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inbox @ comesailaway
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
cw for suicidal thoughts and i guess mention of decapitation belatedly
or a nightmare that his mind instinctively reels from. ]
no, he doesn't.
don't tell him
she did kill you too
I can't blame her for this or even her for doing what she did on the island [ they were so disorganized after all. they were told to kill one another and some of them simply did so. she at least tried to do so mercifully, he could tell that much. even killing him as relatively painlessly as she did. ]
but
it still hurt
but what hurt more is how much i hurt him
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but, on the heels of the swell of anger in her chest, clarke can see how their situations may have been different. she'd at least gotten the gratification of watching la pluma torn to literal shreds just out of the range she could focus dying eyes. venti'd had... nothing. not even the catharsis of crying about it with mizuki later. that's... so fucked up. that's wrong, that's, it's — )
...this isn't what love is supposed to look like, Venti. It's not supposed to be a back and forth of hurt, punctuated by a few special moments. It'll just continue being like that if you don't put your foot down and make it stop.
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Clarke
I know I'm unsuited for it
Perhaps it's true that I should try again to turn him down for certain but even I don't have the heart for that
Actually I wouldn't be surprised if Ebalon would try to kill me whether for that or anything else
particularly how I last left him
[ h aha haha he would deserve it. he knows this. he does feel like he deserved the first one. why is this such a mess??? this is why love is a fucking scam and fuckbuddies is the way to go, surely clarke gets it. ]
We don't have to talk about it, I've realized I've vented about this unexpectedly and I didn't mean to
This curse or disease or whatever it is really is formidable
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or maybe the reason they somehow manage to survive.
it's the reason she's gone to war and pulled the lever to end entire populaces time and time again. it's why she can't sleep. it's why, by now, she's physically incapable of anything past fuckbuddies and so quick to judge others for getting caught up in romantic dramas like the filthy hypocrite she is. but — )
...alright.
All of that is the biggest, messiest pile of self justifying bullshit I've ever seen, but. Alright.
I really hope you can make this work, Venti. But does this mean that I can't still
( oh. oh, she catches herself this time. cuts the snake off at the head before accidentally reverting this conversation to her own wants, borderline needs, and blatant captain killing agenda. a minute or two later — )
Bring me your phone.
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and he could catch onto what she meant to say. ]
Thank you. And I understand.
I also want [ ........
ah, well. that sent. truth sure is the bitterest and most inconvenient pill to swallow at the worst of times. she probably gets the gist. he wants, he wants that worship, he wants... he really does admire clarke a lot, not just thinking about her in those stupid shorts and pigtails, he could recall how she felt and the look on her face and how she cried, he had wanted nothing more than to comfort her like a benevolent angel that he isn't.
anyway, he's not actually as much of a pushover as mizuki though certainly mizuki's getting better about that, isn't he. he is kind of weak to bullying from cute girls but he arches an eyebrow at the last message. ]
What do you need it for?
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if they don't.
and she resents — so, so deeply — what had been shaping up to be progress being curtailed by interpersonal dramas.
quieter still, and somehow miraculously untyped by her betraying fingers, clarke thinks she could figure out how to pray properly — how to worship barbatos without express direction from the source. she could do that, she wants to do that, and honestly probably will...
this part, at least, is simple. )
I'm going to delete that picture for you. You don't need that reminder.
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clarke knows. and she knows the weakness of him and far more than he'd ever mean to tell her but the cat's out of the bag, he really is prime example of Worst Person to ever be in a relationship with. if he were more legit he really should break up with mizuki again and spare them because seriously this is getting ridiculous.
he too has to find god (if only) and try to rewind his thoughts of clarke back to a more stable platonic era. yeah. surely it's do-able. even though her consideration of him and offering to delete the pic is terribly kind... he's a silly fantasy era (boomer) bard who has no idea how to delete pics even if he knows how to take them, and maybe every time he sees it he low or highkey really does want to die again.
but, also, ] are you sure i don't?
even with a reminder I've made such a mess of everything
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Then obviously the reminder isn't working.
Traumatizing yourself over and over again isn't going to help, Venti. Let me delete it for you. Please.
( they may have different approaches, but there's a running theme here. venti thinks everyone but himself is deserving — capable — of a one true love, romance, affection unencumbered with the weight of mistakes. and clarke thinks everyone but herself deserves forgiveness. )
You can do better. If you really want to, you can do better.
