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cultor2025-12-01 02:51 pm
(CLOSED) Show Me What You've Lost
What: An irreconcilable concept of love
When: JAWS | (The Dream, December)
Warnings: Forsaken's warnings apply; drowning, abandonment.
I will be pretty low-key this month but if you would like me somewhere please pm this journal or reach out to me at
[ It is the third time he has woken in the water. It is the third time he has inhaled on new instinct and found not air, but liquid filling his lungs, stinging, wrong, reaching to settle into spaces it is not meant for.
And like any good animal with pattern recognition staring down a familiar trauma, he panics. His heart pounds, loud in his ears and heavy against burning lungs. Adrenaline washes into his veins, surges in too-thin muscles that thrash on impulse in the brain's desperate bid to get the useless flesh around it to do something, anything to make it right. You'll die, fool.
But he doesn't die, not this time. There is no blessed darkness to wash over him, to push him. Somewhere, as if watching from above himself, he realizes this time, too, is a dream.
The Forsaken's mind does not calm so much as resign itself. His heart, animal and wild, takes longer to soothe. But he stops fighting, stops vainly flailing in the ocean that both lifts and weighs on him. He stops inhaling water, and somehow finds air, instead. And then, he notices the lights.
He drifts close to one, more current than intent. It leans towards him, curling in invitation. It beckons. A fingertip touches. A familiar silhouette, distinct with scale and point and arrow. A familiar smile. I like you. The tendril coaxes him deeper. And then, it leaves like a shadow beneath the moon. Perhaps it, too, is sure of what it wants, and leaves behind the creature that is less sure.
Another light finds him, and though the Forsaken is hesitant to reach out, another smile finds him, a blindfold, a charmingly self-deprecating sense of humor. A sense of justice, of duty. The scent of dust and emptiness giving way to something warmer and lived in. The tendril hovers as though protective, and it, too, guides him deeper.
What finds him next is not one filament, but a mass of them. They are not tentative or coy in their beckoning. One binds tight around his ankle, pulsing with the light of a memory long forgotten.The day is clear, as most days are. The sky is brilliant in its hue, and clouds drift, fluffy and unhurried, across it. The Wind is in a good mood - who wouldn't be, on a day like today? - and carries the warmth of the sun in a gentle caress across skin and rustling the field below, lush with tall grass and a prismatic array of wildflowers.
The Forsaken tugs his ankle free with a flagging sense of determination, even as another tendril reaches for his wrist. Another follows, winding about his waist.
Here, in a time where he was not yet the Forsaken, when he did not yet know his purpose, the youngest of the gods lays with his head in the lap of a giant of a man. The Scholar looks more tired these days, his pale eyes flickering line by line across the pages of a tome dwarfed by his great hand. Rain, too, has a book, but it is laid open across his stomach, and his own eyes are watching the other man. The god takes notice and smiles at him.
"Is it not to your liking?" the man asks, the rich baritone of his voice rumbling with so soft a tone. "It's not that," Rain answers with a smile.
They talk about everything and nothing at all. The Scholar's free hand idly strokes his hair, or simply rests against his crown, solid and warm. The contentment the youngest god feels comes from a sense of belonging that has always been there, that has never been contested.
Cradled in them, the Forsaken sinks. Above him, the filament that makes him think of fruit tea long stale, yet still cherished, continues to drift close. ]
no subject
That mindset had saved his life back in Altissia, and now it keeps him calm enough that upon realizing he's in the water, his mind goes straight to the thought that this must be another of Sleep's dreams. Of course, no mortal being can completely negate the survival instinct that screams they can't breathe in water, but Ignis makes the transition more easily than others might in the same situation. After all, logic tells him that they will be of little use to Sleep if they all drown within the first few minutes of this dream.
Finding a way to move forward through the dream? Well, the answer to that question comes more slowly. With his vision gone, everything remains black even once the filaments begin glowing. When one brushes his wrist and causes a memory to pop into his mind, he jerks his wrist away though the memory lingers:
This is not the first time they have snuck out after dark nor will it be the last. Noctis is still struggling to remember all the secret passages that line the halls of the Citadel, but Ignis has had them memorized for years. He turns and gives his dark-haired partner-in-crime a mischevious smile that most would find odd upon his face and puts a finger to his lips reminding the young prince to stay quiet. Most of the Citadel's residents have likely retired to their quarters, but there are always guards around. There are always members of the Kingsglaive around too, and they are much harder to detect than the normal guards are.
