Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.
So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!
But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.
According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.
He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!
So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.
Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.
And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.
And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.
Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.
Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.
Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...
One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.
Gepard doesn't sleep that night.
Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.
Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.
She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.
"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.
Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.
His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?
“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.
Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.
“We don't even know-”
“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.
“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.
It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.
The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.
“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-
Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”
“No what?”
“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”
Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”
Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed.
Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.
“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”
“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.
From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light.
The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.
He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.
Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.
Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.
Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.
In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.
Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.
He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.
He only hopes that it's enough.
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Trigun and the 'Bride of Christ'
An additional thought that popped up after my previous post about Triguns heavy themes of Christianity (a somewhat? Part 2?). In this I look at the Vash and Wolfwoods relationship, their opposing views and how that relates to the Christian term 'the bride of christ'. During this I specifically discuss a large spoiler for the series/manga, so readers beware!
I was chatting with some lovely folks on the Vashwood discord server (if you wish to join, click this link!) about Wolfwoods death, and the way it's, well, wedding themed. The wedding themes include the confetti, the way Wolfwoods passing occurs in front of a church, the ringing of the church bell, and the bottle of liquor they share is labelled 'BRIDE' with a cross on it.
All the items come together in a definite way that resembles, in some terrible fashion, the festivities for a wedding. Hell, even after Vash buries Wolfwood, he makes tons of dishes of food, and Livio and him basically have a feast, another thing one does at weddings.
The 'Bride of Christ'
What particularly caught my eye was the bottle with the word bride on it, with a cross. Multiple times within the new testament, the body of the church is referred to as the 'Bride of Christ'. As I've previously mentioned, Vash is regularly set up as a Christ-like figure; his actions and his philosophical values align with a Christian perspective, in his belief in unconditional love and forgiveness (ie, the blank ticket). As well, as that Wolfwood is a Christian preist, this literally makes him a 'bride of Christ'. In a sense, where in the story Vash is pitched as a Christ-like figure, this means that Wolfwood could be interpreted as the 'bride of Vash'. This especially so considering the contextual clues that hint towards a wedding - confetti, church, and church bells.
Acceptance of Christian philosophy
Further adding to this, is that although Wolfwood was a priest, he did not fully ascribe to Vash's view. In fact, the two of them are foils, their beliefs similar- both coming from love and a need to protect, but differing in Vash ascribing to unconditional love and forgiveness, while Wolfwood refuting that such a position can be practically taken (this is, well, I would say a simplified take on their beliefs but thats a different post for a different day). However, by this point in the story, the both of them have very deeply impacted each other. In fact, this is set almost immediately after Wolfwood saves Vash from Knives, which is the the moment where Vash openly forgives Wolfwood and Wolfwood begins his acceptance of Vash's philosophical views; in that specific moment, he accepts his own absolution (explained further in my previous post).
It is exactly in Wolfwoods fight against Chapel and Livio, that Wolfwood fully (or mostly so) accepts Vash's philosophical views, expanding to accept a blank ticket/unconditional love for others. This is seen as he repeatedly chooses not to kill Chapel's hired guns, and even sharply pleading Livio to spare one of them. Indeed, previously at Vash's request, he'll shoot to injure, but he's not really shown to be particularly worried about the bandits, versus here he is actively choosing to minimize harm; exactly like we've seen Vash do, over and over and over again throughout the series. As well, the hired guns literally try to target the orphanage when they've clearly lost, and also kill one of their own when Wolfwood brings him back, telling him that they've just upped their pay- showing that they're not particularly 'redeemable' hired guns that are likely to repent and become good people. And yet, Wolfwood still chooses to try and save them.
He also specifically goes out of his way to not kill Livio, even though killing Livio would severely even out the playing field, and Wolfwood would likely not have likely died as a result. And Wolfwood makes that decision, again and again and again, only focusing on killing Chapel, and Chapel only, since he's the one that is threatening the orphans.
While Wolfwood fights, Chapel derides him on Vash's views, and how Wolfwood has picked them up. Wolfwood, close to death, reviews his relationship with Vash and Vash's philosophy, and refutes the ideology that Chapel believes in, and that he himself has lived under, that they need to kill to survive, (or to save lives) and that Vash's belief in forgiveness and unconditional love is foolish.
