-Private Threads- [pluviosa]

[nightmareofdivinity]

For threads that don't go anywhere else.

Please include rough day/time in the header of the comment just for timeline's sake.

Comments

Evening of Day 25

[harmoniousconsecration]

In the days after everything settled down, after Sunday had given both of them the time and the space to mull over what had happened, after Sunday had spoken to both Malos and Aurelia... He finds himself fussing over what he could say to the other man, what he wanted to say. If there was anything worth voicing. He'd reached out with his powers some time earlier, to get a sense of if Fou-Lu may be near, knowing that the other had taken to clearing out the lower floors of plants when he grew restless. Having confirmed that Fou-Lu was in fact, within his room, meant that Sunday only needed to walk down the hall, only needed to request entry...

The very thought set his heart racing.

Anxiety gnaws away at Sunday as he slowly approaches that door, much more potent than any other time they'd been close. He supposes it was largely because while their previous discussions were... Difficult, and vulnerable, it was not with an expectation of... being perceived in such a way, there was a sort of... While there was intimacy, there was distance. There were still aspects of one another neither of them yet understood.

Though they had been vulnerable before, this seemed... much more so. It was different, Sunday knows it. His conversation with Malos echo in his mind.

To have and then lose someone, still daring to have them at all.

The more time passes, the more Sunday is sure he has something to say to the other man, the more he is sure he needs to talk to him, to spend time with him, to hear his thoughts. As nervous and afraid he is, these feelings are not because of Fou-Lu, but rather... What he meant to him. What any of this could mean. The halovian finally reaches that door, pausing outside of it.

Sunday doesn't care if anyone sees him hesitate here, just as much as he didn't care if anyone had seen them close, their hands touching, his body within Fou-Lu's arms. Just as he didn't care that Malos knew he could be feeling... love.

What he cares about is Fou-Lu. His happiness. His safety. The halovian knocks at the door, gentle, quickly, seven times. His hands shake, but he breathes deeply, calming himself, his voice, before speaking.

"Fou-Lu? May I come in?"

[nightmareofdivinity]

Fou-Lu has been resting more than sleeping, his own thoughts a jumble since his meeting with Neuvillette. What is it that keeps making him feel this way? Is it truly love, as mortals experience it? But is it right for him to experience this? This feeling that someone has with someone else...

... He's not sure if he should. The feeling of hurt after one party dies, after all... he's not sure if he can go through that again. But Sunday's voice breaks through his thoughts and he stands up, heading to the door and opening it. The Endless looks at the halovian and pauses for a moment.

"Of course." He moves aside for Sunday to enter the room, closing the door behind him. No one needs to know their business. "I... hadst something that I wished to ask thee, as well." But Sunday clearly has something on his mind - so he's not going to interrupt.

[harmoniousconsecration]

Seeing Fou-Lu in the door only drums up those feelings again, the tenderness of before. Was this right? Was it okay? Could he truly choose to be selfish in this? Could he condemn the other yet again, to mourn, to live his life alone, if he were to die, if this were to end? His heart aches at the thought. Was life ever fair?

"Thank you. I... Something has been... On my mind, for a little while."

Fou-Lu allows him in, and soon it is just them, in the privacy of the room. Sunday is more than a little nervous, out of his depth. Fou-Lu had something he wished to discuss, too. The halovian's heart hammers away, wishing the other had spoken of his thoughts first.

"I feel that you... deserve to know. Before I speak of feelings, I want to speak of ideals. I want to tell you of my Dream. I... Need you to understand the person that I am, before anything."

But... He's here. Fou-Lu is listening. And he can't have come here for nothing, not all wound up like this. As much as Sunday is afraid, of what this might mean for him, for them... As much as he wants to save the Endless the heartache...

I don't think a single moment of time we spent together was wasted. I had him. I had him, once, and that's SOMETHING. That's better than never having at all. Isn't it? The vulnerability in Malos' smile, how it'd hurt to see, to know the pain behind it. He'd dared to love, in spite of knowing that the loss could come at any time.

"I told you of the Dreamscape, but I did not tell you of the intention behind it, of the Dream I hold, for everyone within it. My goal was... I grew tired, of the suffering of the world. Every day I heard their cries, their confessions, their pleading for a world that is soft, and kind."

And a quieter, softer part of himself, something pesky and harder to shake, a voice that has become braver and braver the longer he is away from Penacony, thinks that he should not remove Fou-Lu's agency in this, that he should not decide for the other man what is best for him.

"I was chosen by my father to lead my people into a new age, where they would forfeit all agency to me, and discard their bodies, and live out an endless, perfect dream under my gaze. I would monitor them, I would keep them safe. I would be the lone, waking soul, a shepherd amongst the flock, and I... Would barely exist as myself. I was expected to forfeit all pleasures, all joys, in exchange for the safety of all within my light." And the words he had avoided speaking, for so long. "In this... I was meant to be a sacrifice. I was told it was the only way, to ensure the safety of those I loved, of everyone I cared for."

He breathes deeply, closing his eyes. He knows this is... A lot to take in. It would be over, soon. Fou-Lu needs to know. He deserves to know. Sunday could not ever begin to deserve the kindness given to him, under the pretext that he could be a good and kind person. Not after.. Not after everything.

"I have done... cruel, terrible things, in the hopes of achieving this Dream. There are those upon this very Ship who deserve to hate me for what I have done, for what I did."

Sunday's hands tremble as he thinks of Veritas, of Aventurine. He deserves much worse, from them both.

