[He's dressed very casual, a soft set of black pants and a slightly oversized chevron grey sweater that betrays the seals against his neck and collar. It's the most dressed down he's likely been the entire time he's been here.]
Probably not for long. But there are more important things than sitting in bed feeling sorry for myself.
[Grandpa, your slutty tattoos are showing... But you know what? It's a relief to see him a little more undone, taking it easy in something casual and comfortable. Akira hesitates for but a moment before stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Solomon in.]
[He's spoken to Bruno... He has half a mind to ask if that conversation included an apology, but frankly, much of the anger that once sat in Akira has simmered down to a low boil. At the risk of lighting himself on fire a second time, he won't be the one to initiate that conversation.
Akira pointedly sweeps out an arm and motions towards the couch. Get comfortable. This conversation might take a while.]
[An exhale drags from him. But he does hobble through the door, gait even but muscles still unsteady. It's more energy than he's had for a few days, but it's still not great.]
I apologized to him. Though he didn't accept it-- [Sort of. Kind of.] --he's still agreed to help me with something in the interim, related to my absence.
I would like to ask the same of you. But I don't want to assume what you've learned, from him or otherwise. I would rather he not have to pass anything else along that should have been done by me.
[Hm. It's better that Solomon entrust his errands to the people capable of carrying them out for him, but at the same time... what work is left to be done? How vital a mission is it?
Akira sits on the other end of the couch, arms folded, one leg bent over the other.]
Putting all that aside, I want to hear it directly from you. Whether or not I help you depends on how truthful you are. That's the least you can do in exchange for us cleaning up your mess.
He exhales slowly, a tired cloud of disappointment settling over him. He must have gotten through the enchantments somehow... how far this young man truly has grown. The pride swells warm in his chest, even if it hurts to have his space violated so bluntly.]
So you're my little culprit, then.
...
This isn't like you, to isolate so harshly. And yet you just seem to be retreating more and more the longer we're here.
[There's the slow shake of his head from side to side, then the way his eyes settle in his lap on loosely wringing hands. He hears the disappointment in Solomon's voice, but shouldn't he be angry? Furious?]
You're going to gloss over the fact that I invaded your space just like that? Solomon...
[I wish you would get mad. Yell at me. Hate me. It would be easier if you did. Again, he shakes his head, answering that question quietly.]
...That's not as important to me as what's in front of me right now.
[A broken lock could be repaired, and his notes could be secured somewhere else. It's the trust that will take some time to restore. And that, on its own, doesn't change that Akira is still his pupil, even if a temporary one.]
Here I thought you had made up your mind after our disagreement out in the woods.
...
I'm sorry. I've... truly hurt you with my choices, haven't I?
[No, no, no. He wants to reject it all— deny that any part of him is hurt, refuse to accept Solomon's calm and measured response, the suggestion that he'd wash his hands of Solomon after what happened in the north. His head, hung low, shakes even more fervently.]
I let myself get hurt. I know what kind of person you are and thought I could sway you anyway.
[Not every heart can be changed.]
I had no right to take it out on you. To hurt you. I should've just accepted that I can't convince you one way or the other to trust me, and for that... I'm sorry.
[He would have understood if Solomon opted to leave. Akira wouldn't have held it against him, either. The very last thing he expects is for Solomon to kneel and meet him at eye level, to meet eyes that begin to sting and mist and redden when his hand moves to rest against his knee.
No, no, no. He feels broken, like all he can do is deny and refuse and shake his head over and over and over, trying to ward off the urge to cry, his hands wound so tightly around themselves that his knuckles have gone white.
His breath catches on the inhale, the ever-present need to stay strong, stay free of unpleasant emotion, crumbling with each word.]
...I'm sorry. I am. I'm the one who didn't trust you and I regret that more than anything.
[Solomon has survived this long, hasn't he? His fears were misplaced from the beginning, and yet—]
[His hand moves to those clenched fingers. It's okay. It's okay. It hurts so deeply, to see one this young having to settle emotions in a way that he's only managed after millennia of numbing, millennia of forgetting. This boy is barely a man. This forced resolution is unfair, no matter his experience.]
You may judge me all you feel is needed. Once I tell you, once I can fill that hole in your heart.
But for now?
[His other hand comes to join him, to cup that grip.]