It culminates in Wolfwood declaring that he believes in Vash, in his principles, and standing back up to continue to fight, having accepted Vash's Christian philosophy. Interestingly, it's also Christian leaning terminology he uses; both in that he followed Vash, much like one follows the the teachings of Christ, and that he believes in the Vash's ability to change to world with his philosophy, in the same way Christians believe in Jesus's ability to save the world through the gospel.
In summary, Wolfwood chooses to accept and even says he believes in Vash's philosophical views, thereby choosing to accept the possibility of forgiveness and unconditional love, both for himself, as is shown when he saves Vash from Knives, but also for others, and especially with Livio during the scene up to his death. This full acceptance and belief in a Christian/Vash's perspective would then also show that Wolfwood has fully accepted to be the 'bride of Christ', making him not only via contextual cues a 'bride' of Vash, but also within a Christian theological sense a bride of Vash as well.
In conclusion, (ie, TLDR) Wolfwoods death is wedding themed, with confetti, a church, church bells, and a bottle with the label BRIDE with a cross on it. The church is within the Bible called the 'bride of Christ'; as Vash is a christ-figure, and Wolfwood is a priest, this would make Wolfwood Vash's bride. As well, it is just previous to Wolfwood death scene that Wolfwood has accepted Vash's Christian philosophies, signalling his acceptance as the 'bride of Christ/Vash', further perpetuating the wedding theme.
TTLDR: Vash and Wolfwood are married yup 👍
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⚠️Spoilers for Shinrei tantei Yakumo - the lamenting doll file 03 and the epilogue⚠️
Here in case you missed it
I just read it and spontaneously wrote this.
Be careful if you haven't read it yet.
The file starts with where it left off the last time with them deciding to locate Mahiro's mother.
I kinda forgot about it since we haven't seen Isshin for a while, but this volume reminded me of how much Yakumo is influenced by Isshin. Be it the way they talk or sometimes even their mannerisms.
It's pretty much a given that they'll have to stay another night at the hotel but that would mean Haruka will have to stay in that creepy ass room again. Isshin really told Yakumo “accept the situation or sleep with her”😭😭😭
But sadly It's just like Gotou said, Their relationship label won't allow it smh
Gotou's snores and Isshin's bad posture are KILLING ME. My mom entered the room while I was having a fit of laughter I just looked crazy to her 😭
Isshin is so chill he doesn't care if you try to make him look bad. Rather his hilarious responses made Gotou look silly for complaining. Poor Gotou-san. Maybe I should learn from him... Unbotherement sure is powerful~
Anyways I guess that means Yakumo is the only one who sleeps normally hahaha
Just like I expected, Mahiro's death is weighing Hiromi down. kinda knew it from file 02, but hearing the details from Masae made me want to cry. No parent should ever go through this.
And so they split into two teams: team Gotou and Yakumo. and team Haruka and Isshin. All I'll say is that the latter team sure is a good match.
And then we have Gotou-san who not only has to put up with Yakumo's comments but also got a Salary cut too!! He suffered too much this trip. Imagine wanting to skip work only to get dragged all the way to a whole different prefecture. Still kinda his fault for ignoring Ishii smh.
Speaking of Ishii I'm happy he and Makoto were mentioned even though they didn't make an appearance. Isshin's mere presence made up for any other character's disappearance. Kaminaga-sensei is a genius for mentioning Eishin too. I think references like that will increase in the complete version. Knowing the future and the direction of your work sure makes a big difference. It was really interesting knowing that Eishin was the one taking care of Nao when Isshin's not around. Nao must really miss Isshin even if she doesn't show it on her face. I head canon afterwards Nao being overjoyed to see not only Isshin but Yakumo and Haruka too after his two-day disappearance.
The scene when that madman dragged Haruka gave me the chills. Kaminaga-sensei using TTCM as a reference sure was brutal I ended up imagining it. Haruka did her best till the very end but the situation was hopeless. She can't even resist. her mouth, legs and wrists were taped. And on top of that he had the audacity to slap her! How dare him! If that man wasn't charged with attempted murder after all this I'm throwing hands!
In the end the case was solved and we find out that Takahiro-kun was the one talking to Hiromi all along. It really broke my heart knowing that all this time he didn't even know he was dead and yet played along to try to comfort Hiromi who was mourning for her child. What a strong kid. He and Mahiro are.
The lamenting doll huh... makes sense.
In the epilogue we learn that Yakumo can't handle hot food which I thought was really cute.