"I look at you... And I know you would not condone this Dream. I know you would not want this. And as much as I desire all people to be safe... The thought of doing that to you... I can't bear it, just as much as I can't bear the idea of you suffering."

Sunday's eyes find Fou-Lu, his expression soft. Pleading, for understanding, forgiveness, something. He's not sure, anymore. His heart aches, and he hopes that the Endless will still see something worth saving, in him.

"I try to love and care for everyone equally. I try desperately not to be selfish, not to choose favourites. But I look at you... I spend time with you. And my heart knows it feels differently."

[nightmareofdivinity]

He remains quiet as Sunday talks, looking at him with perhaps a bit too much intensity. The Dream... he remembers Sunday speaking of it earlier. To want to bring everyone within the Dream though... unite their disparate tribes and soothe their cries of agony and despair. It's not an unfamiliar feeling nor is it an unfamiliar story.

To hear of Sunday's treatment, however... he can feel his anger rising. He doesn't want to distress the other so he keeps his face as neutral as possible, but his hand shakes. He balls it into a fist to hide the shaking, his gaze as steady as he can make it. When Sunday does open his eyes again with that pleading expression though, he... feels some of the anger slipping away. Not all of it, but enough to control himself.

He stays silent a few moments more - my heart knows it feels differently - and then he steps closer, putting a hand on the top of Sunday's head gently. "'Tis in thy nature as a mortal to be selfish to some degree. If even we Endless canst have favor towards some, 'tis only natural for thee to have similar."

Now to address the main part. "Thou art correct - I canst not condone such a thing. And even should it be that thou wert pressured to do this, there art ways that thou couldst have thought for thyself, to oppose him in this endeavor." He lets the words sink in for a few moments, and yet... "But both the desire to lead others under one banner despite their wishes and the... sacrifice..." His face twists in pain for a moment before he gets it under control - a hurt, injured expression with haunted eyes and slightly trembling lip. "... Both of these art understandable to me. I too wished to lead mine people into a time of peace and prosperity, to watch over them and listen to their prayers." Of course once his purpose was fulfilled he wasn't supposed to do anything, but he could still listen.

"There art... degrees to which one may harm others. I doth not know the extent of damage thou hath done, nor the context or events that lead up to it." He pulls his hand away from the other's hair and rests it on his shoulder. "But thy purpose wert not for the suffering of others. Thy methods... art as yet unknown to me. I canst not... say whether or not I condone it, for I do not condone the end goal thou wert striving for. But I doth not believe thy heart to be wicked, nor doth I see a lust for power." He hesitates, eyes flicking away for a moment. "Control, perhaps. But born out of a lack of control for thine own life."

He takes a breath to steady himself. "I... if we art to continue in this, then I must ask thee to promise me something." He tries to gather his strength, his authority, his confidence as he looks the other man in the eyes. "Thou must not continue in this dream. Instead I ask thee to make this paradise in reality. I ask thee to tell me what thou hast done - I art not thy deity, but I wouldst hear thy confession all the same. ... And I ask that thou not limit thyself from the joys and pleasures of life. Is this understood and acceptable to thee, Sunday?"

[harmoniousconsecration]

Though his eyes are closed, he can feel the anger, the quiet fury. When he opens his eyes, expecting the other's face to be twisted in anger, fury, he finds a neutral expression. He doesn't know what to feel about it, having expected that anger directed towards his actions, or. Or himself.

He hates the thought of it. When had Fou-Lu ever been unkind to him? Why was he imagining him in this way? The hand on his head is gentle, as the Endless always was, and chases away the worst of his worries with a simple touch. The other man tells him that it's okay to be selfish, to feel favour towards another. Like Malos had said, it was only natural. The thought, that even Fou-Lu could favour someone... It eases his own worries. It helps him start to accept that perhaps selfishness was not a moral failing. That he existed, and therefore... Could end up more fond of one over another.

"I suppose... That makes sense. I... Can get wrapped up, in thinking that I need to be... Perfect. No matter how inhuman it makes me."

Fou-Lu speaks again, confirming that he couldn't condone it. That Sunday could have found some means to defy this fate. The pain at the thought of losing another person is evident on the Endless' face, and it makes his heart ache. Even still, Sunday shakes his head. His hand reaches for Fou-Lu's cheek, and his expression is apologetic. He'd long accepted the outcome.

No, I couldn't have fought this. I'm sorry.

"It... Was either I or my sister. I couldn't let it be her." His voice is soft. "But... I am not there. The Dream has been dispelled, and I... I am here."

Hearing that Fou-Lu on some level, could understand... That he could try to. The hand moves to his shoulder, as Fou-Lu addresses Sunday's misdeeds, as he tells him he sees no lust for power in him, and not wickedness, but a desire for control, out of a lack of his own agency. It feels as though a quiet truth that lingered in the back of his mind has been spoken to, seen, acknowledged. Sunday closes his eyes, wishing to confess every horrible thing he had ever done, to be seen and known by him. He opens his eyes, only to find Fou-Lu looking down at him.

His heart pounds away in his chest, as Fou-Lu captures his gaze, as the other asks him to promise something to him. To give up the dream, to walk within reality and make it the paradise he sought. To confess his sins, to allow himself to experience life. To allow himself desire.

Sunday's body trembles. He doesn't know. He's afraid that this was a promise he couldn't keep. And yet... Fou-Lu stood here, looking at him, asking him if these terms are okay, appropriate. Godly and caring and... The Dream was all he knew. It was familiar. This reality, this future, Fou-Lu wished for him... It was frightening. It was unfamiliar. And yet... was he not already learning to live in this reality? Was he not more supported and cared for than ever before? Was it truly so unfamiliar? Did he not already wish the best for everyone upon the Ship, already send himself into a panic over their safety? Was it really so different?

