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AWASH IC INBOX

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[ Following his offer to follow him back home to London, they've been in a bit of a daze. They suppose they've never really tried very hard to wrestle with their pent up feelings towards their obligations— they've only ever begrudgingly accepted them as fact. His offer changed that.

They're questioning why they have to live this way. If they could find some sort of reason, some justification for it, maybe they wouldn't feel so torn about the possibility of having to refuse his offer. That's what leads them to the frozen lake in Flavo, to a search for an explanation or an excuse.

What they see there only makes things worse.

It's a small miracle that the lake in Flavo is not too far from Gem Haus, because it only takes them the better part of an hour to make their way back to the front door as opposed to half a day. They started out slowly walking, then moved to kneeling, and finally slowed to a crawl when they got to the house's vicinity. One eye has been more or less neatly plucked out, the empty socket still in tact for the most part, while the other reveals all flat and jagged edges, any sign that there was an eye there to begin with completely gone. Truthfully, they can barely see. It's similar to looking through a heavily fogged glass, and thus, they're only barely able to make out the familiar tulips that grow outside their home, before they make their way to the door.

Of course, they don't call out for help. They only scrabble at the door for a few beats, patting around blindly for the doorknob with their marred hand, sharp and missing knuckles from what they'd done to themself. It probably doesn't produce a very reassuring sound from the inside, as it only sounds like something trying to get in as opposed to someone.

Whether he's already at the door when they finally manage to twist it open or not, they don't see or hear him. They only push the door open weakly with their arm and feel around for the doorway so they can drag themself over the threshold, leaving the door swung open. For the time being, they're convinced they're alone. ]

[ since moving in with Cairngorm, he's learned that they tend to come and go as they please - much like himself. Having them vanish for a few hours isn't really anything unusual. When he wants to find them, he can find them; he's confident in that. And if Cairngorm wants to be alone for a while, he can't blame them for that, either. There's been a lot to think about, between the trouble with those dummies emerging from the well and the matter of what happens next. Lupin's continued to treat the matter with a light hand. As always, he doesn't want to force their hand, as much as he does want to drag them along. He can wait for a while. Let them sort out their issues.

Because that's what they are, in his mind: issues, mental blocks, and nothing more. Nothing less, either, but certainly nothing that can't be overcome in small steps with a helping hand along the way. Cairngorm's troubled; Lupin's always known that, and he's patient, sensitive, or he tries to be, at least. Their lack of self-worth and guilt complex will take a lot of time and tenderness to heal. If he can simply push them over the starting line towards that goal of healing, though, he thinks they'll be able to make it. With him, in London.

He certainly wasn't expecting the problem to be like this.

His trained ear picks up their approach before they even reach the door - not that he recognizes the dragging and crawling as Cairngorm. It's not until he takes a furtive glance out the window to see what the town's thrown at him this time that he realizes it's them - and that makes him far more nervous than any fairytale monster could. He rushes down to the door with fearful speed, adrenaline pumping heavy through his system, and as he skids to a stop, he's able to see the full scope of the damage. ]

-- Cairngorm! Good God, what happened?!

[ if he were made of softer stuff, he'd probably be terrified of the ghoulish sight of their mangled face and hands and their eyeless stare. As things stand, he's only terrified of what's befallen them now. Lupin sprints to their side, crouching down in front of them with none of his usual flair and reaching forward to grab their shoulders, eyes wide and searching for some hint of what befell them. ]

[ They don't see him until he's very close— thus, they physically can't stop the flinch that comes when he suddenly grasps at their shoulders, trying to draw away out of instinct. But, they're very sure it's him and not some apparition, so there's no reason to draw back in full... except that there sort of is, because they've yet to decide what all of this is supposed to mean for what they have with him. How can they know if anything they felt was genuine, if anything they've done for him was something they wholly wanted to do? They're not feeling very certain about anything in the last 102+ years, much less anything in the last year and half, so they keep their head mostly down, not wanting to face him even if they can't see him. ]

That pond outside... [ Their voice is shaky, uncharacteristically hesitant for the blunt and straightforward gem. ] I saw something. My eyes...

