Heart to Harrowheart (with Jim - smartasscaptain)

[westfallcorndog]

((Co-written with Jim (smartasscaptain) in Discord, posted here for posterity. Thanks so much to Jim's player for cleaning up this log and making it post-worthy! Some of the markup may not come through properly, so imagine I italicized too much, as one does.

Summation: A YEAR after the conclusion of the Runeblades megaplot, Jim and Harrow finally sit down for a serious discussion.))

Harrowheart

Viatorus' wonderfully alcohol-filled wedding has passed, but Harrowheart's offer to Jim still stands: Come visit his new home. Turns out the location is somewhere in a forest in the Nexus, though fortunately this forest is less the 'haunted monsters' variety and more the average, temperate Earth-style woodland. The abrupt changing of the seasons turned the leaves already, and many have fallen to the ground, prime for the crunching. Without the shadow of the canopy the sun filters down to the ground, lighting the way to the small home well enough.

It sits in a clearing where Harrow has made no apparent attempt to control the leaves in any way. The house is a single story and, at a guess, probably three rooms wide. The wooden siding of the home is white, and still quite clean. Its grey-shingled roof extends into an overhang that sits above a front porch, rightly furnished with a single rocking chair... And in it, a corpse.

Right, Harrowheart. The dude who unlives here. Despite the chilling weather he's dressed, as always, in a tanktop and cargo shorts. His hands and knees are caked in dried mud that's also dusting his clothes. His eyes are closed and he appears to be sleeping. Behind him, leaning against the frame of the front door, the runeblade lies dormant.

Jim

Crunch, crunch, crackle, crunch.

It's impossible to stealth through this kind of dried Autumnal foliage but truthfully Jim isn't even bothering to try and be quiet. He hasn't had the simple joy of being able to drag his feet through fall leaves in years now. There's something so essentially satisfying to hear them crunch underfoot. Unlike the man of the house however Jim is very much dressed for the occasion--clad in an olive colored shirt tucked into fitted jeans with a leather jacket pulled on over his shirt though his work boots are still the only shoes he has to wear.

Harrow's house is much more well constructed than Jim would have figured. Building a house is serious work. Even with his interest in engineering Jim still wouldn't be comfortable making a whole house yet here it stands in the relative quiet corner of Nexus woodland. The lack of Jim-Eating-Monsters around the place honestly makes everything about this trek all the more enjoyable. The captain's carrying a shopping bag on one arm when he finally approaches the porch.

"Knock, knock!" Harrow doesn't have a mailbox or a sidewalk or any kind of patch leading up to his home but Jim still walks until he's in front of the structure before he approaches it out of habit.

Comments

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
Okay, this time Harrow was taking a sip of his drink. No man has ever gone from remorse and worry to spit-take as quickly as Harrow does. Rather than spray his drink all over Jim he lets it drop back into his mug, then full-body shudders as he tries not to laugh.

"He what? You what?!" Okay, now he's laughing. He can't help it! He tries to hide his growing smile by taking a sip of his drink, which he actually gets to swallow this time and does apparently enjoy, if the tip of his mug is any indication.

But then.

Wait.

Harrow squints. He sets his drink down and rubs his cheek, then his chin. He's thinking. He's... Scheming?
"Maybe he is a deader-banger?" Harrow muses quietly. "He was actin' real suspicious when he made me dance with him. And he always acts so nice to my face, which ain't the way most rich folks and Light-worshippers treat me. You think I could, I don't know, use that to my advantage somehow? I mean, you're..."

He gestures vaguely to The Whole Jim.

"You probably did some sexpionage once or twice, huh?"

