiet. Her chest hurts and her eyes sting, but it's not a bad feeling. If there are tears in her eyes, it isn't from sadness. His words mean so much to her, even as she tries to tell him that there is more to it than that. "You asked me why, when I didn't even think to ask myself. Why I wasn't angry, why I wasn't flying. You asked me those questions, and it was the first time that I realized they were questions I should have asked myself. I realized that I could be angry. I could soar. Maybe you didn't teach me that, but you showed me the sky. You gave me that chance."

It's true, and she knows it. No matter how he might protest, she only has to think back to those moments when she was at her lowest. Those epiphanies only came because he questioned the path that she was on. Because he asked her why she didn't deserve better.

"And more than anything, you believed in me. You knew that I could do these things before even I did. You're still doing it," she points out, and there's a bit of laughter in her tone to offset the emotion. "You tell me that I'm strong enough to save myself, and more than anything, I want to believe you." But whether she can or not, she knows that he'll be there. That much, he doesn't need to say, even if it warms her to hear those words from his lips.

His face screws up. All getting fucking emotional is he, seeing her like this. All of tears bittersweet. All of laughs so light yet full of feeling. Mirth he pities her so much. He thumbs away her tears.

"I WAS JUST AN ANGRY MOTHERFUCKER WHAT WANTED PROVING RIGHT," He laughs too, echoing her. "Just someone what got hurts also and wanted seeing of what good potentials could become, so as I could take the victory on my ownself justified." Selfish reasons way back then. But still now he leans in and kisses at them tear tracks.

He can't tell her what it means to hear all that though. Even inspiring her and getting her to believing him feels good, it's not that he can't be proven wrong, but that he can't tell her what it means to him as a preacher. Now when it's part of the preach what brought this.

But maybe he ought to focus up on that.

"STRENGTH AND WISDOM BEING YOURS NOW BY EXPERIENCINGS. That's one part set. ONE PART ALL MADE THE FUCK OUT AS TO KEEP YOU HIGH AND ALIVE." He holds her careful in his arms, offering a small squeeze. "But there lay still the smaller two trials. SMALLER BUT NO LESS MOTHERFUCKING RELEVANT. You know I am of the faith. YOU KNOW I AM BEING BLOOD AND FLESH AND BONE OF THAT VERY SAME MOTHERFUCKER WHAT DID YOU ILL. All honest words what as could be said... do you trust me? DO YOU TRUST YOUR OWN SELF BY ME?"

He keeps his face from giving away one thing or the other. He doesn't want he consolidation. He doesn't want her to think he will damn her. They both need the truth, and the truth unbiased. Whatever all it is to be. A no. An uncertainty. Some other unknown.

The mention of Gamzee again draws her up short. It's not that she hasn't realized how similar they are, and it's not that she's forgotten that they're both Makaras. She just tries not to think about it. It doesn't make any sense in her head that Kurloz could be so kind and caring to her when Gamzee ended up the way he did.

But he asks her to be honest, and he asks if she trusts him. She doesn't want to, but she thinks hard on that question. Does she trust him? How much?

"Kurloz... I would trust you with my life. I would trust you with everything that I am. If there is anything that I don't trust... It's me."

Her ability to stop, to know what's best, to be able to find the worth in herself. It's very rare that she can believe fully in her own judgements, even with as much progress as she's made. There have been a lot of missteps, and she still feels very fallible. Not that he hasn't made mistakes as well, but when it comes to her well-being... She can't find fault with anything he's done for her, except for the price that it's cost him.

"It isn't a matter of trusting you or not trusting you. Being involved with you and with your faith--" She gestures at the paint, frowning. "--or the Faygo... They are going to look at that and think I'm slipping. And even if I tell myself that it doesn't mean anything, I still feel it, too. Like it's a sign that I'm giving in. Like it's a sign that I'm not in control, and that part scares me."

He wishes he had his power here. He could root out what fears she's tumbling over right now. It would be easier. Take out more than half the work of his knowing what to say and working on out the motherfucking rest.

But in place of that is still her words. All and everything she tells him, he gets a listen on to.

He takes her hands.

"Put so much trust up in me, Terezi. ALL THIS TRUST WHAT I DIDN'T MOTHERFUCKING HAVE. Trust, the opposite of fear." It's a little funny now, what all with his admittance just moments ago that he is fear. But still, he carries on. "BUT YOU AIN'T GOT NONE IN YOURSELF? Sister, how many times have you fixed up everyone else's shit? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU MADE BETTER OF THINGS? Of motherfuckers like me."

He smiles that broken little smile. So grateful. So full of pity.

"TRUST YOURSELF. I can't think of a better one what all for you to put trust up in. WHATEVER IT TAKES TO TRY AT LEAST. It'll be a while. YOU'LL HAVE TO LEARN IT. But one day, you can tell yourself that your trusting your ownself. AND AIN'T NOTHING BY THAT COULD MAKE NO SLIPPING TRUE. You can tell it at to them other fuckers too."

He leans on forward to yet again kiss her forehead. "YOU TRUST ME. So you trust your choice in me. AND WHAT PARTS YOU DON'T TRUST? Just ask. JUST SAY SO. You got that control there. AND IF THEM MOTHERFUCKERS REALLY GIVE ENOUGH A SHIT, THEY'LL GET ON HELPING TOO. Just as all I will. IF THAT COUNTS AS SLIPPING BY THEM, WELL, FUCK 'EM. If that gets as slipping by you, we stop. WE FIGURE WHAT TO DO. You get what you're wanting and we get about that. AIGHT? You're going to be okay."

You're going to be okay.

It's strange, how those words sound to her ears. He can't possibly know that everything will be okay. He doesn't have the power to see that. She doesn't, either, but he says it with such conviction that she wants to believe him. More than that, though, is his promise. If she feels like there is something wrong, they can stop. It can be as simple as that, and she knows that he'll hold to that promise. Because he cares about her, and that is one thing that she doesn't doubt at all.

"Okay." The agreement comes quietly, but with feeling. She smiles back at him with just as much pity and gratitude because he understands. He gets it, and even that much is so relieving. She can take this at her own pace, and he'll be there to make sure that she has something to hold onto if she wants to stop.

"...Are we going to do your carnival thing again?" she follows up after a moment, as if taking a tentative step in that direction. "I liked that. The painting and the dancing... I wanted to do it again with you." She doesn't have to acknowledge yet that it's a part of his religion. For now, it's enough to spend time with him and do something that makes them both laugh.

He'd hate to let her go. It would be with no small ache that he would. But he would, in fact, if it made her happier. He could be her friend. He would always be hers. The soft words of hers just make all to seal that deal.

He looks surprised when she mentions the Carnival. It's not as though he'd thought her to forget, he certainly hadn't. But still, the memory seems far away, what with her being taken right after. The memory bears a dark mark it was never meant to have.

It surprises him more when she says she liked it. The joy and pride makes him swell and he has to fight to contain it. He must go slow, far slower than that. Even for all makes his eyes bright.

"HAPPILY. Would do so just as all a sister motherfucking wished. WE ARE DUE FOR CELEBRATIONARIES LEGIT. We are due for reverence and peace."

He pities her all too much.

Even if he tries not to show it, Terezi smells the way that he lights up. At least for this, she doesn't mind his excitement. She's glad to be able to share this much with him again, after it had seemed almost lost to them only a few months ago.

She's glad for that brightness to his eyes.

"I agree." She smiles up at him, resting her head carefully against his shoulder. Now that they've sorted through that, there's an easy relief in her chest. They can manage this, together.

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And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me

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