[ They can't seem to fully form coherent sentences about the ordeal, very clearly distraught and disoriented in every sense of the word. For once, they seem genuinely fearful. And it isn't like them to be this way, to have their hands trembling like this and to be so timid-seeming. But they can't bring themself to act any way than the way they're feeling now, suddenly not thinking of how to control themself and keep themself in line. ]

[ he's not expecting a thoughtful answer, thankfully, although the abbreviated version doesn't do much to quell his worries, either. Their behavior makes it obvious that something really shook them; he knows just how cavalier they normally are about their injuries. If they simply got into an accident, then he's sure they'd just be complaining about what a pain it is to get fixed.

Which means whatever they saw has done more mental damage than physical, despite their appearance. He knows about the pond, of course. Lupin stays away from it. He's not interested in seeing possible futures, and for a variety of reasons - but the thought does give him a slightly painful realization. Did they go to look because of what he'd said to them before - because of his invitation? Prior to this, he doesn't remember them showing particular interest in the lake...

Not that it matters now. These thoughts are nothing but background noise as he takes their trembling hands in his, if only to provide comfort, and races through his options. ]

You're safe here, [ he says, voice firm despite the anxious flicking of his eyes. ] Were they destroyed? I can find the pieces for you - it won't take more than a few hours at most.

[ he's confident in his treasure-hunting abilities most of all. Gently, he tugs on their hands, trying to pull them into the house proper and out of the cold. If there's some creature wandering around out there... ]

No—! You can't...

[ It isn't like them to raise their voice, not like this. But they do, more rushed and panicked than they would ever normally speak - they shake their head firmly, resisting the tug of his hands. They'd yank their hands right out of his hold if they weren't concerned they might cut him on the jagged edges of their fingers, but instead, they're stuck splaying the fingers away from his, sharp and cold and everything his aren't. ]

I took them out. So you can't... I can't have them back in.

[ There's a desperateness in their voice, like they're pleading him not to go looking. Slowly, out of necessity, they drag themself more into the house, as they also would prefer not to leave their back open to the outside... but their face stays staring blankly, unblinkingly down, a loose shard from doing exactly what they just told him they'd done falling from their eye socket to the wood of the floor like a tear from a sculpture. ]

[ he probably tears his glove a little bit grabbing them - he's not thinking about how the raw edges of their fingers might be sharp, and even when he notices it, he doesn't care. All his thoughts are trained squarely on Cairngorm. Keeping a tight hold on their hand, he deftly moves around them to shut the door safely, golden eyes wide as they give him yet another unexpected answer. ]

You took them out?

[ there's a sinking feeling in his stomach. For a moment, the only sound is that of the sliver of crystal from their face hitting the ground. Again, his mind races, automatically providing a host of possible answers. Something happened to their eyes when they looked in the lake. Something happening in the town that made them hurt themself. Something so horrible appeared in the reflection that it seemed like the reasonable answer... but the fact that they can't put them back in, apparently, leads Lupin to believe there's something even more sinister going on. ]

... Why did you do that?

[ worried, still worried, but with a little vein of hurt running through the worry, now, too - hurt that they'd hurt themself, someone he cares about so deeply. The question is instinctive; after he says, it though, he crouches down, carefully picking up the stray quartz shard from the ground with his free hand and tucking it into his pocket for safekeeping, then softly tugs on their hand again, almost dismissing his previous statement. ]

Come on. Let's sit down.