And if you need absolution to get you to the point you're willing to at least try, I'll give that to you.
( cool, the kinks are popping up even in this concerted attempt to cut godlust off at the source. )
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clarke offers what he had, back when he’d kissed her and pleased her. he knew he made a mistake. if a deity could be judged, he’d sinned so completely. he stares at her text for an indescribably long time. who can gods turn to for assurance? he trusted in people but he can’t burden mortals with his problems, he could bless or absolve or aid them but it’s never the other way around. and in the meantime he’d so rarely even done that when he was a god who abandoned his responsibility.
his chest aches. he doesn’t respond. the wind flickers around him and then stills, then leaves the bar to go look for her then. whether she might be at her cabin or anywhere else. ]
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choose your own adventure:
a. one or two more laps around the track on the sports deck, until her lungs are burning and legs aching. still thoroughly rain drenched, still absorbed in the notion she'll have to work at outrunning demons — personal and literal.
b. picking through the buffet line, absolutely starving and loading up a serena eterna branded traveling mug with scorching hot coffee to take back to her room.
or c. back in 108, either a settling mess still drenched in sweat and picking at her plate. or post a quick shower, hair still wet and paging through some trashy fiction novel from the library because ugh, she'd given herself homework. )
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Say, you're looking very wet today!
[ 100% fun and serious and totally cool truthiness here!! maybe the question is can they possibly puzzle out the mystery to these inconvenient truths or is he just going to continue to make a complete utter fool of himself in front of wet clarke. you decide. or not. just kick him off the side of the boat right the fuck now, the true end we all deserve. ]
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accessoriezed with a very flat look, and an absolute deadpan: )
Well. It's raining.
( water isn't technically wet but everything it touches will be, and this drizzle seems relentless. it's way too early in the month to figure out all the intricacies of this curse, but never too early to continually suffer because of it. )
Got your phone?
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And yes, I have it.
[ .........
it sinks in more that clarke really will see that awful gore pic (that i wanted to keep smh that i wrote myself into removing best pic) and he freezes up a little, eyes going wide even at the thought of showing it. ] But, actually, we don't need to, I--
[ his mind stutters, then kind of stalls at lucid thought around that first death. defying even speaking a truth when he kind of just... stops thinking entirely for a moment. for practically no reason at all. ]
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still, they're not doing anything awful here. with the downpour, there's barely anyone around, so why does it feel like every move is scrutinized? but it's fine. it's fine, this is basically just a business transaction.
venti balks a little at the last second, and clarke means to ask what's the hold up? but what actually tumbles out of her mouth is: )
Did I ever tell you I have another name too?
( likewise, she doesn't catch the horrible truth lead in rolling off her tongue. is still just standing in front of him, looking a little impatient and holding out her hand.
the next sentiment that gets twisted is: i won't even look at it if you don't want me to. because she likes a picture of his decapitated head to be similar to the close up re-runs of the battle royale that had focused on her face and severed arm swinging loosely at mizuki's side. snapshots of horribly intimate moments of torment, things she wished nobody has ever seen. watching herself crying and shaking in natsuno's arms with other patrons peppered around the bar had almost been worse than dying. but this would have been a lie, and is thus unknowingly cut off at the source. )
Not the same way you do, but. It built me a reputation off the back of fear in my world.
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and he'd died twice and he tries not to be fucked up about it but he kind of is. maybe personal weakness is this painful. clarke's words snap him out of the stunned daze, he blinks and focuses back on her, the black flush on her that he is still curious about. but this tangent is welcome. ]
What is it? [ he'd only given his god's name to very few people. even friday doesn't know it. and he knows jinx had a name with heavy baggage--maybe clarke did too. ]
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what is it? doesn't fit with any of the things clarke thinks she's managed to say out loud, and that furrow between her eyebrows deepens. her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth before she tries to follow up with: what are you talking about? )
They call me Wanheda. ( trigdaselng is an offshoot of english, a borderline creole dialect molded through 100 years of apocalyptic living. it won't immediately translate, but this curse is brutal and efficient, and what comes next is — ) Commander of Death. Mountain Slayer.
