2023-04-04: Hopeless Pursuits
- Log: Hopeless Pursuits
- Cast: Xander Lovell, Riley Arwell
- Where: Unnamed Zeboim Ruins
- Date: April 4, 2023
- Summary: Suffering yet another life threatening round of their curse, the Fangs of Valmar set off on a journey to try and solve it without their habitual bloodshed... not for the first time. How many times can a hope be crushed before one can no longer endure it?
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Every note, every line of translation, every bit of research and stray rumor Xander managed to piece together led them to the sea, to an island that wasn't even quite an island. Zeboim era ruins -- wreckage, really, of what might have been an old research facility -- that could only be reached by an old, sad boat and looked long picked clean before the tides submerged most of it.
Xander was not deterred. If puzzles had to be solved by doing them partially underwater, it wasn't the first time, and alchemy could help with such an obstacle. That and whatever infections might have lurked in the depths. And healing from the monsters that took up living in the place... many of them unnatural things. Undead. Was that a promising sign, or just another extra annoyance for Xander to shove his knife into?
Didn't matter. He had to push ahead, no matter how dizzy, only pausing when it seemed Riley needed a moment to breath before he worked himself up into a bloody cough. But if this was real, if Xander was right, then this could be the last time.
The final chamber lies in shambles, pressure mercifully keeping the water out of it. Most of it. Old terminals still spark with life, though the data feed glitches and warps from erosion. It still responds to input, Xander fumbling through the inputs with a close eye on his notes on the old script.
"Come on... It's got to be here... I see you..."
No matter the language, Xander learned to recognize the terrible word burned into his brain, into his soul: Valmar. Whatever mess of data this was, that word kept coming up several times. Close. So close...
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
It's been a few days since Riley's been able to sing. Most breaths feel kind of... murky going down, now, but he holds off the urges to cough as best he can. Meanwhile, he's been closely watching Xander as they explore the half sunken depths of this ruin, worried he's going to pass out in waist high water or pitch forward into a pile of jagged rubble.
It seems almost impossible that they could find what they seek, here, finally, but also increasingly like they need to. Are they really going to survive another journey, another delve into dangerous ruins? But maybe Riley's the only one cracking under the pain and pressure. Xander always seems to find it in himself to take another step, and so Riley keeps dragging himself along behind.
The least he can do, this time, is believe in him.
As Xander digs through the data in a glitching terminal, Riley is trailing once again, though he doesn't dare to fall so far behind that he couldn't catch Xander if he should fall. He moves in close enough to read over his shoulder, not that he can read the ancient language. What can he do...? Well, pick off an encroaching zombie or two with his bow while Xander is occupied with the terminal. Once that's taken care of, he stifles a complaint in his chest, hands clenching against the twitching pain and the instinct to cough that will only make it worse, and looks back to Xander.
"Did you find something promising...?"
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
"It's about Valmar, I can tell that much. We must be in the right place."
One step at a time is how Xander forces himself through this. His vision darkens and blurs with quick movements more than he likes, and his complexion isn't that much livelier than the zombies. But as long as he can swing a knife, a scythe, press a button...
Xander doesn't know enough of the language to do anything without notes, and he's largely groping around. But some combination of his grit and dumb luck activate a nearby door, lifting it open.
"There."
Excitement pulses in every nerve as Xander lurches himself toward the new chamber, light in his eye. It's a circular room layered with a smaller circular indent within it. There's faded lines orange circuits against violent, and the way it fits around the edge reminds Xander of a clock. Three large orbs -- catalysts? power sources? -- lie cracked and shattered against the ground around it, fallen from their pedestals. Ancient flesh clings to the walls and floor as blackened filth from an old conflict.
Breath short from exhaustion and excitement both, Xander looks wildly around the chamber. He can feel it in his instincts -- or the curse itself -- this... connection to Valmar. This was something. This is something. It has to be.
He drags himself to that lower circle, losing his balance in the sudden elevation and sliding in without so much as a startled cry. There's pieces of something here, and already fallen into a kneel, Xander scrambles to get ahold of them and investigation.
Xander tries to slide the mysterious parts together, looking up at images the ruins struggles to project around them on screens not unusual to Zeboim ruins. A blueprint. Right, yes, a blueprint, they just have to put it back together --
The longer Xander -- and Riley, if he comes to help -- work with the pieces, the more it becomes increasingly obvious it's only a small part of that blueprint. And what still exists is too dented, too broken, too mangled to appropriately look like its own part of the puzzle.
... Xander keeps trying, getting up to search the edges of the room, to look through the orbs, to drag over chunks of useless scrap...
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Xander opens a secret door, and finds a lead. As his excitement sends him sliding suddenly into a depression, Riley sucks in a sharp breath to make a startled noise on his behalf -- there's a bit of a wheeze in it -- and he goes chasing after. Dark power does seem to buzz around them. Could this really be something?!
"What is it? Do you think... could it be one of the instruments?" For a moment it seems like it could all come together. But no matter how hard they look, the room only seems to hold one piece. Are the others... ... elsewhere? Other distant ruins? And the one piece they did find... looks so twisted and bent that pushing it back into shape seems like it could shatter it completely.
"Do you think... is there some alchemy that could restore it?"
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander's breath becomes heavier and more labored with each effort, and in each passing moment, even if he supplies no effort. He looks down over what they have. Not everything. A piece of a whole. Not a complete piece of a whole.
Alchemy... Could he? Xander scrambles in his bag for supplies, fumbling with vials in his weakness -- in urgency, not weakness, not dread -- as he stares at the mess in front of him.
"...There... there must be," he says. "Something to... to fuse it back together, or..." But Xander's face betrays him. He doesn't have answers for this. There's no way to turn back the ravages of time with alchemy that he knows, and not on objects like this. Not on ancient technology he barely knows anything about.
It all looks so... beyond repair. Only barely recognizable. And he knows, no matter how much his heart tries to deny it, that they would need everything for it to mean anything. What if it's all in the same state?
Does it matter, if this one piece is already too broken?
Xander drops back down, pouring the contents of his bag out and beginning to set up a makeshift alchemy station anyway.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Believe in Xander. That's what Riley promised himself he'd do this time. And if alchemy is their last hope to save this mangled instrument... Xander is going to need all the belief Riley can muster. They can worry about gathering the strength to find the others... ... later. That's for some other time.
In a quiet moment after Xander has set up his alchemy station, but before he has attempted anything, Riley leans forward to press a solemn kiss to Xander's forehead.
"...for luck," he says quietly. There's a trace of blood left behind.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander drops his notebook out in front of him, leafing through it when the kiss presses to him. He looks up at Riley, a strange softness in his own gaze before he gives a single, resolute nod.
The blood goes unnoticed. That, or Xander doesn't care.
