synflux | SEMI-OPEN / WITH BLOODSHED AND BARE HANDS

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?

Grieve?

[ The single word isn't accompanied by a derisive snort but only because surprise overwhelms it, momentarily taken aback by a question he hadn't expected. What would it mean to grieve? In the Crown City, there would've been an official ceremony. A day of mourning. Then, far too soon after that, Noctis's own coronation.

None of that would've helped him. What would grieving look like for him, divorced from tradition? Maybe there's no time for that on Eos... and maybe there is time here. ]

Nah.

... I told you I picked up some new memories, like you did. So... it was like I woke up again here and just felt it all. [ "Looking forward is frightening but looking back hurts too badly." That's it, exactly, and it's just more confirmation that Kaladin isn't lying to him. He's felt this feeling, he's experienced this bone-deep tiredness that isn't alleviated by sleep or quiet.

Sometimes it's like he's even too tired for the emotion that lurks behind a moody exterior, struggling to meet Kaladin's eyes with that numb expression. ]

So what do you do about it? How does just talking help you know you're doing the right thing?

( noctis' surprise does more to answer kaladin's question than his actual no. it shows that little care is taken in lucis to safeguard its people from the effects of loss. like on roshar, feelings are left to become septic like a gut wound and rot—but there are more treatments for a punctured intestine than an instability in the brain. )

It doesn't, ( he decides after taking stock of how his mood is now, ) not for me. I'll always wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

All I know is I was in a worse headspace ten minutes ago, Noctis, and that was before coming into your room to talk with you. If I had to make a hard choice now, and I shared my indecision with you knowing you understood how that felt, I think I'd be better equipped to handle whatever came my way.

( that... might be the goal. not to problem solve, but to prepare. if planning defensive formations and attack campaigns are military musts, why can the same ideas not be applied to how thoughts are approached? anxiety is anticipating an uncertain event or outcome; strategizing can help minimize its effects. make ready the nerves to receive the results.

his frown deepens, then smooths out entirely.

noctis' eyes can't meet his yet, and kaladin's task to accomplish before they leave to spar is to encourage them to focus on him. it won't do to become distracted, even by a breakthrough in his own thinking. )

What about you? Why do you think talking might be helpful?

[ So the indecision stays, even for someone like Kaladin. He's seemed not only reserved and competent but passionate, sure of himself and his choices because they've been driven by emotion. By morals. But...

Isn't that how Noctis himself comes across? Removed, unaffected, moral, unflappable. But he's here, talking with him, feeling like he's balancing on a tightrope. It's terrifying and it's asking a lot of both of them, but for once he's not alone with that feeling. ]

You're asking me? When I'm the one that's brand new at this? [ There's a scoff in that tone but it's self-directed, half an attempt to deflect from sincerity and half a true dig at his own hesitation. ]

Maybe... because now I really know there's at least one guy here who isn't a psycho. Feels like I can trust you more.

Because whether any of this works or not I know you're trying to help.

( trust is a weight often put on him, but recently everyone's doubted him. they've had valid reasons to when he can barely hold a spear. there's something about it being noctis, still something of a stranger to him, and in another world that makes it easier. to train, to do kata. storms, he even managed to rescue hunter from monsters terrorizing him and the city.

he knows there'll be consequences to how okay he feels at the moment; something always goes wrong. the closer he gets to his comrades here, the harder future choices will become. will his words be as reliable to noctis then? )

A sense of community, ( kaladin says more than asks. maybe that'll make them feel less insane, though what they potentially both suffer from—melancholia and anxiety at least, and a growing sense of nothing—would be described as just that. )

Between us, I think that's doable. It won't be easy, and I'm no expert... I'm sure we won't always see eye-to-eye. But it doesn't have to work—I think that suggests there's some cure, like a bandage for a cut. It just has to... free up some capacity. To feel... okay. A bit more secure. A bit less lonely.

Ah... I don't even know if I see eye-to-eye with you on the... the overall any of it.

[ Truthfully. Sure, he feels less alone. He feels safer with him. He feels all the selfish comforts that soothe him, that keep him the "protected", but how can he be the one to decide if that will in turn help everyone else who's counting on him? Will it keep him focused? Or will it make him soft to finally feel "a bit less lonely"?

The thought has him pressing lips together, brow knitting as he hangs his head. ]

... are you still ready to train? Because that's the "community" I need right now. We can postpone if you want but I've said all I feel like saying.

( at noctis' uncertainty, kaladin sniffs. it might as well be a laugh, paired with a quick upward quirk of one corner of his mouth, which seems genuine. he couldn't possibly deride his comrade for doubt he's experienced before.

it's relatable. )

Kelek's breath, you're stubborn. That's okay. We'll keep at it, Noctis. ( to prove he heard noctis, he adds: ) But no more today. Training's about all I had planned for the afternoon.