Noctis covers his mouth to muffle a giggle and they slip from the hallway near their rooms to the first of the secret passages that will lead them up to the very top of the Citadel where they can get a clear view of the many stars that light the night sky. Noctis' hand is warm in his and he gives it an excited squeeze. There is suppose to be a meteor shower tonight which means this covert trip up to watch the stars will be even more exciting than the ones before.
The memory fades, though the warmth of the affection Ignis holds for Noctis--growing strong even back then--doesn't. It's the heartbreaking reminder that Ignis has seen Noctis so many times in these dreams and yet his friend has never been there when he awakened that finally drives it away. No, of course, he doesn't really want Noctis in this terrible place, but he does miss him. After all, the last time Ignis saw him as his vision burned away, the young king was unconscious on the ground.
Determined not to let himself linger on the past when he is so uncertain of the dangers of this dream, Ignis pushes it away and instead focuses on the area around him. He reaches out with all his senses--and across the Murmur--looking for any bit of information that might answer the questions swirling in his mind. At first, he gets a lot of nothing, but as he keeps searching he feels a tug both from without and within.
It's Rain. Ignis would recognize the warmth, safety, and comfort that emanates from the god anywhere. It's so similar to the feeling he gets when he thinks of Noctis, and yet it's nothing like that at all.
Unconsciously, his fingers drift over the now healed cut where he sliced his palm to make the offering he did to Sleep hoping it would help lift her wrath from Rain, and an instance later he is moving, searching for the source of that tug he just felt.
Eventually, he thinks he's found Rain, but it's so hard to tell without being able to see. He just knows now that feel has gone from a tug to an all encompassing warm hug. He doesn't realize it, but he stops just next to the filament that Rain has associated with him when calls out across the Murmur.]
Rain, can you hear me?
no subject
It is only just before he hears a familiar voice in his mind that he realizes it isn't the strand, but his tether with — ]
Ignis? I'm here—
[ Rain extends his hand. Just as he reaches, a filament darts along his arm to seize him, twining their hands together.
One of Love's children faffs with the hem of the young god's robe for the umpteenth time, spreading it out so it drapes and fans prettily. Another smooths his hair, brushing most of it behind his back but leaving two tresses to frame his face.
The Forsaken's grip slackens in Ignis' hand. He doesn't remember this - he questions whether it was real at all. Why, then, would Sleep show it to him?A third daughter stands there, tapping her foot with a single fingertip pressed into her round cheek, as if that might give her the inspiration she's looking for. Her charge, the god sitting next to Rain and all but dwarfing him, holds an open book in his lap with a placid sort of smile and awaits judgment. "I- suppose its fine," she muses, only to change her mind and circle the Scholar like a songbird looking for an insect upon which to lunch - endearingly determined, but hardly imposing. Love's third daughter reaches up, and unbinds the ribbon in the older god's brunette tresses. She fans it out about his shoulders, circles him a second time, considers - and then circles back around once more to re-tie it. Then, she removes a dangling silver hair ornament for her own hair, and places it in his.
"Silver and gold don't really go together," another daughter says. "They do, just look!"
Rain doesn't really hear their good-natured bickering. His gaze is focused on the man next to him, a smile he can never quite help curving soft lips. The younger god's staring draws the Scholar's attention, and his smile widens, gentle, in turn. There is a swell of emotion in Rain, a love he has always known, always been sure of. A feeling of safety, of comfort - of belonging.
The sisters have left their charges, instead standing behind the shoulder of a goddess who sits at an easel, sketching in charcoal. "Aw," one of them cries, "it looks like a wedding portrait!"
Rain isn't sure what that means, but he thinks he likes the sound of it.