Luck given, Xander pours himself into work, flaking off superficial bits of the mangled 'instrument' to test, scrambling with his own supplies, even cannibalizing some of his knives through distillation for more materials, melting them down to transmute into new parts. He chews his lip, focus intense every step of the way. Skin paler. He ignores his own heavy breathing and blurring vision.
It isn't as if it's the first time Xander's worked under such conditions.
At first, it seems like he's on to something. Synthesis of new material that matches enough to fill in for broken pieces. Fusing together edges that should be too fractured to come together again. But it's still incomplete, and the material isn't holding in every place, cracking and threatening to fall apart.
Xander takes a deep breath, relentlessly repeating each task as necessary. Crushing more reagents with a mortal and pestle until that's not enough and he has to mill them down with the pommel of a knife. Mixing more colorful salves (glues?) to mend what breaks even as his shoulder screams and the blotched color marring it spreads. Over and over, in between each new step of the procedure he improvises...
It's a process that will take hours, and Xander will keep going for as long as it takes, as long as he has to, even as it becomes increasingly obvious there is no way he has enough left to work with to meet the blueprint's standards for even this one part of it. His fingers grow increasingly shaken and clumsy, occasionally cutting against the sharp edges of whatever-the-hell apparatus this even is supposed to be without a noise of complaint.
He has nothing he can do for th dented or crushed pieces. Or the complete lack of power it has. He's an alchemist who was trained to put people back together, not an engineer specializing in technology from a forgotten age. One of those would have cut their losses by now. But Xander tries. And tries. And keeps trying.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
There's no clear line that separates hopeful determination from something more self-destructive, but Riley feels a rising worry in the pit of his stomach as Xander keeps going, and going, even as his makeshift mending's continual erosion begins to take pieces of Xander with it as he pushes himself so hard that his bruises grow and he scratches and scrapes himself against the sharp edges of the apparatus.
Should Riley intervene? Does Xander still see a path to victory that Riley can't fathom? Would he just be giving up on him again and getting in the way? Or is it simply Xander's nature to keep going until he can't anymore, and physically collapses, regardless of whether there was ever a destination to reach?
Riley isn't sure. And that uncertainty, mixed with his own fragile hope, keeps him waiting and watching for the hours Xander persists in these efforts.
As the signs of exhaustion and futility continue to mount, Riley finally reaches forward to touch Xander's arm, the gesture not stopping him in itself but trying to catch his eye with a gentle question and concern. ...Is it time to stop?
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Every evidence that this isn't going to work is shoved down, buried, and ignored. Every rational thought telling Xander this contraption is too broken, that even if he finished it, they'd have to find the others, somehow, that they may be in even worse shape -- that they're one hundred years too late for this path to have been a viable salvation -- is hurled into the abyss of Xander's mind to be forgotten in favor of raw determination.
No matter how useless.
Frustrations to the contrary begin to crack through breathy utterances and small twitches. But it doesn't matter. Xander has to make this work. He has to save them. He can't fail again, after everything. He can't fail at all. He can't handle it if another hope slips through his fingers and leaves him back where he started.
The touch to his arm has him whirling like a spooked beast to look at Riley, a clear gloss of tears in his own eye threatening but refusing to fall. Defiance burns through Xander's gaze and in his veins. He jerks away, continuing this futile, pointless endeavor. An already lost cause.
He won't accept it. He won't. He can't.
Xander will keep going until he collapses, his impossible task left a mangled, patchwork failure.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
That... isn't the look of a Xander who's ready to stop. It doesn't look like a Xander who knows a secret path to victory, either. Riley's heart breaks a little.
"Xander..." Riley attempts to drape himself over and gradually enfold Xander, pulling him away from his work. "...let's take a break."
The 'let's' is a bit of a joke considering Riley hasn't been helping, but he's hoping that if he makes it about his own needs, too, Xander is more likely to accept it.
Maybe acceptance can happen in gradual stages once there's some distance from the task. Riley doesn't want to accept it, himself. But he doesn't really need to, yet. He can get Xander to accept it and then catch up when he's able. For now he's coping by not thinking about later at all. Not thinking about anything, really, except that Xander is bleeding and needs to rest.
Rest until what? What path to recovery is left for him?
No! He isn't going to think about it!!
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
"I'm not taking a break!" Xander snaps, fumbling and dropping a vial that shatters against the stone. It sounds like a peel of thunder in the stupid, tiny room and its stupid useless technology and its stupid, useless Xander!
He bares his fangs, as if anger could carry him further, as if Riley were the one to deserve any of it. But exhaustion is winning, and so is the comfort of Riley's touch, and Xander's heart is sinking deeper into the mire. His face falls, and his eye finally brims over, letting a few tears fall in silence before Xander swipes his hand over his face with such violence he practically throws the rest of his tears aside.
More blood smears on his face for the effort.
He curls in on himself, only making it easier for Riley to fold him in. If he stops, if he accepts comfort, does he not start again? It's too late to question it. Xander cracks, breath coming out shaken as he tightens in on himself and can't stop himself from crying.
Too tired. Too bloody. Too out of ideas.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley tries to press all the comfort he can into Xander, which just turns into squeezing him, probably past the point of comfort until he notices and eases up a little. He wants to sing to him, but an attempt to gently, carefully hum just dissolves into weak coughs.
"I'm sorry," he manages, once he gets his breath back. "I don't know why it's like this. I don't know why it has to be like this..." It wouldn't be happening to Xander at all if he had made any manner of decisions differently. They must be the unluckiest people in the world.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Squeezing is for the best. It traps Xander in place. It keeps him from thrashing and squirming away. It lets him curl tighter and tighter, trying to hide his tears and failing miserably as his breath hitches and his shoulders shake.
Riley tries to hum. He coughs instead. Xander doesn't even have the strength to laugh bitterly. Or to throw anything. He can only cry. Uselessly. Letting Riley hold him and apologize like he's the one who should be comforting anyone right now when it's Xander who fails him every time, when it's Xander who can't fucking get anything figured out...!
Selfishly, he takes the comfort where it's given anyway, turning to hide in Riley and latch on in turn, his fingers squeezing in just as fiercely.
There aren't any words that fix it. There isn't any alchemy that will, either. Xander's not exactly sobbing -- he's too weak for that -- but even the shudders he does have dwindle with his waning strength until he's quiet and limp in Riley's arms.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley's words feel inadequate, too, but silence is painful. Why does hope have to hurt so much? Like crashing down from the sky. He didn't even think he was hoping that hard. He was struggling to believe there COULD be hope. It isn't fair!
Now it's all gone, again. Every time there's a dream of the future... of healing, growing, turning back into regular people... it breaks apart and cuts them on the pieces.
Xander's stillness worries him, feels grim and final. He wants to make him react to something, to prove he hasn't died. Or his heart hasn't died.
