Asato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walksonrooftops) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-07-26 09:02 am
walksonrooftops) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-07-26 09:02 am
(no subject)
CHARACTERS: Konoe & Asato
LOCATION: Their place, deck 1 room 88.
WARNINGS: None right now
SUMMARY: A post-training chat turns out just as you might expect of TQ's saddest cats
They did well today.
This afternoon's practice hadn't been dedicated to simple mastery of the sword, important as that is. There are times when it pays to spend an entire day simply growing more attuned to one another, learning to feel for the energy that thrums through the air in the gardens while the song escalates higher and higher. It's a call and a response that's a little stronger each time they try, the swing of his sword heavier when the the song bears down with it, the shift of his step swifter, his senses sharper, and through it all he's come to learn to act with Konoe, side by side, supporting one another.
When he tangles that wavelength with his own and matches it to the finest fluctuation, for however short such a match lasts, it's incredible--but the rush of force is quick to exhaust him, and by the time they're done, Asato's thrust his sword into the ground and rests his forearms against the cross-guard, head lowered and shoulders heaving through his gasps for breath. No better sign of a job well-done.
After a quick shower, he returns home with Konoe still at his side, glowing with quiet contentment and generous in his praise for his Sanga, spoken or delivered in bumps of his head against Konoe's shoulder. In their room, he lays his sword across his lap for inspection and, if needed, for a polish, but his attention to his task drifts all too soon as he remembers the song and everything it conveys, everything it means or could mean.
"I felt it more, this time." He looks up and to Konoe, still trying to sort through what, precisely, he felt. A song of battle is rarely light and ephemeral as laughter, but sometimes it's heavier with anger or sorrow or sheer determination, and he's not sure what it was now. Perhaps he shouldn't be concerned, but this is Konoe. It doesn't take much...
"More than any other practice we've had. I want to... I want to understand it more."
Understand him more, because for all they've shared and all they've confided, they still spent so much of their lives apart and have experienced much more than they can tell each other in the short time they've been together, no matter how much they might want to. And he does want to. He wants to try, at least, not just for the song or for his Sanga, but for this cat who's shown him so much. For Konoe.
The more he understands, the stronger he can stand when he raises his sword to protect what he treasures most. That's all the incentive he needs.
LOCATION: Their place, deck 1 room 88.
WARNINGS: None right now
SUMMARY: A post-training chat turns out just as you might expect of TQ's saddest cats
They did well today.
This afternoon's practice hadn't been dedicated to simple mastery of the sword, important as that is. There are times when it pays to spend an entire day simply growing more attuned to one another, learning to feel for the energy that thrums through the air in the gardens while the song escalates higher and higher. It's a call and a response that's a little stronger each time they try, the swing of his sword heavier when the the song bears down with it, the shift of his step swifter, his senses sharper, and through it all he's come to learn to act with Konoe, side by side, supporting one another.
When he tangles that wavelength with his own and matches it to the finest fluctuation, for however short such a match lasts, it's incredible--but the rush of force is quick to exhaust him, and by the time they're done, Asato's thrust his sword into the ground and rests his forearms against the cross-guard, head lowered and shoulders heaving through his gasps for breath. No better sign of a job well-done.
After a quick shower, he returns home with Konoe still at his side, glowing with quiet contentment and generous in his praise for his Sanga, spoken or delivered in bumps of his head against Konoe's shoulder. In their room, he lays his sword across his lap for inspection and, if needed, for a polish, but his attention to his task drifts all too soon as he remembers the song and everything it conveys, everything it means or could mean.
"I felt it more, this time." He looks up and to Konoe, still trying to sort through what, precisely, he felt. A song of battle is rarely light and ephemeral as laughter, but sometimes it's heavier with anger or sorrow or sheer determination, and he's not sure what it was now. Perhaps he shouldn't be concerned, but this is Konoe. It doesn't take much...
"More than any other practice we've had. I want to... I want to understand it more."
Understand him more, because for all they've shared and all they've confided, they still spent so much of their lives apart and have experienced much more than they can tell each other in the short time they've been together, no matter how much they might want to. And he does want to. He wants to try, at least, not just for the song or for his Sanga, but for this cat who's shown him so much. For Konoe.
The more he understands, the stronger he can stand when he raises his sword to protect what he treasures most. That's all the incentive he needs.
no subject
There are times today when his song gives a dissonant jolt - only to recover, his will for it not to break entirely, Asato's own calls back, strong enough to keep him on his feet until the end. But they happen, and exhaustion isn't the only thing keeping his eyes down on their trek home, his press to his Touga's side feeling vital.
He isn't afraid anymore of not being in sync, their bond the likes of which he can feel distantly, floors away. But thoughts have shoved their way into his vision lately, and finding himself troubled even during training when no real threat exists, has left his hands cold and shaking as they return and recover.
Konoe's quiet at rest, saying little as he settles down, listening to Asato at work with a soft smile just knowing he's here. But the song he needs no effort to sound, simply reaching out from his heart until it meets one other, is more dense than usual even now.
When he hears Asato speak he opens his eyes again, shut moments ago while he sat thankful for a cool wall to rest his head against. He doesn't need to ask what it could be, but his gaze is steady, almost apprehensive.
"Was it that... different?"
no subject
But different doesn't get them very far, and Asato stays quiet for a moment after, tracing a claw's tip over the fine cracks that have crossed his sword long before he put it to use there. It's not an accusation he intends to cast at Konoe, just a gnawing concern over a little stumble he thinks he felt back there in the gardens, passing but striking when surrounded by such fierce harmony, a sudden but fleeting loss of the foothold he'd felt so secure with before.