After a long moment, Sunday relaxes. Perhaps.... Perhaps he could. Robin had told him the Dream was over. Maybe... What was left was simply accepting it.

"I... I understand. And I. I think I can accept. The Dream is over. I. I promise that I will not chase it again. I... will do what I can, to focus my efforts on reality." He says, his eyes locked upon Fou-Lu's. Quietly swearing it to him. "I... won't deny myself any longer."

After a moment, he begins to confess, bowing his head. His body trembles. He knows this will do little to solve the problems, but perhaps his sins will weigh less heavily upon his heart.

I. "I... used my blessing from my god, to lay a curse upon Aventurine. I gave him 17 hours to live, to find out who had killed my sister, before he was to lose his agency and all sense of self. He is not the first person I have done this to."

II. "At times, my own powers allow me to tap into the minds of others, and alter their feelings. I walked within Aventurine's mind recently, to understand what had happened to him. He was not aware of it, but it wasn't with his permission. I found that he is afraid of me."

III. "When you found me, the night of the Jump... I had frightened Aurelia. That was why I was frozen. I had approached her, I had. Scared her. And then I had the gall to pontificate at her, as though I am some saint."

IV. "I... allowed a man into Penacony, who had sold his children into slavery. He'd promised that he would buy them back once he had made enough money working within the Dream. He forgot they existed. The children were untracable."

V. "My sister and I found a dove, as children. We kept it within a cage, and I set it free, when she left. It crashed to its death and died, on its first flight. I kept that truth from my sister for years, out of fear that it was an omen."

VI. "I have lied, for so long, about my true Aeon, my true allegiance. None of it has made either of them take notice of me."

VII. "I succeeded. I pulled over a hundred thousand individual people into my Dream. My sister rescued me from myself. And I still asked her to kill me."

[nightmareofdivinity]

He listens. He listens as closely as he can, and tries to keep his emotions under control. The idea of Sunday laying a curse on someone, of walking within someone's mind, of pulling more people than he is even aware of existing into the Dream... it scares him a little bit. He wonders idly what the other would find in his own mind other than a ragged and open void where half of his soul should be.

He pushes that thought away. Sunday needs him. He needs to be accepted right now. Even if he can't condone the sins, he can't imagine Sunday wanting to hurt anyone. He needs to address these one at a time, even if the last feels the most important to him at the moment.

"... Thou must lift the curse if it canst be lifted, and not use such abilities again. 'Tis not thy place to determine such things." Is it his? It could be, should be, feels like it is. It's not an easy topic, but they're not talking about him right now. "To walk into the minds of others without permission wilt also not be something thou shouldst do. Even if they choose wickedness, 'tis still an invasion to their very beings." The next part... he doesn't really know Aurelia, other than what he saw at the meeting. "She shouldst not have done such an action. And speaking doth not be a crime unless thou art defaming the character of another." Maybe it's not a crime where Sunday's from? "One need not be a saint to speak thy mind."

The next part... "'Tis the sin of the man, not thine. Perhaps thou shouldst not have believed him, but 'twas not thy intent to harm the children. Unfortunately... such people art wicked enough to devise such things. Thy folly wert believing him, not the loss of the children." Not that he isn't angry at the man, but it's not Sunday's fault. "Perhaps the bird wert an omen, perhaps not. Hiding such a thing doth not be a crime. If asked about it thou shouldst have been honest, but... 'tis a minor thing. And I canst not pass any judgement on thy relationships with thy god." It's not his place. He'd be angry if someone else judged one of his subjects for their faith in him.

The last part... his expression hardens. "'Tis well that thy Dream hath ended, for one cannot purely exist in the world of dreams. Not even in mine own world doth it be advised." He can explain the World of Dreams later. It's... faeries are involved. "But thou must never seek death again. Not at the hand of another nor thy own." His other hand comes to rest on the halovian's other shoulder as he looks him in the eyes. "If thy wish to make penance, then there canst be none if thou art dead. Thou art no sacrifice, Sunday." He can't help it - there's so much pain that goes into that word. The loss of Mami. The idea of losing Sunday. The betrayal of his people. Hie eyes mist over, betraying his feelings as a tear slowly start to run down his cheek. "There canst be none if thou art dead..."

His voice is shaking and he knows it. He trembles, trying not to grip the other's shoulders too hard. "I... I cannot bear to lose thee, as well. To lose another that I..." Should he say it? He wrestles with it for a moment, his voice cracking and soft. "That I doth care so deeply about. That I... that I love." He barely whispers the word before he stumbles forward, falling to his hands and knees in front of Sunday. Part of him chafes to debase himself in front of a mortal so, but... he has ever been a passionate one, and he knows he can't hold it in forever. This is not his court, nor is Sunday his subject. He just stares at the floor, feeling like a knife has been shoved through his heart at the very idea of Sunday dying. "Do not leave me. I... I beg of thee."

The great god-emperor lets the tears fall, his whole body shaking as he lowers his head in front of Sunday, facing the floor.

[harmoniousconsecration]

Each of his faults, his sins, are examined by the other. It was not Fou-Lu's place to judge, to punish, and yet Sunday would have accepted it, all the same. Instead, he receives requests to undo what he could, to never act in such a way again, to never use his power like that... Sunday knew what Fou-Lu might say, but had been afraid of rejection, of being cast aside, of. Being judged unworthy of his grace, his care. Love.