Tbh his whole food preference was quite unexpected. First we learn that he has a sweet tooth (Which Haruka thought doesn't suit him at all lol) and then a similar situation to the one in the epilogue happened in vol. 7 iirc when Yakumo was (again) staring at the sake and when Haruka asked if he can't drink he stubbornally tries to only to spit it out. This man just can't be honest😂 I actually really respect men who don't drink or smoke so that's a flex~
Now some of my favorite Yakumo lines which for some reason all happen to be verbally abusing Gotou (Can't blame Haruka for laughing because c'mon how could you not?)
• “You can say that because you've never heard it yourself. Compared to Gotou-san's snores, even a train would be quieter.”
• “A member of the police stating that he'll be driving under the influence? Japan is finished.”
• “I'm saying bears can't understand the taste of wine. What if someone made up a new proverb: bears and wine.”
• "I don't want to waste any more calories than this."
• "Well, that's not surprising. A bear with damaged taste buds such as Gotou-san will never understand."
Bye I'm using these irl.
I'll also add these two because I keep remembering these two exchanges and laughing:
1)
"I see. If you don't want to, it's fine. But please stop bringing cases to me from now on."
"This and that are a different story."
"No, it's the same thing. Ah, that's right. So that Gotou-san will stop bringing me cases, I'll be reporting to the police that you've been leaking investigation details to a civilian."
"What!? Don't joke with me! I'll get fired if you do that!" Gotou shouted in panic.
"Good then. That way I won't have to involve myself in cases that have nothing to do with me, and taxpayer money won't have to go into paying the incompetent Gotou-san; just like killing two birds with one stone."
"What did you say!?"
"Isn't that great? This way, Gotou-san can also play around to your heart's content. So it'll be more like killing three birds with one stone," said Yakumo, grinning as he looked at Gotou.
He really stabbed where it hurt. Having been commented like that, Gotou wouldn't have a way to refuse. "Fine. I'll help. Happy?"
Gotou lifted his heavy bottom up from the sofa reluctantly as he sighed. Yet Yakumo wasn't done with his counterattacks.
"Not really, it's fine even without Gotou-san helping."
"That wasn't what you said earlier!"
2)
"Sorry about that. Could you please tell me what I should do?" Gotou asked formally while swallowing his displeasure.
"You should know if you listened to the story,"
"I'm asking because I don't know."
"You should have if you paid close attention to the whole story."
"Well I don't know!"
"Is that something to be proud about? Good grief.”
Too much Yakumo😂
Volume 11 is up next. I'm really really excited for this one because Unkai and Miyuki are one of the best antagonists I've ever read. I'll never forgive them for what they did to Yakumo but their back stories are very very well written and explains how they ended up that way. That last arc will wrap everything up. I remember reading the book description a while back but Laute's translations stopped at the time so I thought I'll never read it.
The day has finally come!!!
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Just Tonight (II)
✧ Nebarra x human!LDB
✧ Angst to comfort; 2k+ words
✧ Brief & very mild suggestive content, light swearing
♫ "My Blood" - Echos, "Mistake" - NF, "Stubborn" - Riell
✒ @candydreamer122, you asked to be notified when this dropped so here ya go!
Nebarra opened his eyes to the golden light of dawn, your head resting on his chest, bare legs intertwined with his. Your body pressed against his, warm and comforting, and when he glanced down at your face, he'd never seen it more peaceful. He reached up, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch.
Gods, you took his breath away. But even as he lay there, admiring you in the soft morning light, a single, unpleasant thought wormed its way to the front.
He didn't deserve you.
It made him pause, something turning sour in the pit of his stomach. No... Please, no...
He didn't want the moment to end. Didn't want the thoughts he knew would turn his happiness to ash. But for years they had whispered in his mind, been his constant companions, bitter and selfish lovers that left him with nothing in return but pain and cynicism. They would not let him go so easily, relinquish the control he has given them long ago.
All the more reason he couldn't, shouldn't have you.
Because, really, what could he offer you? He had nothing but his past, his bitterness, his selfish nature. Even last night had been spurred on by his own selfish desires, exacerbated further still by drink. He was nothing but thorns, rough and crude, the blood of hundreds on his hands – and he felt no guilt over them.
...Most of them.
You didn't deserve someone like that. You could do so much better than him.
Why did you want him, at all?
And as he lay there, hand cupping your face, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour – your own slowly fluttered open.