[ They feel nervous in a way they never have when he tugs on their hand again, hesitating to follow him. Is it wrong to continue relying on him like this? They don't feel sure. As of right now, they're convinced they must be in control of themself, with no remaining pieces of Ghost Quartz in them to make an influence. But what about before? That strange person they'd seen in the lake had only explained Ghost's influence on them in relation to Phos, but who knows how far reaching it was. Most of all, they're unsure how they should feel towards his insistent comforting; they're dreading explaining this to him, dreading what he might think of them when maybe they haven't been themself all along. Surely, that might cause him to draw away. When the thought crosses their mind, they almost wish he hadn't been home to see them like this, afraid as they are.

Right now, they don't have any other choice but to be led around, they suppose, blind as they are. So, they shakily take a step forward where he's leading them, grasping his hand only tight enough to get a sense of the direction of where they're going - less interested in the comfort of holding on than they are in the necessity of having some awareness of their surroundings. ]

...I had to. [ They say, with a note of finality. ] I just had to.

[ Their steps are tentative as they follow him, their other hand instinctually hovering for purchase as they go along. ]

[ whatever their reason is, they certainly sound confident in it. He thinks that, usually, they'd be more uncertain about something if he sounded so clearly disapproving. Lupin doesn't find this terribly comforting. Lips in a tight line, he gently and cautiously guides them to the nearest couch, coaxing them to sit down; even afterwards, he doesn't let go of their hand, instead crouching down in front of them to get closer to eye level. Cairngorm almost definitely can't see him, but he finds himself doing it anyway, instinctively wanting to comfort.

Especially because he's never seen them in such a bad state. They look scared, and the expression's not a familiar one on their face. Yes, he wants to comfort them - if they'll even let him in. It's just as clear that he's not bringing them any comfort right now, which only unsettles him further. ]

You had to...? [ murmured, more bewildered than skeptical. ] ... Is it something you can't tell me about?

...I don't know what you'll think of me, if I tell you.

[ Their being is already bizarre to him - they don't know how he'll react to news that could change the perception of their behavior, all rooting from a piece of their body. Something like that probably isn't even fathomable to a human. Cairngorm can hardly understand it themself - only to the extent that they weren't "themself," whatever that is, not fully. And it feels like a betrayal to tell him this.

Their fingers move, tracing out the outline of his palm absentmindedly while they search for the words. Their shoulders draw in. ]

It could change how you see me. [ a beat. Disoriented like this, having their inconsistent personality laid out for them to see by that strange being they'd spoken to in their vision, they find it easier rather than harder to be honest in the moment, even if their voice has a tremor in it when they speak. ] I don't want that.

[ he stares at them seriously for a moment or two, undeterred by their eerie eyeless face. It's a stark reminder of how inhuman they really are - something that's easy to forget most other times, at least to Lupin. He doesn't have any idea what could have gone wrong, or what they could have seen in that lake that would drive them to do something so extreme, but he doesn't have any idea what could go wrong, either. It's as they're thinking - their body and existence is strange and unfamiliar to him, even after living here alongside them for a year. Before, when Ghost had appeared, they'd talked about finding a way to put themself back inside their sibling; he's wondering if this, too, is something similar. An alien problem, far removed from his human life and thought process, that he won't be able to solve easily for them.

It's more of a distant concern than an obstacle, though. He has no recourse but to try and understand. And they aren't pushing him away or shutting him out entirely - so they must want him to, too, even subconsciously. Lupin shakes his head. ]

My feelings for you aren't so fickle. [ not to say he isn't worried about what they'll say - who wouldn't be worried, in this situation? But even if Cairngorm confessed to being a serial killer, or, hell, "Mr. White" himself, Lupin can't imagine pulling away from them in a rush. He wouldn't have committed to a relationship with an immortal if his affection for them wasn't the real thing. ] ... I've spent a lot of time in nasty places with unsavory people, and I have to say you're nothing like them. Whatever you have to say, I'll listen. I promise.