"I will. I swear, I will undo the curse, when he allows it." He trembles, wishing only to be worth all of this. "I will do right, by him, and any that I have harmed. I promise you."

Fou-Lu grips his shoulders, tears rolling down his face, fearful, upset, at the thought of... Of losing him. Struggling with his words, calling it love, before falling to his hands and knees, all of it too much for him to bear. Sunday's heart aches, bleeds for him, a twisted knife. Fou-Lu begs Sunday not to leave him, begs him not to die. It breaks Sunday's heart all the same. The halovian kneels in front of the other, reaching for him. A hand at Fou-Lu's cheek, another at his shoulder.

"I won't. I swear to you, I won't leave." His voice is soft, as he leans down, a kiss at the top of Fou-Lu's head. Daring to remain close, daring to whisper promises into his hair. "I won't seek my own death. I will do everything I can to remain alive and here with you, if not for my sake, then for yours. I... I can't promise you, that I will live forever. But I will wish to, so that you may not be alone."

He means it. He means every word, just as he's been honest and vulnerable with the Endless in the past. His heart swells, throbs, aches. Sunday tries to coax the other man to look up to him, not to turn his gaze away any longer. This was a storm they could weather together, a future that they didn't have to live fearing. They had time, however long.

"I... I feared, calling this love, giving it a name, allowing it a home, letting it take hold. I feared how selfish it may be, knowing that I... That this... " He was not Endless. He was still only mortal. And this, for all they knew, was temporary. But for now, for this one brief moment... "But I also did not wish to. remove that choice from you. I didn't want to decide on your behalf what might be best for you."

His hand strokes through Fou-Lu's hair, trying to comfort, to reassure. His heart aches, and tears roll down his cheeks, both affection and worry. He can't stand to see Fou-Lu worry, to see him mourn already. He knows how loss has already left it's mark on his heart. Could he subject him to this again? Could he truly allow himself to be selfish, knowing that this would be the result?

Should an eventual, painful end really dictate how either of them live their lives now?

"You don't deserve to be left to mourn again. But if. If you have asked, that I enjoy life's pleasures... If selfishness is not a sin... If you are asking me to well and truly live..." Sunday closes his eyes. "Then I will tell you that this is love. I know it is. I feel it, for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to live well. And... Whatever that may mean for you. I... want to be part of it."

[nightmareofdivinity]

"I doth not need thee to live forever. I need thee to live for now." He leans into the other, looking up at him. The tears abate and he takes a deep breath. "Mine heart aches whenever thee art upset. Thou art... thou art not mine subject, not mine worshipper, not mine to tell what to do or how thee must live." Slowly he lifts himself up and looks into Sunday's eyes.

Can he do this? Should he do this? He doesn't know what's proper anymore, now that he is no longer an emperor but not yet complete, not yet a full god. Can he allow himself this... these mortal things? He's not sure he can take being broken again by a violent loss. But the idea of staying with Sunday, with this fragile being that he can hold in his hands... the thought of him growing old and grey and dying makes him afraid but... not devastated. A full life. A good life. One that's not cut short.

He presses his forehead against Sunday's, a hand on the other man's cheek. He wipes away the tears, even if he feels like he's going to cry again.

"... Walk within me. Walk with me." The word 'me' feels foreign to him - just him? Him as a person, not as a god, not as an incomplete being? But it's the only word that fits right now. "If thou wert to walk in mine mind right now thou wouldst find..." Well. "Many things. But amongst those, there wouldst be thee." He takes the hand Sunday placed on his shoulder and puts it on his chest. His heartbeat is there - a little faint, but there and quick and alive and real. "Thou art here." His fingers slide in between Sunday's, holding it there as he breathes, slow and deep.

"Selfishness doth not be a sin when it harms no others. Thou needn't repent for such a thing. Thou needest but to speak to... to me. To... to speak thy mind and let me... let me be thy pillar of strength to lean upon. I wish only to keep thee safe and happy."

A small blush works across his features, adding color to the normally pale man's cheeks and nose. "If thou... if w - I couldst... I wouldst like to hold thee. To listen to thee and thy feelings. To hear thee speak of life, not... not death. I wish to understand thee and thy world."

[harmoniousconsecration]

"I will live. I won't leave you." A promise, his voice soft, barely more than a whisper. "I could never. The thought of leaving someone I... I love... it's too much to bear."

Sunday's entire life so far, seemed to have been a series of exits. First his homeland. His mother. His sister. His father. His Dream. Even his Family had left him. His prayers to any Aeon had always gone unanswered, and the silence now had left him more empty than ever before.

And... He couldn't put Fou-Lu through any more misery. Not after seeing how Mami's loss had torn the Endless apart, after the look on his face upon discovering Sunday frozen in place, after watching him collapse to the floor, the very thought laying the other man low. Not a worshipper. Not a subject. Not his to command. The last sentence feels like a vice over Sunday's heart. He was not Fou-Lu's to control.

But could he... Could he be his, to hold close? To... to love?

Fou-Lu's eyes meet his own, the last of his tears shed. The other man presses closer, their foreheads together. The intimacy of it, the gentleness... Sunday feels like his chest could burst at any moment. Fou-Lu wipes away his tears, and the halovian leans into the touch, one of his ear wings cradling the back of the other man's hand, feathers gentle against his skin.

Walk within me. Walk with me.