"At least we can have resonance whenever we want," he whispers. He can't quite muster the inflection to make it sound like the joke it was meant to be.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander tells himself he's broken. That he's been smashed open and shattered and he's not the same as before. Riley sometimes insists otherwise. Today, Riley's correct. Xander thought his heart too hard for hope to matter, but right now feels no different than crying by the window hoping his best friend would come back, or bringing an old potion before the priests hoping for a cure, or throwing a knife on the ground hoping Riley would give him another chance.
It all blurs together miserably.
He's lifeless against Riley, his eye void of any spark as he leans there in a way he knows he'll hate himself for later. Xander was supposed to fix this, and now he's too spent to think about moving. He's ruined everything again with another failed promise.
At least he huffs a breath through his nostrils at the 'joke'.
"You don't want to be in here right now." Xander also lacks the inflection that makes that a proper joke in kind.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"Yeah, maybe let's wait a while."
Xander is here but not here. This is painfully familiar territory for Riley, too. But at least Xander hasn't retreated so far he can't talk to him. He just needs rest.
...Rest but to what end? He isn't going to recover and feel good again. Either way, Riley can go through the rituals of taking care of him as if he might. He sits with him a while stroking his hair and letting him lean against him. When he thinks perhaps Xander has lulled enough for a brief parting, he attempts to go about setting up camp in a less damp portion of the ruins, settling Xander in a cozy blanket nest, and offering food and water.
"Thank you for trying so hard," he says at one point, his own voice a little too distant and dulled in spite of the warmth he wants it to have instead. "You got us the answer. ... we know now, so the possibility can stop haunting us. That's something."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Here but not here. On the precipice of slipping away. But Riley may not need to look into Xander's heart directly. He already knows what Xander wants, but is too afraid to admit: he's so tired. He needs to rest.
The fear is the same. To what end? If Xander stops now, how does he pick up again...?
It takes that time to lean and breathe, to get some food and water in him, before awareness returns enough for Xander to stare at his hands. The blood's been cleaned, but they're still raw and tender. He rubs the pads of his fingers to his palm and thumb, dully aware of the sting. With every life threatening, world ending problem hanging above him, it's such a strange stray thought to focus on. It's not even the worst of the physical pain he's in.
Riley's words takes a winding road to reach him. But once they do, they bite in with a terrifying finality. We know now. Xander's mouth opens, dry, tongue heavy. He wants to protest it, but he can't. He wants to ask for more time, but is out of bargaining chips. He has nothing. No ideas. No promises.
Xander claws his fingers against Riley's vest, tugging gently.
"... Kiss me."
It's an absurd request (demand?). Neither one of them is hardly in the mood. But Xander can't handle the world right now. He can't handle thinking. He needs to feel something other than misery and anchor himself in something besides pain.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
There is a flinch of guilt as Riley realizes he thanked Xander for giving them a finality that Xander himself hadn't quite accepted. Xander seems to take it in this time though, and he doesn't argue.
It must really be over. A new heaviness descends. There's an ache in Riley's heart remembering that feeling of miraculous possibility. Xander and the train. But Valmar is bigger than Xander's determination and Riley's luck. The curse just engulfs them every time.
Xander pulls him close. Kiss me.
For a moment, Riley thinks Xander is asking for an ending. Block out everything else with sensation, and then...! He wavers. Too many memories of Xander's hurt after botched attempts. 'I NEVER mean that,' or something like that. And Riley's promise to remember.
So what does Xander really want? There has always been a way out. Just blacken their souls a little more. It barely feels like anything anymore. Getting a kill in their weakened state is hard, bringing themselves to do it is trivial. But one day Riley has to say no. Is it this time? Can he afford for it to be next time?
That isn't what Xander asked for. He just asked for a kiss.
So Riley leans in, bringing Xander's face up to meet his with fingers under his chin, and kisses him like it's the end of the world. Because it is. It always is. They've been crashing in slow motion ever since their first.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander may have asked for it, but once it starts, he pulls Riley in with intensity -- the same, world ending intensity. Like this could be the last time. It could always be the last time.
He knows what this all means to Riley. He could bargain for one more night together, but that would itself be a resignation. And Xander isn't ready. Every moment they spend close reminds him he isn't ready. He never will be.
Life bleeds back into Xander for him to clutch onto. When he breaks away, he beholds Riley with a dangerous storm in his eye. It's the same look he had standing in front of Lindow, resolved to shatter his own stupid, soft heart all over again if that's what it took.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley pulls away to see the fire back in Xander's eye. It's a dangerous fire, but he softens into a relieved smile nonetheless. If only it had been so easy back then... (maybe it was and he never knew). There's a strange pride welling in him, too. It never fails to fill his heart to know that Xander... wants to be with him, despite everything. Would come back despite the suffering and misery. Would fight to keep experiencing it.
But then... what did Riley drag him back for? What's left for them now? Should he have ended it there? Now he does have to contend with the future, and the fact that Xander looks ready to murder their way to another peaceful spell whether Riley wants him to or not. In spite of the risk that comes with it and grows larger every time...
Xander looks ready to kill, but not necessarily capable... Riley tests this theory by using his weight to pull them both downward, lying beside him if he's able to drag him down with him. With the relief of having lured Xander back into himself, the finality of that kiss... it's all catching up with Riley, now. And he feels heavy, exhausted by these constant cycles of coming to the brink and back again. Of hope crumbling back into the same looming despair. Of rehearsals for deaths that are always coming and never quite arrive. Of smiling and carrying on like they aren't ghouls feeding off the living.
He can't even pull in a proper breath of air. Blood seems to trickle down along with the air, polluting it. He tries to anyway and ends up coughing on it, trying to stifle it with his hand.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
The smile catches Xander off guard, eye a little wider. He'd expected resistance. For disapproval, or disappointment. Maybe he even expected a blade. But Riley softens and Xander brushes his fingers to Riley's face with gentle wonder.
It makes it easier to pull him to the ground. Even without it, Riley can feel it in the way Xander has little control on the way down. He's weak. His lips are tinged blue. They just need rest, he tells himself, and then... then they do what they've always done.
They have before. They can again.
But Riley starts to cough. "Riley..." He sighs out the concern in his voice. "...It's been a long day."
Xander tries to sit up to tend to him. But if Riley tried to keep him down... he would learn of Xander's lack of strength in earnest, able to keep him in place.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley pulls Xander back down with him easily, and gets his answer when it comes to that.
It's not immediately clear what the message is. 'Don't leave me?' 'Don't exert yourself trying to help?'
In the end, once Riley gets his breath back, he seems to just want to gaze at Xander quietly for a bit, unknown thoughts brewing behind his eyes.
His grip on Xander's arm tightens, then loosens. Then shifts to hold his hand in both of Riley's.
"Xander, I love you. I know you want to keep fighting for more time, I love that you want that... but ... it could destroy us. It really could. And someone has to die for it every time we take that risk." He interrupts himself with a few more coughs. It's a miserable feeling... and Xander must be feeling even worse. He's going blue again. His hands are so cold.
"Can we just... stop now?" he asks, finally, gently.