[ They wish they could see what sort of expression he was making right now, to at least get a better gauge on his reactions and what he's thinking. It's not like they'd ever worry that he wouldn't take something like this with a light hand - it's just, they have to trust that he'll say what he thinks in response. They don't think they can endure saying it all at once, still confused on how to piece it together for him in a way that a human might understand. They're unique circumstances, even for a gem. But they suppose they have no other choice but then to speak to him, knowing that there is likely no one else who they can bare this part of themself to, as ironic as it is that doing so might have the most adverse effect if it's to him. Slowly, they shake their head, steeling themself. There's no guarantee he'll like what he hears, or even understand it, but they owe him some sort of explanation, at the very least. ]

...When I looked into the pond, I saw myself on the moon, with someone else— not a gem. [ is what they start with. ] They were talking about how my eyes had never been replaced after Ghost got torn off...

[ Obviously, no other normal gem would have to go through a procedure like that. Only a double layered gem would - they'd never thought of it as that strange, to keep them, that is. They were their eyes too, after all. Again, they find themself wishing they could know whether they should slow down or pause to explain more of this based on his expression, but they feel sick the longer they linger on the heaviest part of their vision, so they just end up forcing it out, regardless of whether he's keeping up. Their head bows the longer they go on. ]

How there were still pieces of them inside. Their inclusions. Their will still present in me... changing the way I would act.

[ someone else who isn't a gem - Lupin wonders who that could possibly be, considering they've made it clear that no humans (or even other animals, really) even exist on their world. Not that it matters. The real meat of their confession is what this person told them. He's a clever man; even if the problem is bizarre to him, Cairngorm words it plainly enough. There's no need to ask what they mean when he understands. ]

... Ghost has been manipulating your behavior all this time, then. Through their eyes.

[ he has a bit of a sinking feeling in his stomach - how can he not? He understands at once why Cairngorm was nervous to tell him: the question brought to mind immediately is how much of you was real? He can't believe that all of it was Ghost. Eyes are such a small thing, and the two of them have shared so much - and he met Ghost, too, and they weren't like Cairngorm. Maybe it's wishful thinking.

But he won't ask this - not now. It's obvious that they're worried about the very same thing. ]

And how do you feel now...? Different?

Edited 2019-11-09 21:32 (UTC)

...I don't know. [ a beat. ] I feel confused.

[ They're not sure if they really feel different; only different in the sense that they don't know what to think of themeslf. They don't suddenly feel like a new gem. But there's also no one that can explain this further to them, either - no past experience in gem history that might help them make sense of it, no further evidence to definitely say who they actually are. Their free hand covers the messier side of their face, hand shaking. ]

They were saying I could think on my own, but I could never decide in the end...

[ On the devotion they'd felt towards Phos, definitely, but they have no way of knowing if that extended to other parts of their life. They're suddenly feeling the weight of his acknowledgment of their prior words, knowing that he probably doubts them, too - how could he not? He said it himself. Ghost manipulating them. "Always a substitute," that's what that strange being had said. They tense when they feel fractures run through a few parts of them, appearing gradually, but stark like always on their pale skin. ]

I just, can't live like that anymore.

[ All they can do is hope that he will understand why they had to do what they did, even if it blurs the image of the gem they were. They only squeeze his hand once, more of a test of their own will than anything else, before letting the pressure off, wanting to grant him the ability to draw away if that's what he decides. ]

Of course not. [ his voice is soft and thoughtful, but he can say that much with conviction. ] If I were in your shoes, I'd do the same thing. Freedom is our most precious possession, after all.

[ This time, he does notice the cracks that spider along their skin, and he feels a familiar pang in his chest - the one he always feels when he sees them in distress. Just as he'd thought, he doesn't feel the slightest urge to leave. Maybe he's not sure what this means for the two of them - Cairngorm doesn't seem to know, either - but he does know he doesn't want them to leave. The fear is there, of course, that the Cairngorm he knew will somehow disappear, but the Cairngorm sitting in front of him and squeezing his hand doesn't seem any different to him. Why should he treat them differently? No, when he thinks about it, if anything...