Jim
"Maybe. Probably not though." Jim tries not to lean away when Harrow lets his drink fall back into his glass but really it's better than being sprayed with the stuff. "Also, he's acting nice to your face because he needs your cooperation. Think about it. You've been In with the Durants long before Isidor and you know the family better than anyone else who isn't in it, at least out of people Zandros has access to. And Isidor seems to 'tolerate' you from the outside because you're Viatorus' best friend. Zandros can't afford to be a dick to your face, especially if anyone found out about it. That's why he's demeaning but well intentioned around you. That's why he talks shit behind your back. Making sure everyone else knows what he thinks he's so sure of about you."

Jim's pointing at Harrow around the mug he's holding rather than with his free hand. This? This is shit Jim Kirk can understand. He doesn't know nobility any more than Harrowheart does but he does understand politics.
"It's not a nonzero chance though. Everyone's got a kink or two."
Zandros being a necrophile is way more likely in a world like Azeroth than Jim's own though. There the dead don't necessarily stay that way and what's more some of them are charming in their own rights. Jim could see the appeal.

Harrowheart
Is it fucked up that Harrow looks mildly disappointed? Probably. He rests his cheek against his wrist stump while his fingers drum against the table. His eyes shift to and fro with his thoughts, narrowing now and then as something or other crosses his mind. He idly takes a taste of his drink and begins to shake his head.

"So what you're sayin' is I oughta just kill him?"

Okay, that makes sense. Yeah! He's nodding, he's nodding. He leans back in his seat and takes a bigger gulp of alcohol, then pours them both a little more.

"So why's Felix got a grudge against Zandros? Cause he hit ya?"


Jim
"No you shouldn't just kill him." Least because murder is a pretty big deal where Jim's from and he gets tired of having to tell Felix and Harrowheart that this is not a go to solution for future universe problem solving. Luckily he's gotten used to phrasing reasons against it in terms they're more apt to follow along with. "That would make Zandros right about you, for one. For two, they might replace him with someone worse and keep you from seeing V or Isidor if they thought you were a real threat to their family. To say nothing of what they'd do to you."

There. Also, you don't just murder people. Why is this something he has to explain?

"Honestly? I think it's because Zandros was telling folks he thought I was sleeping with Isidor. Felix is waaaaay more jealous than I figured him for."

Harrowheart
"Zandros is right about me," Harrow says with a sincerely straight face. "But I guess you're right about the rest. I missed my chance to kill him already, so now I gotta... Scare him off or figure out how to like him enough to get into some kinda three-way romance with him."

But Jim snaps him out of it and brings him another laugh. "Felix! Shoot, what a scamp! I wish I could get to know him, but..."

Can they ever achieve that kind of normalcy? Harrow purses his lips and looks away.
"Is it too late for me to ask how you died?"

Jim
Jim looks like he wants to open his mouth about that. There's a rigidity to his posture and a defiance in his eyes that says he doesn't think that's the case at all. Regardless of Harrowheart and Isidor's relationship, everything else Zandros thinks about Harrowheart is not true. It can't be. Zandros only sees a walking corpse. He can't be right because that means Isidor and Jim are wrong for their own reasons. (Even if that whispering voice reminds Jim that he is right and that Harrowheart isn't what Jim thinks he is either....)

"So long as you carry the blades around you two probably can't have a casual conversation easily. You'd probably have to leave it somewhere safe to try." No telling if Felix would want to have any kind of friendship with Harrowheart but Jim doesn't want to write it off, either. It's a better thought than...

"Thanks for letting me get a shot or two in before you brought it up."
He drains the rest of his mug and sets it down on the table with a small clunk that serves to fill the silence between them while the captain gathers up his thoughts.

"Does your world know much about radiation?"

Harrowheart
Harrowheart nods immediately. "Sure do. That's what happened to all the gnomes. You ever meet my family? You ever meet Lawrence's girlfriend, Tamminy? She's a gnome. They were real smart folks, except that they pretty much all lived in one city underground. Some bad shit happened, and this thing they had that powered all their homes? I think Tams calls it a nuclear reactor? It melted down, and almost everyone in Gnomeregan got irradiated. They died real bad, that's what she said. There almost ain't any gnomes left anymore because of..."

