[ He just has the vibe, you know... The older man vibe. Tatara wants to respect that somehow, and just calling him plain Solomon feels weird. Maybe he'll call him sensei one day, but uncle sounds so much nicer (and more fun).
Tatara tilts his head. ]
Sure.
[ He steps to the side, gesturing into his cluttered, but cozy room. ]
[ Solomon might not sit, but Tatara goes ahead and makes himself comfortable on his very neatly-made bed. He draws his knees up in front of his chest and rests his chin on them.
Ah, his first report of concerns. Good thing he's taking mental notes. ]
Mmm. Yeah, Mika-chan asked me about it at the ball, too.
[ He hums, closes his eyes. ]
I told people where I could, but I guess word hasn't gotten around, huh? I should probably make an announcement sooner than later, I guess...
[ His tone isn't defensive, or sarcastic, or dismissive at all. There's a quiet gravity to it, like he realizes he's let time pass too far for him to put a reminder out now. ]
Thanks, Solomon. [ No jokey titles or anything. Suddenly, sage mode. ] I'll do something as soon as I can.
Please. I'm very concerned it's going to be too late for some of them. [There's so many kids... there's so many kids who already have to adapt so harshly. Kids who would be sitting ducks without magic.]
I've already asked our dear mentor, but it seems he wasn't quite thorough, either. I'd really like to not halve our number.
[ Tatara folds his hands in front of his mouth. Mm. He doesn't like worrying, and he doesn't usually worry at all. Too late? He doesn't think it will be. How many promises can one make in just a handful of weeks, anyway?
Tatara wonders how many promises he's made in his own lifetime. ]
I know. I got it. [ He peers up, and smiles. ] You don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.
[He holds Tatara's expression at that, as though challenging whether the young man truly means it or not.
The last time someone told him that, they'd...
...
He quietly lets out a breath he wasn't entirely aware he'd been holding, slowly walking over to Tatara's bed to plop to a seat at the edge of the mattress.]
[ He just watches Solomon as he approaches, keeping his potato-like stance as the mattress rocks when he joins him.
But instead of any sympathy, or apology, Tatara just laughs at that. Not in a mocking way, or in a derisive way. Worried? That feels like high praise, and a luxury. And so to him, it feels like Solomon has just told him a delightful little story. ]
Why?
[ He didn't say, "I'm still worried." He said, "You worry me." There's got to be a difference, right? ]
Your attentiveness. Or, rather, the concerning absense of it.
[He's seen it a few times now. A memory that seems to come and go as it pleases, a lack of urgency and response unless prodded from an outside source.]
I know what position you're in because I have been lucky enough for you to tell me. And I believe you when you say you wish to make things right.
But are you aware of how you're coming across to those around you right now?
[ Tatara knows something that Solomon doesn't, and that his king is not a role model. He looked up to him in many ways, but he knew his behavior wasn't one he wanted to emulate.
So, please excuse the smile cracking across his face, despite the serious conversation. ]
If he couldn't ignore it, then he'd burn it to the ground. He'd leave no blood, no bone, no ash.
[ He sighs. ]
I'm not like that, and I know that's not a good example.
[ The shelf is full of knick-knacks, books, several mini statues, a plant, and an unopened bottle of bourbon.
Maybe he can change. If he wanted to. He's doing what he has to, but it's difficult for him to find the depths in his heart to show that he cares in the way people want him to. He treats his wizards like Homra and is surprised they want better leadership. He was never a leader, but despite everything here working against him, he's trying.
Probably not enough for everyone else, though. ]
I guess you could say that.
[ He offers an awkward smile. There's a shallowness to his happiness here, much in the way Ginger might have described many days ago. ]
I don't think I can go back, if I manage to find a way to send everyone home. I already gave him my goodbyes.
[Goodbyes? But the sage rotated, didn't it? There was no evidence that a sage couldn't return to their home - the library itself was evidence enough to the contrary.
Was this just simple discouragement? A defeatist streak despite what he'd told Solomon at the start? But why wouldn't he...
