[ 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.
[ There was one. One whose visage is captured in a scratched recording, reflected in a lens that did make it to this world. Though inaccessible, due to lack of power...
Tatara doesn't hate him, though. He only worries about his family, his king. He cries not for himself but because he doesn't know how his king will react, or how angry he'd be with him for being so careless. He liked the little bumps on the head when he was being silly, or the clicks of his tongue when Tatara did something he didn't like.
It turned out okay, for him, just like he always said it would. His life was happy, and he's found himself shunted to a world full of magic and wonder, a playground for a starry-eyed, curious creature like him. But it's hard not to miss the people who acted as his only anchor in his past life.
Solomon's comfort is appreciated. He's no King or Kusanagi, but having it, regardless, in a situation as strange as this is a blessing.
He inhales sharply, rubs his nose and eyes against his knees. The large wash of grief passes, and Tatara tries to gently pry himself from Solomon's hold. ]
Sorry... I'm pretty sure I got snot all over your shirt.
[There's a tightening in his chest at the thanks. Something protective, almost parental, digging its roots in so deep that they ache. He wishes there was more they could do. He knows there isn't. But a wish wasn't meant to be logical.]
I'm glad you're here as well, Tatara.
[With a gentle touch, he lifts his palm to rest against Tatara's hair.]
I'll treasure our time. No matter how long it lasts.
[He only hopes that he can take this man's story home with him. Perhaps to tell to Nightbringer, lest it be carved into the Fountain of Knowledge for eternity.
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no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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?]
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
Tatara doesn't hate him, though. He only worries about his family, his king. He cries not for himself but because he doesn't know how his king will react, or how angry he'd be with him for being so careless. He liked the little bumps on the head when he was being silly, or the clicks of his tongue when Tatara did something he didn't like.
It turned out okay, for him, just like he always said it would. His life was happy, and he's found himself shunted to a world full of magic and wonder, a playground for a starry-eyed, curious creature like him. But it's hard not to miss the people who acted as his only anchor in his past life.
Solomon's comfort is appreciated. He's no King or Kusanagi, but having it, regardless, in a situation as strange as this is a blessing.
He inhales sharply, rubs his nose and eyes against his knees. The large wash of grief passes, and Tatara tries to gently pry himself from Solomon's hold. ]
Sorry... I'm pretty sure I got snot all over your shirt.
no subject
Don't worry. What's a little mess to a wizard, right?
[As much as he might like to wipe those tears away, his hand stays obediently still this time.]
Do you think, while the time lasts, that you can find it in yourself to treasure those things that your special ones would want you to treasure?
no subject
I think so... I carry their memory with me in everything that I do, in every new experience...
[ He laughs, embarrassed. ]
I just wish I could tell them that I miss them, and that it's okay.
no subject
[A looping around to their original topic.]
It's not easy to be separated. But trust in them to deal with their new tomorrows.
And... let yourself miss them. Say it to the wind and let it travel, if only so it doesn't stay locked up in your heart.
no subject
Yeah. [ He feels another well of tears in his eyes, and he wipes at them gingerly. ] You're right.
[ He looks up at Solomon again, behind glassy, reddened eyes. ]
Thanks, Uncle Solomon. I'm glad you're here.
no subject
I'm glad you're here as well, Tatara.
[With a gentle touch, he lifts his palm to rest against Tatara's hair.]
I'll treasure our time. No matter how long it lasts.
[He only hopes that he can take this man's story home with him. Perhaps to tell to Nightbringer, lest it be carved into the Fountain of Knowledge for eternity.
A treasure, indeed.]