[He'll show you, Pops. Just you wait and see what wonders he works on that mood ring.
But, lest he give Solomon more ammunition, Akira pipes down. Arguing with his decision is only going to make him look inflexible and stubborn, which is the very opposite of how he wants Solomon to view him.
So— fine. It's not the ideal venue, but beggars can't be choosers. Akira shakes the tension out of his shoulders and cracks his neck, mentally preparing to dance like no one's looking. Please don't let anyone be looking.]
Whatever m'wizard wants, m'wizard gets. To the courtyard.
[Away we go. Gather your nerves or speak your mind more firmly, mister Thief of Hearts - first floor means they don't have much space between locations.]
Now, now - "sorcerer", please. There's a difference.
[He's fine! His nerves are steeled and he's ready to endure anything and everything Solomon throws at him even if he'll be carefully avoiding looking up into any of the surrounding windows. If he saw someone standing pop-eyed in their bedroom window watching them dance, Akira might have to eliminate them as a matter of caution. Solomon would understand, surely.
Reaching the courtyard, Akira lets go of Solomon's arm to stretch out and limber up. It's a bit excessive for what will probably be no more complicated than a two-step, but just let him do his thing.]
I'll call you whatever you want if you manage to impress me with your stellar dancing. How's that sound?
[He'll wait patiently as Akira warms himself up, his own motions much slower. Once he's ready, Solomon will extend a hand back out. One hand here, one hand here, nice and close...
His smile softens.]
Relax. Keep your eyes on me. Mirror my steps.
[It's a waltz, thankfully. But Solomon very much knows what he's doing, and will adjust rather smoothly if Akira needs some time to get into the rhythm. Just a slow repeat of the steps, a gentle circle of counting.]
[And he's certain Solomon has heard that countless times in his long, long life... assuming he's much older than he looks, which Akira is quite certain he is. Maybe that's the question he should ask Solomon? How old are you, anyway? Mm, but that wouldn't satisfy Akira. No, there's so much more he wants to ask, so many things he needs to know, but if he's being given just one shot to ask Solomon one of the many pressing questions on his mind, he has to make sure it's a good one.
Akira easily falls in step with Solomon. No smashed feet or bruised ankles yet. Yamato must be cursed.]
You really think I'm not ready for the roof? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to rile me up.
[His brows raise at the compliment, but he seems to ignore it otherwise. He gently tests a quickening of pace, a bounce in the step, adjusting the energy to be a little more playful.]
If you're riled up at the basics, then what does that say about how you will handle the complex?
[It's not about whether or not he can handle the roof, after all.]
[Tch, don't blow off his compliment. Actually... hey, why did Solomon blow off his compliment? Something to tuck away in the back of his mind for later.
For now, Akira's focus is on their dance, at least in part. He can keep pace just fine even as they pick up speed, the energy more jovial than Akira would normally expect from what is traditionally a slow dance. Suits him just fine, regardless.]
Nothing at all. I don't have to prove myself to you or anyone else, right?
[But Akira understands himself. He sees his faults as obstacles to overcome, knots to untangle and smooth out, and he's not ashamed to own up to them. That's why he has a confession to make.]
I feel like I've got to prove myself to you. I couldn't tell you why, because I don't fully get it myself.
[A tension between the logical and the emotional. It's a good sense of self-awareness on Akira's part, and something that Solomon takes careful note of as he continues.]
Then, maybe we should just rephrase the question -- ah, here. I'm going to give you a gentle push. Let yourself pivot, extend your hand behind you...
[As he guides Akira to a more distanced position, a beat in preparation to spin him back:]
What is it you hope to gain in proving yourself to me? What is it you're "proving" at all?
[Expecting that a spin will follow, Akira throws out his free arm with a flourish, balancing briefly on one foot. Reel him back in, daddy.]
Mm, dunno. Nothing tangible. What's your approval going to mean after we leave this place? If I managed to surpass you in magical skill, I'd only think "what's next?"
[He pauses a beat, waits until Solomon guides him back in:]
[Good, good, he's got it. Solomon chuckles, holding Akira's balance enough for it to be fun before pulling him back, Akira's back to him with the barest of touch around his waist.]
I imagine you're not just lonely, Akira-kun. No one seeks guidance purely for attention.
[He'll guide him back to a baseline, and the steps change slightly.
