citylogs | [closed]

[This is not the story. This is Hat Guy. Kaveh's hand slips free and Alhaitham crosses his arms as he regards him.

He wanted purpose. He wanted to belong. And Alhaitham is a man who has always stood away from others. He is someone who grew with the blessing: being different is a gift.]

People find purpose in a society not only by their similarities, but just as much by their differences.

[ kaveh's heart aches.

there had been a kshahrewar junior just beginning to cut his teeth on the diatribe of his betters that summer. they called him the urchin of the kshahrewar because of his voracious appetite for annotations - and because he didn't have a father. not really. to the eyes of those looking from above, that was as good as an orphan in their midst, a child that didn't belong. it had started there. kaveh had never wanted to stand out. he had always wanted to belong.

it was the kindness, the gentle words, the jokes and the warmth. your inner world was already a place of chaotic thought and crippling loneliness. kaveh simply thought that it wasn't wrong, to not want to be alone.

then, he had met alhaitham. ]

It isn't wrong, to want that similarity despite your differences. Nor is it wrong to be different. [ is what kaveh says. because he had met alhaitham, and that hadn't shaken his ideals. just as the monsoons break themselves over sumeru's canopy each season, so does too kaveh's ideals stand in the buffet of criticism and know itself to be true. but ideals can change shape; they can grow. ] The ones at the forge seemed like they stood apart from you not because they perceived a difference in you, but because you perceived a difference in yourself.

Even apprentices to the same master can be treated differently for who they are. If they didn't treat others the same way they treated you, then something changed their behaviour. [ kaveh looks. ] The difference you perceived in treatment, then, can only be described as love.

[ He remembers the look in Katsuragi's face the day he took the puppet in. He remembers the discussion him and Nagamasa had. 'I can only deal with you in this fashion. Do not hold this against me,' he had said, looking apologetic, but the Kabukimono hadn't understood it at the time, why he looked that way. He didn't understand why he always looked that way, when the inspector looked in his direction.

He remembers the smile on Niwa's face when the puppet expressed interest in sword smithing. He remembers putting his all into learning, and the surprise in Niwa's face when he showed him the first sword he made. He remembers that he was always treated kindly, when the other apprentices were treated strictly. He thought it weird, that he was not treated the same.

He remembers everyone's smiles, their eyes lit up in joy, every time he helped them. He remembers their concern and their worry for him, and how warm that made him feel.

Why was it that he felt like he never belonged? He doesn't remember that anymore, because he's lived for so long, and he understands humans much better now. Kaveh is right—it wasn't because he was a puppet. It was because they loved him.

And, for the first time in centuries—for the first time since the tears that caused him to be abandoned by his mother—he cries. He sinks to his knees, bending over as sobs wrack his body, as the full gravity of his own actions sink in—his sins suddenly feel impossibly heavy, and they crush him under the weight of it all. They had never betrayed him. Not once. But he— but he—!! ]

I'm sorry, Niwa, I'm sorry...!

[ kaveh pulls the young man into his arms.

there had been a child desperate to find his place in the world. there had been another in the house of daena standing aside from his cohort, a single bird excluded from the flock. perhaps it had always been kaveh's fate, kaveh realises, to see the loneliness in others and to want desperately to respond in kind. the pain, the sorrow, the grief. wasn't it kaveh who said it to midnight, that they didn't ever grow up from their mistakes, just grew into the best shape to carry them forward? but wasn't it netzach who said so, that if loving someone wasn't a miracle, then he didn't know what is?

you can be both the grief and the love. kaveh's known that for a long time. his mother had been both. so had he. so had alhaitham, who had watched his grandmother die. so had this young man. he merely remembered the grief, not the love, because the body wasn't meant to carry the shape of a love that hurt so much. midnight had been wrong after all. love did hurt, but not because it wanted to. but because it needed to be remembered.

sorry, the young man says. kaveh holds him there, his hand carding through the young man's hair. kaveh says, ]

It's alright, Wanderer. [ soft as dust. soft as dust. ] You're not alright, but you will be.