...
His question, when it finally comes, is cautious.]
Tatara isn't sure how to go about this. Jing Yuan knows, but he thinks the other man sensed it, in general, from the way he spoke. Lazuli knows, because he was there to save him from bleeding out. No one else knows. ]
I'm...gone. Even if I were returned to my world at the very moment I was taken...
[ He remembers the cold, winter air. The blurring stars, Kusanagi's distant yelling over the phone. ]
He says it so casually. The same tone, the same detached smile, the same worrying lack of spark in his eyes.
No wonder life advice wasn't quite hitting its mark. What was life advice to one who was living only on the unsteady sands of borrowed time?]
Tatara...
[Reminders of the fragility of life never got easier. To come to terms with it in a graceful way was a luxury. The fear of death was so innately human.
Does Solomon truly prefer it, then, that his heart still constricts with sorrow? Does he feel more human when the cruelty of fate digs out holes of absence that cannot be filled?
Would the Father have any mercy left?
He's so young. He's so, so young. Barely starting his life at his fullest.
To have this be all he has left before his soul is taken... no wonder he said he didn't have a choice.
...]
How hard it must be, to keep a smile regardless...
[How much of this joy was genuine? Did Tatara even want the genuine to be seen anymore?]
[ Oh, he hates the way his name sounds when Solomon says it like that. This is why he never really wanted to tell anyone. He is fine, really, in the grander scheme of things, and the threat literally hanging over their head means he and the others don't really have the time to dwell on these things.
The moment he hears it, he dips his head into his arms, crossed over his knees. For the second time in as many days, he finds himself spilling tears over the life he left behind. Though he finds the crack of emotion not to be so much of a deluge this time, but a small leak through a crack.
He loved his life, he still loves his life. A lot of his joy is genuine, a part of him is delighted that he gets to be a part of another world, even if it is for a short time. But that doesn't make missing the people and places he left behind hurt any less.
He nods at the question, lifts his head, and wipes at the tears skirting his eyelids. ]
He was there to stop the bleeding when I came here. [ He chuckles a little at the memory, because who looks at a guy and says "blue" as a way to say hi? ] Without him, I probably wouldn't have survived.
[He really was taken that close to death... would he go home to everything completely reversed?? It makes sense to avoid a paradox, but...
...
The crack in the young man's countenance hits him like an arrow despite how he sees it coming a mile away. His hand reaches out, a gentle touch against one of Tatara's arms. God, how unfair life could be...
As Tatara rights himself, Solomon retreats his touch with a soft beckoning motion of his hand, his arm held slightly open.]
[ Tatara lifts his gaze to Solomon at the touch. He holds eye contact there for a moment, pausing in the offer, and...
He can't help it. His brows knit upward and the corners of his mouth pull downward, and a fresh deluge of tears spill past the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. He scoots forward, and promptly presses his face into Solomon's shoulder.
He isn't sure what he has to be sad about anymore, at this point. But maybe he's reached a point where the grief just comes, and it hits hard. It's been more than a month—maybe now it's just settling in that he'll never see Homra again...
[Even in the span between life and death, humanity remained.
It's why he doesn't interrupt. He doesn't soften the moment with pleasantries, or tell him that it would be okay, or give reassurances to finding another way. Those aren't things he can promise. Those aren't things that are fair to the reality that Tatara is facing.
The fear - the inevitability - of death. Something so, so human.
With gentle motions, Solomon presses a hand to the back of Tatara's hair, as the other slips to rest against his back and pull him close. It's a relief, sure, to see the complexities of one's personhood still hanging on, bending and cracking to show the depths of the heart. But it doesn't make it any less painful, or the fear any less of a monster.
So he holds his Sage, a quiet hushing between deep breaths the only answer to the weeping.
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You really are determined to make sure I'm your senior, huh?
Fine, fine, that will do. Unless you'd prefer to call me Sensei.
[He glances at Tatara's current pajama get up, tiredly crossing his arms in front of him.]