[Solomon's touch is a phantom against his waist, so bare that Akira might have ignored it had he not been waiting for it, and he had been waiting for it. Everything's held at a measured distance, that boundary carefully maintained.
Infuriating.
But Akira wouldn't be Akira if he didn't at least attempt to translate his vexations into something productive. Their careful, by-the-books dance begins to unravel and twist into something far more organic, and Akira channels that unwanted tumult of emotion inside of himself into his footwork. He matches Solomon beat for beat at points, contrasts him at others, but the intensity of every step, every sweep, is all Akira.]
As Akira intensifies, Solomon holds him back less. A guide to bring him back to center, a balance to keep him afloat, but he pushes and pulls with more frequency, a sway of hips and waist and sharp turning of the feet. A spin here, a wrap there, the rhythm no longer counted as the structure turns more and more towards improvisation.
He starts letting Akira's hands go completely, extending it back out to let Akira decide if he wants to take it back between measures. Counting based on sound, movements based on sight, letting instinct guide his partner and seeing how long it would continue.]
That isn't my decision. Is it?
[How long until the fledgling decides to fly when it believes it's already halfway out of the nest?]
[It's a rhythm that comes as naturally as traversing the battlefield, but his enemy is different. Akira never met a lock he couldn't pick, no foe that couldn't be felled with the right combination of gumption and dogged determination. Why, then, does Solomon slip from his grasp like grains of sand?
Akira's eyes briefly close and he listens only to the cadence of their footfalls, trusting Solomon to guide him, catch him, push and pull him. Whatever hesitation he felt knowing their dance might draw attention has left him and all that remains are those questions, those damning questions, that have grown so oppressive in their weight.
This is why Akira can't look away. Solomon refuses him that option.]
You should have some idea, if you're guiding me. Then again...
[Akira trusts himself back on a half-turn, both anticipating and expecting Solomon to catch him before he meets the ground.]
...It's hard to tell when you won't let anyone in close enough to know for sure.
[A better version of what he already is... big words coming from a shameless tease. He could choose to snap and snarl at that retreating hand, but he won't give Solomon the satisfaction. There ought to be repercussions for people who continually tease an open flame with their hand, but patience is a virtue. He'll burn Solomon at his leisure.
He's gotten the hang of this, reliant less on Solomon's guidance and more on his own surefootedness as their dance continues on. That doesn't stop Akira from tangling his fist up on Solomon's lapel on the way back in, pulling him into his orbit.]
Your purpose? It's because you talk like that that everyone calls you an old man. Have you already become the best version of yourself, or are you running away from your problems?
He allows the moment of shifting, of testing the boundary, adjusting himself to meet Akira but never quite letting him take the lead away. Not yet. They're not quite done.]
There is never a best version, Akira. There is only better. And better likes to change just as often as time on a clock. That's no different for me than it is for you.
[His energy slowly, slowly starts to die down, turning reactive rather than participating equally. From a partner dance to a guided solo.
[Something in the air around them shifts and stirs. He's spent enough time around Solomon to sense his magic close by, but this feeling is something a little more innate than that. Solomon is withdrawing, the spitting image of a wizard sorcerer locked high in his tower, except he is the one who bolted the doors shut from the inside.
A bit too close for comfort, eh? Good. That's right where Akira wants to be. Solomon's first and most dire mistake was opening up that door just wide enough to give Akira a glimpse at what lies inside.]
When did yours stop ticking?
[Even a clock's arms stop moving eventually. Not content to let the man retreat, Akira takes Solomon's hand in his and sets the other on the small of his back. No backing down now. Withdraw if you will, Solomon, but Akira won't be the one taking the coward's way out.]
[He grows pliant at the resistance, at the sudden pull back into motion, which earns a tired laugh. It was always hard to separate. It was always harder for them.
His hand takes to Akira's shoulder. Another stanza, before he slowly starts to repeat his previous actions. Never fully stopping, never interrupting, but shifting once again to react and retreat.
Fly further, little bird. This nest can't stay your home.]
[...Then why? How can Solomon move forward if every action speaks to his desire to push people away?
Sure, Akira considers that he's the only one lucky enough to be met with such staunch resistance at every push, but he doubts that's the case. Solomon has honed his craft of keeping others at a distance, hasn't he? And when they draw too close, he simply reacts and retreats.