You will be.

[ He cries and cries and cries, cries four hundred years worth of grief. He cries for his family in Tatarasuna. He cries for his family that was the ailing, nameless boy. He cries for the family he never got to have in Ei and the Raiden Shogun. He cries for all the families he destroyed in his misguided revenge. He cries that his erasure in Irminsul could not save anyone. He cries, head against Kaveh's chest, against the beating heart he can hear so clearly, that he must take it from its rightful place for them to get out of here. He cries for Alhaitham, for he would have to witness his love die before him before dying himself.

If only he didn't exist. If only he never existed...!!

No. He cries, because he so badly wants to be here, to fix everything he made wrong, to be here for Altria, who is as lonely as he, to take Kaveh's hand in friendship, because he admires the architect so much, to discuss with Alhaitham the nature of this world, because he trusts Alhaitham's judgement. He cries because he wants to be by Nahida's side, to help her as she guides Sumeru to a brighter future. He cries, because he wants to see the Traveler once more and apologize for everything he's done and more.

So he cries, and keeps crying.

Eventually though, the tears dry up. Not because he is done crying—there is still so much he would shed tears over—but because there is so much more that he must do.

He pulls away from Kaveh, rubbing away the last of the tears and controlling the hiccup of his sobs. ]

I'm... [ sorry? Alright? There's so much he wants to say. But he looks up, at the two of them. Kaveh and Alhaitham. Two people who embody humanity in its beauty. That's what he thinks of them. ] I'm ready.

[ Ready to draw this fairy tale to a close. ]

Edited 2023-12-11 08:48 (UTC)

[Alhaitham stands back. He doesn't avert his eyes, but he also doesn't draw attention to himself as kaveh swoops in. Kaveh whose heart bleeds more readily, who cares more naturally, and understands better than Alhaitham that desire to be part of people, as a whole.

That's fine. Alhaitham won't mold himself to something he isn't. He's a silent witness to Hat Guy's grief, and nothing more.

And at the end, Hat Guy rises shakily. He pulls himself together with resolve. He says I'm ready.

Alhaitham doesn't need to clarify what. The story won't actually let them divert its path. It won't allow the puppet to find peace in itself.

His fingers dig into his skin. That's the decision, then.] Alright. [Alright.] So am I.

[ the young man cries. kaveh holds him. it is the only thing kaveh knows how to do. he knows, is the thing. kaveh knows.

kaveh knows what it's like, to look into the distance, and fail to see the brightest way forward.

slowly, the last of the tears die. kaveh's hands, which have found themselves against the wanderer's back, gently rubs circles of warmth into his shaking frame. there's the impetus to reach forward and wipe the young man's tears away from him. but even kaveh knows that in the moment, that fragility is the most that the young man has ever allowed. he observes the salt-tracks that the tears have left behind, and, with a firm nod, looks up. ]

Alhaitham. [ kaveh says, and meets alhaitham's eyes. there is trust there. there always has been. when the world needs to fall, it is alhaitham's judgment that kaveh will always rely on, because in the end, trust has always been a choice.

kaveh chooses to trust, even as he questions: ] ... will you be alright?

[ there had been a bridge, and a flooding pile. there had been blood. and kaveh - in those final moments, remembers, that alhaitham did not have a chance to close his eyes. ]

[There is no need for Alhaitham to ask Kaveh if he's ready. Kaveh was ready first, after all. But there is a need, he realizes, for Kaveh to ask Alhaitham if he will be alright. That being ready is not the same thing.

Alhaitham looks back. There is no imposition of blood on too pale skin. Alhaitham's eyes have always seen more clearly than most. But there is, tucked back in his mind, that reality. There will be one that's even more gruesome ahead of them, because Alhaitham will not allow Kaveh to watch him die first.

Alhaitham's arms unwind. He closes the gap between them in three steps and takes Kaveh's face in his hands. And then he draws into a kiss, one that is firm, one that lingers upon their lips in the warmth and sting.