With a sigh, he slips his hand from theirs. Then there's the rustle of clothes as he stands up, knee pressing against the couch as he leans over them slightly and carefully holds their broken face in his two hands, doing his best to avoid getting sliced open by their jagged edges; he looks into the dark holes where their eyes should be. They're a ghastly sight right now, to be sure. But if this truly is the real Cairngorm, he doesn't care. ]

If the "real you" is someone who believes that, then I think I'd get along with them just fine.

[ and if the "real them" isn't the person Lupin always believed they were, then they have the chance to tell him so. ]

[ They can't help the way their expression falls when he slips his hand from theirs, feeling a sensation similar to their heart dropping. Is he walking away? They wouldn't blame him, if he was, even if they have a feeling it would crush them— that's what they're thinking before they feel his palms on the sides of their face, what's left of their brows raising in surprise.

Relief. That's the immediate reaction, listening to him and feeling the familiar weight of his hands holding them. That's what they're thinking, what they're feeling. There's nothing telling them to feel that way - they just are, so it has to be real, doesn't it? Slowly, they grasp at both of his forearms, careful not to grip too hard or catch the fabric on the tips of their fingers. They just want to feel that he's there. ]

I want to be free.

[ Their voice is quiet, but sure enough to convince that this is truly what they think. They want to make their own decisions and choose what they do and where they go. It's a scary thought to have after a thousand years of being controlled, explicitly or implicitly, but they have no other choice but to feel this way. Making the choice to hold onto him, to let themself want for him to say, to let themself want him to still look at them the way he always had before - they let those desires cross their mind, uninterrupted, even if they are desperate. Not that they'll voice them— they're too unsure, and too afraid of ending up feeling like they've deceived him all this time. ]

The "real me." That's what I want. I... I'd rather stay like this than go back.

[ That much, they are certain of. No matter how muddled the rest of their thoughts are, they are sure that this was the only decision they could have made for themself. And if he wants their true opinion, a "first glimpse" at the "real them", then they'll give it to him. For once, they'd rather just say what they're feeling, rather than think too hard about how they're coming off - it's freeing in itself to speak openly like this, to unabashedly relay the thoughts coming to them. They need for him to see themself unfiltered - that's why they respond without pause, not wanting to give the impression that they are simply saying what he wants to hear. ]

[ he still feels rather blindsided by the entire situation - this is a lot to take in over the course of a few minutes - but it feels good to hear Cairngorm actively wanting something, with how hard it usually is for them to express their desires. Is this a step forward, then? If it's all true, it must be, right? Lupin has to wonder who this mysterious figure in the lake that told them all of this was; he's a little bit afraid that this is something the town did to them. A curse that makes them doubt themself and hurt themself would hardly be anything new.

Still, he's never seen them this desperate before. What can he do but believe them? He's still alarmed by the violence of it, and the suddenness, but he tries to keep up. Their jagged fingers holding onto him say that they need him now, and that's enough. ]

You don't need my permission for that, [ he replies, voice gentle, although still faintly strained with stress. The elephant in the room continues to loom over him. ] You don't need it at all.

[ The stress might be present, but Lupin is still far from panicking that this relationship is about to fall apart in his hands. Maybe it's his overabundance of confidence - more likely, it's simply that he trusts them. They've always put up a front. This is more than that - he knows it's more than that - but he believes, honestly, that he knows the real Cairngorm already, even if they've continued to be overshadowed by their "sibling" all this time. Their fears are unfounded, as he predicted. He can't see them any different than he always has. All that remains is how they see him now, with their vision unobstructed. He's quiet for a few seconds as he mulls over how to ask the question lingering in the air, palms still resting against their cool skin, connecting the two of them where their eyes can't. ]

... Back in the winter, you told me you wanted to be a pair from now on - to be something special to me, someone I could rely on. Is that still what you want, Cairngorm?