( his friend still looks tired. he's sure he does, too, which may be why he was given an excuse to get out of their sparring session. he refuses to use it, instead readily acquiescing to the idea of exercise. working up a sweat after talking his storming mouth off.

feeling reinvigorated, kaladin pulls himself to his feet from his position on the floor, offering a hand down to noctis. )

I'm ready... but, uh... will your cat be fine on its own? I might've startled it.

( might've............ )

[ It's strange.

Kaladin's acquiescence makes him feel secure enough with him to open up further, but teeth find his tongue as he attempts not to worry at his hands and he stays silent. The anxiety is still there but fading as the topic shifts, allowing him to breathe. ]

I'm the stubborn one? I don't show up and you hunt me down in person instead of sending me a text...

[ That hand appears before him and he immediately glances up, questioning only for the barest of moments before he's reaching out to take it. He hoists himself up, an awareness and appreciation for the strength in his arm noted in the back of his mind as his throat's cleared and his gaze redirected towards the door. ]

–Chauncey? [ mentally adds another point to Kaladin's tally because he asked... ]

Yeah, you scared her for sure. But she'll be okay – she came from a rougher situation. Like us, I guess.

[ ... ah, Noctis, what a lame thing to say... The mood felt right for it and now he's gone too far, abruptly stepping around Kaladin to investigate one of the clothes piles on the ground. ] Okay, out while I change. I can meet you over there?

I did what I thought would get a response. Are you telling me a text would've woken you up?

( especially an intense nap possibly brought on by a bout of melancholia? no, kaladin's glad he stood there pounding away until noctis got up to answer the door.

he holds noctis' hand with the assumption he'll pull up on his own but keeps his arm steady to help that happen. no effort is required on his part, which bodes well for training. it feels like it's been a while since he's gone toe to toe with someone who's as ready to teach him as they are to learn from him. )

... "Chauncey"? ( briefly considers apologizing to the space beneath the bed, but he's intruded long enough. ) There's no excuse for her, then. If she's like us, I expect her to join us for all future talks.

( even though she DISGUSTS HIM

with that, kaladin nods at noctis' plan and narrowly avoids slamming his forehead into the door frame on exiting. it's easy to forget the base wasn't designed for him, but the gymnasium is plenty big, and if that's not enough space, the simulation room gives them unlimited access to entire worlds to practice in.

not yet accustomed to the odd sensations virtual reality gives him after the mission has ended, he opts to start them out in the sprawling gym. it's there that he waits for noctis, arms crossed, inspecting the thin shock-absorbing mat beneath his feet, which seems even on the floor. )

[ Telling Kaladin that no, a text absolutely would not have roused him and would've been extremely easy to ignore even if it had, is a course of action he decides against. Instead his reply is a noncommittal hum as he nabs a clean shirt that he fully expects will soon be sweaty and stretched. Annoying... maybe he should just wear this. ]

Yeah, yeah... I'll make sure to tell her; cats are always easy to order around. [ Kaladin's almost out the door when he catches himself, leaning back to call out over his shoulder: ] That's sarcasm!

[ He and Kaladin are from different worlds, both literally and socially. But today they found something unlikely to unite them, thanks to Kaladin's own insistence and care, and it brings to light what else they share – an unfamiliarity with "Earth". Something that should be small isn't at all when references have alienated them both, and he makes a quiet promise to himself that he won't intentionally add more of that feeling into his life here. ]

[ It takes him less than a minute to get dressed but nevertheless it's a full ten before he appears in the gym, one arm hooked beneath the other to stretch it across his chest as he approaches. ]

Hey. [ With arms crossed and his back straight, Kaladin almost seems like a different man to the one who was so gentle with him in his room such a short while before. ]

You didn't eat a heavy lunch, did you?

( noctis is already doing warm-ups when he walks in, and when kaladin picks up on that, he raises a brow. this is a better sight than the one he saw when he was answered at the door to room sixteen.

his friend looks ready to face the day.

in a pair of loose black sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, the radiant looks far less prepared for a brawl. he should probably invest in a sleek outfit like noctis' to train in—especially considering they'll soon be in their form-fitting plugsuits fighting kaiju. )

Uh... I did. Sebastian made stew. ( and it'd probably simmered in a pot all night because it was one of the best flavour profiles he's ever tasted. ) Why?

Why? [ The question comes out paired with raised brows as he positions himself before him, leaving a comfortable distance between himself and Kaladin. ]

Because I don't feel like watching you puke when I work you hard, that's why. Tell me you at least had some time to digest... otherwise maybe we should start with training instead of the spar.

Maybe because you're so huge it doesn't matter...

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