His hand is taken, pressed to Fou-Lu's chest. Sunday existed, within his mind, his heart. Their fingers lace together, and Sunday's cheeks flush. He allows this, allows himself to feel that the other man is alive, that he is here. That he isn't alone. Neither of them were. Fou-Lu's words linger, making a home within Sunday's heart, too.

"You do. I have never felt more safe, with anyone. I... Want your happiness, as well. I can't bear the thought of you lonely, or in pain. I am here. I will not be far from you." If you wish it, if you want it, if you'll have me, left unsaid, caught in his throat.

Fou-Lu requests to hold him, his face flushing... Sunday's heart threatens to beat out of his chest at the sight. Could they really have one another like this? The halovian nods, squeezing the other man's hand gently. Leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of Fou-Lu's hand, close to his chest, his heart. Feeling his warmth. So long as they were here, together, he thinks that he could be okay with... this. Even temporary, even fleeting.

"Of course." Sunday thinks that he would allow Fou-Lu to do anything. He would tell him of life, of his feelings. Of the world he desired, of... a future, with himself in it. "To speak of life... I feel that mine has only barely started."

It was strange to think, to wonder, now, having spent so many years within a dream. He had lost so much to this idea, this cause. And yet... He would not be here without it. He still doesn't understand why him, why any of them. And yet... there is a softer, selfish wish at the back of his mind: Perhaps... he didn't want to return. It feels wrong, at first. Of course he had to, he had a duty to Penacony.

He remembers asking Robin to kill him, the opalescent blood, sticky in his hair, on his face. The metal click of a handcuff around his wrist as he and Robin were separated. The room he was locked in, the chair he was chained to. Raised as a sacrifice, in one way or another: doomed to an lonesome eternity, or the death of his father, The Family washing their hands of the Incident. Leaving Sunday to take the fall.

Did he truly have a duty to anyone?

Sunday's not sure, anymore. There's a new feeling with that thought, not quite anxiety. Hope for the future, he thinks. Even one without his Dream. Hope for himself. It's strange, and feels almost... Wrong. But having Fou-Lu close, being asked to live for now, to spend his days lucid, away from Dreams. To create the world he sought in reality...

Sunday thinks that maybe he could.

"I... wish to hear of your world, as well. I want to understand it, understand you." He pauses, remembering Fou-Lu wishing to speak to him, having allowed Sunday to talk first. "You... had something to say, earlier. I am happy to hear it."

[nightmareofdivinity]

He pulls back slightly, but only so he can wrap his arms around Sunday, holding him loosely as he guides him to sit on the bed. His head drops to the halovian's shoulder and he breathes a little more easily. He's trying. He's doing his best. He's not sure how to do this, but he can hold the other at least as they sit.

"Life... 'tis a difficult thing to figure out. I hath watched many - the newly born, the old, the warriors and the merchants. But 'twas always life according to the whims of those who hath summoned what they wished to be a complete god. There hath always been someone directing mine actions. Even now, the order to unite the world... 'tis strong. I hath had no life of mine own."

He's going somewhere with this, he swears. "But from mine observations 'tis not an easy thing to determine, even for those who art predisposed towards independent life. ... 'Tis all right to be lost, for 'tis only by venturing forth that a path may be found." He squeezes Sunday gently as he smiles a little sadly.

... But what he was going to say? "... I wert prepared to broach this same subject. It seems we hath both had this on our minds." It's a little funny, if it weren't so slightly awkward. "You - you hath been on mine mind constantly. 'Tis... difficult to think of anyone else. And to think of thee being hurt... 'tis impossible."

[harmoniousconsecration]

The arms around him, the warmth of the other man, the gentle guidance to sit upon the room's sole bed. There's a quiet intimacy to it all, and his arms find their way around Fou-Lu as well, allowing it. Feeling the other man's head rest upon his shoulder, feeling him breathe easier, now that they were close, now that there was a physical reminder of the fact that they both lived.

Within the wake of Sunday's admittance, feeling both lost and yet born anew, Fou-Lu relates to it, describes some part of his life--- how he had never known purpose beyond what he had been called for, beyond his own summoning. A familiar ache tugs at the halovian's chest, and he finds that he can understand, the both of of them slated for duties out of their own hands, beyond their control. Expectations set upon their shoulders by those that had called them forth, had given them purpose. To think of a life, without this... A life filled with choice and possibilities, a life beyond a dream, beyond a cruel world that did nothing but kill and harm the innocent...

"There is comfort, in knowing that you understand. Though our lives and worlds may be different, we have found ourselves in a similar position, here." A life upon a Ship that thrived upon a desolate planet. They had no duties. Their lives were their own. "Neither of us have lived without order, without direction, or purpose."

With that thought, a quiet desire takes root in his heart. If Fou-Lu would have him walk through reality, and let go of the dreams he had grown fond of, then perhaps together, they could find something like meaning, upon this Ship. That they could discover together what sort of life they desired to live. Even if it were only temporary... perhaps a glimpse at something better, at something selfish, at something all their own...

The thought flutters in Sunday's chest, an ache wherever it touches. He still struggles with the temporary, with the fleeting. But he supposes he's in good company, if that is the worst of his fears.

The gentle squeeze pulls Sunday back to the moment, the sad smile. He was right-- It did little good to remain in place, remain in the past, stagnant. While Sunday felt lost and almost afraid at the thought of it all, knowing that Fou-Lu felt similarly.... It helped. They were both equally lost, weren't they? Treading water they had little experience with, finding themselves burdened with new situations, new thoughts.... Feelings.

