citylogs | [ open ] kaveh's permanent catch-all

[ kaveh grimaces. ]

Not to the extent of being worrisome, no. In fact, it's superficial at best. It's just... difficult to explain otherwise, I suppose. You are going to think this story is ridiculous, especially in the face of what you've had to gone through. But you did ask for it, so you'll simply have to bear it.

[ where to start. kaveh absently pulls a pencil out from the crow's nest of his hair. it dances across his knuckles. the words come low, and slow. kaveh hasn't told many people this story; kaveh doesn't intend to. but he'd resolved, after all - because this will justify daan's care. that needs to be what it is. ] Alhaitham and I were friends, once. A very long story short, we had a falling out. He said something to me that cut me to the quick; I told him that I regretted him. A decade ago, we were no longer on speaking terms. But years later, at the lowest point in my life, he invited me to live with him. In truth, he's done quite a lot for me over the years.

Recently, the haunted house took away his autonomy. [ it's the fury, kaveh thinks, that seethes when he thinks of it. who did the city think it was, to make them do what they didn't wish to do? do make alhaitham do what he didn't want to do?

but it comes, and it goes, and it's the sorrow that lingers: ] In the aftermath of it all, I asked him why. Why was it that after all this time he'd chosen to reach out his hand. Do you know what he said to me, Daan?

[ kind, sorrowful daan, who had the courage to let himself be loved, and to say so to kaveh, of all people. kaveh borrows a little of that courage. he says: ] He said it was because it's me.

I promise you, I've had to heard the most petty shit amongst the high class nobles when I was training as a doctor. Nothing you say will seem ridiculous.

[And so, it is no trouble at all to give Kaveh his attention, to listen. The Haunted House, once again, had struck; Daan knows that too well, after all. Vergilius had attacked with the intent to kill, fought against the urge for the slightest second to give Daan the chance to put an end to him. A miserable thing.

But he'd never been scared of Vergilius. Just for him. Always, just for him.

He looks at Kaveh, his expression softening. He doesn't mind that it does.]

Was that answer not enough for you? Or was it simply too unbelievable, after you two had your falling out?

[Because that, too, was something he could understand. Daan, who didn't think he could be loved until most recently.

And it does seem to him that Kaveh suffers from similar thinking.]

[ 'friends' kaveh had said, as if one could distill it down to such, two young men squeezed into an akademiya-standard cot meant for one, heads bowed together so closely that a hit to the back of one would resound in the head of the other, debating the principles of liyuen metallurgy and the etymology of ancient enkanomiyan verbs long into the night. of tearing through the vahumana conferences not because they were invited but because they invited themselves, arguing through the corresponding periods of literature and the guest speaker's interpretation of the cultural nuances of it until they were thrown out and banned from future attendance. of heads tipped together in blatant procrastination as they looked to self-determination on the rooftop beneath the stars, not in the astrology of the rtawahists, but in each other, in themselves, in the reflection of themselves.

friends, if the mere act of not being one meant the loss of your limb, or half of your heart. but this, kaveh doesn't say, because daan knew that pain in a literal way, and it also didn't seem important to clarify. it was what it was, and it was what it no longer is.

instead: ]

Oh, no. [ kaveh says, and the look he gives his hand and his pencil is a haunted one. he breathes in. ] No, not that. Perhaps in a way. But the crux of the matter is this - I killed my father, Daan.

[ kaveh bears his teeth. there is nothing in it that resembles a smile. daan's expression softens, and kaveh thinks - i will disappoint him. i will. ]

I resent this city. I loath it to the bottom of my being. This isn't the first time I've told this story, but perhaps I stand in defiance of this city by making this the first time I've chosen to tell it. As a child, I killed my father. My mother was never the same after. She was an architect, just like I am - she was never again able to draw, never again able to hold a pen without trembling. She left when I was young for another country; she is much happier now. I've carried that with me and willingly because it is my burden to bear. My fault, and my atonement.

Didn't I say so to you, Daan? That I'm not a good man, or a kind man. I'm not even a decent man. That is what is unbelievable to me. That Alhaitham would know this, would know all of this, and say what he did. Because it's me. As if he didn't know that I knew what he knew - that I knew what he said all those years ago. The answer he gave wasn't just not enough, it was a deflection, through and through.

I can't forgive that.

[What is worse, he wonders. Is it worse to kill family when you're an adult and in full control and thought of your actions? Or as a child, not fully realizing your actions? Or perhaps Kaveh did know.

But he does relate. Horribly, really, he does.

Daan slides his free hand into his pocket.]