It's a promise.] We will be alright.

[Kaveh, and Alhaitham, and Kaveh and Alhaitham. Because they will make it so, and when has anyone else been able to decide their fates for them?]

[ we will be alright, alhaitham says. kaveh's breath stutters. it snuffs out against alhaitham's lips - and in that moment, it is just like so: kaveh and alhaitham, a three-legged creature making their way through a world not quite meant for the shape of them. but has that ever mattered? kaveh laid down roads, and alhaitham navigated the way. the two of them have always done so, apart from each other, and together. kaveh had always wanted to see it, how far the road that the two of them would walk would stretch, to what new depths could their joined hands plunge. the process of it was always going to be work. kaveh never shied away from work.

but this is not work. kaveh bleeding to death before alhaitham's eyes is not work. alhaitham pulls away. it's kaveh who pulls him back in. for another kiss, fierce and sure. ]

Of course we will be. We are Kaveh and Alhaitham, and since when did we shy away from what needed to be done? You toppled a government. I built a palace. Both were said to be things that couldn't be done. [ kaveh bares his teeth. his hand draws across the contour of alhaitham's cheek. he lets him go.

he turns to the wanderer. kaveh's eyes are red flint and the heartfire of something that once was supposed to extinguish, but merely forgot how. ] ... sorry. I will ask you to accept it once more, that beating heart of mine. It's a useless organ that doesn't know when to stop itself. Will you let me do it once more?

[ He doesn't say anything as the two share a private moment to themselves. He doesn't look, either, as he finds himself wanting to give the two as much privacy as possible, because it's not nice, what will happen next.

But he's decided he's ready to do this. To take Kaveh's heart and Alhaitham's blood. To know that this isn't the same as the last, it's not like the tragedy of Tatarasuna. It's a tragedy still, but it won't stay this way. At the end, they will all be fine. At the end, the two of them will be fine. For that reason, he's willing to shoulder their pain on his shoulders. He doesn't want to see their brilliance die here, stuck because of him.

He closes his eyes, then opens them and looks unfaltering at Kaveh. Looks at the fire burning within his eyes, sees his desire to give and give to the puppet. It's heavy, still, but he has no choice but to bear it now.

He nods quietly and moves to retrieve a dagger from the side—one that had clearly been prepared for this moment. He reaches out for it, and pauses for a moment. There is something he has been withholding about himself. It's a small, silly, inconsequential thing, but right now, it feels... appropriate, to give out.

Both of them deserved to know the name of the puppet that would kill them, he thinks.

He turns to face them both, dagger in hand. There is clarity in his eyes, and determination. This was not Tatarasuna. He would not be tricked, and he would not trick anyone. If he was to bear another sin, then he would bear it knowingly and willingly. ]

My name is Yuu. Let me have your heart and your blood, [ he says to both, reciting a line from the script ] so that I might become human, and fulfill my dreams of marrying the princess.

[Kaveh pulls him back in. Alhaitham sinks into the gesture without shame. His hands slide down to Kaveh's shoulders when it breaks, faces the burning determination in them, and then lets go. Alhaitham turns in much the same way to Hat Guy's resolve. They have all, he thinks, prepared to spite the pain they will shoulder.

The dagger is already in hand. Alhaitham turns to face Hat Guy--Yuu fully.

Every part of him cools, like the stagnant morning sea, and he recites from the script:] You were as much life as we could create with our hands, and your journey has given you more than we could. If the last thing I can do is offer my blood for your future then I'll give it to you.

[ yuu, the young man says. kaveh thinks, they are being granted something that neither of them perhaps deserves. a key to a lock. a piece of a soul. kaveh's heart aches. it's this city, the way it takes everything sacred to one another, and drags it out in the open. the mortifying ordeal of being known, but one that has been forced open by the dredges of acceptability. kaveh won't accept it. he cannot. but this is a name that has been offered, and kaveh thinks -

it's a lovely name.

kaveh lowers his head. he says, in turn: ]

You were as much love as we could create with our hands, and your journey has prepared you to hold it in your hands. If the last thing I can do is offer my heart for your love, then I'll give it to you.