And yet, was it truly a burden? With Malos' words in mind, the encouragment he'd recieved... He doesn't think so.

"It... Is also not a path we need to walk alone. I am with you. I will not leave you."

It's a promise he intends to keep, offering the other man a smile as well, soft.

The thought of being on Fou-Lu's mind like this. Constantly, he'd said. The halovian more than understands what he means, Fou-Lu's gentleness, his voice. The kindness he'd shown Sunday. All of it flickered through his thoughts, even as he mused on his own actions, his experiences, he'd found himself back at the topic of the other. Had found himself wondering if one such as he could ever forgive him, could understand the actions Sunday had taken. Fou-Lu's words had become something of a footnote to his thoughts: How he was not his worshipper, was not one within Fou-Lu's domain, and yet... still, one so godlike, one so Endless, could still find something in him worth protecting. Could love him.

Sunday wishes to feel worthy of that level of care, worthy of Fou-Lu's affections. A smaller, quiet part of him believes he could be, knows that it wasn't his place to decide for the other man where his love laid to rest. Be it in him, or anyone else. The halovian's head leans against Fou-Lu's, his ear wing reaching and then folding around the Endless's head, gently cupping it, feathers brushing against the other man's cheek.

A silence lingers between them, as Sunday closes his eyes, just feeling their proximity, the comfort Fou-Lu's presence brought him. Hoping to extend that same comfort to the other man. All was well. Something, in all of this... It just felt right. Fou-Lu admits he'd had the same concern in mind, and... There's a warmth, in that. Even as they both awkwardly struggled to put the pieces together, even as they seemed unsure of themselves.

"I haven't been able to think of much else, either. You are always present, within my mind. Thoughts of you linger in the background of every conversation I have." Words said within Fou-Lu's hair, his voice warm. "I... worry. I can't bear to see you suffering. I think of how those bells cause you great pain. I think of how I wish to see you happy. How I also wish for you to be near."

His arms squeeze around Fou-Lu, as he nuzzles into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The next words are... They feel like a lot to say. Heavy. They carried weight. But. Sunday finds that he means them, all the same.

"I see you, and I find myself wanting to consider a future."

[nightmareofdivinity]

"... I doth feel similarly." Living like a mortal... he'd never considered it, and yet did his body not bleed? Did he not need food and water? It's not as if he isn't without physical needs, and from all he knows this is a physical feeling, too. The need to be cared for, the need for intimacy... he's afraid of the other getting hurt, but he's more afraid of not being with him.

His heart beats in his chest, just like it does for Sunday. Are they not the same in some ways? Just two beings, lost and worried about what's coming next. He presses a soft kiss to the other's neck and just... breathes. Breathes in the safety, the warmth, the feeling of being with someone rather than just near someone. Sunday is not a replacement for what he's lost... but he can still fill the void somewhat.

It's okay. They're okay.

"... More than anything I wish to support thee and thy goals. To walk with thee as we find another path. To guide thee when thou art lost and help thee up when thou doth fall. If thou wouldst accept a broken half-creature such as mineself, then... then I wilt swear to protect thee with as much power as I canst bear. Thou art precious and important, and worthy of protection and... and love."

He trembles slightly at the force of the word, but he means it. He means every single word but especially that one. He's here and he's real and so is the other. And who knows what dangers they'll face? They'll figure out a way together. "... Wouldst..." He pulls away slightly so he can look up at Sunday, his face flushing pink.

"Wouldst thou allow thyself to accept... a kiss?" He's seen others do it and he's curious as to what it means, but it looks... nice.

[harmoniousconsecration]

Sunday feels a gentle kiss against his neck, the warmth of Fou-Lu's breath ghosting over his skin. They were here, together. His eyes flutter shut, just enjoying the intimacy of the moment, how close they were to one another. As difficult as it was to adjust to this new life... Little else felt more right than this.

Fou-Lu's words... make his heart ache. For the other man to think himself broken, a half-creature. Something so base and awful... Sunday looks down at the other man, a pained expression on his face, concerned. He cups Fou-Lu's cheek.

"You are not any lesser just by nature of your summoning. I know that you don't feel whole, or complete. I know that you wish to find your other half. I can only imagine how it pains you. But you are not any less worth of kindness, or respect. Or love. You are not less of a person because of this. You have a kind soul. You have known so much suffering. I have never thought you broken."

The endless' words are full of care, and conviction. Trembling as he speaks the word love. There is power in it, Sunday knows. He can feel it in his chest, aching and burrowing in, an animal seeking heat and safety.

"We can support one another. Guide each other." The halovian thinks, perhaps this was what love was, a place to lay one's head in at night, glances and traded kisses, a person to confide in, to seek shelter in. A person one wishes to create a better world for. "Neither of us have to face everything alone."

"I want to support you, as well. I want to remain with you. I... I don't know what that may look like. I have little experience in this reality, let alone within the boundaries of my own world. But I will be here with you. I want to help you, allow you to live free of this curse, to accompany you, even after you find your other half. If you so wish it. I will accept you in any state, in any form. The only doubt in this I have ever felt is if I am worthy of your grace."

Sunday's hand moves toward Fou-Lu's, and laces their fingers together, gently squeezing the other man's hand. Their heads still lean together, for now, and Sunday opts to press yet another kiss to the top of Fou-Lu's head, before speaking.

"If you would have me like this... If you would love one who carries his failures in his heart, a man who has spent a lifetime trawling through dreams, longing for a better world while failing to create one... Then I am here. I am with you. And we can walk together."