[ The question gives them pause, even though they know it must be coming. It's not any easier the second time - they remember with great clarity how hard it had been for them to even answer him when he'd asked them what they wanted from him, what they wanted from this, this feeling between them. For a long, drawn out lapse, they're unmoving, eerily still while they ruminate on an answer. ]

I, [ I don't know, is what they almost say, but then shake their head. ] I don't feel different.

[ Perhaps its true that they'd always been a substitute to all the other gems - and that this discovery about their eyes renders all their relationships with gems as tarnished. Fraudulent, in one way or another, because they'd always acted in the best interest of Phos. But Lupin is far away from all of that, had always seen them for who they are; there weren't other gems around to compare them to, or to confuse them with. In fact, he's always tried to single them out. It's always been him, encouraging them to stay apart from Ghost and to choose on their own.

Even if some of their decisions before were manipulated, or otherwise compromised, they can't let go of someone like that. All their memories of him flit through their mind, like projections of their story; the well, the birds, the island, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Phos, Ghost Quartz, the palace, the greenhouse. So much between them in this short time, so much of it dedicated to escapism of some kind, from everything that held them back. What would Ghost have to do with any of that...? ]

Being someone like that, I still... [ Want to, or want to want to. A part of them aside from their lips finally moves - their face tilts just slightly away, despite having no eyes to avert. ] But— how can you trust me...?

[ It doesn't make sense for Ghost to have any part in everything they've shared, but the fact remains that they were there, somehow, and that alone is enough to cast a shadow of doubt. If they were in his shoes, they can imagine having suspicion and stress, the kind that's bleeding into his voice now. How can he even trust that they'll be that same "someone" now? They're having trouble trusting themself. ]

[ they don't need to say "I don't know" for him to read it in their half-an-expression and their uncertain tone - and it stings, just a little, but Lupin is patient and understanding and knows that however confused he feels now, they have it a hundred times worse. So he waits for them to organize their thoughts, unwilling to give up. And when the unspoken answer in the words that fall from their lips leans towards the positive, he exhales quietly, thankful that the worst didn't come to pass (even if he didn't think it would.) That's enough for him to believe. More than enough.

How can he trust them? How could he stop now, after everything they've been through? ]

I've met Ghost. They wouldn't do or say half the things you have to me. This might embarrass you, but I've gotten pretty good at telling when you're not being honest.

[ if the feelings in their voice when they said his name while they were alone together haven't been the real deal, he'll eat his hat - and they might have a sterling career as a master thief and trickster in their future, themself. He draws his fingers affectionately along their cheek, paying no mind to the cracks and splits, until his thumb grazes the edge of their lips. ]

Besides, I do love you. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be much of a partner at all. [ Cairngorm might not be able to see it, but Lupin smiles anyway. ] What I said back when they vanished still stands. When it comes to the two of you... Maybe a human like me will never completely understand, but I'll still be here to figure it out with you.

[ "I love you," and "I'll figure it out with you," - those have to be the most reassuring things they could hear in the moment. Paired with his distinguishing of them from Ghost, they feel their shoulders slump, floored by the steadiness of the unseen support in front of them.

Maybe this is just what they need. A reaffirmation, a reassurance of their being. Without someone there to give it to them, they think they'd probably start spiraling into questioning every last bit of who they were before. But, they want to believe what he says; that them and Ghost are so different that it's not possible for it all to be tainted, that Lupin knows them well enough to know the real them already. They've always thought that he knew them better than anyone else, regardless, along with feeling safe in the promise that he always knows just what to say to them. Maybe they were simply being delusional, thinking this time would be any different.

Their grip tightens on his wrists, brows furrowing. They make the choice to cling to him, in the eye of the storm of their confusion. ]

You mean it?

