synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

You asked me what I thought our odds were way back, right?

[ Gradually, Elyisum lowers Sampo's fist to the ground. Then, he tries to sit himself up——and throws his own fist towards Sampo's face with a smile.

Get off him, please. ]

Zero! I'm telling you, I'm not in the habit of being pessimistic. At least with a distraction, you should be able to slip past just fine. Stop making yourself sound like some damsel in distress. We both know you're more capable than that.

[The fist lands. He staggers back, but his mood doesn't seem to be abate here, smiling as if he's found his way into a cute little party instead of fighting with a man on death's door.]

Whoo! What a punch. [He's rubbing at his nose and cheek, heaving a dramatic little sigh.] So, you're okay with me walking out here, right? Gonna leave me to the wild unknown while you provide the "distraction"? Alright.

[He's starting to just. Walk away?]

Yup. Better a chance than none at all. Thanks for the opening, my friend. Join me too soon and I'll be disappointed.

[ And he can see just what Elysium had meant when he'd said to keep his distance—or feel, rather, from another tangible shift in the atmosphere. Another cough, this time to dislodge blood. But unless Sampo would also like to start bleeding from his ears, he won't exactly be able to get close anymore.

There's no rise in temperature as Elysium is just genuinely using his arts—if he can get a transmission to HQ, all the better during the process, but the intent had never been to establish communication.

From the horizon, out pops a single drifter. Fun. ]

[There's something called a feint. Like a magic trick. You say you'll do one thing. You do another.]

[The shift in atmosphere is disorienting. It doesn't stop him from unhooking the daggers from his belts, clicking their ends together, watching blearily as whatever the fuck that is pops out in the distance. Great. Good end times, here. He feels a little feverish. Are those bells in the distance?]

[He gives a little wave over his shoulder.]

And that's my cue. Let's go, birdie.

[Not "see ya". Not "goodbye".]

[He twists, throws his weapon like a javelin, which courses through the air like a boomerang.]

[He's aiming the solid part of it at Elysium's head.]

[Get knocked out, idiot.]

[ The glaring problem with this plan had always been the concentration needed to channel such a faraway transmission, and whether he'd manage to get the opening to do it. Coupled with the dull ache from Sampo's previous punch and the Originium in his body coming alive to heed his call, there's little he can do but watch as the dagger flies towards him.

No, that isn't quite right. He could minimise the impact. Not avoid it entirely, but at least shift to either side. The part of him that wants to indulge, that feels a way he refuses to express, that still wants to see what lays exactly behind "Sampo Koski," and that's the final distraction needed to prevent him from doing so, the hilt striking precisely where it'd been intended.

His last thought before blacking out:

Fuck, Koski. ]

[The sea is calm.]

[Whenever Elysium comes to, he'll find himself resting on the sands of the beach, the grains of it brushed again his clothes and face. The wind is gentle, like a lover. Here, there's no strife. There's no chaos.]

[The man known as "Sampo Koski" is sitting and singing a small tune lightly under his breath nearby, dull green eyes fixed on the horizon.]

[The sky is gray, and it feels like a storm is coming. But not yet.]

.....Hm? [Oh, someone's awake.] Wake up, sleepyhead.

[ How nice would it be if they could spend the rest of their days like this? The sea is calm, the waves roll in tandem with his breathing. The sound of Sampo's voice is more comforting than he'd ever want to admit.

It's not as if he's been trying hide that he's woken up, he just doesn't want to disturb the moment, only blinking his eyes open once song has finished its course. ]

… Just because you've stopped me, it doesn't mean that the inevitable won't happen. We've got special rooms for body disposal back at Rhodes Island for a reason, you know. But until then, I guess you're stuck with me.

[ In return, another song, after which Elysium closes his eyes again. He looks wistful. It's some kind of promise, he exhales a quiet sigh. ]

I'm going back to sleep.

A lotta people talk a big talk about "inevitable". Things are more complicated than that. The world is always going to be a big chaotic place.

[Not that he doesn't exactly believe in destiny. Maybe its more like a "carpe diem" sort of thing. Day by day. There's an elation in not knowing what comes next.]

[He falls silent at the song. After it ends, he softly echoes, with his own voice:]

Maybe I'm a fool to be singing the choruses of old
Maybe I'm a fool to be thinking their promises are true
Ooh, you can call me what you want
'Cause when all is said and done
The better days will come.

[And then he's reaching over to ruffle over Elysium's hair.]

And how long are you going to sleep?

Until it's well after high tide?

[ Another laugh. His eyes remain closed, but he cants his head a fraction of a unit closer to Sampo's hand. ]

So what's the plan, buddy? Or are we rolling with no plan at all? [ Quietly: ] … Honestly, that's probably just as fine.

Maybe it's better to drown.