I told something similar to Vergilius, you know. In my desperate attempt to have him hate me. It was the truth, of course, despite its... complications. But I said it, thinking to myself that would be it. This would be the reason for him to hate me, and I thought I was prepared to be on my own, because I'm frankly used to that.

...He didn't. He said he couldn't. Honestly, I couldn't tell you what the man sees in me, even right now.

But you... being you, that's probably enough for Alhaitham. What seems to be an easy thing to him, because of what he sees in you. Even if you can't. Even if you see nothing worth being loved. I don't know the man, but it wouldn't surprise me if that's all the answer he needed to give, because it makes sense to him.

Or I could be talking out of my ass. Who knows.

[ the three of them have something in common, kaveh thinks. he has known this. it had merely been a footnote since - that all three of them are orphans. alhaitham's living relatives are all dead; an accident, old age, the lack of any relatives close enough to claim the familial plot. kaveh's father is dead, and his mother has left to remarry. he loved them and loves them still, but he had grown up on his own. and daan - his parents had left him in a field.

kaveh breathes out. he smiles. it's a wry one; it's a sorrowful one. it's a bitter one all the same. ]

See? Courage. [ kaveh says, ] I continue to think so. You've courage to you, to think that way, to allow yourself to think that way, to dare yourself to try. But you know, Daan. Alhaitham doesn't make mistakes. I left him unsupervised for three weeks to go dig a hole in the desert, and when I came back, he had toppled our government because he didn't like where the new regime was taking his working hours. He's that sort of man. Alhaitham is an island unto himself, and he doesn't make mistakes.

So it follows that it would be unforgivable if he were to make a mistake. I don't want him to make the mistake, of choosing to love someone that can't be loved. In the unlikely scenario that he did mean what he said, I can forgive the honesty. But I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for letting him make a mistake that I could have prevented.

Edited 2023-11-11 11:15 (UTC)

And why, precisely, is that you cannot be loved? What's so deeply flawed in you that makes it impossible, Kaveh? Because you killed your father? I could ask the reasons why you did it, I suppose. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe your father was a bastard and you had to. Or it was a shitty decision in the moment. What's that change, exactly, in this conversation?

Or is it something else you're referring to?

[Daan shrugs.] I'm not even saying you have to run into his arms and all will be well. Sometimes shit's more complicated than that. But you might as well at least tell me why you think that way, when even apparently I'm not a lost cause despite the blood on my own hands.

[ stricken. that's the emotion for it, if kaveh had any left.

what kaveh does have left: the impetus to stop. the road stops. he stops. he stops as if he has come to the end of the sidewalk, the very edge of the world and the precipice that follows, that unending drop. kaveh curls in on himself. he crouches, his face buries itself in the wrap of his arms. it's overwhelming; it's too much. kaveh has never done anything by halves; it follows that even this is the way it is. that kaveh is hiding his face not because there is an abundance of emotion there, but because there is nothing there at all. ]

Because [ kaveh says, and this takes him all he has to say, to say it aloud, ] your kindness comes from a place of a gentle heart, Daan. Don't argue with me on this. I've enough fury and rage to contend with and more, for the kind of gentle soul you are. For how much your circumstances, your parents, let you down. But everything that I do - the kindness and otherwise or whatever it is that people wont to call it - is driven by guilt.

[ ... he's said it, kaveh thinks. he's said it. he's said it aloud.

quietly, as soft as dust: ] Alhaitham said that to me. It was what broke us apart. And now, I've said it to you, Daan. What a farce this is.

[For a moment, Daan is quiet, his eye gazing over Kaveh sitting where he is. Overwhelmed, but also not enough. A dam contained, just so. He looks up and out into the city, contemplative.

He'd like to argue, that his heart is more hardened than that. That he's been cold, he's been cruel, he's spilled blood, but it is all circumstantial. Everything is. So he doesn't debate it, when really this is about Kaveh anyway.]

One of the first things I ever learned is that the world isn't going to give you anything. You bleed, you weep, you beg for things to be different -- oh, but the world doesn't care. It will keep turning, and you don't matter in grand scheme of things. Not even a lone ant in the field, you're a speck. Stars, ultimately, have more meaning than a single human life.

[He exhales slowly, not quite a sigh.] And so, humans learn to be selfish in their ways. It's impossible not to be. That's just how we are. I don't even think that's necessarily wrong. We're so, so very flawed.

[Daan steps a bit closer to Kaveh, crouching down slightly by him, but not completely next to him.]

You feel guilt, and you try to make it up with acts of generosity. A bandage, for a wound that's been left to fester.

