synflux | SEMI-OPEN / WITH BLOODSHED AND BARE HANDS

( twelve thirty-five. normally, kaladin's not such a stickler when it comes to the hour. that's how it is with the recent alethi invention of wristwatches; generally, one judges the time by the relative position of the sun and develops a sense for "winging it." now, with brain-and-eye implants and a semi-permanent branding of numbers in his periphery, it's become hard to ignore lateness.

convinced that the wait will be minutes longer, he manoeuvres through a few spear kata for hallway fighting—thrusts, mostly, and turns. but when one o'clock comes around with no sign of noctis, even the meditation of training can't prevent his tendency to overthink. falling out of stance, standing very still, he wonders if noctis did back out.

'like hell i would,' he said. don't forget that just because it's easier to.

dismissing his sylspear, kaladin decides worrying is more actionable than despairing and marches down the corridor to revelation's wing. )

Noctis, it's Kaladin. Are you in there? ( a clear demand follows the sudden and insistent pound of his fist against room sixteen's door. not even insulated metal can stop it from filtering through. ) Open up; I've been waiting over a storming hour for you. Noctis.

[ Saturday comes quickly.

Each day that passes is a day that takes him further from their conversation and further from that excited feeling that had marked their agreement to test each other's skills and see what they could learn from one another. The distance, unfortunately, is something that his mind has always had the ability to fill. Not with any conscious thoughts but with a quiet growing awareness of an upcoming "duty", and the festering suspicion that perhaps Kaladin is the type likely to humor a new arrival.

It's enough that when noon hits he hasn't moved from his bed, blanket half-pulled over his body and Chauncey asleep near his feet.

The pounding on the door an hour later certainly changes the latter. She jumps up and makes for a more secure spot under the bed while Noctis winces and turns onto his side, exhaling. No message via the implant made him think perhaps he got away with it. Maybe not... ]

I'm pretty tired. I can message you to reschedule it for later.

Reschedule it for later? It is later. ( his retort is immediate, throwing the side of his fist at the door. one last slam—and it's a big one.

then... nothing.

for a moment, kaladin's silent. before he speaks again and far more quietly, it sounds like he might've given up and gone away. )

You said you wouldn't do this.

[ The indignation he can deal with. Kaladin's angry at him for wasting his time, rightly so, and Noctis will have to work up an apology later and give him twice the fight to show him he's still invested.

Which is a great plan until he follows up.

Quiet. Disappointed in him. It's exactly the right thing to say to make him feel worse, and enough to spur on the guilt he needs to slowly sit up. ]

So persistent... Okay, hold on already. Can you give me five minutes? [ Maybe if he responds like Kaladin is still acting purely frustrated they won't have to talk about whatever's contained in that quiet statement. ]

No. Forget it, ( kaladin blurts out in direct retaliation to a muffled voice's annoyance.

something about how all those words put together makes him feel like an idiot for trying. seeking noctis out instead of feeding into assumptions was new for him, and he feels embarrassed for having tried.

resolving to go to the simulator himself, he turns his back to the door. )

I'm not sparring with you when you don't even want to. I have better things to do with my time.

Shit...

[ The word is muttered under his breath as his eyes close tight, willing himself to move.

All at once he's rolling out of that bed, shaking out messy hair in an attempt to look halfway presentable as he stumbles hurriedly to the door. It opens in a flash, left ajar as a gesture of goodwill as Noctis exhales some of that frustration. ]

Hold on. Okay? I want to. Seriously, just five minutes while I get some clean clothes on and I'll be ready to go.

( the door opens, and kaladin responds by looking over his shoulder. he's tall, so tall he wouldn't clear the frame without ducking, but as noctis hasn't verbally invited him in, he refuses to do much more than turn to make his stormy dissatisfaction better known; however, the narrow field of view into noctis' room is enough to unfurrow his brow.

it's unexpectedly a mess. )

Storms, Noctis, what happened?