[Said the sea to the sun.]

Ah.....erm................ [Yeah, he's looking a little sheepish.] I didn't think this far, honestly. Sometimes you plan. Sometimes you just....think on your feet.

With you by my side, perhaps so.

[ Their golden age will come, will it?

But bringing them by the sea on the advent of an apocalypse caused by the sea, huh? That's certainly a choice. Calm as it looks, it'd do them better not to underestimate it. It happens in all of several seconds—something bubbles from underneath the surface of it, Elysium's eyes rip wide open, and the next thing they'll know, he'll have rolled over in front of Sampo, a pincer latched onto his arm, just before his elbow with a vice grip.

Evidently, his arm isn't going to hold. It isn't made of the steel of his sword, after all. ]

… To drown together, or to do more of thinking on your feet, friend?

[ He wears a grimace. He wears a smile. This isn't exactly the time for talking, but if there's one thing that's clear—he's leaving this battle to Sampo's jurisdiction. ]

Well.

[Perhaps the only brief glimmer of dissatisfaction and surprise is the only thing that warns the man before its painted over with a nice smile.]

[Sampo pulls out his daggers, the vivid purple of it swinging in air to try its best to cut the pincer off at its joint, even if its left on Elysium's arm. Sorry, bro. Might have a crab claw accessory. His other hand is trying to pull the man back.]

Maybe both? Ehehe.

[ sure, leave a part of a creature with corrosion mechanics whose sole purpose is to assimilate hanging off his arm indefinitely

that will go well

Not that either of them are really thinking about it, when the Seaborn howls loud enough to almost deafen from its amputated limb. It staggers for all of several seconds before out pops another pincer from the same joint. From the sea, the surface begins bubbling again—backup, presumably, Elysium's own head spinning from the pain of having a claw that's buried bone deep.

Despite that, he manages to point out a direction with the same hand through grit teeth, unsheathing his sword with the other. ]

If you want to run——we'll have to go that way.

[ at some point, he'd managed to calibrate himself?? ]

Mm.

[Of course, realization comes a little too late - but there's nothing for it, now. Not like amputating Elysium's arm will lead to something good, either - he doesn't think he'll be able to tolerate the blood loss with how weak he already is.]

[Sure, they'll run. Even though he played clueless before, deep down, carrying Elysium to the beach - it was a signed end to this chapter, wasn't it?]

[If only he could make that end a little quieter than this.]

Let's go, birdie. I'll cover you, free of cost. Just because you're such a good client. [He's yanking him, pushing him forward.] Go. I'll follow.

[ Nothing like bringing them both to the metaphorical forefront of the battlefield to really test the resolve. With what might as well be an assent from Sampo, something complicated flickers through Elysium's expression—resignation, before it's thoroughly replaced with a blooming smile. ]

… Yeah. After what you did, giving up this soon would be a waste, wouldn't it?

[ Whether that was Sampo's intent or not, look, Elysium offered him an out. It's not his fault that Sampo saw Elysium's life on the betting table and decided to throw is out there, too. If Sampo's decided to challenge Elysium down to the wire of his life with his own, how could he not rise to it? ]

My life. Your life. Hehe, aren't they one and the same now? [ His head continues to spin, but he's laughing. He's delirious, but he's laughing. Ah, he's losing his mind, isn't he? But what else was there to do in this situation, but laugh? Sampo should be laughing with him, too, no? ] You stuck your head out for mine, so it only makes sense that I take care of it best I can along with yours. You and me against the world. Until the end, just the two of us, no ifs or buts. No pulling out now.

[ Really, he should've let him take the graceful way out while they had the chance—but, sure. Lead them to wherever this indeterminate path will take them he does.

Probably nowhere fancy this time, like a cave. ]

Haha.

[Elysium's laugh is a laugh that rises. Sampo's laugh is one that sinks. There's nothing to be done for it. It's all heavy now. But even so, one must find elation in the smallest cracks of existence.]

[He feels nauseous, but its coupled with a certainty he can't shake.]

No pulling out here. No sirree. [Not at all. He's come this far. Then again, a voice whispers, is it really worth it? What is he doing? Is delirium already here, dancing in his head? He doesn't know. Maybe he doesn't really care. He likes Elysium's laugh, even in a context like this, doomed.] I'm here to make the most of it.

[The cave is dark. He pulls the man over to the wall, casting his gaze outside to see if there's anything following.]

What are we going to do about that claw, huh?

[ What are they going to do about the claw, indeed?

By the time they make it to the cave, Elysium's condition takes a steep downturn, evident in how he has to hobble the last few steps before collapsing into a heaving mess on the side of it. Amidst the active Originium pulsing through his system and the venom now coursing through his veins, he reflects, hazily, on the irony of his supposed "us against the world" bravado crumbling within an hour.