Fou-Lu pulls away, face flushed. looking at him, as he asks if he would... accept a kiss? The halovian's heart stutters, fluttering in his chest. His ear wings flap, and his own face heats up. It wasn't a question he'd expected, even with their shared little kisses, the clinging and crying and exchanging of the word love. And yet.... He welcomes it all the same, smiling softly, warmly at the other man. His voice quiet, just for Fou-Lu, as if the whole world could hear them within the walls of this room. Leaning close, closer. His lips brushing against Fou-Lu's cheek.

"I... I would."

From Fou-Lu? Always, he thinks.

[nightmareofdivinity]

Oh, how he wishes that he could believe those words - that he's worthy of things, that he has a kind soul. That he's not broken, fractured, incomplete - a feeling that's haunted him for decade after decade because he knows it's true. But he gathers his courage as much as he can, placing a hand on the back of the other's head gently and pressing his lips to Sunday's.

Instantly he feels warm, feels the gentle pressure, and tries to keep his breathing calm. His eyes close as he basks in the warmth, the feeling of care and tenderness and... and love. He holds it for a moment before his cheeks flush an even deeper pink and he presses his face into the crook of Sunday's neck again.

"I... I wish only for thy happiness. I wouldst like nothing more than to be worthy of thy grace. Thou art not Endless but I doth feel unworthy of thy attentions nonetheless." He takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself steady. He still feels... awkward about this - not that it's wrong but more that he's doing it improperly.

Even if there's no one to watch him he feels... shy. He's so used to having eyes on him that he's not sure what to do without them. "I doth not know how to walk this path. But... we art together. We canst help each other." And he knows that he will defend Sunday with his life. He needs to make sure that the other is safe.

[harmoniousconsecration]

The kiss is soft, warm, gentle. They are both woefully inexperienced with this sort of thing, but yet... it's lovely. There's a warmth in his chest that spreads and spreads, and he smiles against Fou-Lu's lips. His ear wings flutter as he kisses the other man in return, feathers brushing against both of their cheeks.

When the other man pulls away, pressing his face back into Sunday's neck, the halovian's heart still races, excited. He strokes gently through Fou-Lu's hair, sighing softly. Just allowing him close, enjoying this.

"I... want the same, for you. I want you to be happy. I want to be part of that happiness, if I can." Sunday admits, the words leaving a blush on his cheeks, so very honest. His free hand rests upon Fou-Lu's cheek. "You deserve this. You are worthy of this. I swear it, Fou-Lu. Those same worries made me... hesitant, to tell you about this. I feared the same of myself."

In the back of his mind, the halovian still did. Even so, Sunday laughs, a soft little sound. They were both so clueless, weren't they? Travelling an unfamiliar path. But like Fou-Lu said: They had each other, were together, and thankfully, lived within the same vicinity, just a few doors away. It was a journey they didn't have to undertake entirely alone. And... having Fou-Lu close like this, one so endless and yet just as nervous as he was... It was comforting. Reassuring. Sunday didn't need to have everything figured out. He just needed to know what direction he was heading in. Though similar in many ways... their experiences seemed different enough that they could provide insight to each other that they may not have considered alone.

And they... could walk together.

"Neither do I. So much of this is very new to me." Sunday says, leaning back to look down at the other, his expression warm. His hand strokes Fou-Lu's cheek, tender, trying to offer something in the way of comfort, reassurance. To touch him, hold him, to prove to him that they weren't alone, didn't have to be. "I have faith in you. In us both. I don't know what lies ahead, or what may happen. But I know that I feel safe with you."

And maybe that was just as good.

[nightmareofdivinity]

"... Wouldst thou wish to lie together again?" He doesn't know the word 'cuddle', but that's what he means. "I doth not wish to make thee do something thou doth not wish to do." The kissing was nice, and maybe they'll do it again, but he feels very heated right now and he's not sure what to make of it.

He presses his hand on the other's lower back, pulling him in while being careful to avoid the wings. They're... quite beautiful, but he isn't sure if touching them is proper. ... But who cares about proper?

(He does. He cares.)

"I wouldst keep thee from the dangers here, but I wouldst not cage thee. Thou deserveth freedom, not incarceration. So I ask that thou doth take me with thee when thou doth desire to go to the lower reaches of the vessel." He just... he just wants the other to be safe. Imprisoning him would just make him miserable, and it seems like he's had enough of that already.

[harmoniousconsecration]

To lie together again... The thought was lovely. Fou-Lu asking if he would like these things, allow them... Telling him he didn't want Sunday to feel that he had to go along with any of it. It's comforting, full of care. And he appreciates it. They're both very new to this. All of this. There's a warmth, some excitement, fluttering away in his chest.

"I. I would like that."

A hand presses against his lower back, pulling him close. Mindful of his wings. Sunday is touched by Fou-Lu's grace, finds it very gentlemanly. The halovian's hands find Fou-Lu's face, cupping his cheeks.

Before laying down, before guiding the other into the bed with him, he lets himself enjoy this little moment, leaning close and kissing Fou-Lu again, a little peck, something quick, sweet.

Fou-Lu speaks of not wanting to imprison him, even with his love. Wishing to use it instead to protect him. It makes him feel.... something he's not sure how to describe. Was his own love a cage?

Sunday thinks of Penacony, his eternal dream. How his desire for a perfect world with no pain hinged around his sister. Did she think it a cage? The realization that life slumbers so it can live, that dreams are a reprieve, that sleep could not be forever, was still something he struggled to understand, accept. His whole life had been in dormancy.

And he knows he doesn't want that for the older man, either.

