averagemedium | [RYSLIG] INBOX.

[As much as he wants it to be, "try" isn't satisfactory. It leaves too much room for doubt and his dismay shows in a flicker of a frown. Afraid of exposing more, he turns away, staring at Ryan's coils.]

To simplify it, we tortured ourselves. Most of it we did alone, under the supervision of our personal instructors. Some of it... [he sighs] ... While the rest of my city enjoyed the harvest, we went through the Beating Months. It's as it sounds. Each month, we were assigned a fellow candidate. Each month we would beat them. Torture them until both of our instructors issued an order to stop. We were encouraged to be creative. To go lower than most here could even go. When they deemed the session over, the one beaten was given the needed time to recover and we—I—would be follow in their place. Tortured, that is.

That and the self-flagellation were meant to harden us. Dull our senses to pain and secure our minds so that we could overcome our Joining with the god. So that we could last with him inside us. It's why I can't feel minor pains. Cuts, bruises, even broken bones are dull aches to me. [He glances at Ryan.] I'm not certain you've noticed. It's not something I've tried to hide. Largely because I can't. It's hard to act in pain when you can't even recognize it.

...I thought you were good at hiding it, I-- I didn't know you couldn't feel it at all.

[It brings up doubts that he doesn't want to voice right now, both because he'd promised himself he'd wait and because he's afraid of the response. If he's dulled his sense of pain that much, how much of a sense of touch does he have? How many times might Ryan have touched him without him feeling much at all?

But still-- that's far beyond anything he'd known at home, and his voice is low and a little awed.]

That's- I couldn't have survived it. I almost can't believe anyone would.

[It's the response he wanted and that surprises him. Here he had expected ignorance, disapproval, worry and pity to the pain he underwent. Instead, he gains awe, understanding. The same reaction he would have back home. It warms him, gives him hope. Makes him think that maybe, just maybe, this could work. They could work.

With a faint smile, he burrows just a bit deeper into Ryan's hold.]

Not many can. Even among our ranks, there's a high dropout rate. Those of us that do make it receive a similar reaction to yours. The esteem with which we're held is closer to the, ah, "movie stars" here than anything else. It's admired, [he shrugs] to the point of mimicry.

Few people here understand that. Even Oren.

[He turns his head into Ryan's chest, breath slowing. When he speaks next, his voice is soft.] ... Thank you.

[Mattias shifts closer, and Ryan welcomes it, curling around him a little more and letting his head rest against his partner's. Breathing in his scent. It's a comfort to Ryan too, especially given the subject matter, and he doesn't intend to give that embrace up any time soon.]

You know you're always impressive to me, Mattias. [Faintly teasing, though the tone doesn't last. This isn't something he honestly takes lightly.] ...I can see why people wouldn't understand, but I would've thought that Oren--

[Realization strikes there, and he cuts off that thought.] Is that what you meant when you said you weren't really from the same world?

You flatter me... with your memory.

[Eyes closed, he smiles. It's nice to hear Ryan recall his word, nice to know he listens. Gives him hope that maybe, just maybe, what he's saying won't just go unheard.]

Oren is from the city that rivals my own. Although our cities are... much larger. Much, much larger. Maybe you would define them as... continents? I don't know. [Doesn't matter anyway, he waves it off, shifting so he can burrow further.] We used to be one, back when the night was with us, but it all... it all split apart. Now it's polarized; Oren's people represent the night followers and mine... [He shrugs.] As I said... we're ruled by the sun.

[With a soft groan, he drags himself out of Ryan's chest. By the time he stops moving, he's panting.] Hence why the didn't take kindly to my decision to host Nocta.

[A beat, a flinch. He remembers an important detail, gesturing weakly with his hand.] Right, Nocta... she's the night goddess. Went missing. Big thing. Did I explain that?

[Whatever, if not.]

Wait, you-- what?

[His eyes widen there, narrow pupils dilating a bit. That's a piece of exposition that he was missing, yes, and a pretty big one in his opinion. He doesn't move his hands from Mattias' body, keeps a hold on him to try to support him as he shifts, and watches him with a worried frown.]

Stop moving so much, you're making it worse. [That's a soft murmur before he continues, more of an aside than anything, but the concern pushes through his surprise strongly enough that he has to comment. Afterward, though-]

No, Mattias, you never mentioned that. You said there used to be another god, not that she ever came back. Definitely not that you actually hosted her.

[With everything Mattias has said about what that means for his life-- Ryan can't help but be a little offended that he's making it sound like that information was an afterthought.]

Well, she's not back, [he grumbles,] that's what I was in the process of doing. But... yes. That's what I've done. Hence the... "Messiah" and "Traitor" parts of my title.

[It seems to take effort to keep himself even somewhat upright; he braces a hand against Ryan for support, fingers curling into his shirt as he regains his breath. When enough has returned, he pats Ryan's chest, as if to let him know it's okay, he's only sort of dying now.]

Anyway, if I am to be successful in... returning the goddess to power, then my world should return to how it was meant to be. To what you all have had. That's why I... spent my life searching for her. Preparing for her, et cetera... [he rolls his hand.] If you want to be dramatic you could say I have... given my life to the only hope my world has.

[It's hard to tell why he falls quiet then, if it's from further overexertion or simply by choice. All that's evident is that when he speaks next, any prior levity that had framed his words is gone.] When I came here the gods took her.

[That silences him for a longer stretch of time. Losing what you've focused your life toward, he can understand, but... not on such a large scale. Nothing like what Mattias was trying to do.]

You lost more than most of us have.

[One of his hands covers Mattias' own, in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture.]

...I can't say I know what it feels like to be missing something that important, but- hell, it was bad enough losing my extra sense.

[The hand nearly startles him. Mattias looks back, bewildered though not taking his hand away. What they both lost wasn't the same but they weren't so far off, either. Slowly, he shifts back around to face Ryan. This time he's careful not to drag his hand away.]

No... I think you might. It... your sense was a part of you, yes? [It's a genuine question. He even looks up for it, a hopeful glance to check that he's right.] Nocta... she was the same. She lived within me. We were... separate, but one. Being without her... it feels like being a river without a current.

[His brow furrows, his head jerks up.] Does- does that make sense?

--yeah. Yeah, it does.

[He gives Mattias a small, almost grateful little nod there. It's been minimized before in the face of other losses (and many of them had things taken from them, it's understandable), and that question is reassuring. Mattias, at least, seems to get how important it was.]

I mean... I grew up with it, you know? I didn't know what it was like to not see the things I did-- it's still weird that this place doesn't show where people died. I got so used to seeing the marks.

[Another moment of silence follows, his fingers fidgeting with Mattias'.] I guess for me it's more like being colorblind when I used to see it just fine. But- yeah, I get it. Something's just missing.

I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I'm not naive enough to think I'm the only one who's lost something of import.

[With a rasping breath, he brings his hand to cover Ryan's fidgeting fingers. Gently, he presses them down, eases them into stopping.] Would this place be similar, though? I've died here. In a way, does that not make me a... [fuck, what was the term?] ... ghaost?

[He's pretty sure he said it right.]

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