[ The delicate feel of his hands on their features is so gentle, so painstakingly full of care that they feel like they'd recognize these hands anywhere, blind or not. It feels like this should be harder than it is; it should be harder for them to convince him to stay, harder for him to believe in them. That, too, makes them feel guilty, though it doesn't, or maybe can't show on their expression for the time being. Their head only bows, slightly, inadvertently leaning weight into those soft hands. ]

You still... [ Love me? goes unsaid. ] You'll stay?

[ It's true that a human might not ever understand fully. But, he doesn't need to. Simply being there, witnessing them at the lowest and not turning away - its more than they'd ever ask for. ]

Of course I will.

[ His voice quiets, becoming more serious. Perhaps later he'll be given a reason to be more unsure about it all; maybe they'll do or say something entirely unlike the Cairngorm he knows, and when that time comes, he'll have to grapple with it. But in this moment, they don't seem any different to him. Sitting before him is the same person he's always known. Lupin isn't the type to doubt his friends, and especially not one he's in love with. The faith they find so hard to accept comes easily to him - it always has. If, after everything they've said, they still feel the same towards him, then why should he change a thing?

Frankly, even if they suddenly felt differently, he knows he couldn't just abandon them - he'd try to help, try to understand, try to do something. The tone of their voice says to him not that they had so little faith in him that they thought he'd run - it says that they have so little faith in anyone caring enough for them to support them through this that his actions come as a surprise. And, as always, it's a little pang in his heart, to know they expect nothing when they deserve so much and more - at least to him. Without thinking, he finds himself leaning in, gently pressing a kiss to their forehead for a brief second. ]

Just promise me one thing - no more hurting yourself like this. All right?

[ he could lay on the act here, talk about how they're too precious a treasure to be handled so carelessly, but he wants them to listen to him. They need to take care of themself. His heart can't take it. ]

[ The contact does surprise them, but they don't react, other than a slight relaxing of their shoulders. All they want for now it to run away from everything this revelation had thrown into question, to hide behind him and have him and his kindness towards them be enough. It's selfish, maybe, but it's also survival, too - the stability from him really is like a lifeline, in the moment, one they won't let slip through their fingers, even if they can't yet tell the full effects of their change.

Right now, it's enough to know there's even one person who won't write them off, who doesn't want to see them hurt. It's enough to know at the very least that to him, they're not better off completely gone or as a substitute. ]

...Okay. [ They agree, albeit with some shame, their heart heavy with unspoken memories from winters past. He doesn't know the full weight making that kind of promise has, to them, but they make it anyway. ] I won't.

[ Only because they had to this time - that's what they want to believe, that there won't be any more reasons to do so in the future. For the time being, they seem unwilling to release their grip on him, despite their hesitance before. They were wrong to long to avoid him after seeing what they had - they should have ran to him. They can't be alone right now. ]

[ He doesn't know the full weight, no, but he has a sense for it. He's seen how ready they are to hurt themselves all the time. Even if they can be put back together -- Lupin knows them well enough to guess that it's not all practicality. Cairngorm has made it clear in the past that they take promises seriously. He just has to have faith they'll take this one to heart, too.

For now, they're safe. They're getting better, if what they say is true. And, so far, they're still the jewel he fell in love with. That's enough for him. With their grip on his wrists, his range of movement is a little limited, but he tries to stand back up again - though he won't pull away from their hands, merely letting his own slip back into them as he moves to sit beside Cairngorm instead. ]

Thank you. [ his response is gentle and honest. This, too, is an expression of how much they've opened up to him, how much they're willing to trust him with, and it doesn't escape him. ] Then I'll promise you that I'll be here as long as you'll have me.

[ as long as he can make it last - he thinks again of how he'd asked them to come with him, but the thought is dismissed quickly. That's the last thing they need to be contemplating now. ]

... This fellow you saw in the lake. You're sure he was telling the truth? I've never once suspected there was anything wrong with you.