He's sure that method has worked for Solomon more often than not. Too bad, then, that Akira refuses to let him slip away, shifting to fill in every careful gap Solomon leaves between them, refusing to let him disengage. He tugs Solomon into him with more insistence.]
You can't spend your life focused solely on others. At some point, you'll run into someone who won't let you waltz out of their life like you were never even there. Eventually, you'll get tangled up in their web.
[...]
No, I bet you've already made that mistake once or twice.
[It's becoming less of a dance and more akin to a one-sided fight now. Akira's grip turns firmer, his pulls back harder. Solomon still doesn't resist. He follows the momentum. His body starts to ache with the force Akira uses. But he doesn't stop his gentle drifting, twisting his hands just so from waist to shoulder to challenge the lead Akira tries so hard to keep. Never forcing, only guiding, even if Akira snaps him somewhere else a moment later.
There's confidence in the motions, an underlying sense that he could. He could. He has every ability to overpower. He is choosing not to.
Because that's not his purpose for one like this.
Eventually. Eventually.]
It's been far more than that. And I would not call it a mistake.
[He is not even going to deign that with any further argument, even as he braces his hands against Akira once again - lacing tense fingers in one hand and trying to reposition a grip on his waist as he tries to catch his breath.]
Which is harder to stop, Akira? The tangle of the web? Or the rain that will inevitably fall?
[Resisting him again. Refusing him again. Akira knows what will happen if he relies on force to sway Solomon. He knows digging in his heels and stubbornly insisting that Solomon yield will only backfire and reinforce those walls he's built so very high.
It's pointless, Akira should think, but his thoughts are the opposite. He's getting somewhere, inch by inch, even if it feels like he's being met with resistance at every turn.
That won't keep Akira from carving a path forward inch by grudging inch. If Solomon is wise, and Akira knows he is, he'll see the futility of pushing Akira away when there comes a day he no longer can.
He won't be putting his hand where Solomon wants it. With their fingers intertangled, Akira holds on tight. His hand now, fool.]
If it isn't a mistake, why fight it? The rain is going to fall no matter what you do. You need to love yourself a little.
[More than a little. Akira squeezes Solomon's hand, gentle but insistent.]
You can't stop that either— the love others will show you time and time again. Don't you think you deserve that much?
[He wonders if Akira's grasping at straws now, trying to find a reaction. Trying to reach out to a lost soul.
And just like that, Solomon completely drifts to a stop, fingers going slack. Akira may continue, he may pull, he may grab, but Solomon will not engage.]
[No, no, he's had enough. Akira lets Solomon go without complaint or retort and simply stops, pocketing his hands, no more worn from their dance than he is electrified, strung up on tenterhooks and raw nerves. He breathes in, breathes out, breathes in, breathes out, trying to vent out some of that pent up energy.]
Sure. [Easy, casual. No resistance.] We can call it a day if you're spent. I won't mind.
[Especially if he's gotten nowhere, only going backwards when Akira thought he'd been making steady progress. There's no sense in pushing up against a brick wall. Akira knows how it'll end.]
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[It's not the falling that he's worried about, nor is it what he's testing here.]
If you can manage on the ground, I will trust your abilities several stories up.
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[He'll show you, Pops. Just you wait and see what wonders he works on that mood ring.
But, lest he give Solomon more ammunition, Akira pipes down. Arguing with his decision is only going to make him look inflexible and stubborn, which is the very opposite of how he wants Solomon to view him.
So— fine. It's not the ideal venue, but beggars can't be choosers. Akira shakes the tension out of his shoulders and cracks his neck, mentally preparing to dance like no one's looking. Please don't let anyone be looking.]
Whatever m'wizard wants, m'wizard gets. To the courtyard.
[UGH]
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[Away we go. Gather your nerves or speak your mind more firmly, mister Thief of Hearts - first floor means they don't have much space between locations.]
Now, now - "sorcerer", please. There's a difference.
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Reaching the courtyard, Akira lets go of Solomon's arm to stretch out and limber up. It's a bit excessive for what will probably be no more complicated than a two-step, but just let him do his thing.]
I'll call you whatever you want if you manage to impress me with your stellar dancing. How's that sound?
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[He'll wait patiently as Akira warms himself up, his own motions much slower. Once he's ready, Solomon will extend a hand back out. One hand here, one hand here, nice and close...
His smile softens.]
