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[worldisyours]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, RINDO KANADE. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 4.28.13.9 *** rindragon has joined 4.28.13.9

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[familyproblem]

[That's the thing, though. You don't think you can, until you have the choice. Then...then you find out what you're capable of.

Gladion is chewing on that. (Maybe to squirm away from how the validation feels.) Rindo holds himself back, he knows. And you never know, so it's pointless to speculate. But he thinks he can imagine it. Rindo drawing on, drawing out those little flashes of stubbornness he shows. Standing his ground, raising his voice. And then maybe something more involved. If he ran into Lusamine, at least, he wouldn't just fold to her. And that's worth something.]

Right. Born in a Foundation lab. That's why it was so...undersocialized before here. [What he's said before about it, how it seems to have taken well to Ryslig.]

[worldisyours]

[To be fair: there is a world where Rindo folds to Lusamine, or to Elias, or to any other manipulator—but it can't be this one. He's been made too wary, and there are too many people looking out for him, Gladion himself included.]

Well, even if things didn't work out the way you wanted, I'm glad you got it out of here. It must've been hard.

[If it's an artificial weapon, then Gladion's comments about it suddenly make a whole lot of sense. Thinking about Silvally's creation, there's a lot of room for imagining the worst… and for relating—both in the how of it, and the why.

…]

Isn't it kinda like us?

[familyproblem]

Made to a purpose?

[Let's keep following this train of thought it's way better than diving back into his turbulent mom feelings. Gladion's voice is still wavery, but it's in, like, a wry way now. He's Fine.]

[worldisyours]

[Still not convinced. Making plans to offer a distraction later, or possibly a hug if the vibes are right. (If Gladion's looking, he will be able to see the concern plain on Rindo's face.)

"Made to a purpose" isn't quite how he'd have worded it, but now that he's giving it some thought, he's realizing that he can't really find better words.]

…Yeah, pretty much. Made to be weapons. And we don't get a say in that.

[Big sigh. This has not been an easy conversation for either side.]

[familyproblem]

[He's looking. He doesn't know how to acknowledge it now any better than he has before, elsewhere, except as a problem he needs to solve. His goal is to not elicit that kind of concern; that's how he, along with everyone else, will know he's actually alright.]

Right you are. [With a wry snort. Welcome to the wonderful world of kinning your beast, Rindo.

But Gladion doesn't get to elaborate on that, because a static burst snaps along his limbs, pushing a jolt of pain with it. Pain that fades fast but also doesn't fade at all, sudden discomfort that he flinches with, one knee pulling up, hunching over himself.]

Ngh.

[Sometimes it blinks back at this point. Sometimes it doesn't. This seems to be one of the latter. When he leans back against the wall again, nausea rears, and he closes his eyes and puts a fist gently to his mouth to ride it out.

His very human eyes have bags under them.]

[worldisyours]

[Sorry Gladion, you cannot stop this.

Just as Rindo begins to muse about how he's been missing Silvally's presence, with it stuck inside its Ball to keep it safe from the glitches, it happens. The visual crackling that courses painfully through Gladion's body elicits a sympathetic wince from Rindo, but it quickly morphs into open-mouthed staring as he realizes that all of his monster features have vanished.

Of course, he knows this can only be temporary. Rindo drinks in the sight for a few seconds, transfixed, muttering:]

You… you look human.

[Truthfully, Gladion doesn't look much different. The most obvious change lies in the colors. The familiar Nymph-green is gone now, pale skin and blonde hair in its stead. Rindo couldn't catch the color of Gladion's eyes before he scrunched them shut, but he's sure that whatever the irises are like now, the scleras have gone back to white.

This is the Gladion that, fed up with his mother's downward spiral, stole the Beast Killer, then got taken to Ryslig, and Rindo can't quite tell why the sight shakes him so much.