I'm sorry to interrupt, but I do have something I think I need to ask about.
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Tatara tilts his head. ]
Sure.
[ He steps to the side, gesturing into his cluttered, but cozy room. ]
Wanna come in and sit?
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This won't take too much time. It's just come up with both Mika and Akira now, and I have some concerns.
[He crosses his arms in front of him.]
I'd like to know when you were planning on telling the collective group about the risks of making promises.
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Ah, his first report of concerns. Good thing he's taking mental notes. ]
Mmm. Yeah, Mika-chan asked me about it at the ball, too.
[ He hums, closes his eyes. ]
I told people where I could, but I guess word hasn't gotten around, huh? I should probably make an announcement sooner than later, I guess...
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You're aware that the wizards under your care may very well lose their magic out of ignorance if they don't know this, correct?
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[ His tone isn't defensive, or sarcastic, or dismissive at all. There's a quiet gravity to it, like he realizes he's let time pass too far for him to put a reminder out now. ]
Thanks, Solomon. [ No jokey titles or anything. Suddenly, sage mode. ] I'll do something as soon as I can.
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I've already asked our dear mentor, but it seems he wasn't quite thorough, either. I'd really like to not halve our number.
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Tatara wonders how many promises he's made in his own lifetime. ]
I know. I got it. [ He peers up, and smiles. ] You don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.
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The last time someone told him that, they'd...
...
He quietly lets out a breath he wasn't entirely aware he'd been holding, slowly walking over to Tatara's bed to plop to a seat at the edge of the mattress.]
You worry me regardless, Tatara.
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But instead of any sympathy, or apology, Tatara just laughs at that. Not in a mocking way, or in a derisive way. Worried? That feels like high praise, and a luxury. And so to him, it feels like Solomon has just told him a delightful little story. ]
Why?
[ He didn't say, "I'm still worried." He said, "You worry me." There's got to be a difference, right? ]
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[He's seen it a few times now. A memory that seems to come and go as it pleases, a lack of urgency and response unless prodded from an outside source.]
I know what position you're in because I have been lucky enough for you to tell me. And I believe you when you say you wish to make things right.
But are you aware of how you're coming across to those around you right now?
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Not something he hasn't heard before. He's glad Solomon cares enough to tell him, and that's all he can really ask for. ]
Like I don't care. Cold, and empty? Heartless?
[ He chuckles quietly, and nestles into his own potato stance. ]
I know. I'm sorry. I just don't know how to show it.
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Sometimes the best way to learn is to watch the people we admire.
[And he knows Tatara has at least one of those. One that's very, very prominent.]
What about this King of yours?
How does he treat his problems? Do you feel that he cares when people tell him things?
no subject
So, please excuse the smile cracking across his face, despite the serious conversation. ]
If he couldn't ignore it, then he'd burn it to the ground. He'd leave no blood, no bone, no ash.
[ He sighs. ]
I'm not like that, and I know that's not a good example.
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[Well, points to Tatara for having self awareness about it, at least!]
Well, outside of him, then. Is there other people you look up to?
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[ His eyes flit to a shelf behind Solomon, then back to him. ]
He was like a mom. We'd usually split caring for the guys, but he was stricter than I was.
[ A more serious, pensive look crosses his face, and his gaze drifts again in thought. ]
I try to emulate him, sometimes. But the way he did things doesn't really mesh with my personality...
[ And Tatara is, unapologetically, himself. ]
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Maybe there are things that can challenge us, even if we don't think it meshes. Change takes some work.
[But, more immediately:]
Have you been separated from Kusanagi-san?
[Was. Did. Would. Words that hint to the past rather than the present. Was this person no longer a part of Tatara's life?]
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Maybe he can change. If he wanted to. He's doing what he has to, but it's difficult for him to find the depths in his heart to show that he cares in the way people want him to. He treats his wizards like Homra and is surprised they want better leadership. He was never a leader, but despite everything here working against him, he's trying.
Probably not enough for everyone else, though. ]
I guess you could say that.