( noctis seems so put together, hair always done, clothes always nice. someone must've either ransacked the place or—what a chilling thought, that his comrade might ail from something. clutter is a sign of an overactive mind in some cases, but this seems... different. )

Are you alright?

[ Trash is haphazardly shoved under the bed and spilling out into the middle of the room – lucky bags, plastic wrappers, and instant noodle cups alike. In the corner sits a cat bowl, one dutifully filled with tuna but not well-cleaned of old dried bits of fish around its lip. Bottles of water are lined up near his pillow where he can clearly roll over and grab them, and clothes are discarded into poorly organized piles in the few places of the room which were once clean.

Maybe it's almost worse that he doesn't even try to hide it. ]

Hah? I just slept in, it's not a big deal... [ And only when he follows his line of sight – over his head – does he realize what he means. ]

Ah, I'm cleaning it up later, I know it's a little messy. [ A little? ] Can I change now or are you gonna' run off when I close the door?

( mental illness. that's what the inside of this room looks like to kaladin, who has some experience recognizing it in others. it's manifesting differently from his, but it's there, as sure as the trash and strewn clothing. )

No, I won't. I'll stay. ( mindless agreements are made as he struggles to process what he's seeing. when the door tries to close, however, a hand is wedged into its still-open crack, activating the sensor to force it to reopen. ) Wait—

( removing it, he instead places it high along the doorframe and hunches there on the threshold to prevent the sensor from deactivating. )

After you first got here, you never answered me when I asked how you were. Not really. You were pissed, and you probably still are, but... there's a lot more to it than that, isn't there?

[ Kaladin offers him reassurances and he gets a curt nod in return, relieved that he's agreeing even if it means fighting against his own interests. It'd be nice to have an excuse to stay back and relax but not with the guilt still churning in his stomach, and unfortunately Kaladin is too nice and too disciplined to allow him to feel anything else.

But that doesn't mean the interjection and sudden question is at all welcome. ]

Hah?

[ He glances back over his shoulder, brow furrowing as he registers just what it is he's being asked. It deepens the newly ever-present pit in his stomach, uneasy. ]

Where's that coming from, all of a sudden? Because I slept in?

Sort of, ( kaladin insists, willing to clarify, ) but it's mostly because... I get it.

( his room may not look like this, devoid of possessions, but he understands what it and noctis' laissez-faire attitude represent. it's a suspicion right now, yes... even still, he feels that he knows what's holding him back.

today, at least. )

Before we go to the gymnasium, I'd like to talk—privately. Can I come in?

[ He doesn't want this. Whatever conversation is coming is one he still doesn't know if he's ready for, but no clever excuse comes in time and it isn't as straightforward as it was over text. ]

Maa... As long as you're not gonna' complain that we end up training even later. I'm not changing with you in here.

[ A jerk of his head serves as permission to enter while he returns to his bed, dropping onto the mattress for a heavy sit. ]

My cat's in here... she's just under the bed. So don't get weirded out if she moves or anything.

I'm not expecting any of that to happen. ( he won't complain, he doesn't expect noctis to change, and there's no chance of him getting squeamish because of some fluff ball.

kaladin enters, able to stand tall again until he opts to sit in the centre of noctis' floor. perching next to him on the bed would be too familiar, and seeking a desk chair would require moving items he's uncertain noctis wants moved. the easiest option is to drop onto his rear, loosely crossing his legs. )

I've never touched a cat before. I don't think I'll like them, and I got criticized for saying so. Sometimes, it feels like everything I do or say gets that kind of response here... ( in opening up about something benign, he hopes to make it safe for noctis to do so, too.

yet despite his good intentions, it feels wrong to hide them. )

... Let me be forthright. I think you're struggling, Noctis. I want to help.