Had she shown it to Ignis, too? The way she had shown Ignis - and so many others - all the most miserable parts of himself? He doesn't notice the movement against the current, so bound as he is, but he feels the weight of the water growing heavier. ]
no subject
Ignis almost asks if the other man in the dream died, but he stops himself. The question is too blunt, especially since he's now been shown another of Rain's memories without permission. This one, perhaps, even more personal than the one before.
A spike of irritation at Sleep accompanies Ignis' words when he finally speaks.]
Bloody hell, I wish she would let us learn about each other's pasts in a normal way.
[Frustration vented, his voice becomes softer, gentler. It is concerned, but also supportive mimicking the way his hand tightens on Rain's when he feels the god's grip loosen.]
Now, I just found you. Don't go drifting away on me. Is it okay if I ask who that was? You seemed so happy with him.
[The question "Were you in love with him?" floats around Ignis' mind, but he doesn't ask it out loud. Love is such a complex thing he's coming to learn. Something he is struggling with himself, especially when it comes to love that is different from the familial love he feels for Noctis. He does see some similarities between what Rain seemed to be feeling toward the man in the memory and how he feels when he is around Rain himself, but is that love or just affection? Ignis doesn't have enough experience with it to be sure.]
no subject
And yet here they are.
He considers not answering, neither gripping Ignis' hand nor pulling away. ]
The Scholar. [ The emotions that slip through the tether are like bile in the throat, acrid. Normally the god tamps down on them as soon as they come, whether consciously or not, but this time it remains. Something swirls deeper: regret, loss, betrayal. He almost speaks again, but another filament curls along their arms.
It's raining, tonight. It rarely rains in the gods' realm, and never like this: torrential, angry. The Wind howls, as he has howled for years now. Beneath a gondola in an endless garden of flowers ruined by driving rain and pelting hail, the Scholar envelopes Rain's form with his own, chin atop the younger god's head. They hold each other as if it is the last time.
Rain gasps, choking on water that fills his lungs in a rush. No coherent words find their way across the Murmur, but the emotions that burst out through their tether - shock, outrage, a sense of violation so deep it burns - are plain enough in their meaning: that isn't what happened at all.It is the last time.
"What will happen to them?"
The Scholar exhales wearily, one great hand caressing the other's back. "They will die to the last. Many have already perished. That is why we must go to them, to aid those as we can. At least some may yet survive, then."
"But we cannot stop the Wind, or the Storm. We cannot stop War's calamities."
"I know. Still, we must do as we are able. Will you come with me?"
"Someone must talk sense into our family. There will be nothing left of either realm like this!"
"I fear they are beyond reason."
"I have to try!"
For a time, they sit in silence save for the torrent around them. The Scholar cradles Rain's face in his hand, and presses a kiss to his hair. "I cannot sway you?" he asks, his voice heavy with sadness. Rain shakes his head, a determined optimism sparking where the older god's resignation smothers. The younger god holds the Scholar's face in his small hands in turn, and musters a smile.
The Scholar bows his head, and Rain leans in to brush a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth, as if that might soothe the weight on his shoulders. "If anyone can save the humans while our family wars, it must be you, Holl. Go to them. I will make them see reason, somehow." The older god lifts his head again, and finds a small smile of his own. "And if any might ease our family's pain, it is you."
Finally, forceful and so wild as to be almost hysteric: ] He left me! Abandoned me!
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The betrayal. That emotion catches Ignis off guard, but before he can ask about it, he is hit by another memory. This one matches the mood of the first, but is so different from the emotions that come from Rain once it passes that Ignis feels like he's been punched in the gut. He doesn't know what is going on, but figuring it out will have to wait. Rain needs him.
Ignis pushes himself forward through the water as hard as he can, eventually wrapping his arms around Rain and pressing his head into the god's neck.]
You are here now. You're not alone anymore! Breathe, Rain. Don't let Sleep win this game!
[As Ignis holds onto Rain trying to calm him, a filament drifts in from where he had been wrapping around their waists. The memory that comes should be familiar. It is a memory within a dream of a dream. It's before the Abomination appeared. Before chaos; before death. The two of them stand before the mirrors in their ballroom best, but instead of just standing together, Rain's arm is wrapped around Ignis' waist and Ignis' head is resting against the god's. They are the very image of comfort, trust...]