[ maybe his affections clouded his sight, but Lupin likes to think his senses are more keen than that. Then again, Cairngorm isn't even human. ]

[ Feeling his hands slip into theirs, they feel compelled to squeeze his hands tighter, to hold onto him as tightly as his fragile hands would allow. But, as it stands, it's probably too dangerous to do that now; they'd had the buffer of his sleeves before, but now all that stands between their jagged fingers and his soft skin are thin gloves, ones that they can't even see the state of. Even amidst everything, they think first of being careful with him, just like they've always been. ]

...I think it was the truth. [ They admit, shaking their head. ] He said that Ghost's last wish made me too cooperative towards Phosphophyllite. That I'm "bound" by a loyalty to them.

[ Truthfully, if their eyes had the effect of making them follow Phos's wishes, and to a greater extent, follow Ghost's wish to do whatever necessary to protect them, it would be an explanation for why they'd always felt so trapped by their obligations. Cairngorm is the type to just accept the duties thrust onto them - maybe that's why they couldn't tell the difference between getting asked by Ghost, and being made to do it by Ghost. It's not a happy explanation, and it only makes them feel more lonely at the prospect of spending an additional 100 years under the instructions of someone else. But, maybe knowing this now is a chance to break away from it. ]

Maybe that's why I... [ For a moment, they trail off, looking lost despite their damaged features. It's always hard to talk about themself, but it's the only way to make sense of this. ] Why I feel like I have to go back, have to do all of it. All so I can do what they told me to do.

[ And maybe they really don't have to go back, don't have to keep agreeing to Phos's insane plans against their best judgment, don't have to keep feeling like they're always failing, always need to do more or be more. That person, whoever they were, was right - it's just exhausting. ]

[ maybe they'll find it a comfort that he squeezes their hands, instead, especially as they start looking more dejected the more they speak. Listening and understanding's about all he can do right now, so he does his best to comfort them, jagged edges be damned. Lupin hums in acknowledgement when they finish.

He's still not sure. He's naturally suspicious, considering the effect this guy's words had on Cairngorm. As tough as they are on the outside, he knows their emotional state could be quite fragile if someone decided to pick at them the wrong way - this is proof enough that a few words can be enough to turn them to self-destruction, even if those words are true. But maybe he's being overprotective. Neither of them know the situation, after all...

(he takes such care to protect that vulnerability of theirs - seeing someone split them open in such a painful way makes him angry, no matter how he might try to rationalize it.) ]

Well, it could certainly be part of it. [ But Lupin keeps his doubts to himself. ] Only time will tell. You've got to heal up first -- your heart, not your head.

[ although he'd like to fix their face a little, too. He cants his head to the side just slightly, gazing at their punctured profile. ]

... Can you still see that way? Probably not, right?

[ They're actually grateful that he doesn't prod into the issue of them returning or not any further; as much as they're thinking about what this means for a life-changing decision like that, they know that if asked again by him now to leave everything behind and follow him to Steel London, they still wouldn't be able to give a definitive, straightforward answer. They just don't know enough about what's going on - only that this shook them, and that they don't want to be left by themself. They'd only wanted to voice that they have doubts about any of their decision making prior... ]

Not really. [ As if to signify this, they only move their face towards the general direction of where his voice is coming from, light skimming across the revealed dark crystal. ] Gem sight is naturally weak - without eyes.

[ What does that mean for them, without an immediate way to get replacements? They don't know. They've collected a mass of colorless crystals in their time in Chroma - coughing them up, taking them from that palace. And yet, they doubt any are compatible with them and their pitifully weak inclusions. This, too, scares them - living in this place without sight and being unable to protect themself or him. Though, it's not enough fear for them to feel regret over doing what they had as soon as they were able. Their thumb moves against the back of his fingers nervously, helplessly, even, unable to return his gesture, yet still wanting to feel him there, to return something. ]

AWASH IC INBOX

action, sometime after the event in august, real eyes realize real lies

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