( unlike barbatos, friday and the captain both know this about her. that'd been what the captain had drawled at her during the ice breaker party, the last time clarke had tried to leverage her bloody history against whatever mysteries were in store for them, only to be met with you are so out of your league, wanheda dripping from gal friday's frozen features. arguably their first contact with the wannabe-god, and it was to tell her she wasn't shit compared to him. )
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What an intimidating title that is! [ well that's truthful enough. to the odd look on her face he simply offers her a wary smile because--no, it's ridiculous but at this moment even when coming to meet with her so she could remove the picture, the prospect of her actually seeing it is fucking with him. a completely graphic picture like that... even the memory of it makes his avoidant tendencies kick into overdrive, because he's very functional but aren't we all. ] Would that happen to be... commanding deaths, of mountains? I'll admit, slaying mountains is a new feat even to me, though I have split and thrown them out to sea. [ hm? did he say something like that? no idea. ] Why, I wonder if that accomplishment could give even Morax's a run for the money when he could practically uplift entire mountain ranges in the days of yore, that old rock-head. Surely a new talent like you would be such competition. [ what, is he blabbing about zhongli now like an idiot? would he do something like that?
anyway stupid flattery still counts as truth. ]
... It sounds rather poetic, Wanheda. [ trying her name, experimentally, the taste and pronunciation of it. like how she had said his, with reverence. ]
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what are you talking about?, but it comes out as an answer to his question — )
It'd be slaughtering every person living inside the mountain, and then seeing the entire rockface leveled a little while later.
( a slight dramatization of events, but the overall picture still the same. "the mountain" just being an allegorical term for the blood and bone marrow thirsty populace inside it. the ones who'd hunted, tortured, and bleed grounders for near 100 years; turned their own people into the very embodiment of flesh hungry demons, all while they sat within their bunker in fresh pressed clothing, eating chocolate cake and admiring hoarded art. vestiges of old world society, unfit for the apocalypse no matter how hard they'd tried to survive. ultimately brought to ruin by a seventeen year old girl with a sweaty handgrip on a lever, and a stronger hand overlaying her own.
the conversational disconnect persists, confusion at the forefront until venti purrs over wanheda and clarke balks.
the exact opposite of any thrum of excitement in her veins, devoid of any flutter of religious connection. the exact opposite of whispering barbatos, venti recites her title and clarke feels like she's been stabbed in the gut. the knife twisted, then kicked in the chest and slapped across the face in the same motion. she takes a full step back away from him and just. gawks. for a moment looking every bit her actual age, features open and far, far too young for the weighted lines the apocalypse had carved into her skin and soul. in the next moment, looking ready to cry again. pathetic and small with rain- and sweat-wet hair clinging to her face, and shivers threatening to overrun her whole body despite the muggy rainy climate.
it's going to take an additional few moments before she can fold all of that emotional leakage back into it's neat little compartment in the bottom of her soul. but at least during the interim, her brain and mouth seem to catch up to one another. this time when she speaks, it's exactly what she means to put in the air between them. )
...what did I just say?
( and what was that about throwing mountains into the sea? who's morax? )
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so yeah, 'you're so scary! ♥' is hilariously right. some flirts like him really need to be executed on sight. that being said her explanation of her name is much more sobering, his teasing face flickers to surprise at that so-casual reveal of slaughter. and then her reaction to her name... well, if it meant 'killer of populations' maybe it's entirely too understandable, it's not a personal name with such divine meaning as his is. maybe it's something more like a cursed title that her enemies would call her in fear and hatred.
and she doesn't even seem aware that she'd shared it. he stares at her through the drizzling rain, water dripping off his braids, mind reeling back to the text conversation. ]
I think something strange is going on or affecting us. It wasn't just through the phone... what we're even saying could be suspect. [ every word slower and almost deliberate. he lifts his hand to his neck; first, a nervous tic and hold-over from that first death. or as if he could practically stop or feel betraying words from vocal cords. ] Suspect, or... honest, unwittingly so. [ a guess, from the text conversation. but who'd know how to connect this curse to water. ] We should be careful.