There's no weapon in his hands. No poison he's sneaked or flowers summoned. The only blade is the words themselves.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander's lack of strength is less clear to himself. He isn't trying yet, easily stilled by that wordless plea to stay, even if he doesn't understand the exact motivation. He knows himself the need to just... be. Together. Especially when the weight of their curse threatens to crush them.
The longer Riley looks at him, the more red Xander predictably becomes. Lying side by side like this makes escape all the more difficult, especially as his frigid hand is taken.
Riley finally speaks, and Xander's breath stills. Every new word needles fear and defiance into his heart. It would be easier, so much easier, if there was a knife to fend off or poison to cure.
There isn't one. Xander is left having to answer.
"What?"
...That isn't an answer. It's a breathless, broken question. But what, what? This is always how Riley's felt. It's nothing Riley hasn't said before, except for that final framing of it: not an argument, not a 'what if', not a 'should'.
A direct request.
"You don't want that," Xander protests, voice fragile.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley doesn't want this. Riley wants another miracle. But how long did he already watch Xander grinding himself down to nothing to give him one, scraping his hands raw? The world said no.
"I don't want it," he agrees, tears springing to his eyes. "But I think it's the best option we have left."
He's already regretting asking with words instead of a knife. Isn't it going to hurt more this way? How is it possible that every way he can think of to do it always hurts more?
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander's mouth hangs open, wanting for words that don't readily come. It looks like he's been stabbed. But finally, he moves. He draws Riley in, bringing his arm around him, desperate and protective, his head hooked over Riley's own to keep him close.
"You don't have to do anything. You don't have to worry about options. You don't have to fight," he murmurs. "You never did. You just need to be here with me." He brushes his chin against Riley's head in a weak nuzzle.
"Let me take care of you. You'll feel better once the thorns recede." There's more pleading in his voice than he wants. But he knows that Riley's protest is so much more than that. That the fighting destroys them, from fragmenting their own sense of selves to the potential final consequences.
He hates himself more than ever that right now he can see the temptation. That dangerous, miserable understanding that if only they could stop, if only they could rest, if only none of this had to happen anymore.
But everything that does happen has too much precious to Xander inside of it.
He pets through Riley's hair with those raw, aching hands, trembling for the effort
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"It's not about that--" but the offer is so tempting. To just let Xander take care of everything, to be free of the choices. If Xander took them on, would the terrifying threat that they'll lose themselves to Valmar somehow go away? Could he dismiss it with the force of personality? Could it somehow really be okay, if Riley were to just relax and let Xander handle everything?
No! ...Of course not! That's just Xander grinding himself down even more! Riley wraps his arms around him, squeezing.
"You know what it's about, Xander...! You can't make it go away just by doing it for me... and... you've lost so much blood. If we're doing it this time at all, it's got to be me."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander tenses with Riley's protest, but reflexively squeezes back on. Trying to hold on, the line between holding and being held quickly blurring.
"I can't make it go away if we stop!" He's whispering in the closeness, but it still sounds so loud in his own skull.
"I'm fine. I can still fight. I can still kill. A little bloodloss isn't going to be what stops me."
Riley's the one reaching for that particular title.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"If we complete the garden, we get swallowed! Wasn't this the last chance for another way?" They're talking past one another. Xander just wants what he's always wanted, more time, the same way they've always gotten more time. His gambles have worked out until now. Maybe they will again. He's never going to accept death so long at there's a chance at a few more moments. Even if he wins... it's so easy for Riley to let himself get lost in that temporary joy and lose his resolve, to want to gamble on another round right along with him. He's finally seeing clearly. He needs to use it.
He needs to stop torturing Xander with these halfhearted attempts. Make it count or let Xander keep gambling until their lives are gone.
I can still fight. I can still kill.'
He can't. He's weak and defenseless right now. One swift, sure strike, if Riley can really mean it... stop wishing for miracles. Stop making Xander struggle and suffer to try to save you. Don't telegraph. Don't hesitate or hold back. Just let go.
"I just, I just want..."
He closes his eyes and moves his hand behind Xander's head, pulling him closer. At the same time, he summons a thorn spike from that hand meant to drive through both their throats, beginning with Xander's. There are no sudden movements, no blatant tells. But Xander's so close he might be able to feel his heart start to race as he resolves himself.
“To stay who we are.”
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
"It was a chance!" Xander insists, as if he isn't acutely aware that the hopes for a different path have run out a long time ago, and this one was purchased at a debt that dug them deeper.
He hugs tighter, jaw tight, body trembling, strength waning. Xander has to fight, and keep fighting. He can't give up, not for a moment, not drop his guard, not for a second --
Riley's pulse quickens, and it's like time crawls to a slow. That guard Xander refuses to drop raises to full force. He's weaker than he claims and cries out, sharp and pained.
But not silenced.
The thorn punctures through Xander's hand, brought to the back of his neck as an extra barrier, and pushing back against Riley's strength to keep the thorn from meeting its true mark. He grimaces, gasping on broken utterances, slow to force his eye open and glare back at Riley with all the defiance he can muster through the pain.
"...It's already too late for that, Riley."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Closing his eyes is good offense and bad defense in this situation, and Riley's strike is redirected, passing through Xander's hand and piercing deep into the ground beside their necks instead, pinning them into a strange and bloody -- but not fatal -- embrace. Riley's eyes fly open with surprise and panic at being thwarted, but he doubles down, coughing to draw blood from his lungs and spawning new vines from the original that entangle them further while shooting more spikes into their bodies -- this time far less precision targeted, going for quantity over quality of attacks.
So it won't be a good death, but hasn't Xander said he doesn't want a good death anyway?!
"We're close enough! We have enough left of ourselves to love one another!!"
Well, maybe not anymore. Despite past assurances, it's hard to believe he could keep hold of Xander's heart after pulling this kind of shit. His eyes blaze with a mixture of shame and panicked determination as he drives spikes into his own back, into Xander's, unless he manages to counter them. It's his fight to lose, isn't it!? He just has to stop giving up in the middle.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander struggles, kicking and thrashing against the growth of the vines and their thorns. He bites back his winces each time something manages to bite and cut into flesh, threatening to steal more blood he can't afford to lose. Riley's not allowed to be right that Xander's weak and fading and vulnerable.
At least he isn't being unknowingly fucking poisoned this time.
"I am always going to love you!" Xander snaps, fangs bared and the heat in his voice not at all suited to any manner of affectionate declaration. Neither is the way he throws his weight into the chaos of their scramble, heedless for a moment of the way the thorns scratch if he can prevent the biggest, deadliest spikes from hitting their marks by trying to pin Riley to the ground. His own roiling thorns joining in the fray, the vines carrying them weaving through Riley's to create a horrible tapestry of blood and strife.
"Nobody is ever going to take that from me!"
Not even Riley. Not even now.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
“Xander...” It hits right in the heart, even in all this awfulness and chaos.