As the shock of the sudden transformation fades, he finally processes Gladion's obvious discomfort. At that moment, he practically jumps from his chair, crossing the short distance separating them in a few long strides. Once he reaches his side, he places a hand on Gladion's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. From there he notices the ears—no longer pointed—and the empty feeling under his hand, denoting a lack of moss growth.]

You okay? Want me to get a basin?

[He hates that this is about all he can do. But of course, this is just their lot in life here. Nothing to do but endure. (The thought doesn't make him feel any less bitter.)]

[familyproblem]

[He'd forgotten just how bad all of this felt, in half a year of being a monster. How tired and frail it was possible to be. What kind of effort it took to maintain dignity. The hand on his shoulder is shockingly strong, as if it's not Rindo's hand at all, but the hand of an adult coming down on the shoulder of a much younger Gladion.]

M'good.

[He feels like shit, but he's not actually going to puke, with nothing in his stomach. He does want to lie down. But he doesn't want to frighten Rindo. He drops his hand to his side and opens his eyes, squinting, grimacing.]

[worldisyours]

[Rindo's not sure if Gladion, as a human, was normally that pale, but even without that point of reference, his expression tells him everything he needs to know. (When he spots the green irises, he exhales quickly through his nose, an aborted laugh that was never going to make it out whole.)

Gladion's insistence to pretend he's okay despite the obvious signs to the contrary frustrates Rindo. He gets the urge, though, so he can't be mad.]

You should probably lie down.

[He speaks at a slightly lower volume, as if addressing someone nursing a migraine. Then, he reluctantly tears his eyes away from Gladion's face and scans the room, looking for some kind of inspiration, some way to help.

A few seconds later, his search fruitless, he lets go of Gladion's shoulder and speaks again.]

Is there anything I can do? I could go get you some water or painkillers or something…

[familyproblem]

[Strange how physical memory is. The shift makes Ryslig feel half-real, as if time has suddenly wound itself backwards, and the whole thing is a nasty dream he's about to wake up from. Rindo could be a nurse's assistant at Aether, showing all the same concern. (Would that make it easier to brush off?) (Didn't have much in the way of visitors back then. Lillie hardly counted.) (It would be easier to brush off. The scrutiny of a friend is a very different beast.)]

...Anything that goes down is coming right back up. [Gladion's voice comes out lower too, out of lack of energy rather than abundance of care. And he might as well lie down—this too stings less in the shared language of shame. If Rindo can keep secrets about Lusamine, he can probably be trusted with the secret of one time Gladion was lying down and it looked silly. So Gladion leans over sideways, slowly, on a shivering elbow, until his cheek meets the bedspread.] Just...waiting it out. It's what I've been doing.

[Provided it does revert in a reasonable amount of time, and doesn't leave him like this long enough to bring on some kind of medical emergency. And who could do anything about it then?]

[worldisyours]

[…Right, that makes sense. Rindo nods, somewhat absently. At least Gladion's laid down now. That's something. What else can be done, then?

Focusing on his own concern is an effective distraction from the urge to stare, to burn the sight of what should have been into his memory before it's taken away. Still, his gaze tends to linger, and the sight of a fully human Gladion stirs in him an odd sort of grief he hadn't felt before.

…Okay. Focus. He blinks, as if to chase those thoughts away.]

Want me to stay until it wears off?

[He doesn't mind. Not like he was doing anything of importance before he got called over. And he figures offering directly might push Gladion past whatever hangups he might have about it.]

[familyproblem]

[He gets comfortable, as much as he can. Pulls his knees up, curls in on himself a little. His sweater bunches up around his chin, loose and warm.

...The question sounds like he's asking permission. Gladion thinks, if Rindo wanted to leave, he'd probably ask if he wanted to get some peace and quiet.

It's not as if he has anywhere to go, either. It was already a slow day in the house.]

Sure.

[worldisyours]

[Rindo nods, mostly to himself. Good… though he figures sitting there and staring would quickly get uncomfortable for the both of them. With Gladion's condition, talking isn't ideal either—so after just a moment's hesitation, he speaks up:]

Be right back. Just grabbing a couple things.