I do not want to see you rip yourself apart when all you've had is to chase the ghost of a foolish old man. I've already had to watch you nearly slip away once against your will. Do not lock yourself up again, even if the phantom you hide from is the call of your own heart.
You don't want me to work alone. In this, at least... please, do not follow in my footsteps. Do not close yourself away.
[Letting go has never ended well. To blindly trust that Solomon won't simply vanish, won't catch his own death, is more than Akira can handle. Still, what say does he have in how the man lives his life? How can he believe Solomon would be any better off with a friend at his side? With someone like himself, someone so weak?
Akira curses beneath his breath, quiet and plaintive and desperate. Despite himself, he's crying, those tears falling on the back of Solomon's hand.]
And if I trust you? If I believe you?
[What right does he have to beg? To plead?]
Then you better start taking your own advice. I won't follow where you don't want me to go... but don't keep me in the dark. I can't stand it.
[There it goes. A crack, angry and desperate, but a crack nonetheless.
There you are, Akira. He sees you, Akira.]
I know. I've hated seeing how your bitterness has warped on you. How angry and scared you've seemed.
I'm here. I'm all yours for right now, until you have all the answers you need. Even if you don't find it wise to trust me anymore, maybe you'll finally have the light you need to settle your heart.
[But Solomon isn't and they both know it. Funny how the tears, now that he can no longer fight them, break the dam within him that's bottled up all that anger and fear up until now. Had he really fallen so far? Had he truly lost sight of himself?
...The fact that he needs to question himself is proof enough. Akira exhales, breaths shaky, and urges himself to meet Solomon's eye.]
I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. And... I want to trust you. Just as you are.
[No more fighting against what he can't control— not when that something is Solomon. His friendship with the man means more than that.]
So tell me everything you want to tell me. I won't force you to say more.
...Alright. Then let me start with what I think's most important.
[It takes a little bit of effort, to lift himself back up off the floor. But it's just enough to slide his weight onto one knee, to slide his arms up against Akira's shoulders with a hand against his hair.]
Despite everything, please remember that I'm incredibly proud of you, Akira.
[Oh. Akira stiffens, his guard down which is, as Solomon knows, unusual for him. He wasn't expecting a hug nor the comforting warmth that follows, and if he were tearing at the seams before, he's fallen apart now. God, when was the last time he cried this hard? This is so embarrassing, but on the other hand, this is what Akira needed.
Wrapping his arms up tight around Solomon, Akira buries his face in his shoulder.]
...Thank you.
[It's telling that Akira's response amounts to little more than muted thanks, gutted of his usual sass. He'll be fine, he always is.
...Ah, he's hugging a little too tightly. Sorry, Solomon.]
[Once Akira's arms wrap against him with the telltale shuddering of tears, Solomon eases his weight back down to the couch. There they will sit, Solomon letting his hand run a slow and even circle against Akira's back, not letting up until he feels that breathing start to even, or until the young man starts to loosen his grip.
Only then will he pull a handkerchief from his sleeve as leans back to give Akira space, holding it out to him.]
It's good, you know. To be able to cry. Don't take it for granted.
[He'll give him a few moments to compose himself, to clean his glasses if he needs to, before he settles back further against the cushions, pulling his limbs up to sit cross-legged. He's cold, okay, don't look at him.]
You said you don't know much of the North. Were you aware of how the people there tend to treat the magical?
[The times Akira allows himself to cry are few and far between, but he takes this moment, takes the comfort Solomon offers him without questioning if he's deserving of it. That doesn't matter now. He needs it.
Akira doesn't cry for long, coming away with a note of thanks when he takes that handkerchief and dries his eyes. A measured breath in, and a long, steady exhale. Don't tell anyone you saw your temporary apprentice look totally uncool, Solomon.]
I'll take your word for it. I'd rather avoid it if possible.
[Rather than fuss with his glasses, Akira gets up to go and set them aside. While he's at it, he snags a throw blanket off his bed and slings it over Solomon's shoulders on the way back to the couch. No need to sit there in discomfort if the cold's bothering him.]
Wizards hold all the power there, yeah? It seems like most people up there are afraid of them.
In trusted company, it's good for the heart to not hold everything, or it might very well break. Let yourself be human.