[ He offers an awkward smile. There's a shallowness to his happiness here, much in the way Ginger might have described many days ago. ]
I don't think I can go back, if I manage to find a way to send everyone home. I already gave him my goodbyes.
no subject
[Goodbyes? But the sage rotated, didn't it? There was no evidence that a sage couldn't return to their home - the library itself was evidence enough to the contrary.
Was this just simple discouragement? A defeatist streak despite what he'd told Solomon at the start? But why wouldn't he...
...
His question, when it finally comes, is cautious.]
Why wouldn't you be able to go home?
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Tatara isn't sure how to go about this. Jing Yuan knows, but he thinks the other man sensed it, in general, from the way he spoke. Lazuli knows, because he was there to save him from bleeding out. No one else knows. ]
I'm...gone. Even if I were returned to my world at the very moment I was taken...
[ He remembers the cold, winter air. The blurring stars, Kusanagi's distant yelling over the phone. ]
I'd probably only have a few minutes left.
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He says it so casually. The same tone, the same detached smile, the same worrying lack of spark in his eyes.
No wonder life advice wasn't quite hitting its mark. What was life advice to one who was living only on the unsteady sands of borrowed time?]
Tatara...
[Reminders of the fragility of life never got easier. To come to terms with it in a graceful way was a luxury. The fear of death was so innately human.
Does Solomon truly prefer it, then, that his heart still constricts with sorrow? Does he feel more human when the cruelty of fate digs out holes of absence that cannot be filled?
Would the Father have any mercy left?
He's so young. He's so, so young. Barely starting his life at his fullest.
To have this be all he has left before his soul is taken... no wonder he said he didn't have a choice.
...]
How hard it must be, to keep a smile regardless...
[How much of this joy was genuine? Did Tatara even want the genuine to be seen anymore?]
...
Does the mentor know?
no subject
The moment he hears it, he dips his head into his arms, crossed over his knees. For the second time in as many days, he finds himself spilling tears over the life he left behind. Though he finds the crack of emotion not to be so much of a deluge this time, but a small leak through a crack.
He loved his life, he still loves his life. A lot of his joy is genuine, a part of him is delighted that he gets to be a part of another world, even if it is for a short time. But that doesn't make missing the people and places he left behind hurt any less.
He nods at the question, lifts his head, and wipes at the tears skirting his eyelids. ]
He was there to stop the bleeding when I came here. [ He chuckles a little at the memory, because who looks at a guy and says "blue" as a way to say hi? ] Without him, I probably wouldn't have survived.
no subject
...
The crack in the young man's countenance hits him like an arrow despite how he sees it coming a mile away. His hand reaches out, a gentle touch against one of Tatara's arms. God, how unfair life could be...
As Tatara rights himself, Solomon retreats his touch with a soft beckoning motion of his hand, his arm held slightly open.]
Here. Come here.
no subject
He can't help it. His brows knit upward and the corners of his mouth pull downward, and a fresh deluge of tears spill past the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. He scoots forward, and promptly presses his face into Solomon's shoulder.
He isn't sure what he has to be sad about anymore, at this point. But maybe he's reached a point where the grief just comes, and it hits hard. It's been more than a month—maybe now it's just settling in that he'll never see Homra again...
He sobs. Sorry about the wet shirt, Solomon. ]
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It's why he doesn't interrupt. He doesn't soften the moment with pleasantries, or tell him that it would be okay, or give reassurances to finding another way. Those aren't things he can promise. Those aren't things that are fair to the reality that Tatara is facing.
The fear - the inevitability - of death. Something so, so human.
With gentle motions, Solomon presses a hand to the back of Tatara's hair, as the other slips to rest against his back and pull him close. It's a relief, sure, to see the complexities of one's personhood still hanging on, bending and cracking to show the depths of the heart. But it doesn't make it any less painful, or the fear any less of a monster.
So he holds his Sage, a quiet hushing between deep breaths the only answer to the weeping.
It's okay. It's okay, to feel this way.
No one rejoices at the throne of loss.]
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