The song brings the Sanga and Touga closer together, body and soul. This much he knows and has experienced often, in glimpses of joy or pain that were not his own--not for long. It's often a blessing, when he can close his eyes and sense that Konoe is nearby, or when he can keep from speaking because all he needs to do is feel, but when its undercurrents run thick and cold and shrill, he can't pretend he doesn't hear.
It could have been a lapse in attention and nothing more, neither of them perfect in their grasp of the song's magic. Or it could've suddenly come on in too powerful a burst, too quick to bring him to exhaustion after. But he's not willing to risk leaving it at that without so much as asking.
After a few seconds of thought, he sets his sword aside and gets up to have a seat next to Konoe, head slightly ducked, still-damp hair sticking to his forehead, and his tail quickly finds its companion, just as it always does.
"It's still like that, now. It feels like pressure...here." He lifts a hand to gesture between his heart and his throat, at the lower edge of his jumpsuit's collar. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
no subject
He just wants to find the right words to tell, to apologize for letting himself falter in what could have been a critical moment....
Maybe that's the problem, the recent could-haves and might-haves he's tried again and again to banish. Still, Asato's question manages to give him some ease. Hurt isn't quite how he wants to put it, he can take comfort in being at least mostly honest, "No... but. I thought of things I don't want to."
Of course thoughts can feel painful, even if it's all in one's head.
He twists their tails together, not minding the slight cold of drying fur, and he takes Asato's raised hand into his own. Just to hold it, just to take it away from there so he can look at something else.
"I didn't know it would do this to you."
no subject
As much as his words begin in a flustered hurry, he reins it in quickly, lips drawn tight as his own ears follow Konoe's downward fold.
Instead of finishing that sentence, he squeezes the hand that's taken hold of his own, uncertain of what, exactly, it isn't. It's not Konoe's fault, that much he knows for sure. Nothing he ought to be punished or reprimanded for, even if Asato had it in him to punish or reprimand. And ultimately it's not about him, it's merely what he feels coming from Konoe, what he's seen in him on their way back here and what he senses even now, sitting so close beside him.
"Don't worry about me."
In the end, Konoe's too important for him to refuse to take the bad with the good, but more than anything he wants to know if he can help him somehow, if there's anything he can do to put the Sanga's mind at ease. Konoe would do--has done--the same for him.
"What did you think of?" His question is quiet and a little hesitant, clearly colored with worry but not demanding, simply offering Konoe the chance to share what's been on his mind if he wants to. He wants to hear about everything, even about the could-haves, the doubts and the fears, so that he might know where he must stand guard, what he needs to cradle with gentle hands, close and safe. No matter the answer, he bumps his forehead to Konoe's shoulder, prepared to soothe in silence if he must.
"I'll listen, if you want to tell me."
no subject
He wants to do things like this for as long as he can, learn contours and colors he could lose any day. Because while he's known of death here, of disappearances typical as appearances and reappearances, somehow, Rai... a piece of home, a cat who isn't simply lost or left asleep in the Med Bay, a cat who sure as hell wouldn't be killed without a bloodbath in the process -
It isn't impossible that could have happened. The way it wasn't impossible that Asato could be stopped - even momentarily, that heart-stopping noise from months ago still enough to scare him out his dreams. Konoe breaks his own rules to confess it.
"... I'm scared, Asato." Of what a different impact would have done, of what it would feel like if - if, he can't bear anything else - their bond is ever severed in half. Perhaps foolishly his own safety is hardly on his radar, his eyes focused on nothing but the cat in front of him when they rise. "I do worry about you. Since then."
He frees his hand to move one to Asato's shoulder, not seeing, but knowing exactly where his scar is. "Since a couple of things."
But adding so makes him feel better already, somehow, if only a little. So the love of his life's been shot, poisoned, and nearly assassinated at least twice... maybe he doesn't have to fret over every thing. But there's still a part of him that feels he could do so much better, and though his expression is less pained after these reassurances, it remains concerned in return.
"I still want to protect you... more than anything."
no subject
He lowers his head slightly, not quite in a nod, but it's an agreement all the same. He's scared too, sometimes. Or often--there's so much out here that frightens him. Possibilities and chances, miscalculations that come down to millimeters, to the slightest twitch in the wrong direction. He could have a lot more to show from their latest scare than the scar on his shoulder and the slight stiffness that remains in his arm.
It could've been over in an instant if their aim was more true. He could've spent moments feeling the song flicker out of existence like the last embers of a dwindling flame, and all he can think is that he can't let Konoe hurt like that. Just considering it makes him uneasy, a hard swallow keeping him from speaking when it sparks into his mind and is quickly banished from it again.
He will never, ever, ever--no, he won't allow it, he can't...
But he was scared when Konoe brought the outside world into his small sphere of being, too.
He's still breathing, still fighting, and he knows more than he did a year ago, he's stronger and more confident with the power of their song. They've survived so much, because surviving is what cats do--he knows what was vanishing from the minds and hearts of the cats of Sisa, and now that he's felt it he'll give all he has to protect it.
"I worry about you too," he admits, quietly but without shame. Bruises, scrapes, black eyes and torn lips, seeing these on Konoe were enough to drive him to vicious fury. He doesn't even want to consider what he'd have done if things had been worse.
"And I want to protect you. I will." Though it's not always easy. Brows furrowing, he drops a hand to Konoe's side, palm pressed to a set of scars whose origins still send a sharp ache through his heart. "Don't be scared. You've always protected me, so I won't be scared either."