He stops mid-sentence and inhales sharply. "That ain't how you died, is it?..."

Jim
Captain Kirk nods.

One hand turns the mug sitting on the table slowly around while he listens to Harrowheart speak. He's heard of Tamminy though they've never met. He never did see Lawrence again after the one time they met. A pity, he could see himself being friends with Lawrence pretty easily.

"There was a malfunction on the ship. It took heavy damage in an attack and the only way to save what was left of the crew was to get everything aligned again long enough for it to work. But it's not the kind of place you can just go and walk back out of." He doesn't want to talk about the symptoms. The burning from the inside out or the open sores grabbing onto all that scalding hot metal left him with. Doesn't want to talk about how the worst of it was having to be alone on the other side of that door and knowing there was nothing he could do. Nothing that could save him. So he doesn't.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should have ever been brought back."
That must be a thing anyone who finds themselves less dead than they remembered thinks about from time to time.

Harrowheart
Harrowheart reaches out and invites himself to put his icy fingertips on the back of Jim's hand. He shakes his head vehemently, his expression serious as it possibly could be.

"It's better to be alive, Jim. I know it's hard to believe. You probably don't believe me, but... It's true. It's always true. No matter how bad you hurt when you're alive, it's better."

His hands slip away and recede to the edge of the table where his palms hang over the side. He folds his arms across his lap and leans in slightly. "You died for a good reason, Jim. You ain't ashamed of that, are you?"

Jim
If he were still thinking about the swords Jim would flinch away from that touch. But radiation burns make the presence of a cold set of fingers brushing over the back of his hand a soothing gesture instead. Something to remind himself that he is not burning now. Jim looks up at the man who should know better than most what it means to be dead or alive and he nods.

"It must...sorry. It's gotta be irritating to hear a guy who's alive piss and moan about it." Greener pastures and all of that. "If I never came back, I wouldn't have met any of you." Would Felix have ever entered into a bargain with the rune blades if not for Jim? Would things be better if it weren't for him? He doesn't know. But alternate universes are a fact of life in his world especially so he knows better than to just assume it would be. For better or for worse he was meant to be here.

"I'm ashamed that I put my crew in that situation to begin with. They never would have been in danger if I hadn't made the choices I did." But that's not the question, is it? And there's a certainty to the way he smiles. Shakes his head. "No. I'm not. I'd do it again, too."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart is once more quick to shake his head. "It ain't irritatin' at all. I know what it feels like to be alive when you think you rather wouldn't. Sometimes you say what you wish out loud even when you don't mean to. It's lonely and it's difficult and it's too complicated to explain why, even when things are goin' good, maybe you'd rather they not be goin' at all. Folks who ain't ever felt that way don't really *get * it. They think that what you're doin' is pissin' and moanin', but that ain't it."

He eyes Jim up and down and folds his hands together on the table.

"Why'd you wanna bring that up at the wedding, though? What had it on your mind?"

Jim
"At the wedding. When I told you that I talked to Lawrence, you asked me why I still came and found you."

Jim looks up from where he's been fiddling with his mug. Nothing's changed, Jim hasn't done anything special, but he looks more tired suddenly. Less calm and collected and fine with everything that goes on round him. Harrow's words remind Jim of things he tries to keep hidden away where he doesn't think about them. Maybe he should stop running.

"So I asked if you knew how I died. Because that is why I came to talk to you. No one would have been in danger of dying, least of all me, if I hadn't fucked up so royally. I made a series of bad calls that put me and mine in the wrong place at the wrong time and we got swept up into the attack on Starfleet by Khan. The same guy we fought in the Nexus. If my friends hadn't stopped me I could have set off a war because of how far I let myself get caught up in revenge and the assurance that I knew what I was doing. Ninety-four people died on that mission because of me."

Names he won't forget if he lives to be a thousand years old, burned into the back of his eyelids as sure as the radiation tore apart his organs while he was in the warp core.

