Who told you so, dilly dilly, Who told you so? ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, That told me so.
ouch is one of the most intimate, romantic ways to be close to someone else. The Town knows this very well -- the Town wants everyone to be as close as possible.
Perhaps that's why this bonding is so...aggressive.
Because you're in for quite the shock on this otherwise peaceful day when you brush against the next person on your path.
Maybe you're going out of your way to touch people. Maybe you've got a terrible urge to just see what's lurking in someone's heart. Maybe you trip over a conveniently placed rock -- whatever the cause, you're getting an up close and personal look into someone else's heart.
Welcome to Awash's eighteenth event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to make your own logs and posts for this event!
If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!
[ were he not in this predicament, berkut might have been amenable to sharing a thing or two. either way, that means nothing now as he doubles over. though there's nothing that he can do about the intangible force, he instinctively clutches at his chest.
[ whether that was the right answer or not, the hands still at his unpleasant response—they don’t disappear, but they aren’t trying to hurt him. they’re simply there, and dextera takes a step back. ]
…
[ he doesn’t want anything from berkut. he doesn’t need it. except, perhaps… ]
[ for a second, berkut spits in his mind, "what question?" before he recalls their discussion from mere moments ago. he strains to stand tall.
what kind of world does he want to live in?
isn't that obvious? ]
As next in line to the imperial throne, I've honed my skills all my life. It is my destiny to rule Valentia in due course. What other kind of world should I want? I've no time to waste on make-believe.
[ dextera may not understand the details of berkut’s life, especially not now when his heart is beating wildly at the comprehension that this is the sort of encounter that’s impossible to come back from, but he understands the essence.
to rule. for someone like berkut, power is absolute. ]
…
[ he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something with his voice, but just as he does, the darkness swallows them both with a lurch—probably a very real one, in berkut’s case, since he’s being held all the way until the point that they’re out.
back in chroma.
the light of the world outside burns in dextera’s eyes, compared to the true black of the place they just left.
[ berkut, on the other hand, comes back to chroma with a sharp intake of breath like a man desperate for air. he staggers in place, but quickly rights himself. when dextera comes into view, his expression morphs into one of utter disdain. ]
[ dextera is more than aware that he’s in trouble. even if berkut has no real authority to punish him here, that’s never stopped anyone before—and without guren, with the defense force in purgatory, it would be easy to… ]
Are you going to kill me?
[ oddly, he seems less scared about this possibility than anything he felt while they were inside his heart, even if his hands remain positioned defensively in front of him when his message is out there. he doesn’t understand what the strange exchange that just occurred was. truthfully, he doesn’t understand any of this. ]
As if that would be enough recompense for this . . . this insult.
[ a beheading wouldn't be enough! at this rate, he might very well pass out from all the rage bubbling inside him. a hair's breadth away from losing what tenuous grip he still has on his temper, he all but spits: ]
[ it would be better for both of them if berkut did pass out, honestly, but the angrier he gets—the calmer dextera finds himself becoming, not because he isn’t scared, but because this is all too familiar territory. the archangel, standing in front of him, hurling insult after insult because dextera is a fool utterly incapable of doing anything correctly, or learning from his mistakes. ]
[ if only there hadn't been the accursed hands. he hates the reminder; he hates that dextera, of all people, had to be the one to deliver it. the cheeky response doesn't help.
what happened to that meager display of strength from their last encounter? this is painful to watch.
he turns away sharply. ]
I had thought that you might have more self-respect than that. It seems I was mistaken. Begone from my sight!
[ that, too, is like the archangel. disappointment, maybe, that he isn’t fighting back? dextera isn’t sure. he doesn’t have the history with berkut that he does with the archangel, though, and it’s probably futile to read anything into it except what is most certainly a deep-seated disdain for his presence. ]
…
[ he should go. he should, but he finds himself reaching out anyway as if to get berkut’s attention one more time—just to get him to look. it’s not like he can ask for berkut to turn back, after all. ]
[ upon glimpsing the motion from the periphery of his vision, berkut angrily snaps his head back. but of course—his words carry no weight in this damned realm! order doesn't exist here! ]
Again? Was the first time not enough for you?