"I love you, too! I didn't want it to be like this!" Horrible, and only getting more horrible. Xander's vines manage to snake beneath some of Riley's, blocking off new avenues for stabbing. Riley retracts the existing thorns, hoping to make the wounds bleed faster. How much blood can Xander possibly have left?! He's got to fade first...
How can he even be having thoughts like this?!
The exertion catches up with Riley, then, and he starts to cough in an uncontrolled, runaway fashion. But he can't quit now...! There's fuel enough to go around, and so he sends out desperate, vague directions to Make it Worse. Flowers bloom into sprays of poison mist, and the vines twist tighter around their throats. N-no, bad idea! He has to outlast Xander or he'll wake up receiving angry medical care and have to do this all over again!
He loosens the vines around his own throat as he starts to see stars, but they don't fade as much as he wants them to, as the coughing continues.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
The edges of the world pulse red and black, but as Xander's consciousness throbs and dips, Riley's coughing grows more distressed.
That's what this battle has turned into: which of the two of them, already weakened by the curse and their own despair, will pass out first? If it's Xander, they die. If it's Riley... Xander can fix it. Xander can treat so many horrible things. He's had to since the curse claimed them both.
This is another such ugly escalation, Xander resolves. That dangerous look stirs back in his eye even as the blood weeps out of him and leaves his breath short and shallow.
"You were the one who started this game --"
Where Riley's thorns withdraw, Xander's vines persist, entangling, tightening, ensnaring. But there's still the matter of the noose around his neck squeezing tighter. The spray of poison draws a profane curse from Xander's mouth. But Xander's never far from an armament these days, and with the slightest bit of freedom granted by retracted thorns...
"-- I'm just playing by your rules!"
Xander has a knife suddenly in hand. He brings the blade down on Riley's shoulder in a bid to weaken him further, if not shock him from summoning thorns completely.
His education lets him know where to strike to avoid the worst kind of accident.
Unfortunately, it also lets him know how to make it hurt.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"Just-- ... please just stop..." the words come out between fits of coughs. "being amazing for a goddamn second..."
Ugh, it was stupid to injure himself, too -- he was being a coward, not wanting to spend any time conscious with dead Xander in his arms. Now it feels like his will is breaking first-- is it will?! How is this about will?! Isn't it just oxygen?! He knows Xander has the stronger will, but ... how is Xander able to will his way through through losing all his oxygen!! He's so cool, but... Riley needs to win this time!
The blade drives into his shoulder, and the vines do falter a bit -- less because they need active control from Riley and more because the spike of unexpected and intense pain sends out confused signals that whatever he's currently doing must be Wrong and the vines under his control should reverse course. There's a moment of slack for Xander to use as he pleases, and a tragic yelp from Riley as background noise.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
This time Xander doesn't respond, because sometimes 'will' is a matter of knowing how to spend the last remains of one's precious oxygen. Riley's being forced to use more energy than he is, because Riley has to make a killing blow. Xander doesn't.
All Xander has to do is find the resolve to listen to Riley cough himself unconscious.
That awful sound of Riley's pain echoes in Xander's skull as he literally twists the knife on its exit wound to lock in a precious moment of time he needs to save both their lives.
He slides the same bloodied blade between his throat and the vines to free his neck in a single cut, yanking himself away to get some distance between them -- and closer to his alchemy bag -- while injecting himself with a syringe from his belt.
Xander covers his mouth with his hand, forcing himself not to gulp in poisoned air until he can be sure his general antidote has worked through his bloodstream. He watches Riley with darkening vision, ignoring his own chest's burning screams for relief.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Xander uses his moment of reprieve to cut himself loose, leaving Riley to his own coughing, bleeding, miserable attempt to regroup.
A bleary thought enters Riley's mind that he never had to kill Xander first at all. Xander can be the one to follow, if he's going to be so stubborn about it. ...Or not follow. If that's how he wants it to be.
He'll be so, so mad... but that won't be Riley's problem, will it?
Riley sharpens another spike from his hand, and brings it down toward his own chest where he thinks his heart must be. But a grim vision of Xander refusing to follow and wandering the world as a despairing, obstinate ghost of himself brings a moment of uncertainty -- combined with the last of Riley's consciousness flickering away, it results in a weakened blow that glances off Riley's breastbone rather than finding purchase somewhere more vital.
He falls still in the aftermath of this faltered effort, aside from his ragged breathing, though his flowers continue to spray poison obstinately into the air and will need to be chopped away.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander watches as impassively as he can make himself, expression shadowed and grim. Riley will choke out first. He has to. And then -- Another spike forms, Riley aiming at himself, and all stoicism Xander's cultivated dies in a panicked drive.
"RILEY!"
He's too late. Or he would have been too late if Riley's consciousness had not given out. Xander scrambles to his side, breathing in too deep, thoughts blurry and vision dizzy (the other way around --) as he runs his hand over Riley's chest to feel for the wound, how deep, how bad, his one eye hot and the other hotter and aching.
Shaken and quivering, he snaps out his arm, hacking off the bud of the poison flower. His arm trembles, threatening to collapse with the rest of him.
Can't afford to. Xander's hanging on only by a thread and an injection of alchemy. He administers another. He drags his bag over. He gets to work undoing what Riley's done, both of them covered in each other's blood.
...
...
...
Xander resolved not to trap Riley back in the garden, but that doesn't mean he's above drugging him at all. Not when he's on the verge of collapse himself. He needs time... Time to get curatives in them both. Time to mend wounds inflicted on each of them. Time to purge poison. Time to rest. Riley cannot recover before he does. Not with so much to do once he's recovered enough to move more freely.
When Riley wakes again, he's nestled back in bed. His wounds are cleaned and stitched. He's wrapped in clean, bloodless blankets.
His wrists are bound together.
Thirst might tell Riley a full night's probably passed, at least. And there's little Xander could do for Riley's throat or the paces it's been put through outside a trickle of soothing medicine. And while smaller wounds have already faded, his shoulder still aches.
The air is thick with the smell of blood and oranges. Blood that decorates Xander's body, dragged in thick smears from hs shoulder and hip and further painting his fingers and smudging his face and brow. He pulls the last stitch through his arm, cutting the thread with his fangs. Flowering thorns soaked in deep crimson scatter across the ground, extracted and discarded, still dripping from their wilted leaves.
He's pale. Shaken. He's lucky he didn't put himself into shock, tearing himself open and scattering the cursed contents. He seizes hold of another syringe -- this one nearly gleaming red instead of the usual neon violet -- and injects it directly into his neck.
Slowly, he breathes clean with a long sigh. Without the cursed thorns devouring their share of blood, alchemy has space to replenish what was lost.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Consciousness creeps back in for Riley with hazy sensations. Raw tightness in his chest with prickling sensations that force themselves into coughs. A dull ache in his shoulder and parched, painful feeling in his throat. The strangeness of the restraints on his wrists, and the odd smells hanging in the air.