[ Elbows find his knees as he leans forward, quiet. Offended as he might get on Chauncey's behalf when he confesses to disliking cats, it's easy to set that aside when Kaladin is vulnerable enough to admit that that's the majority opinion. Getting criticized for something he's expected to be into? Sure, Noctis understands that.

Enough that he almost wants to let him off the hook, but he can't when the accusation is so abrupt and makes him so uncomfortable. ]

Yeah?

And what exactly am I struggling with that needs help? If this is because my room is messy then great... I guess I have to admit that my place back home got messy a lot too. It wasn't exactly a big priority when I got here.

( noctis leans forward, which is a good sign. it's body language that suggests he's listening even if he's defensive.

kaladin places his hands on his knees to rub them thoughtfully. he doesn't want to approach this callously or have no answers prepared for the questions noctis asks him, but there's an element of this that needs... feeling. )

It's not that, at least not by itself. The room is a symptom. Like a cough is a symptom of a cold, or a fever is a symptom of an infection. ( watching him, he's as careful as he can be—but with bold words, he also has to carry on. ) I think you're struggling with yourself.

[ Kaladin's right.

So why is it so hard to be conscious of that fact while also not becoming incredibly defensive over how he's discovered it? His... peculiarities, as Ignis had once euphemistically called his disorganized living conditions, have existed long before his most recent life challenges.

That isn't a puzzle he wants to put together. ]

What do you want me to even say?

No, things haven't been easy lately. And yeah, dealing with ending up here has felt more important than making my bed.

I stayed up late... I get it, I slept in and it's a mess in here. I still wanna' spar with you; I wasn't trying to blow you off.

I was upset, Noctis, but that's not what this is about anymore.

( the line is fast approaching. he doesn't know noctis well enough to know where it's drawn, so it feels more appropriate to walk laterally. no more "accusations" are levied at his friend, but he doesn't relinquish any ground.

to give up so easily would be insulting. )

You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. It's not my intent to trap you in your room and force you to talk about yourself. But... the symptoms are familiar; I see things in you that I see in myself.

( with that, kaladin reverses the target of the conversation, admitting to noctis what he already has to his friends on roshar: ) I struggle a lot with fatigue, apathy, fear—they're becoming stronger every day. If I slow down long enough for them to catch up with me, I can barely move. I... I freeze up. In conversation. In battle...

( his hands slip off of his knees to lace between them, leaning forward onto his elbows to level noctis with a wide, attentive look. )

Noctis, I want you to know that if you recognize any of that in yourself, you're not alone. Sometimes, when I'm in a dark place, I'm convinced the last thing I want is to talk to someone. Then, after I do, I realize it's all I've ever wanted.

[ Kaladin leans forward and Noctis leans away, a slow inhalation straightening his back as fingers curl with uncertainty into fists. Fatigue. Apathy. Fear. Kaladin describes being struck with indecision at the same time that Noctis finds he can't quite untwist his tongue or wrest any words from his throat, forced to watch him in silence.

Never in his life has anyone spoken to him like this.

Kaladin's left the impression on him of a truthful man, too, a stalwart example of a strong, masculine warrior who also thinks it's acceptable to admit his flaws to a near-stranger like Noctis. A comrade, maybe. But still an unknown. ]

... talking about it isn't gonna' change anything that's happened. You just said that stuff gets worse for you every single day. So how does thinking about it or talking about it make it any better?

Who said wanting it means it's right?

No, you're right. The past stays the same. It's the perspective with which we look back on it that changes. Talking with others can give us the strength to do that—to share our thoughts so we're not caught up thinking the same ones all the time.

( noctis doesn't need a reason to feel the way he does. none of them do. some have it better and some have it worse, but that doesn't make kaladin's feelings inconsequential because a man named noril lived a worse nightmare. whatever journey noctis is on is his own, unique to him.

the same is true about his suffering. )

When I'm alone, it seems as though I'd be doing the world a favour if I weren't in it. But when I meet with those who have felt that, too, I'm reminded it's a passing thing. That there's an ebb and flow to even our most hopeless nights. Life won't always feel that way, because if I've felt good before, I'll feel good again.