Doing anything about the claw——he'd die. Doing nothing about the claw——he'd also die. But he's made a promise and he has the single option left, a gamble to extend his life for however long.

'If the wound sealed right up, I would've told you to kill me.' Sampo hasn't forgotten those words, has he?

Here's the thing: until now, the dream had mostly been ground in reality, shoddily cobbled together by what memories Elysium did have of Seaborn. But what would a bird know of the call of the sea? Or of being a part of it? He's only ever heard of it. Read of it. And so, before he can think twice to even regret the action, he's taking the same vial he'd contemplated days ago to his mouth, tipping it along with the careening of the world itself, completing its true transition into a nightmare. It doesn't matter whether Sampo manages to knock it out of his hand in time; dreams and nightmares aren't supposed to make sense.

Thus, an 'Elysium' he would never be. No pulling out here, right?

The world blacks out. A series of vignettes, then.

They're at a bar, exchanging glasses of something. Instead of bright green, the liquid is bright blue and up close, almost looks as if it's writhing. There are Seaborn surrounding them, watching on in awe with their eyeballs bulging from their petals, but the two don't know any better or care. Down the hatch the drinks go, along with the promise of their bright venture.

Then, a vehicle. Under the sea. A giant maw is seen outside the window, poised to consume it whole. A badly acted play punctuated by a third, detached voice——'til death do them part. Was that always a part of the script? An unseen audience claps and demands an encore.

Lastly, a shelter. One far more recent in memory, where the world blooms in full colour. 'Elysium' flicks his wrist, once again taking the sword to himself and——

cleanly cuts off his other hand off. Blink, and Sampo will miss the tendrils popping out and coalescing into a perfect replacement. ]

All good to go. Here to make the most of it. [ Sword unsheathed, he takes Sampo's hand with the one that totally wasn't just lopped off. Brings it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it, even, reminiscent of Sampo's own gesture once upon a time, except far more intimate in the way he twines their fingers, first. ] … Aren't we?

[The vial tips.]

[Of course Sampo is too late. His hand shifts out, but the world is already shifting, moving like the waves over the beach. In this moment, he and Elysium are so, so small. Gods could do better than to play around with the equivalent of ants.]

[They don't always do better, though. Sometimes ants are amusing, too.]

[The drink tips back into his throat. Its not the taste of absinthe, though. Funny. He wishes the Seaborn didn't look at them, so.]

[The claw comes to smash them in two. The audience claps. That would be a nice ending. Not one he likes. A weight presses against his spine, like fingers curling around him.]

[And now, here. The weight is somewhat gone. It feels like a fingertip is pressing against his chest, tight - a twinge pases through it, a flop of the heart, when the man's arm reconstitutes itself. The kiss burns against his hand.]

[Elysium before...is not the Elysium of now, right? Sampo feels a cold sweat break out ober him. What a Fool he is, to expect this to go any different.]

....What did you take? That vial.

[ A slow, curious blink followed by an innocuous tilt of his head. ]

What vial?

[ As if the kiss to the back of the hand weren't enough, a kiss to each individual finger, then. ]

[The kisses tingle. He flexes his fingers, slightly, but he doesn't pull away.]

[He smiles through the nausea. Is it relief? That Elysium is here? That they have truly escaped the nightmare of before?]

What happened to bring us here, friend?

[ How much further can he take it? Will he allow a kiss to his open palm, all the way up to each and every finger tip? ]

Sightseeing! You said you wanted to see my home country, didn't you?

Sightseeing?

[The edges of his lips curl up. Sure, he'll allow that, too.]

You gotta tell me more. I saw a fair amount. Which one was your home?

[ And how about now, as he begins to place the same fingers into his mouth, teeth and tongue skimming along the joints of them? ]

Forgetful, aren't you? But that's okay. We have all the time in the world to remind you.

[ The world shifts the slightest bit again, and suddenly, the shelter is more like a home, the outdoors the sea itself. Elysium's hand is terribly cold, and his mouth——ice. ]

Does that stir your memory any?

[It's very cold. Even the warmth of such a naughty act doesn't translate at all.]

[He finally yanks his hand away. Even with the discomfort, his face is grinning, eyes twinkling merrily.]

[His chest feels tighter.]

Now, now, what are you doing there? Really trying to get me worked up? You can do that other ways.

[And a hum, slitted pupils glancing to the new surroundings.]

...You live in the sea? Where are your gills, pal?

[ Sampo jerks his hand back, but his smile remains unwavering. He could answer as many questions as Sampo wanted, or he could choose not to.

He goes for something in between: picking and choosing the ones he sees fit to, then discarding the ones he finds far more boring. ]

Oh? And what would these other ways be?

[ (But what about Sampo's gills, considering he's undersea, too?) ]

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