Awareness of the situation trails in afterward, taking its time to gradually solidify into a deep and profound "Uh oh."
He blurts this out before his eyes even open -- that he lived is 'uh oh' enough without even having to know more. Uneasily, he dares to add sight to his understanding of the situation, and finds Xander soaked with blood and doing surgery on himself. Is that all from what Riley did to him...? And he still didn't die?!
Awe and trepidation at that apparent reality keep Riley from diving back into murder attempts like he hadn't been interrupted by medical care.
"Wh-what are you made of?" he asks hoarsely, examining the ties around his wrists and considering what he is and isn't capable of at the moment. He should be apologizing and trying to soothe Xander's shattered trust!!! But no, this time isn't like other times. Maybe he's not even done yet!! But what is Xander made of, that he came through all that and still was able to patch them both up...?!
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Riley voices his 'uh oh', and Xander's laborious breathing stills. His gaze snaps onto Riley, focused and feral. It's more than Riley inflicted wounds he's tended to here -- more than the thorns that scratched at his skin to bleed him out. He's ripped the ones growing inside him out of his joints.
They'll regrow. But not right away.
He crawls back toward Riley, not out of weakness, but because prowling on all fours is more convenient than getting all the way up. Or he's no longer in the mood to act like a person. He runs his fingers across Riley's brow to push back his hair and look at his face, his own eye intense for its scrutiny. The smallest tremble remains in his touch, but steadies as he presses his fingers to Riley's hairline. Despite the low lighting, Xander's invasion of Riley's personal space reveals color returning to his lips.
Xander picks up a flask by the bedside, tilting it to Riley's lips in a wordless command to drink. There's a splash of sweetened flavor that suggests the water is laced with something more.
"You should already know the answer to that."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Xander seems to have reverted to his wild lake monster state, which Riley knows he deserves for his transgressions, even if Xander doesn't deserve to have lake monsterness inflicted upon him. There's a push and pull within Riley. He wants to mend the wounds he put on Xander's heart, but he's only going to have to claw them back open again. Soon. Maybe he should already be trying. He doesn't necessarily need his hands, with evil plantlife to call upon. Maybe he just shouldn't ever stop.
There's confusion as Xander draws close enough for Riley to see signs of recovery from the ravages of the curse. For a moment he thinks maybe Xander already made a kill while he was out, but that doesn't square with the pain in his own chest and throat. His eyes wander to where the bruises should be, and he finds blood and fresh stitches instead.
"Holy shit. Xander." This question is muffled by Xander pouring something sweet down his throat. It soothes as much as anything can.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander chooses not to specify what all he's administering. More healing potion, watered down for intended steadied dosage? Some manner of drug to keep him sleepy and debilitated? Merely a flavoring to make it more pleasant? Riley's on his own to think whatever he likes, as far as Xander's concerned.
It does soothe the throat more than water would on its own. Xander himself does not drink from it. He sets it aside, running his thumb under Riley's lip to make sure none of it had spilled. Xander's touch lingers there, attention never leaving Riley.
He's aware Riley can still fight back. The bindings were only meant as a stopgap to give Xander enough time to notice if Riley were trying to turn violence against himself again. But while Riley's too stupefied to attack him, Xander leans in a steals a kiss.
He breaks away and watches Riley challengingly, no warmth in his expression despite the gesture.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley... trusts Xander, even in times of conflict. Aside from the fact that he refuses to accept the passive self destructiveness of the path he's chosen for them, he will resist active harm to Riley at any turn. The worst Riley could imagine him to be giving him is some kind of drug, and fading back into an unconsciousness where he isn't pinned between pain and unbearable decisions might be welcome right now. He gives some attention to how he feels afterward, but otherwise he's watching Xander, who watches him back with a silent, accusing gaze, but offers soft touches and a kiss all the same.
Tears prick his eyes. He wants to make up, put things back how they were. Another cycle of peace and stolen happiness. He could sing songs and tease Xander and watch him make faces and go crimson. Xander could continue his explorations of dancing and song, and go back to his student and pass more of his knowledge on to persist in the world. They could see new sights together and learn more -- somehow there's always more -- about one another's hearts and minds. More words. More touches. More everything. Xander would give that to him. He doesn't even have to ask. Xander's already ripped himself open and torn out his thorns to make it happen, Riley just has to let him. Maybe it's a gift. It always feels like a gift. Maybe it will destroy them. Riley's job is to stop being weak and accepting it.
Why does protecting them have to look and feel exactly like destroying them?!
Just a binding around his wrists... he wishes Xander would have done more to take the choices away. Maybe put him back in the garden. But that's more weakness talking. He knows what he's doing will save them from a worse fate. It’s up to him to actually commit to it. Show some steel. God knows Xander’s already needed to forge resolve enough for them both.
Daunting to even think of trying again, though. His first strike was from a position of having all the advantages. And now he understands he needs to focus solely on Xander if he wants a chance of winning. Or on himself, but... that image of Xander living on in miserable spite lingers.
"You're a hell of an opponent," he croaks out, the words somehow bringing an affectionate undertone. A little smile through the tears. For some reason what he wants most right now is just to get Xander to talk back to him. Then he'll decide what to do... "I feel bad for the heroes who've had to fight you."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander's developed a contrarian nature since they've set off together. For every bit Riley fights, Xander will fight back, new determination festering in the injury left by lost hope. Tears are almost satisfying -- acknowledgment that Riley maintains enough sense to hate what he's done and whatever he might be thinking of doing.
Knife back in hand (always so readily there), Xander slides the cold blade between Riley's wrists and severs the bindings. The continued harshness of his gaze does not suggest this is an act of trust. Xander is sick of the anticipation. He wants to know where Riley intends for Xander to aim his resolve.
Riley can threaten him with everything. Anything. The end of this. The end of him, the end of them. Xander has no threats, and nothing he can say that will terrify Riley into not doing it. Reflexive anger always boils up with the thought because anger is easier than acknowledging powerlessness. But Xander can make offers. His face isn't saying it, but his body is the way he stays lingered close, each interaction gentle and delicate despite the recent violence: Xander's offering that forgiveness. He's placing the choice directly in Riley's hands, telling him all he has to do is stop trying to kill them, let Xander handle it, and he'll have everything back the way it was, no hesitation.
Well, almost. Riley may have to press more human back into Xander. But Xander would let him.
If this keeps going? Even Xander doesn't know what shape his feelings are going to have to take to adapt. His touch slides to Riley's shoulder, stroking his thumb gently over the wound, soothingly, like he wasn't the one who put it there. Not an ounce of guilt flickers in his eye for how perfectly he can trace over the mark.
"What am going to have to become to stop you?" he asks in a low, rough whisper.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
The reminder stings. It's Riley's fault Xander became like this. The curse that took him over and shattered him with remorse. The hunted life they live, and Xander's fear of being close to other people he might hurt. The failed murders that force him to armor his heart.