Maybe he wants you to just be more honest, than trying to make reparations for what can't be undone. I don't know. But that's what I would tell you, in his position. No one can undo what's been done, try as we might. Hell knows I've made my attempts; you've seen it yourself.

...So what do you do. Dwell? Or find a way forward? I'm just barely finding my way with the second option, personally.

[ courage.

there is another perspective to be had. there always is. there are those who stood upon the stage and announced it. there are those who argued in shisha parlours and tucked between the booths at lambad's, arms akimbo as they gesticulated through their claims. there are those who whispered it beneath the sun or the stars as they held onto their beliefs. certainly, alhaitham would have been the one to assert so, that only he need assert a principle for it to be true, for only he needs to believe in it to have it be so. kaveh is the first to argue against it. wisdom is the clashing of perspectives; wisdom can only be gained through the collection of thoughts across multiple people, all striving for their own version of wisdom beneath the canopy of the divine tree.

it follows, that kaveh's first instinct is that he wants to argue. he wants to bare his teeth. there's an angle that kaveh often takes on when he is about to go on the offensive; it's the angle of his head, the tilt of which brings out the cooler shades of pink along the rims of his eyes. only those who don't know kaveh well think that he tends towards flight. it's that look that finally breaks through the pall of emptiness, that great blank canvas that kaveh retreats to when there is nothing and there is everything: first comes the fury and the teeth of it, that kaveh knows - that the world is unfair, and that the flaws of humanity come first, that mere bandages exist for festering wounds. but that is not all that the world is. that you can claw your way through with a kindness so terrible that it tears apart those who dare to stand against it, to bind together those by blood and sweat and toil for the bonds of mutual assistance that leaves no room for dissent. kaveh's idealism has fangs and claws. kaveh's colour is red. red is associated with blood.

but what comes after - is the grief. what comes after, as always, is the guilt. kaveh looks at daan. he looks. for a moment, the only thought he can parse is this: that if so, if the only way is forward, and kaveh knows that the only way, through flame and blood and tears is forward - of course kaveh deserves to walk forward alone.

his thesis, however, cannot be verbalised. he would be shamed if it did. daan has crouched by him. kaveh is already not alone. ]

... forward, of course. [ kaveh says, in a voice as raw as he feels, stripped to the bone and left to desiccate. ] Isn't it so? That the only way is ever forward, even if you must crawl through it, the ruins of your life, what's left of your pride. I've always found a way forward, Daan. I have always managed, one way or another, because if I didn't, I would die, and my heart with it.

But perhaps you see it clearer than I have all this time. That though I have moved forward, time has stopped regardless. I have been dwelling in that argument all along. I haunt myself.

Forward. [Daan says, to agree.] Even when you think you should stand right where you are, and rot. But we might as well walk forward, and see what's next. I never thought that I would gain anything, to be honest. And... here I am now, afraid of what I can now lose.

[But he's trying. Hell, he is trying to hold onto it all and not think of what horrible things can happen tomorrow and the following. Despite the blood on his hands, despite the laughter of cat and wicked dealings, despite the frustrating involvement of gods and sacrifices and cults, Daan is still managing forward.

Frankly, if he can do it, anyone is capable. That is what he thinks right now.]

It's easy to get stuck in the past. I'm just as guilty for that, Kaveh. It's what I've been doing for awhile now.

...But if I can even manage this much, then a nosy bastard like you can do it easily.

[ kaveh looks.

courage, he thinks. there is no other word for it. he is no haravatat scholar; kaveh lacks the vocabulary for it. courage and love. that was what daan was. that was what daan was made of. kaveh is shamed. kaveh is glad that he is shamed - because this means there exists in this world something as bright as daan, an aspiration as powerful as it is fanged.

kaveh closes his eyes. he opens them. his eyes are still dry. ]

Daan, will you give me your hand? [ kaveh says, ] Please.

[The gaze he gives Kaveh is quiet, introspective, and compassionate. At the request, Daan doesn't hesitate, holding out his hand.]

Of course.

[ kaveh takes daan's hand in his. this is a hand of a doctor. his is a hand of an architect.

kaveh's hand, scarred and callused from wresting dreams into a reality where dreams so often go to die - he takes daan's hand in his, and he squeezes it. holds it there, imbuing into the gesture every ounce of his his sorrow, his guilt, his gratitude. ]

Thank you. [ kaveh says, with his heart in his throat, ] I can't even call you a donkey - you've been far too kind and understanding this entire time. But thank you. Perhaps I've met you at a time and place where I can finally hear and understand it. Perhaps growth isn't just about who you are and where you are, but also when you are.