( his fingers, loosely laced, twist and tighten until his knuckles are white. it is the act of repetition that he practices now, telling himself repeatedly that he's qualified to talk to noctis this way. that he isn't being presumptive, and his interest in how noctis feels is good—not harmful.

despite his outward confidence, he has to hide hands that shake. and that's okay, too. )

I'm still learning... I don't know how to say what I must say to move forward, so I don't have any advice to give. All I know is that we're human, Noctis. We need each other.

[ Kaladin doesn't position himself as an authority but rather as someone who has perhaps felt a few of the things that Noctis himself has felt. Things that, until this very moment, he thought he was alone in feeling.

It's surreal to hear someone lay it bare.

All those nights feeling anxious as a child, alone and afraid of his own shadow for reasons he couldn't explain. Convincing himself that whatever would wake him the next morning would bring with it more pressure, less comfort, and more inevitable disappointment. His, his father's, his people's. That he'd be asked to speak and then punished for doing so by scores of watchful eyes and their dismissive redirection to those wiser or stronger.

All those evenings as a teenager when the lofty goals of his day would be beaten down by avoidant classmates and gossipping teachers by the time he finally made it home. How trying to cook a meal or clean away some filth was just one task too many. And living with the ever-present knowledge that this was the easiest and most carefree his life would ever be, adding pressure on his shoulders to enjoy something that he wanted to sleep away.

Now, waking every morning to smells he doesn't recognize – in Duscae, in LILITH headquarters – knowing that every last semblance of "normal" is gone? What can he do here, when he can't even take steps to fix it? Those feelings have never been more isolating. Why the hell is everyone else always so able to act like they're fine?

And here... Kaladin admits that he isn't.

And that he doesn't want to be alone either. ]

I, uh...

[ Words start small, quiet, as he tries to decide which ones will express what he wants to say best. Open, like Kaladin deserves. But safe. ]

I lost someone recently. He always told me to keep looking forward, but I don't know how to do that. At the same time... I don't know how to look back either. And it feels like that's never gonna' change.

Have you felt that too?

( he thinks he'll fear noctis' next words; then he reassures himself that even if his new friend were to dismiss him, he'd try to speak with him again another time.

it's a note he takes from adolin, the highprince who never once met his unfairly low expectations of him—one of his best friends, and the only one, apart from syl, who noticed when it was dangerous for him to be alone. in trying to emulate adolin's patient yet insistent care, then opening himself up to response, kaladin has successfully coaxed noctis into a sharing conversation. strangely, that's the hardest part—breaching that thick shell that prevents men from recognizing they need something, even if they don't yet know what—over with. the rest, though it'll be stressful at times, they can do together.

noctis opens with a loss. a friend, a family member, or a lover—it matters, but currently, the substance of what noctis took away from their relationship does more. it assists in exposing the rest, stretching it out between them like an unrolled rug. kaladin can empathize with this and the impact encouraging words had on noctis and how they add to the anxiety of failing to follow them.

how can he move forward if he doesn't feel safe doing so? why has something that was intended to guide him become the reason he's so desperate to stay in the present? )

Yes, I've felt it. ( he lowers his voice to match noctis'. where normally it's bold and clearly projected, now it's soft, almost a murmur. )

Being caught between past and future, and the indecision that creates. How impossible it is sometimes to choose to heed one or the other when it seems like either choice will be wrong or lead to even darker days. Looking forward is frightening... but looking back hurts too badly.

( the past contains their traumas, but also the simpler memories of being young. it's at once the worst place for him and the only place he's ever wanted to be. )

You must be exhausted. Did you have time to grieve before you were brought here?

NOCTIS / SPARRING

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HUNTER / WHICH WAY IS UP?

sorry for the delay on this!