[ kaveh looks to the knife. he looks to alhaitham, and then to the wanderer.

the briefest, rueful tug of his lips: ] ... may I ask for help in that regard, however? I ask one of you to take on the most bitter of tasks. I am sorry.

[Alhaitham's gaze follows the intent of Kaveh's. To the knife. Back to Kaveh. To Yuu.

He understands. But Yuu, holding that knife, understood as well before Kaveh even had to ask.]

[ He feels the tears prickle at the edge of his eyes again. These lines—they're just part of the fairy tale's script, but. They're words of love, which he so dearly misses from his families long past. But he can't break down again, so he takes a shuddering breath and holds it in.

He looks at Kaveh for a moment before turning his gaze to Alhaitham. And there, he sees the answer in the stiffness of his shoulders and the way that he is far too still to be natural. He sees a quiet plea in the man's eyes, and he knows that he must do this to spare Alhaitham of any more pain.

So the puppet steps forward. ]

I will. It's only fitting that I do it.

[ kaveh smiles. the smile is an apology; the smile is regret; the smile is rue. the smile is all these things - but above all else, the smile is gratitude. kaveh's hand, which has found its way to alhaitham's, gives him a squeeze. the squeeze is fierce. ]

Thank you. [ and what kaveh means is this: thank you, for allowing him to give his heart. thank you, for taking on the burden of taking it. thank you, for shielding alhaitham one last time.

then, kaveh lets alhaitham's hand go. he collects himself to kneel before the puppet. kaveh lowers his head. ] I am yours.

[Alhaitham grips Kaveh's hand in both of his. He squeezes just as tight. He meets Kaveh's eyes with the sharp edge of his own.

It's the hardest thing, letting go.

But Alhaitham lets go. He closes his eyes and turns his head just so away from the scene. His breath counts in steady fours. To expect something is to be able to prepare for it. To be able to mitigate the consequences of it.]

Edited 2023-12-12 06:08 (UTC)

[ He waits as the two of them compose themselves. As Alhaitham turns his face away. As Kaveh kneels before him, like a worshipper awaiting judgement from his god. But he is not a god, and he does not want to pass judgement.

He kneels in front of Kaveh, observing him for a moment. He is a beautiful man, and like this, he is almost too pure for the puppet to bear touching. But he does anyway, raising his free hand to ghost over Kaveh's cheek, almost too lightly for the other to feel.

He has never wanted for physical touch before, but there is something that calls for a connection to the man before him, and what can be closer than touch? At first, his hand settles against Kaveh's shoulder, trembling only slightly. But then he pulls Kaveh forward into an embrace, wrapping both of his arms around the man. ]

Thank you. [ he whispers into Kaveh's ear ] It'll only hurt a little bit.

[ And he plunges the dagger he holds into the back of Kaveh's neck. ]

[ the young man pulls kaveh into his arms.

he is warm. it's almost silly to mention it, but he's warm. of course he is. the only person, kaveh thinks, that doesn't believe in the inherent humanity of this man is himself. kaveh has walked through the metaphors of his life. he's knelt and given his heart. but what has stood out amongst the vicissitudes of giving and receiving and taking and all the little ebb and flow of a churning, living sea is the warmth of the young man's hands.

kaveh holds him there. he wonders if he knows he is as warm as this, as a brimming little star in motion.

he is glad that this is the thought upon which the world ends. ]

[ Once, as the hateful Balladeer, he had learned from Dottore ways to cause pain—to torture, for information (and honestly, for his own sadistic pleasure, for he had reveled in others' pain). Among the little things about human anatomy he'd learned, that one could instantly kill a person by cutting their brain stem was a fact he never thought he would make use of until now. But he's glad he knows it, because he does not want to cause Kaveh more pain than necessary.