But really, you have it wrong. Right now, I see you as something of an aspiration. If you can do it, with such courage too, then what I wouldn't give to steal even a fraction of that courage. Daan, you inspire me. That is the truth of it. I am shamed by it, and I know it is right for me to be. Thank you.

[Once upon a time, Daan's hands were also rough from his young life, but eventually they have softened from more cautious work than when he lived in the streets, or his work as a butler. Now, they are soft, careful, and precise.

And his hand does softly hold onto Kaveh's, unafraid.]

Heh. ...Imagine that, me. An inspiration for anything. [Daan lets out a soft huff.] If you really want to know something, I feel myself writhe inside every time someone has called me a good man, or kind. I'm still not sure I'm any of those things, but I suppose I can't count on my own judgment for that right yet.

Especially if it means I can do something to inspire you.

[ kaveh grins. it comes like a wayward starbust after the rain. the sorrow lingers, the guilt always will. but for the first time in two weeks, something has clicked within the enigma wrapped within a riddle.

it's painful to look at. it will continue to be. but who is kaveh to look away? daan has shared his courage. kaveh breathes in. ]

Said truly like a kind and good man. [ he says, gently, by the way of a teasing lilt. ] You'll have to bear me saying it, then, until you can believe it for yourself. Poor you.

[There it is. He isn't sure he can recall a genuine smile from Kaveh yet; mostly just passive-aggressive smiles, ready to snip and bite with words and actions. To fuss, as he does.

He has time to practice. After all, Daan has only recently been able to smile at all, as his own weight alleviates inch by inch.]

Hmm. How annoying. But fine, I've sort of accepted you don't exactly leave me with many choices at all.

Be prepared to fully accept it, Daan. I am exacting. I wouldn't accept anything less.

[ but kaveh - he has taken more than his lot in life. far more than he deserves. one, final squeeze, and kaveh lets daan go.

unfurling is a kind of rebirth. kaveh stands. ever limb protests it. day three is scintillating. he blinks, rapidly, to clear the stars that come; the back of his eyelids ache like something prepared in hellflame and beyond. but kaveh has not felt this sober in such a long time. ]

Daan, I apologise. [ kaveh says. the anxiety leaps. but he says it anyway: ] I have to cut our meeting short today. I promise I will still help you with your clinic and the mobile option for it - but I will send you the blueprints later, along with a few other locations to look into.

[With a soft sigh, he stands up from his crouch and then shakes his head at Kaveh.]

No need to apologize. I like to think we made some good progress, didn't we? [Be it personal affairs or professional.] Do whatever it is you have to. You know where to find me, if you need.

...I'll see you alter, all right?

[ kaveh looks. he hesitates.

and then: ]

Wait. One more thing. [ ... kaveh reaches into his tote. he takes out two letters. white plain envelopes, wax-sealed. both have names printed on it in kaveh's printing-press slantwise cursive, each letter as precise as if it were a woodblock print made form.

on one envelope: midnight. on the other: alhaitham. ] Will you take these back with you? To your office, I mean.

[His lips purse as he gazes down at the envelopes, a small frown on his face. It isn't his business, whatever is in these, but he is puzzled.]

I will, but why exactly am I taking these from you?

[ kaveh hands are still. ]

If I die, please give Alhaitham and Midnight these envelopes. They're for them to read. [ for the organs; for the aftermath. ] I can't guarantee they will make your work easier, but neither of them will blame you for it. The decision has always been mine.

[There is a pause.

A concept that he doesn't care to think of, but he cannot promise that their futures will be full of life and light. At the end of last month, he killed Vergilius and was not even certain if or when the man would revive, but was determined to stay at that haunted house and wait for him. He had begged the dying Red Gaze to please come back, to come back to him, and Vergilius promised to try.

Death may not be permanent here, as far as they know, but when does that rule change, when rules have changed before? And that was a possibility that broiled fear in his heart that awful night where he struggled to regrow his arm.

Daan reluctantly takes the envelopes.]

All right. I'll make sure they're delivered, if that should come to pass.

[ kaveh nods. he looks. he has, kaveh thinks, burdened daan with more than his lot to bear. he owes this man more than kaveh knows how to express. the guilt comes again, it always will. but perhaps it hasn't mattered in a long time, what drives kaveh forward, so long as the good is being done with his two hands.

daan accepts the letters. kaveh breathes out. ]

Thank you.

[ kaveh's hands return to his side. ]

... I have to go. And yes, I'll see you after. Try the mortadella. [ kaveh smiles. ] It won't kill you to eat something with proper taste, once in a while.

[ with a backwards wave, kaveh goes. ]

[ open ] kaveh's permanent catch-all

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it's six in the morning i forgot to add i love ur joke tags friend they give me life

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