Love?
[The word slips from Ignis' unconsciously. Is that it? Are these memories being twisted by the wishes, hopes, and dreams brought about by this strong emotion they both are trying so hard to figure out?]
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Not alone? Isn't he? Hadn't that silhouette been fleeting like an arrow, unwilling to linger for his own hesitation? Hadn't the one precious Lost, who blessed him with an offering at the risk of Sleep's ire, disappeared too? And the man Ignis has seen now, the Scholar - hadn't he gone? Hadn't he stayed away, among the humans he loved more than his own family? For centuries, and centuries, he had never come.
But he doesn't push away. As they drift in the water, grasped by the tendrils that glimmered soft and deceptive, another memory finds him, not quite true but-
Something miserable trembles with wretched recognition in their tether. Rain breathes, unsteady but slow, paced. His arms wrap around Ignis in turn, one hand cradling the other's head against the crook of his neck. He isn't alone. He hasn't been alone, save for his own inability to see... ]
Ignis—
[ He doesn't want Sleep to win, either, but he cannot tell which way is up, can see no surface which to breach. At least if he keeps his wits about him, he does not feel as if he is drowning. In Sleep's dreamscape, boons must be taken no matter how small. ]
If these memories are love, then love is only foolishness, a willful ignorance awaiting a broken end. Yes - yes, I suppose that is what love is, anyway.
[ How many Lost had come to him, once deeply in love or perhaps in love still, only to have their hearts shattered like so much glass? Love had been the first to die in the Godswar, and how quickly their children abandoned their purpose. ]
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There is no light without shadow. No life without death. If there was no pain in love, no loss, then how would you know you were in love?
[There is a moment's pause and then another memory is shown to Rain, but this one comes across their tether, so it is truth and no misguided fantasy. A well-dressed man with gray shoulder-length hair sits at an equally fancy desk covered in papers and files. He holds a picture in his hand and is gazing at it with a mixture of deep love and sadness on his face.]
I was bringing the king a report about how Noctis was fairing in school, and he must have forgotten when the meeting was to start. Perhaps, he didn't forget but just needed that moment to remember no matter what was going on. The picture he's holding is one of the few of his wife holding their baby. She died when Noctis was only an infant, but even though losing her scarred him deeply, he would never have given up the love they shared. He would have suffered anything for her and did suffer everything for their son.
[His voice grows soft, tearful even. Ignis never knew his father and in a way, the king had become an adopted father to him. Someone who he could look up to and trust like he did his uncle. Not that he would have ever dared to say as much.]
I pray they are together again now so the pain ends and they can just enjoy the love they deserve. We all deserve love like that, but none more so than those who have suffered because of it.
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Is Ignis speaking of the emotion one feels before the inevitable heartbreak? Even the memory he shares, of a man in love even when she has gone before to her death, is one of pain.
Slowly, arms still around the other, Rain's head drifts to Ignis's shoulder. ]
There is nothingness, after death, as there was before birth. Consciousness as it was in life does not persist. [ At least, that was how Quietus had once explained it to him. Human bodies returned to the earth, the energy of their consciousness, dispersed into the life of flora and fauna. ] If it did, why would love be different then? Why hope for love when it brings only pain, and pray that life persists after death to have that misery continue?
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Try for a moment to look at what I am telling from a place outside of the pain and loneliness you have suffered so long. What you describe is not the fate of mortals on my world. I know because the souls of our kings and queens have remained behind--delaying their passing into the Beyond--so they can aid the Chosen King when he comes to lift the darkness from our world.
[There is a pain in Ignis' heart for a moment as he realizes his emotional hope for King Regis can't have happened yet. No, Noctis' father has not passed to the Beyond to be with his beloved wife again but instead has joined the rest of his ancestors. Did that mean King Regis had seen him when he put on the ring? Had he been disappointed? Angered? Ignis can hardly remember what happened in his few moments before the Lucii. There had been many voices and there had been one. In the end, a deal had been made and a power loaned.
The deal just hadn't turned out how Ignis expected it to.