His breath caught. Sunlight danced across your irises, and he could see himself reflected in your gaze. For a few moments, you simply blinked at him, and he could see every minute shift in your expression. Emptiness, confusion, sudden realisation – and then you smiled.
Nebarra had seen many things in life. Many ugly things, things that he'd tried to forget, that haunted him until he drowned them in drink. The few beautiful things he'd seen, though... those, he remembered clearly, and often. Fought to carve them into every facet of his memory, to allow himself the slightest hope, to give himself the smallest of reasons to keep going. And the smile you gave him...
It was the most beautiful of them all.
There was life in your smile. Vast, vibrant, and beautiful, your face haloed in the golden light of morning, you looked... divine.
And then, you spoke, words low and husky from sleep, a laugh rumbling in your throat: "And you call me guar-face." Slowly, you raised a hand, gentle fingers brushing his cheeks, smile growing ever wider.
...He wanted you. Gods, how he wanted you. His heart ached with the thorns of longing, with the knowledge that he couldn't, shouldn't have you.
So, he turned away, pulled back from your touch. Forced an empty expression on his face, in his eyes. Grunted a simple, "Morning." And carefully, oh so carefully, pushed you off him.
"...Nebarra?"
Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be.
"What?" The word was heavy on his tongue, deadened in tone as he sat up, got off the bet, and set to collecting his clothes from the floor.
"Nebarra... What's wrong?"
Everything. "Nothing." He fumbled with his trousers, nearly falling as he tugged them on, still scanning the floor for his shirt. Anything to avoid meeting your eyes.
"Bullshit." Sheets rustled as you leaned forward, and he could practically hear your brows furrow at him. "Is it... because of last night?"
"No." Yes.
"I think it is. And I think we should talk about it – about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted, still pacing the floor, eyes roving everywhere but the bed. Where was his damn shirt?
"Oh, I think we have a lot to talk about."
He didn't answer, and in the silence, fabric rustled some more. Then, your voice, "...Looking for this?"
Finally, slowly, Nebarra looked at you. You were sitting upright on the bed, and in one hand you held up his shirt, winkled and dusty from the floor.
And you... were still very much naked. Your chest was on blatant display, the blankets pooled low around your hips, deep purple teethmarks scattered over your skin – his doing. Nebarra swallowed, averting his gaze back to the tunic.
Wordlessly, he stalked over, reaching out for it – only for you to snap your hand back, away from him. He sighed. "What are you doing?"
You didn't answer, though he could feel your gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he returned it – and the storm in your eyes sent a shock down his spine.
Oh...
Oh, no.
Before he could even begin to pick apart what he saw in there, you raised your arms, slid them through the holes of the shirt, and pulled it down over your head.
You... were wearing his shirt.
Still holding his gaze, there was something like a challenge in your eyes. Nebarra grit his teeth and, for once in his life, held his tongue, unsure if he could win this one.
The thought... unsettled him.
But... maybe not as much as it should have.
"Nebarra."
No. No, no no no. You couldn't do that to him – say his name in that tone, in that way.
"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.
Maybe he should have just been born mute.
"We need to talk about this."
"No, we don't."
"Why not?"
"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."
It felt like an eternity passed before you answered, and when you did, your voice was heavy, rasping with emotion. "...If that's how you really feel, then–"
You choked. Nebarra could practically hear the words catch in your throat, dying before they could pass your lips. Instead, a low, bitter laugh rose suddenly in their place; the sound scraped his wounded heart raw. "Gods damn you, Nebarra. You're... really selfish, you know that?"
"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."
But you weren't done. Because as you rose from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, you continued, "You're also... a really shit liar."
And then you were standing before him, your hand on his chin, turning his face towards you, your gaze searching his. He couldn't avoid your eyes this time, couldn't look away from the storm raging within them: hurt, anger, confusion.
Because of him. Him, and his stupid decisions, and his even stupider words.
Yet, even as he stared, he could see something else in them, too.
Affection. Care. Passion. And... lo–
Why? Why him? Of all the people on Nirn you could want, how could you want the mess that was him?
"I don't know," you said softly, and Nebarra realised with horror that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Because, gods, you really are a mess, aren't you? You're bitter, cynical, surly, arrogant, selfish, flawed to the moons and back, but..." Your hand shifted, brushing upwards to cradle his cheek, and the Altmer found himself holding his breath, afraid of what you'd say next, needing to hear what you'd say next.