There is blood, still. It pours down the architect's back and stains the puppet's white sleeves—a symbol of his deed, the sin he carries now. Kaveh does not breathe. It is only the shell that is left in his arms. And in that shell is the heart he must carve out to progress this ghastly fairy tale.

The puppet's eyes flicker to Alhaitham for a moment, a dull ache in his chest. There is nothing he can do for Alhaitham, save completing this task as quickly as possible to allow them to reunite, hale and healthy.

He holds Kaveh in an embrace for just a beat longer, and then gently lays him down, reverent in his actions. Using an unsoiled part of his sleeve, he closes Kaveh's eyes. Once more, just once more, he will have to cut that heart out and hold it in his hands.

It's almost disgusting how practiced he feels in this, pulling aside the architect's shirt and cutting into still warm flesh with the dagger. He knows exactly where he must cut to reveal the heart, and all the while, his hands soak in cooling blood. It pools underneath Kaveh, the only part of him that is in motion. He is far, far too still.

He cuts through sinew and breaks bone. Blood and viscera engulf his hands. He searches for arteries and veins and slices them, releasing the heart from its confines. It's in his hands again—warm, still. Proof of Kaveh's life, and his death. The puppet draws in a quivering breath—one, two, one, two—and then he presses it against his chest, drawing it into his body.

It starts with a jolt, and he can feel its fierce beat, so strong that it might leap right back out of his chest. He keeps his hands on his chest, curling in on himself as it threatens to tear him apart. But he's not done. There is one more thing he must do.

He can't hide the evidence of his actions. But he does what he can, concealing slices into skin with fabric, stained bright red, and stands up. Blood drips off his sleeves, deafening in the silence of the room. Quietly, he walks over to the other man who remains in the room, stands so that the Scribe won't have to see Kaveh to look at him, and calls out to him. ]

Alhaitham.

[Alhaitham flinches only once. It's when Kaveh's body instinctively gasps to the knife cutting flesh. Alhaitham slowly drops to his knees. His hands rest upon them, fingers digging to offset their tremble, and he waits with breaths counted in fours.

The sound is gruesome. He's always been sensitive to them, sounds.

And so he doesn't open his eyes during it. He doesn't open his eyes at the end of it, or when Yuu approaches. He doesn't need to--he knows by the echo on the floorboards where he stops.

Alhaitham takes one deep breath. He lets it out slowly. Then his tilts his head back, baring his neck.] Go ahead.

[ The heart within his chest stutters as he beholds the man before him. Even now, separated from its owner, Kaveh's heart yearns for Alhaitham. It lurches, pounding in his ears as he kneels in front of Alhaitham, and reaches out to him like he did the architect. But the sight of red stops him. His hands are covered in Kaveh's blood. He can't possibly touch Alhaitham now.

But the script demands blood, and he must follow through for them all to escape. Slowly, he raises his hand again, reaching over the man's shoulder to place a steadying hand against his upper back. It's not quite an embrace, but it brings the two of them close all the same. With his other hand, he presses the dagger against Alhaitham's neck. It trembles, as does the next breath he draws.

There are no words this time. Alhaitham has not pierced into his very being like Kaveh has. His desire to spare the man pain is the same, but it is a luxury he cannot afford this time. There is nothing more the puppet can do to console him, and the heart in his chest squeezes painfully, both for the man before him and for the puppet that holds it.

Warmth draws trails down his face—tears, he realizes, as a sob threatens to tear out of his throat. No, not now. He swallows the emotions with a shuddering breath, but the tears do not stop. His sight blurs, but the dagger is already against Alhaitham's neck. He just needs to act.

One, two, three—he counts the beating of Kaveh's heart—four, five, six—and he pulls the dagger. ]

[With his willful blindness, Alhaitham only has his other senses to rely on. The feeling of the knife trembling against his throat. Yuu's intake of breath to brace himself for this. It never quite stops shaking. Alhaitham, in turn, never starts loving beyond the slow and steady rise of his chest.

For a moment, he wonders if Yuu's resolve will crack enough for the knife to slide wrong. That he might cut along the wrong angle, and it will be more painful.