Relax. Keep your eyes on me. Mirror my steps.
[It's a waltz, thankfully. But Solomon very much knows what he's doing, and will adjust rather smoothly if Akira needs some time to get into the rhythm. Just a slow repeat of the steps, a gentle circle of counting.]
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[And he's certain Solomon has heard that countless times in his long, long life... assuming he's much older than he looks, which Akira is quite certain he is. Maybe that's the question he should ask Solomon? How old are you, anyway? Mm, but that wouldn't satisfy Akira. No, there's so much more he wants to ask, so many things he needs to know, but if he's being given just one shot to ask Solomon one of the many pressing questions on his mind, he has to make sure it's a good one.
Akira easily falls in step with Solomon. No smashed feet or bruised ankles yet. Yamato must be cursed.]
You really think I'm not ready for the roof? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to rile me up.
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If you're riled up at the basics, then what does that say about how you will handle the complex?
[It's not about whether or not he can handle the roof, after all.]
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For now, Akira's focus is on their dance, at least in part. He can keep pace just fine even as they pick up speed, the energy more jovial than Akira would normally expect from what is traditionally a slow dance. Suits him just fine, regardless.]
Nothing at all. I don't have to prove myself to you or anyone else, right?
[But Akira understands himself. He sees his faults as obstacles to overcome, knots to untangle and smooth out, and he's not ashamed to own up to them. That's why he has a confession to make.]
I feel like I've got to prove myself to you. I couldn't tell you why, because I don't fully get it myself.
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Then, maybe we should just rephrase the question -- ah, here. I'm going to give you a gentle push. Let yourself pivot, extend your hand behind you...
[As he guides Akira to a more distanced position, a beat in preparation to spin him back:]
What is it you hope to gain in proving yourself to me? What is it you're "proving" at all?
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[Expecting that a spin will follow, Akira throws out his free arm with a flourish, balancing briefly on one foot. Reel him back in, daddy.]
Mm, dunno. Nothing tangible. What's your approval going to mean after we leave this place? If I managed to surpass you in magical skill, I'd only think "what's next?"
[He pauses a beat, waits until Solomon guides him back in:]
Maybe I just want your attention.
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I imagine you're not just lonely, Akira-kun. No one seeks guidance purely for attention.
[He'll guide him back to a baseline, and the steps change slightly.
Syncopation, a swinging beat.
A slow breaking of the rules.]
Follow along. Let me be your momentum.
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[Solomon's touch is a phantom against his waist, so bare that Akira might have ignored it had he not been waiting for it, and he had been waiting for it. Everything's held at a measured distance, that boundary carefully maintained.
Infuriating.
But Akira wouldn't be Akira if he didn't at least attempt to translate his vexations into something productive. Their careful, by-the-books dance begins to unravel and twist into something far more organic, and Akira channels that unwanted tumult of emotion inside of himself into his footwork. He matches Solomon beat for beat at points, contrasts him at others, but the intensity of every step, every sweep, is all Akira.]
Follow along, huh? And where will I end up?
[Where does this dance lead?]
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As Akira intensifies, Solomon holds him back less. A guide to bring him back to center, a balance to keep him afloat, but he pushes and pulls with more frequency, a sway of hips and waist and sharp turning of the feet. A spin here, a wrap there, the rhythm no longer counted as the structure turns more and more towards improvisation.
He starts letting Akira's hands go completely, extending it back out to let Akira decide if he wants to take it back between measures. Counting based on sound, movements based on sight, letting instinct guide his partner and seeing how long it would continue.]
That isn't my decision. Is it?
[How long until the fledgling decides to fly when it believes it's already halfway out of the nest?]
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Akira's eyes briefly close and he listens only to the cadence of their footfalls, trusting Solomon to guide him, catch him, push and pull him. Whatever hesitation he felt knowing their dance might draw attention has left him and all that remains are those questions, those damning questions, that have grown so oppressive in their weight.
This is why Akira can't look away. Solomon refuses him that option.]
You should have some idea, if you're guiding me. Then again...
[Akira trusts himself back on a half-turn, both anticipating and expecting Solomon to catch him before he meets the ground.]
...It's hard to tell when you won't let anyone in close enough to know for sure.
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That's because that isn't my purpose.
[Here? In general? He leaves it vague. He knows Akira will hate that. But it's his choice nonetheless.