[The blanket isn't expected, but he still lets his hands wrap into the fabric with a tired smile of gratitude, wrapping himself tightly in it. He's gotten too used to his fireplace while his body has recovered.]
It's a very harsh relationship, yes.
The North is incredibly inhospitable. For those that have chosen to live there, they are at the mercy of the weather, the beasts, and any magical creatures that have the resilience to survive the harsh conditions. That includes wizards.
Many of the villages only get by through the magic provided by a wizard. But many of those wizards are not gracious. They are not against using that power over the people for their own benefit, asking to be treated as gods, or even resorting to violence and murder to keep the people fearful and in line.
A representative from one of those villages came to the ball. I spoke to him for a considerable amount of time about the subject, because they were at tensions for a much different reason.
Their normal protector is Oz. The strongest wizard in the world.
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Probably not for long. But there are more important things than sitting in bed feeling sorry for myself.
Are you in the mood to talk for a moment?
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What's on your mind?
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[He hesitates to cross the threshold just yet, hand braced against the door frame.]
Firstly... I've spoken to Bruno.
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Akira pointedly sweeps out an arm and motions towards the couch. Get comfortable. This conversation might take a while.]
Get to the point.
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I apologized to him. Though he didn't accept it-- [Sort of. Kind of.] --he's still agreed to help me with something in the interim, related to my absence.
I would like to ask the same of you. But I don't want to assume what you've learned, from him or otherwise. I would rather he not have to pass anything else along that should have been done by me.
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Akira sits on the other end of the couch, arms folded, one leg bent over the other.]
Putting all that aside, I want to hear it directly from you. Whether or not I help you depends on how truthful you are. That's the least you can do in exchange for us cleaning up your mess.
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...
He settles tiredly into the cushions of the couch, a boneless weight to him.]
Mm. Well, to start, I need to know how much Bruno managed to tell you.
[Bruno had said only Tatara received any information, but still... he knows someone was in his room.]
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Bruno didn't tell me anything. I didn't ask, either.
[And he sure didn't clue Bruno into the fact that he kicked and beat poor grandpa. He has his reasons.]
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Then, what do you know about the North and its dispositions? Did you spend any time around the people while I was out?
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[...]
Only what you've written in your notes. Beyond that, I wouldn't know. I've kept to myself lately.
[He isn't going to hide this. Not from Solomon.]
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[Ah. Well, that explains the disarray.
He exhales slowly, a tired cloud of disappointment settling over him. He must have gotten through the enchantments somehow... how far this young man truly has grown. The pride swells warm in his chest, even if it hurts to have his space violated so bluntly.]
So you're my little culprit, then.
...
This isn't like you, to isolate so harshly. And yet you just seem to be retreating more and more the longer we're here.
What's on your mind?
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You're going to gloss over the fact that I invaded your space just like that? Solomon...
[I wish you would get mad. Yell at me. Hate me. It would be easier if you did. Again, he shakes his head, answering that question quietly.]
You are.
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[A broken lock could be repaired, and his notes could be secured somewhere else. It's the trust that will take some time to restore. And that, on its own, doesn't change that Akira is still his pupil, even if a temporary one.]
Here I thought you had made up your mind after our disagreement out in the woods.
...
I'm sorry. I've... truly hurt you with my choices, haven't I?
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I let myself get hurt. I know what kind of person you are and thought I could sway you anyway.
[Not every heart can be changed.]
I had no right to take it out on you. To hurt you. I should've just accepted that I can't convince you one way or the other to trust me, and for that... I'm sorry.
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The couch creaks for a moment. Solomon's gotten up. Possibly to leave.
But it's not, in fact, what he chooses. Instead, Akira will catch him kneeling in his peripheral as a hand moves to rest against his knee.]
It's not your fault.
[That touch squeezes firmer.]
It is not your fault, Akira.
And you never, ever needed to convince me to trust you.
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No, no, no. He feels broken, like all he can do is deny and refuse and shake his head over and over and over, trying to ward off the urge to cry, his hands wound so tightly around themselves that his knuckles have gone white.
His breath catches on the inhale, the ever-present need to stay strong, stay free of unpleasant emotion, crumbling with each word.]
...I'm sorry. I am. I'm the one who didn't trust you and I regret that more than anything.
[Solomon has survived this long, hasn't he? His fears were misplaced from the beginning, and yet—]
I wish you wouldn't do it all alone. That's all.