"I will. I'll come find you, if the desire ever strikes me. I don't... want to cause you undo worry. And. I would like to have you close if danger is near. If you are not busy, if you... don't mind."

Sunday feels safest around Fou-Lu anyways, he finds. Not that many have given him a reason to fear them, but... Having spent more time around the endless than others so far, he believes this feeling is more than warranted. They can't always be together, of course. But they can allow themselves this.

"I don't want you to feel.. bound to me, and my well being. All of this is very new to me, and I might be mortal, but. I can cope."

All things considered, he thinks he's been doing. Okay, on the coping part. He may not be physically strong, and might have a few... issues. But he wasn't fragile.

[nightmareofdivinity]

The kiss is sweet, tender... he can feel himself warming again. It's unfamiliar, given that he runs a bit cool, but it's not... unwelcome.

"'Tis not as if there doth be much here to busy mineself with. Not even a tome to read..." It's boring. There's not even a lot of things he can fight, and he can only whack a tree so many times before he gets irritated that it's not fighting back. "But I wouldst protect thee, should the situation call for it."

Bound to him? He huffs in amusement and presses a kiss to the other's forehead. "I doth not feel bound to thee, only by mine feelings." He curls up next to Sunday, leaning into him. He'd hold him from behind but he doesn't want to cage the other's wings.

"I wilt not go on mine own either, even if that doth be what I hath become accustomed to. You shalt have no cause to worry." ... He hopes, at least.

[harmoniousconsecration]

Sunday gives the other man a sympathetic look. It was boring here. But he found that he didn't mind it, not really.

"I would hate to see you hurt on my behalf." Sunday admits, his voice soft, warm. Fou-Lu lies with him, leaning close. Sunday is just glad to have him near, to feel him close like this again. Sunday's hand finds his cheek, gently cupping it. "I will also do what I can to support you. I am here, I am never far."

Loneliness had carved a great hole in Sunday's chest, over many years. The edges of it are still raw from the loss of everyone he loved, everyone he'd known. And yet... These last few weeks upon this Ship have proven to him that he didn't have to pull himself away, that he didn't have to be alone.

Slowly, surely, something in him was starting to change. It was raw, a great undoing of everything he'd previously come to know, accept. A tangled, woven net that had only just begun to unravel. It was difficult. But he wasn't alone, through it.

The promise he'd just made still lingers at the back of his mind, a paradise without the dream had seemed so impossible, before. He feels the older man close, feels warm lips against his forehead, knows that he's bared his soul to this man and it hasn't yet turned him either away or against him, and.... A feeling flutters in his chest.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe everything could be.

He was glad that Fou-Lu didn't feel bound, forced into this, as though the act of loving and being loved by Sunday were a cage. The halovian wants nothing more than the endless' safety, his happiness, with or without him at his side. But to have the chance to linger close like this for now.... It was more than enough.

"Thank you. I know this place is boring for you, and I don't want to simply... ask you not to explore. It wouldn't be fair of me." Fou-Lu's words are reassuring. He trusts them, trusts him to keep them. He smiles. "I... know that you are capable. Strong on your own. I trust that you know what you're doing, much more than I do. All I want is for you to be okay. And if you aren't..."

A wing at Sunday's waist reaches over, gently resting upon Fou-Lu. Holding him close, but easily moved, if it were too much, if he felt smothered. His wings were not large or high enough on his back to shelter the endless, but he could drape them over Fou-Lu, when they were close.

"I want to be near. I want to aid you. In any way I can."

[nightmareofdivinity]

He takes some deep breaths, curling into the other. He can be... vulnerable. He can be weak with Sunday. It's okay, and it's not a statement on his strength or pride. It's just... being able to be weak. Being able to be here for the halovian and not have to be formal or careful or... anything but himself.

Even if he's not sure what 'he' is outside of his purpose.

"I doth feel the same. I doth be here for thee, in whatever manner I canst be of assistance." The wash of emotion has left him... tired. He reaches over to grab the sheet and pull it up around the two of them. A small gesture, but one that allows them to share the warmth of each other more easily.

"We shouldst both rest. It hath been an... emotional conversation for the both of us."

[harmoniousconsecration]

Sunday allows the other man to curl up against him, letting him have that quiet moment. Intimacy, closeness. Vulnerability. Sunday smiles, pressing a kiss to Fou-Lu's forehead. He feels. Comfortable like this. Without a need to put up walls or barriers between himself and anyone else, not having to hold himself with such care. He could simply... be.

Fou-Lu pulls a sheet over them, suggesting that they rest. Sunday feels that he agrees, it had been. A difficult comversation. Not a bad one. Not something negative, but. It had been emotional, even draining. He can feel the exhaustion in his face, his chest, heavy.

It had also been the first time he'd well and truly opened up to another, in quite some time. The first time in a long time, in which he had laid out all of himself, his sins, on display for another to examine... Sunday was a man that acted on behalf of his aeon, who had accepted confessions of wayward, fearful souls who only wished for understanding, forgiveness. He was a symbol. He was an older brother. It was improper of him to impose his problems on a sister so far away.

Where, and with who, could he lay his burdens down? His love for all people, his pessimism, his distrust, his fear?

"Let's rest, then. I think we both need it." Sunday's arm drapes over Fou-Lu, gentle, not wishing to make him feel trapped. Wanting only to hold him. Wondering if the other man had been held in this way before. A few solid moments pass, before he adds, voice hushed, "Thank you. For hearing me. For trying to understand."

Here. He could lay it here.