He brings Akira's hand to his lips in a mimic of a kiss to the knuckles before letting him go again. Longer this time.]
Guidance isn't meant to turn you into something else. It's meant to turn you into a better version of what you already are.
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He's gotten the hang of this, reliant less on Solomon's guidance and more on his own surefootedness as their dance continues on. That doesn't stop Akira from tangling his fist up on Solomon's lapel on the way back in, pulling him into his orbit.]
Your purpose? It's because you talk like that that everyone calls you an old man. Have you already become the best version of yourself, or are you running away from your problems?
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He allows the moment of shifting, of testing the boundary, adjusting himself to meet Akira but never quite letting him take the lead away. Not yet. They're not quite done.]
There is never a best version, Akira. There is only better. And better likes to change just as often as time on a clock. That's no different for me than it is for you.
[His energy slowly, slowly starts to die down, turning reactive rather than participating equally. From a partner dance to a guided solo.
It wasn't his place to stay forever.]
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wizardsorcerer locked high in his tower, except he is the one who bolted the doors shut from the inside.A bit too close for comfort, eh? Good. That's right where Akira wants to be. Solomon's first and most dire mistake was opening up that door just wide enough to give Akira a glimpse at what lies inside.]
When did yours stop ticking?
[Even a clock's arms stop moving eventually. Not content to let the man retreat, Akira takes Solomon's hand in his and sets the other on the small of his back. No backing down now. Withdraw if you will, Solomon, but Akira won't be the one taking the coward's way out.]
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Who says it ever did?
[He grows pliant at the resistance, at the sudden pull back into motion, which earns a tired laugh. It was always hard to separate. It was always harder for them.
His hand takes to Akira's shoulder. Another stanza, before he slowly starts to repeat his previous actions. Never fully stopping, never interrupting, but shifting once again to react and retreat.
Fly further, little bird. This nest can't stay your home.]
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Sure, Akira considers that he's the only one lucky enough to be met with such staunch resistance at every push, but he doubts that's the case. Solomon has honed his craft of keeping others at a distance, hasn't he? And when they draw too close, he simply reacts and retreats.
He's sure that method has worked for Solomon more often than not. Too bad, then, that Akira refuses to let him slip away, shifting to fill in every careful gap Solomon leaves between them, refusing to let him disengage. He tugs Solomon into him with more insistence.]
You can't spend your life focused solely on others. At some point, you'll run into someone who won't let you waltz out of their life like you were never even there. Eventually, you'll get tangled up in their web.
[...]
No, I bet you've already made that mistake once or twice.
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There's confidence in the motions, an underlying sense that he could. He could. He has every ability to overpower. He is choosing not to.
Because that's not his purpose for one like this.
Eventually. Eventually.]
It's been far more than that. And I would not call it a mistake.
[He is not even going to deign that with any further argument, even as he braces his hands against Akira once again - lacing tense fingers in one hand and trying to reposition a grip on his waist as he tries to catch his breath.]
Which is harder to stop, Akira? The tangle of the web? Or the rain that will inevitably fall?
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It's pointless, Akira should think, but his thoughts are the opposite. He's getting somewhere, inch by inch, even if it feels like he's being met with resistance at every turn.
That won't keep Akira from carving a path forward inch by grudging inch. If Solomon is wise, and Akira knows he is, he'll see the futility of pushing Akira away when there comes a day he no longer can.
He won't be putting his hand where Solomon wants it. With their fingers intertangled, Akira holds on tight. His hand now, fool.]
If it isn't a mistake, why fight it? The rain is going to fall no matter what you do. You need to love yourself a little.
[More than a little. Akira squeezes Solomon's hand, gentle but insistent.]
You can't stop that either— the love others will show you time and time again. Don't you think you deserve that much?
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And I know, very well, what love can do.
[He wonders if Akira's grasping at straws now, trying to find a reaction. Trying to reach out to a lost soul.
And just like that, Solomon completely drifts to a stop, fingers going slack. Akira may continue, he may pull, he may grab, but Solomon will not engage.]
I think I've seen enough.
Catch your breath for a moment.
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Sure. [Easy, casual. No resistance.] We can call it a day if you're spent. I won't mind.
[Especially if he's gotten nowhere, only going backwards when Akira thought he'd been making steady progress. There's no sense in pushing up against a brick wall. Akira knows how it'll end.]
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You've changed your mind?
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