[ does dextera mean to devour him with that darkness this time? his entire body is as rigid as a bowstring, not trusting dextera to keep those filthy hands to himself. ]
[ dextera’s hand pauses before he actually touches berkut, which may be for the best considering it could get them both thrust into another heartscape, but he stops mostly for how tense berkut looks. is it just anger? ]
…does it hurt?
[ signed carefully, but the “it” has no particular subject. rather, the question is merely the meat of the sentiment. the sign itself, one hand, one finger twisting in the air like a nail driving upwards. is there pain? is berkut injured?
the non-answer is a kind of answer of its own, though, and dextera puts a little more distance between them as he reaches up to touch his throat. in a way, he’s surprised that berkut would ask. he’s very surprised that berkut is still standing here. ]
It was… taken from me. A long time ago.
[ that’s sort of an abstract response to a question that has a direct answer, though. ]
Getting it back was a gift. And now it’s gone again.
[ how pitiful. without a voice, a man must work thrice as hard to be heard.
there's a pregnant pause as he takes another moment to look at dextera, ike he's seeing him for the first time. then, with a quiet huff, he whirls around and makes his departure in long strides. ]
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ouch is one of the most intimate, romantic ways to be close to someone else. The Town knows this very well -- the Town wants everyone to be as close as possible.
no subject
gods, why hands? ]
I've nothing to give you.
no subject
…
[ he doesn’t want anything from berkut. he doesn’t need it. except, perhaps… ]
Please… answer my question.
[ what kind of world does berkut want? ]
no subject
what kind of world does he want to live in?
isn't that obvious? ]
As next in line to the imperial throne, I've honed my skills all my life. It is my destiny to rule Valentia in due course. What other kind of world should I want? I've no time to waste on make-believe.
no subject
to rule. for someone like berkut, power is absolute. ]
…
[ he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something with his voice, but just as he does, the darkness swallows them both with a lurch—probably a very real one, in berkut’s case, since he’s being held all the way until the point that they’re out.
back in chroma.
the light of the world outside burns in dextera’s eyes, compared to the true black of the place they just left.
he gasps, a sound a little more like a wheeze. ]
no subject
You.
no subject
Are you going to kill me?
[ oddly, he seems less scared about this possibility than anything he felt while they were inside his heart, even if his hands remain positioned defensively in front of him when his message is out there. he doesn’t understand what the strange exchange that just occurred was. truthfully, he doesn’t understand any of this. ]
no subject
[ a beheading wouldn't be enough! at this rate, he might very well pass out from all the rage bubbling inside him. a hair's breadth away from losing what tenuous grip he still has on his temper, he all but spits: ]
How pathetic can a man be?
no subject
…
[ how pathetic can a man be? ]
Keep going.
no subject
what happened to that meager display of strength from their last encounter? this is painful to watch.
he turns away sharply. ]
I had thought that you might have more self-respect than that. It seems I was mistaken. Begone from my sight!
no subject
…
[ he should go. he should, but he finds himself reaching out anyway as if to get berkut’s attention one more time—just to get him to look. it’s not like he can ask for berkut to turn back, after all. ]
no subject
Again? Was the first time not enough for you?
[ does dextera mean to devour him with that darkness this time? his entire body is as rigid as a bowstring, not trusting dextera to keep those filthy hands to himself. ]
no subject
…does it hurt?
[ signed carefully, but the “it” has no particular subject. rather, the question is merely the meat of the sentiment. the sign itself, one hand, one finger twisting in the air like a nail driving upwards. is there pain? is berkut injured?
is he suffering? ]
no subject
though now is a good time: he's got a question of his own. ]
What happened to your voice?
no subject
the non-answer is a kind of answer of its own, though, and dextera puts a little more distance between them as he reaches up to touch his throat. in a way, he’s surprised that berkut would ask. he’s very surprised that berkut is still standing here. ]
It was… taken from me. A long time ago.
[ that’s sort of an abstract response to a question that has a direct answer, though. ]
Getting it back was a gift. And now it’s gone again.
no subject
So it has.
[ how pitiful. without a voice, a man must work thrice as hard to be heard.
there's a pregnant pause as he takes another moment to look at dextera, ike he's seeing him for the first time. then, with a quiet huff, he whirls around and makes his departure in long strides. ]