... Should we get out of the rain, for a start? [ well, he wouldn't want her to get sick. ]
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i've heard what they call you now.
alright wanheda, savior of us all. but maybe you forgot the last time you were saving us, i was saving you!
you are so out of your league...
clarke buttons her lips. jaw set, teeth grinding. thoughtlessly, a minor mirror as venti reaches to touch his neck, she brings a hand up to cover her mouth. one more blockade against inadvertent admissions, a mild attempt to crush the newest thing that's managed to betray her — her own tongue. then he's suggesting they go inside, and absently she nods in agreement. today's episode in fitness has come to an end, she's cold once the sweat starts to dry and heat just continues streaming from her body in vaporous tendrils. clarke will even lead the charge towards the elevator that will bring them under cover from the (treacherous, evil) rain and down towards warmer, more populated levels of the ship.
and the second the descent starts — )
Please don't ever call me that. ( honest enough imploring, though escaping the rain doesn't lift the curse. this one hour time limit really is going to throw a wrench in the works of figuring out how to avoid horribly uncomfortable conversations like this, and until they do, more truths will slip through the cracks. this time at least, it's only a painfully honest showcase of self loathing. ) I hate it. I hate it so much, and everything I did to earn it.
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jinx had been called powder and threatened to shoot friday. he called clarke wanheda and for the first time...
he'd never seen that look on her face before, it nearly stunned him. of course she is a young mortal girl but it's almost incredible how composed or fierce or in-control she tries to be at all times, and almost all of that crashed entirely when he said her name. on the bright side, it'd snap him out of flirtiness, even as they're both dripping wet and normally he'd be a little more distracted with that. ]
Mm, I understand. I didn't know. But, maybe I should have guessed being called a 'slayer' of anything couldn't be that positive. [ she came from a cruel world after all. it was careless of him but then again when is he not? ] Not to worry, let's simply keep each others' names safely secret. [ as he follows her down, footsteps light, rain dripping off the edge of his cloak. he wonders briefly about whether he could offer it to her maybe just to dry off with, or is that too familiar a gesture or what? he really has to try to be careful around her. at least actions aren't subject to impulse truth. ]
You know... I'm curious about your world and life and story. [ whoops, this is probably something he should hold back from admitting until after a bit of time, to cool it from saying it just now, the name she hates. but maybe a tangent is all right if this counts as that? ] I'm a bard so~ I'll admit as far as I'm concerned, everybody has a unique and song-worthy story to tell, I'd be interested in learning about each one if only I were able. I'm certain this is true for you. You, especially...
I know Mizuki introduced me to you as a source of information. I've probably told more about myself to the both of you than nearly anybody else on the ship except maybe Jinx. [ w h o o p s did not mean to say that either, but oh well. ] It's a little funny, for me... I'd rather not say that much about myself at all. That you know more about me than I know about you is almost unfair! I wonder if we could balance the scales even a little somehow, someday.
[ all this to say, he simply wants to know more about her. that interest could totally be platonic. 100% friendly curiosity. ]
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but ultimately, this is her own mountain of distrust to navigate. and if he did open his big mouth and let it slip, it's not like wanheda has any control over here except maybe making her cry. clarke lets venti just talk himself in casual looping circles for a short while, but at the voiced desire to know more about her homeworld, she just gives a shrug of the shoulders. )
There isn't a lot to tell. Fell to Earth, lost people, bled and fought over land and for the right to exist, went to war over and over again, and in the end none of it even mattered because the world ended. ( even more doggedly, a shake of her head, wet strands of hair slapping softly against her cheeks. ) I only had a year on the ground, Venti. That's not going to compare to your... what, centuries of existence?
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I'm flattered that you think me that! I still have my lovely boyish charm, I see~ [ probably because he hadn't changed form for literally-- ] Two thousand years more than that might be more accurate but maybe I'm just that youthful at heart!
Time itself, living itself for so long brings an erosion to the self that's damnably natural, in my world and probably across realities. [ maybe it shouldn't be an ordeal to someone inhuman. maybe the problem comes when one might be so fond of humans, befriend and get so attached to them and then-- ] But how fiercely and earnestly people live and strive through their life. How creative they can be! Inventing song and art and wine. Then how easily they pass and die... then I just move on, travel across countries, meet more people. It seems I can't help it if I like you so very much and easily.
[ by 'you' he means humanity at large, but ugh these truths really are pouring looser from him, unexpectedly, freely. this really would bite him in the ass when the hour is up... he normally is more secretive about this. but maybe the farther they go from the topic of her name, the better. ]
I think even a year of a person's life could rival a century of mine in worth, I really do. That's why I like learning about people. Even your story so full of hardship and tragedy... it must have been struggle beyond imagining, even to me. Maybe your world really will end and there's nothing to be done. Maybe it's a tale without the barest hope of a good ending.