But the blade strikes true. Alhaitham breathes in a ragged gasp as the shock runs through his body. There is the instinctual panic of all animals that realize they're dying, and it seizes all of Alhaitham and leans him into Yuu. He barely resists bringing his hands to his throat. The blood is allowed to spill in a river down his front freely.

[ Red. Red, red, and more red. It cascades down Alhaitham, the precious liquid that gives humans life. The sight of it causes Kaveh's heart to swoop wildly, and he feels the stirring of panic in his stomach. Hastily, he presses his mouth against the wound as if to seal it with his lips, pulling Alhaitham even closer as he drops the dagger and steadies the man with an embrace.

The metallic taste of iron fills his mouth. The blood burns his throat as he swallows the fluid, searing in its heat. It is nauseating—the taste, the smell, the gasps of pain and the rapid fluttering of Alhaitham's pulse. He wants to throw up. He wants to cry. He's crying still, tears mixing with the blood to transform into the taste of pain and grief.

But he doesn't stop. He can't allow himself to stop, because it would prolong Alhaitham's suffering. So he drinks and drinks, draining Alhaitham of his life. ]

Edited 2023-12-13 08:08 (UTC)

[Yuu's mouth seals around the wound, and then there's the suck. Distantly, the similarity to a vampire occurs to Alhaitham. It's a thought that quickly drifts out into the sea of nothingness, unable to tether to his slowly dying brain.

He clenches his teeth. There's no comfort in any of this. What Alhaitham does do with the last of his focus is grip the back of Yuu's garment and shift in the embrace so that he's in a position that makes this as easy as possible even as he rapidly loses strength.

It feels slower than it is. He grows cold, and numb. It's a brief moment that Alhaitham's eyes flutter open, stare at the ceiling with the recognition of the end of it all, and then slip closed once more.

His hand slips next.

His heart stops next.

His chest stills next.

And then the weight of Alhaitham limps completely.]

[ His hand slips first, down the puppet's back. His pulse follows, sputtering weakly—badum, badum, badum————————————————————

Alhaitham draws one last, quiet breath, and then he's gone. The entirety of his weight settles onto the puppet, who pulls away from the man's neck and presses his face against Alhaitham's shoulder.

It's silent, at first. Then, there's a high pitched noise, keening—his sobs, finally wrested out of him and free to give form to his sorrow. He cries loudly, stuttered apologies falling from bloodied lips. He grips Alhaitham tightly, the only anchor keeping him from drowning in the wake of his emotions. He cries and cries, for minutes, for hours. He cries until Alhaitham's body cools, and all he is left with is nothing but a lifeless husk.

There's nothing here but him now. He is alone once more. So very, very alone. The puppet has become human—but at what cost?

When the storm dies down, he's left with emptiness. Numbness. Kaveh's heart beats steadily in his chest, but he feels no fuller than before. This heart, freely given to him, filled with love and kindness—it was the one thing he had craved for most. But, why, why, why did he still feel so empty?? He had not been satisfied with Niwa's heart. He had not been satisfied with the Electro Gnosis. He is not satisfied with this heart. Whose heart would fill the void in his chest, and seal away the emptiness that yawns wide in his chest?

He knows the answer already. He does not seek for a heart at all. It is not what he truly wants. It is not what he needs. It is the warmth he's received that seeps out of the cracks of his being and scatters into the sea of blood surrounding him, leaving him empty and hurting. It is love that he has always craved for.

He stands, pulling Alhaitham's body with him. He cradles the man gently, lays him next to Kaveh, and entwines their hands together. Alhaitham and Kaveh. Always together in life. They should be together in death too. ]

Was it worth it? [ He asks into the silence, to the puppet of the fairy tale. ] Was it really worth losing this?

[ Only the steady beating of Kaveh's heart and the metallic taste of Alhaitham's blood answers him as he closes his eyes and allows himself to be swept away.

(If this was what it took to become human, then he'd rather stay a puppet for eternity.) ]

[closed]

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