At the bindings being undone, Riley looks almost upset at the freedom, and the pressure it brings to act. But, his arms are free, and that makes him want to gather up Xander for comfort. Riley can't see anywhere that looks okay to touch right now, except his face, so he tries to put his hands alongside it. Slowly, in case Xander would prefer to take evasive action.
"We can trade if you want. You can be soft and carefree, and I'll fight the world and protect you. But you have to be the one to kill us then in exchange."
It's nonsense, but delivered with fond softness. It would be so easy to fall back into their old patterns.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Part of the offer means not flinching away when Riley touches him. Xander leans into it, letting his eyelid slip halfway closed. He sets a hand against one of Riley's. His guard isn't dropped, but it's not an act, either. His own pulse and heartbeat hammers, giving it all away if Riley's touch were to feel for it. Xander has to savor what he's given as much as anticipate what to defend against.
"...You'd like that, wouldn't you?" It was meant to have more of a mocking bite to it.
Instead, Xander's voice breaks with it.
Xander would like that. His own softness. Riley's protection. Being the one who gets to say when it ends.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"I don't know," Riley answers honestly. "It would be really nice to see you get to relax... and I'm not as concerned about dying so I think I could just accept it whenever you decided to strike... ... but I guess all of that would make me bad at taking your place. And I think you would be bad at taking mine and not strike us down at all..." His fingers stroke Xander's cheek. There's no accusation there, just a sad fondness. A yearning. Maybe he does want it, just on a base level. To not have to be the bad guy.
A guilty pause. "Not that I've been very good at it either..." He ponders that sullenly. "Lily offered to help, but that seems so intrusive... somebody else seeing our final moments."
He coughs a bit, interrupting his train of thought, before turning his attention to Xander. He looks unguarded, but... it might be better to assume he never really is. What's a strike he couldn't counter? A move he wouldn't anticipate...?
"What if I'm right and you're the one who kills us? What if the next kill, the thorns don't dissolve, and instead we do. All our thoughts... memories... love. What if it goes away and gets eaten when it could have been saved somewhere instead? Wouldn't you regret it? Wouldn't your last thoughts be-" another few coughs. "Oh, damn, Riley was right! We could be partying in the afterlife right now..."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
There's a sick relief that Riley mentions wanting Xander to relax, and not that he yearns for a Xander that's less... this thing he's turned into. But Riley's also right. Were the roles reversed, Xander would never be able to bring himself to do it. All Riley would have to do is smile at him the right away and the knife would slip out of his hands.
If nothing else, the comment about bringing Lily into killing them paints a look of disgust on Xander's face. "She can try."
She has tried. Twice. They were very good tries. This might not be the fate Xander wants to tempt.
When Riley coughs, Xander frowns. He brushes his fingers against the corner of Riley's mouth, to wipe away any blood that may have fallen, even if there's none there. The sentiment is there. Riley is undoubtedly in pain... How much of that contributes to his desire to end it? Can Xander do something about that?
He steadies himself, unbending under Riley's argument.
"Riley," Xander says, exasperated, "Has it ever occurred to you that it's too late for any of that? That the Fangs already claimed us, and that if one of us kills the other, we count as a sacrifice regardless? If it only takes one more, you'll be sacrificing me to the Fangs and be devoured on your own."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley's eyes widen in horror. It hadn't occurred to him! No!!! He vanishes under the covers to hide from this cruel possibility.
Too late... only one more... devoured alone..!!! That can't be the future, can it?? The only two options, devoured apart or together... he'd still have to kill Xander to save him from that fate, but then he still has to face the unthinkable himself... why is it like this... how can he endure it...
... wait.
Riley's eyes emerge from the blankets, accusing. "We can feel who counts as a sacrifice, and you don't anymore. That was like -- one of the only good things about cursing you!"
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander allows Riley to wilt into the blankets impassively, waiting for Riley to draw his own conclusions and arguments.
Once he reemerges, Xander rests his hand on Riley's head. It's almost pitying.
"Because you already sacrificed me to the Fangs the day you took hold of me and told me to be with you. You think it's going to let either of us go now? You'd have to purify us first."
At least if Riley buys that argument, then killing them will require complex enough setup Xander might be able to sleep most nights. But that could be a big ask... Xander sighs, lightly fluffing Riley's hair.
"...The only thing I'll regret is going back on that vow."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley considers this, a skeptical narrowing his eyes at the idea Xander is manipulating him into extra steps to buy himself time, but it's also worryingly plausible.
A different kind of horror settles over his features, then. One filled with sadness.
"Do you think the people we sacrificed... that their souls were devoured? That they didn't get any sort of afterlife...?" ... if that's true, everyone in Cereza... all the other lives he took, himself... to steal their lives was bad enough, but taking their eternity, too? Shouldn't he have realized they might be doing that...?
Forget that they can't know any of this for sure, even whether there is an afterlife or not.
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
A shadow casts over Xander's face, but one without surprise. There's no new horror in it. There's a lot of feelings Xander buries. The closer they get to the end, the more they're unearthed and weaponized in desperation.
"...It's possible," he admits, deathly quiet and hand going still. A fear he's already grappled with since Cereza, and one he shoved deliberately aside to continue on their path. Does it make it worse if Riley realizes Xander always considered it a potential truth and pushed on anyway?
But they really can't know. That's always the central problem to this argument: a series of what ifs, with each trying to find the most horrifying possibility over the other to make their version of events seem like the better bet.
It's all a wild gamble no matter how they slice it.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley swallows a painful lump in his throat as Xander doesn't deny the possibility that they've cost their victims their souls.
"It's all so awful," he says. He dreamed of seeing them all again, of apologizing in some other world beyond death, where maybe worldly murder is a temporary rudeness that could be smoothed over with time. He doesn't want them to have lost everything and vanished from existence. Please let Xander be wrong... let there be something else beyond this they can all have as a consolation for losing out on normal lives in this world...
Maybe if he were a better person, morally, this would make him all the more obstinate that they shouldn't kill again. But instead a kind of relief dawns as he realizes Xander has (mentally) bound him up, by making their fates too dangerously uncertain if he should kill them now. He considers the garden. It's getting so close, but... there have been times when it's grown more, and times when it's grown less. Can they make it one more cycle...? He's not like Xander, able to overcome any obstacle even when he's falling apart. He'll need time and his strength back to have any hope of purifying them...
Though his nerves jump with unease and trepidation, he decides to take the chance that's been dangled in front of him so temptingly. "All right...we can make one more kill. If we see the other side of it, then ... when the thorns return... I'll purify us."
It's an outrageous statement -- getting the purification potion in the first place was no easy task. And he'll need another alchemist! It's not like Xander would brew it for him. But he'll have to make it work. The doubt and fear that Xander has seeded that Riley could kill them only to deliver them to the same fate he hoped to avoid... that's enough to make it critical to try, if he really means to save them from Valmar's devouring.