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[His hand moves to those clenched fingers. It's okay. It's okay. It hurts so deeply, to see one this young having to settle emotions in a way that he's only managed after millennia of numbing, millennia of forgetting. This boy is barely a man. This forced resolution is unfair, no matter his experience.]
You may judge me all you feel is needed. Once I tell you, once I can fill that hole in your heart.
But for now?
[His other hand comes to join him, to cup that grip.]
I do not want to see you rip yourself apart when all you've had is to chase the ghost of a foolish old man. I've already had to watch you nearly slip away once against your will. Do not lock yourself up again, even if the phantom you hide from is the call of your own heart.
You don't want me to work alone. In this, at least... please, do not follow in my footsteps. Do not close yourself away.
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Akira curses beneath his breath, quiet and plaintive and desperate. Despite himself, he's crying, those tears falling on the back of Solomon's hand.]
And if I trust you? If I believe you?
[What right does he have to beg? To plead?]
Then you better start taking your own advice. I won't follow where you don't want me to go... but don't keep me in the dark. I can't stand it.
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There you are, Akira. He sees you, Akira.]
I know. I've hated seeing how your bitterness has warped on you. How angry and scared you've seemed.
I'm here. I'm all yours for right now, until you have all the answers you need. Even if you don't find it wise to trust me anymore, maybe you'll finally have the light you need to settle your heart.
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[But Solomon isn't and they both know it. Funny how the tears, now that he can no longer fight them, break the dam within him that's bottled up all that anger and fear up until now. Had he really fallen so far? Had he truly lost sight of himself?
...The fact that he needs to question himself is proof enough. Akira exhales, breaths shaky, and urges himself to meet Solomon's eye.]
I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. And... I want to trust you. Just as you are.
[No more fighting against what he can't control— not when that something is Solomon. His friendship with the man means more than that.]
So tell me everything you want to tell me. I won't force you to say more.
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[It takes a little bit of effort, to lift himself back up off the floor. But it's just enough to slide his weight onto one knee, to slide his arms up against Akira's shoulders with a hand against his hair.]
Despite everything, please remember that I'm incredibly proud of you, Akira.
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Wrapping his arms up tight around Solomon, Akira buries his face in his shoulder.]
...Thank you.
[It's telling that Akira's response amounts to little more than muted thanks, gutted of his usual sass. He'll be fine, he always is.
...Ah, he's hugging a little too tightly. Sorry, Solomon.]
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Only then will he pull a handkerchief from his sleeve as leans back to give Akira space, holding it out to him.]
It's good, you know. To be able to cry. Don't take it for granted.
[He'll give him a few moments to compose himself, to clean his glasses if he needs to, before he settles back further against the cushions, pulling his limbs up to sit cross-legged. He's cold, okay, don't look at him.]
You said you don't know much of the North. Were you aware of how the people there tend to treat the magical?
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Akira doesn't cry for long, coming away with a note of thanks when he takes that handkerchief and dries his eyes. A measured breath in, and a long, steady exhale. Don't tell anyone you saw your temporary apprentice look totally uncool, Solomon.]
I'll take your word for it. I'd rather avoid it if possible.
[Rather than fuss with his glasses, Akira gets up to go and set them aside. While he's at it, he snags a throw blanket off his bed and slings it over Solomon's shoulders on the way back to the couch. No need to sit there in discomfort if the cold's bothering him.]
Wizards hold all the power there, yeah? It seems like most people up there are afraid of them.
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[The blanket isn't expected, but he still lets his hands wrap into the fabric with a tired smile of gratitude, wrapping himself tightly in it. He's gotten too used to his fireplace while his body has recovered.]
It's a very harsh relationship, yes.
The North is incredibly inhospitable. For those that have chosen to live there, they are at the mercy of the weather, the beasts, and any magical creatures that have the resilience to survive the harsh conditions. That includes wizards.
Many of the villages only get by through the magic provided by a wizard. But many of those wizards are not gracious. They are not against using that power over the people for their own benefit, asking to be treated as gods, or even resorting to violence and murder to keep the people fearful and in line.
A representative from one of those villages came to the ball. I spoke to him for a considerable amount of time about the subject, because they were at tensions for a much different reason.
Their normal protector is Oz. The strongest wizard in the world.
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