[True to his word, he returns two minutes later with his tail vine wrapped around the botany book he'd abandoned earlier and a cup of water in each hand. Gladion did say he couldn't stomach anything right now, but with how much talking he's been doing, he could still use a drink once he's back to… what passes for "normal" here.

If nothing alarming's going on when he gets back, Rindo will have a sip of his own drink, place the other cup within Gladion's reach, sit down by the bedside, and flip open the book to the page he'd left it off at. A (hopefully) comforting presence while recovering from The Horrors.]

[familyproblem]

[Gladion's eyes are closed when Rindo returns, but they open again— he can't sleep like this, really.

Moments pass in silence...




It's comfortable.

After a few minutes, when the pain and nausea ebbs, he reaches for the glass.]

What you said, about, you couldn't do what I did. [Awkward pause. His voice is still low—can Rindo hear him?] Thing is. There's no way to know ahead of time. Before you have the choice...that's how it always works.

[.....sip.]

[worldisyours]

[Rindo's leafy ears perk up. Gladion's voice may be quiet, but it's still easy to hear in the silence. It's not like he was absorbed in the book or anything. On the contrary, with Gladion's extraordinary story still settling in his mind, he could hardly focus on the words he was trying to read.

He looks up from the pages, taking in Gladion's human appearance once again. Now that the initial shock has passed, it's… bittersweet. He could almost pretend he's back home, hanging out with a sick friend. But of course it's not like that—it's nothing like that. There's the mildest comfort to be taken in the fact that Gladion's condition has improved enough for him to talk, at least.

The actual words, though… they ring true in general, but…]

Even so. It's not something just anyone could do. You think I could?

[Because he does not see it.]

[familyproblem]

Not without being in the same situation.

[Gladion looks flustered to have to put it like that, and/or just generally flustered about his own discomposure. His eyes won't meet Rindo's.]

And you wouldn't know until then. [And even if it feels vaguely...naked to say it:] I didn't.

[Sip.]

[worldisyours]

[In contrast to Gladion's unease, there's actually the shadow of a smile on Rindo's face.]

Well, I can't really argue with that.

[…Not without implying that Gladion doesn't know what he's talking about. He has to wonder what makes him see this potential in him, though. It's still hard for Rindo to imagine himself doing something that daring, but it is a little nice for Gladion, specifically, to believe in him like that. It's easier to trust in the judgment of someone who knows him well and who's free of preconceptions, unlike Swallow and the others.

Speaking of which… The words tumble from his mouth before he can second-guess himself.]

You know, back home… I must've won the Reapers' Game. With Shoka and the others.

["Be happy—the Game's over! You got what you wanted!"]

And… well, I don't know how it went, exactly, but from what I heard, it had to have been pretty hard.

[He doesn't like to think about it, because the experience of having an alternative version of himself he only knows of through hearsay is, at best, weird as hell, but it's so fresh on his mind following the Coco incident that he can't really help it. And with Gladion being an outsider to everything… He's just easier to talk to, he finds.

…It's kind of ironic that he knows way more about Neku, Beat, and Joshua's involvement in the Games than his own, but it is what it is.]

[familyproblem]

[It's a surprise. This is the most positive thing he's ever heard from Rindo on the subject of his unmade memories.

...He thinks it's positive, anyways.]

See?

[It's still not the same as having done it. But it's abstract evidence, at least.]

[worldisyours]

[Maybe it's because he feels like throwing Gladion a bone for his genuine efforts to comfort him, maybe the simple act of looking after a friend in his time of need—even in these small ways—is making him feel less like an irredeemable fuckup, or maybe he doesn't want to whine about his ordinariness after Gladion's opened up about his decidedly unordinary life. Either way, when Rindo answers, he sounds… almost playful.]

Well, what if Shoka carried me and she's not telling me because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings? We don't know.

[They don't know. It really is so much more comfortable like this.]