Ignis drags himself away from that line of thought. Things might be peaceful now aside from their conflicting emotions, but he is not foolish enough to believe it will stay that way. He and Rain need to find their way onto the next part of this dream and soon.]
Beyond the pain of this place it holds a lesson--a reminder. Things don't have to be the way we expect them to be. Love doesn't have to lead to pain. It can make a person stronger; it can stop them from being alone even when they are the only one in the room. There are so many things it can do. The pain is only a temporary part of the growth that follows.
[The words flow, though from where, Ignis isn't quite sure. He doesn't understand romantic love never having felt it before now, but he knows it is more positive than negative. Just because he never put much thought into it before meeting Rain doesn't change that.
Gently, he reaches up and tucks back some of Rain's hair behind his ear, his fingers brushing over the god's cheek as he does.]
Love gives the Forsaken a place to call home so he never has to wander alone again.
no subject
But he does try, when Ignis pleads for him to understand.
Only... he can't.
He can think of some handful of Lost, who had stumbled off their path and into his domain, who worried for those at home that they loved and who loved them in return. They had been fearful but hopeful, and for those few, the Forsaken had returned them home. Perhaps some humans could find a rare love that was wonderful, that when the pain didcome it only served to strengthen a bond already there. Perhaps he can believe that. The Lost deserve that.
But... ] and who would love the Forsaken? [ he asks, soft. His head tips, nuzzling into a touch achingly tender. ] It sounds wonderful, Ignis. But—
[ Somewhere beneath them - or above? - a black shadow slinks. The Forsaken's attention shifts to it. A warning vibrates in the connection between them, before a sense of resignation that he does not mean to let slip follows. He may not know what the creature is, but he knows its purpose: a predator, the same as the dream before. Whether to drown, or to be drained of all vitality, it is his fate to die. His fate for Sleep to pull from him all his miseries and shortcomings, to feed on them yet somehow leave them behind, too. Rain's grip relaxes and begins to slip. If he can disentangle himself enough from the strange lights, get far enough away from Ignis, perhaps the other man can escape.
But he remembers the other cradling him, the tears that fell. I don't like failing the people I care about. And I failed you.
The god inhales, audibly shaky so close to Ignis. But he remains steady. He doesn't find water, he finds the impossible air. His grip tightens again. The creature is still somewhere around them, not close but not far, either. They should be getting out, but Rain cannot tell where that might be. Really, he is barely thinking of it. It feels more important that they finish their conversation, as nonsensical as it may be. A factor of the dream, perhaps, as illogical as any (or maybe moreso, being in Sleep's realm). ]
I cannot help feel I am not meant for the love you describe.
no subject
He always finds a way. For good or for ill.
Rain's attention shifts then and that shift draws Ignis out of his thoughts like a snap. The god has seen something that he can't. Something dangerous, though that shouldn't be a surprise. Ignis knew there would be something dangerous here. It's the way Sleep works, but somehow he had forgotten it completely in lieu of focusing on their conversation.
When Rain begins to draw away, panic spikes like a shock across their tether. Ignis can't let him go! Not when there is danger around. The god has died for him once already. He won't let it happen again!
He prays it won't happen again...
It seems as if that prayer is answered for a moment at least when Rain's grip tightens and he stops moving away. Ignis can't help but tighten his grip a little in response. A silent, please stay with me is clear in his thoughts and motions though the words remain unsaid.
When Rain suddenly returns to their previous conversation, Ignis can't help but find himself confused. There is danger around. They should deal with it, but for some reason it feels like ignoring this conversation is the true danger. It makes no sense.
There is a moment of silence while Ignis turns his thoughts fully back to the conversation and then a gentle shake of his head.]
There are many who think that, me included. Love never really factored into my life before now. Everything I was revolved around my duty, but is it right I allowed that to be? I don't know. I should be more than just a tool, shouldn't I?
[Previously, these questions have been very hard to put into words. His own shadow had gone to great extremes to get him to even acknowledge the twinkle of truth behind them. Here, though, with Rain so close, the words finally flow free.]
I don't think we get to decide if we deserve love or not. I think it picks us when the time is right, and we are left to figure out how we move on from there knowing that whatever happens as a result we will never be the same again.