But you're here now, like providence, appearing here in another realm as questionable as this is. Maybe it's not the end for you. Something can change, right?
[ like a miracle. what gods wrought. ]
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all of these being things she'd been taught as a patchwork sort of history. to live long enough to see them all from infancy to full blown ideas sounds... daunting. to live dozens of lives, grow attached to people and watch them die over and over and over — on the battlefield or safe in their own beds at an old age seems... cruel. death had only touched her in the last two years of her life, and often times that felt like too much to bear.
she has... questions.
aren't you tired of that? the cyclical heartbreak of loss.
aren't you tired? of having to press on after everything you loved has died?
but again venti goes from baring the stitching over his own emotional wounds to tugging on hers, and clarke feels more compelled to rebuke his optimism than chip away at the makeup of his soul. )
This isn't providence, this is purgatory. It wasn't divine intervention that brought us all here, it was one man's selfish quest to become like you.
( only, the rebuttal escalates. )
Only the Captain's got no love for humanity. He doesn't care about our stories, our hurts, or our sacrifices past whatever power they provide him. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to wake up in another realm either. Especially not to just be faced with the options of being the suffering puppet of a sadist, or fight against the inevitable — at all cost — until I lose whatever scrap of humanity I have left in me.
( she doesn't mean to be yelling at him, but the volume and intensity in her words keep building and building until suddenly she is. there's nothing productive to do with her hands, but the urge to lash out and punch a wall is rising. maybe to spike her water bottle so aggressively into the ground the cap bursts off and further soaks both their feet. but for now, clarke just white knuckles the bottle and gestures sharply in the air with every single point. cracks in her compartmentalization appeared the second he repeated back her title, and now they're just branching out further like spiderwebs. )
But that's where we are! The only difference is I don't know what the hell I'm doing this time. If I did get to choose, between this tortured afterlife and dying alone on a burning planet knowing my friends stood a chance of making it, I'd pick —
( oh shit here comes the unfortunate truth again, because clarke means to say death, each and every time, but. venti is ultimately correct, things can and have changed. and instead of a strained loved poem to suicidal ideation and a tired resignation to death, what bubbles over clarke's lips is a list. )
Natsuno.
And Bellamy, every time.
And Mizuki, and you, and Darcy, and Palamedes, and Fio and Darlington and Diana and — ( what is happening right now? this is the horrible sort of self realization that she even catches as it's spilling out of her but has no real power to stop. ) — even Jade and Friday, Rita Mordio, maybe even Stede Bonnet and Jinx, and — god dammit!
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it's like sitting in a garden and befriending and being attached to flowers, growing and blooming beautifully, then wilting and dying and he still remained there. with a lapful of fading petals and memories of every blossom he met and traveled with and sang to and loved in some way and they are gone. jinx will be gone, clarke will, mizuki will... all of them, within a century or so at most.
but he can't stop caring, even if it's tiring.
and it seems clarke might understand, on a more mortal scale. his smile is softly understanding, if--tired, the weight of years, ages. ]
That's exactly what I feel, too. [ you know what that is for her? growth. ] Exactly so... you said that when death is meaningless, life is worthless, you know I disagreed with that but perhaps you know now, you do too don't you?
If this is purgatory, even if we're all here for some attempted-divine punishment or simply energy for that Captain, isn't it a miracle that we've met some of the most remarkable sinners here? I think, actually, it's a miracle for any of us to meet at all. Out of the infinite realities, we were spirited away here. At the height of my power I would never have been able to meet you or Jinx or Mizuki no matter where I travel or where the winds blow. Even if the Captain doesn't care about us, I do... and you do, and surely all of us do, for each other.
If that care can be stronger than the death and suffering, even through the struggle... I think that would be greater than any divine providence. And you don't need gods to care, that's something I've always admired about people like you. [ he had been mindless, careless wind. it took a single humble bard to teach him about music, love, the world--
the wind wraps around clarke, warm and with that faint scent again of a foreign flower.
and then his cloak also goes around her. well, let's try to dry her. and it'd provide a maybe-more comfortable layer between them when his arms go around her too, the embrace from one god that cares if the attempted-god captain doesn't. ]
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