Only, you didn't say anything. Instead, you simply leaned in, pulled him close – and kissed him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Nebarra found himself returning it, pulling you in closer, hands falling to your waist –
Wait.
No.
Stop.
What was he doing?
Breathless, he pulled away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His mind spun; he couldn't seem to form a single coherent though. "What – what was that?"
Your eyes seemed to stare right down to his soul, burning with intensity, filled with both pain and longing. Yet a faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across your face as you answered, "Nothing, apparently."
...Damn you.
Before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, Nebarra caught your arm and tugged you sharply back towards him, crashing his lips back against yours. You stumbled from the initial force of it, but he followed your motion, keeping your lips on his.
After a moment, your arms slipped around his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other tickling his nape. He grunted into the kiss, pulling you back towards the bed; you didn't resist, and readily fell back on it.
Nebarra fell with you, straddling your prone form, brushing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, nipping gently as he went. A soft gasp escaped you; his hands slid down, tugging your shirt – his shirt – gradually upward, pulling it off of you.
And immediately he sat up, got off the bed, and tugged it over his own head. Without a word, he walked away to the other side of the room, leaving you naked and stunned on the bed.
"...Nebarra!"
"Like you said," he muttered, stalking across the room and far from you, "I'm selfish."
He could hear a frustrated breath hissing through your teeth. "Damn you! Why can't you just admit what you feel, what you want? What are you so afraid of?"
The elf froze.
You could see right through him, couldn't you?
"You don't... even know me," he managed at last, keeping his back towards you. "You don't even know my name, my real name."
"I don't need a name to know you, though. Names aren't what define us – we define them. It doesn't matter to me whether you're Nebarra or... or Nico, or something else entirely. Because you're still, and always will be you, regardless of what name you answer to."
Gods, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?
"Pot, kettle, black," you sniffed, and Nebarra realised that yet again, he'd spoken aloud. "And who knows, maybe I picked some of it up from you in the first place."
Sighing heavily, Nebarra leaned forwards and let his forehead thunk against the wall. He stayed like that for a long moment, counting his breaths, trying to collect his thoughts.
"I'm not... suited for a relationship," he slowly began. "I wouldn't be... you have better options than me. People who could give you what you want far better than I could."
At that, you actually laughed, and he turned to look at you despite himself. There was no smile on your face, only pain and mockery; the sight drove thorns through his chest. "Who, then, O wise one, most knowledgeable of relationships? Who on Nirn can give me what I want, when what I want – is you."
He shook his head. "Well... you shouldn't. I can give you nothing."
"You aren't nothing," you said softly. "Your heart isn't nothing. Don't you get that yet, Nebs?"
"My... heart," he echoed, staring blankly at you. "My heart."
Shifting, you rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you approached. "Yeah, your heart. This thing–" you placed a hand over his chest "–that's beating right here, going at a million miles a second." Your eyes locked with his once more, and somehow, even before you spoke, he knew. He knew.
"I love you, you miserable bastard. And I want you, not for anything you can offer me, but for who you are. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Now, the only question left is... how do you feel? What do you want?"
He couldn't hide from it any longer. The truth was on his tongue, escaping his lips before he even had to think about it. "You. I just... gods damn it, I just want you," he rasped. "But..."
You placed a gentle finger against his mouth. "Shh," you murmured. "No buts."
Slowly, Nebarra raised a hand, brought it up to yours, and pulled it away from his lips, instead lacing his fingers with yours. "No, listen. I... this... is going to be complicated, if we really do this. And... you're probably going to get hurt and disappointed because of me. There's a lot you don't know–"
"And you can tell me when you're ready," you soothed, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. "We'll cross all those bridges when we get to them. And yes, before you protest any further," you added, when his mouth opened to do just that, "I'm aware of the emotional risks. But that's part of every relationship, Nebarra, and you know that. So, again, when they do inevitably arrive, we'll cross those bridges together."
...He really didn't deserve you. Didn't understand how or why you wanted him, of all people. But as you rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling, eyes full of nothing but each other – Nebarra realised he didn't care, anymore.
The voices in his head, all the doubts and fears – they still hissed their poison, and he knew it would be a long, long time before they stopped. But a new voice had joined the mix, soft but confident, telling him that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't about "deserving" things, but appreciating them. That maybe, amid the bleak desert of his past, he could still find a lone rose of happiness.
And that voice... sounded an awful lot like yours.
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