And... ... it's permission to give into the lure of more time. He gives a tiny smile, sheepish and hopeful. "I'm sorry."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
In this case, Xander hopes he's wrong. But there's no guarantees when it comes to death, afterlives, and deities. It's all an unknown. If they had a definite answer, they wouldn't be fighting.
Or maybe they would. Xander would rather be devoured together than have their souls flung apart by death, if that's what death does. Would it be nothingness, or more suffering within Valmar's dark embrace? He could handle that. ...But that's more useless speculation.
Xander watches Riley again, waiting with held breath through that unease. His hand rests on Riley's chest, fingers clawing in against his vest. Riley finally comes to his decision. One more.
Then purification.
There isn't the luxury to fight about it. Not if Xander wants to live past today -- or at least die somewhere else then this miserable, sunken ruin. This is a proposal in Xander's favor, besides. There's no guarantee Riley could acquire the means of purification on his own, and it may turn into some messy, last minute struggle instead.
Xander lets his head fall forward onto Riley's shoulder.
"... Okay." He can barely voice it, the word hoarse and broken. Disgust slithers through his spine, a bitter taste on his tongue to make an affirmative response happen at all. He swallows, gripping tighter. "Fine."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
As Xander starts to collapse against Riley with the danger finally passed, Riley's wish is to hold him tightly against himself in protective apology for all the damage he did. But that's probably a bad idea... so he restrains himself and peeks over Xander's shoulder nervously to try to find someplace on his back to put his hands without hurting him before holding him in a careful embrace.
Relief and shame get all tangled up in his heart... along with the gratitude that Xander's willing to trust him again so quickly. A part of his mind is still considering the odds of exploiting that trust to do harm... but no. There's risk either way, he wants to take the risk that lets him hold Xander in his arms again.
"Xander... I missed you so much while we were enemies..." he tearfully tells him, though Riley only had to live in that reality consciously for a couple of minutes. Xander spent much longer in it... patching them up and going to extreme measures to try to recover his strength. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much... did you... did you cut your thorns out, too?"
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
The paradox of Xander is that if Xander were more forthright with his feelings, he'd demand Riley make up for his transgressions with such a gesture... ...entirely forgetting the practical reason not to do it. Even as it is, there's a soft hiss in Xander's voice for any small brush against his newly stitched wounds. But he does not push Riley away, instead sinking the grip of his fingers in as if to warn Riley not to go anywhere.
Riley's done enough attempts on Xander's life now that it feels routine. It's easier to skip to the part where Xander gives in and forgives and lets himself be held, because the other option is stubborn loneliness.
And no, Xander does not love that realization, but whatever. He has some time with Riley again before they have to fight tooth and nail for their stupid, muddied, no-proof beliefs.
"Whose fault is that?!" Xander bites back, because forgiveness does not mean he has put away all his accusations if Riley's going to invite them. He lifts his head back up, glaring at Riley, but eye less sunken than it was when they first got here.
"Figured I might as well while I was digging out yours." He pointedly prods his finger against Riley's chest, leaning in closer to his face. "When I tell you I can keep going, it means I can keep going."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"It was all my fault," Riley agrees mournfully. "So many terrible injuries..." Xander seems so fragile when he isn't improbably surviving attempts to kill him.
But one consequence of Xander's increasingly rapid cycles of forgiveness is that Riley is having trouble reconciling how to give comfort for harm he created. There isn't any psychological distance at all.
When I tell you I can keep going, it means I can keep going.
"I..." Riley wants to say, That's the problem, but swallows it. "I'm sorry you had to do that," he says instead. He brushes a hand over Xander's hair, a gesture that falters with self consciousness because it's so close to what he was doing when he attempted to kill him earlier. His tone aims for gentleness, but his words are still punctuated by periodic coughing, and his chest and throat are raw, though Xander's drink did help. It ends up sounding more sad and tired than anything. "...I really do wish you could be allowed to relax. That you didn't have to deal with people hunting us, and..." he doesn't want to leave himself out of the picture, but nor does he want to sound like he's reaching for reassurances of his own.
"....and Bad Riley going after your life all the time."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
The less time there is in front of them, the less distance Xander can stomach. He's greedily grabbing hold of what they have with both hands and refusing to let go. ... So long as he can complain a little.
Xander eyes narrow. "You're not sorry." If that were true, this would stop happening. (Nevermind that Riley does try to change his approach to avoid past hurts. It just hasn't been effective yet.) But Xander allows the contact even as he glares. Which probably isn't helping any self-consciousness...
Riley coughs though, and Xander sighs, trying to restitution himself so Riley can rest against him. Not fully on his lap -- it seems better to keep Riley somewhat elevated -- but at least against Xander's chest where it's easy to get a warm blanket over him. He offers a piece of candy, one that'll more slowly trickle down the throat with medication.
"Stop separating yourself into so many Rileys. You're plenty Riley on your own."
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
Riley mumbles argumentatively as Xander tries to reposition him. "No, your terrible wounds, Xander..!" Riley is LEANING on them. Or if not leaning on them, Xander is exerting them to try to tip Riley onto himself. He doesn't get a lot of actual, physical resistance, though, because Riley, too, is feeling the pressure of diminishing time and wanting all the closeness this last stolen round can offer. And the warmth and presence of Xander does provide some comfort from the awful feeling of the thorns encroaching on his lungs and the breaths that are increasingly contaminated with traces of blood.
Stop separating yourself into so many Rileys. You're plenty Riley on your own.
Another mumbled noise of dissent. He finds a place to press his hand to on Xander's chest that isn't crisscrossed with stitches. "You don't want there to be other Rileys? I want there to be... a Riley who was always only good to you."
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Whatever winces and hisses under his breath, Xander ignores them. "It's fine." And as everything settles between them in the warmth and the closeness, it is, genuinely, achingly, fine.
He rests his own hand on Riley's head to feel at his hair -- another safe area despite all their wounds, whether inflicted by Valmar or one another. There's a pausing hesitance with Riley's stated desire, though. He understands it... There's so much both of them wish had gone differently.
"...I just need this one," Xander finally says, voice quiet. His arms wrap around loosely, hugging Riley against him, willing him to understand him in turn. Just them, together, not divided as enemies, no matter what's happened between them.
He doesn't need a different Riley. He needs a different situation.
<Pose Tracker> Riley Arwell has posed.
"That's because you're already the best Xander..."Riley says, with a sad little smile. Maybe not the best Xander for his own good... not with all of the pushing himself past endurance, thinking of himself as a monster, and neglecting his own needs.
But surely he's the best Xander for Riley's sake. It's not quite fair, but how can he refuse it?
<Pose Tracker> Xander Lovell has posed.
Xander wavers, breath caught. This position is advantageous in that Riley cannot easily see his face right now, or notice the sting in Xander's eye.
"Don't be stupid," he muffles into Riley's hair, hiding his face there as he gives another weak squeeze of a hug.