"Everyone makes mistakes. Good people and bad. I wanted to give you a second chance."
Jim got one. It's only fair he offer the same to Harrow.

Harrowheart
Could Jim really have been responsible for that much devastation? Jim? It's hard to reconcile the man he knows with the facts he's being presented. Sure, Jim can be hard-headed, and he can take risks that Harrowheart might not have -- at least as a living man -- but ninety four of his own crew? Potentially starting an entire war?

Harrowheart does a poor job at masking his emotions as he processes all of this. He stares at Jim like he refuses to believe it, brows tilted and lips parted, but the clarity in his eyes makes it obvious that he does. He knows he isn't being lied to, nor is Jim exaggerating. It's simply another side of his friend he's struggling to comprehend.

This must be how Jim felt when he learned the truth of Harrowheart's existence.
He looks down at the table. His brows furrow and his lips purse, and with a new perspective he brings his gaze back up to Jim.
"It ain't enough for me to say 'thank you,' but..."

He licks his lips. Unfolds and folds his hands again. Sighs.

"You're the first person who wanted to forgive me before I begged for it."

Jim
"You don't....Harrow you don't owe me anything. You don't need my forgiveness. If anything, I..."

They're still here. Waiting. Watching. Listening. The captain's sure of it. Could he talk about this here? But if not now, then when? Never. This isn't a door he's been allowed to open. Not with Stratos or Isidor. Certainly not with Felix. But it's eating Jim alive not to know. Not to ask. He's tired of nightmares where a brutalized young man stares at him with dead eyes.

You promised.

"I should be the one asking you for forgiveness."
He'll reach across Harrow for that bottle. Jim needs another drink. Needs to push through with this and just take the leap. Otherwise he'll let it sink beneath the waves again and who knows when he'll get another chance to say anything?
He can't do anything about most of the Nightmares he has.
This one he might still be able to deal with. There's no way he can't not try, at least.

Harrowheart
Harrowheart tilts his head in confusion, then watches as Jim goes for the bottle. What is he about to hear? What is Jim possibly going to say? He shifts uncomfortably in his seat but says nothing despite the terrible urge to ask what, what, what?

Jim
Jim's not good with this. With words to describe the things he's seen.

How does he describe what being inside those blades felt like? The pervasive feeling of loss: of kin, of purpose, of self. The desperation he had to find Felix in that place, and how close he was to disregarding Harrowheart entirely while he was in there amid his panic to find the one soul that hadn't been consumed for good in that place. It doesn't matter what Jim did, what difference he did or did not make. His memories are able to be warped to suit the way Jim views himself and these are the thoughts that circle him with all the certainty of a predator waiting for its prey to collapse.

"When we went to Nirn. When I was....when I wasn't in my body. Looking for Felix."

This is so hard. He doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to face the guilt he's been holding on to for well over a year. "I found you first. ...And I failed you."

There's as much certainty in Jim's eyes as there was when he told Harrowheart about his own death. Whatever happened in there, Jim believes he failed.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
His lips silently mouth the words 'Found me? Failed...'

The weight of the realization forces a quick and sudden breath from his lungs. His disembodied hand presses its knuckles against his lips and he stares at the table. Without a doubt he knows exactly what Jim means, but saying it out loud isn't any easier for him.

His hand floats down to the table and presses flat against the wood. His lips part, but words don't come quickly. He licks his lips again and eyes the alcohol, but this time decides against it. He ought to face this conversation like a man.
"So you saw it too, huh? Me. That... Other piece of me that ain't part of me anymore."
He stops breathing, stops moving, and only stares at the table. He sits statue-still for longer than a living man could before the white lights in his eyes drift up to Jim's face. His lips purse, and beneath them his teeth clamp tightly, grind against each other.
When he finally speaks he can't pry his jaw apart and has to force his words through a clenched-tooth wince.

"Did I ever tell you how I died?"

Jim
"He didn't say how you died. There wasn't any time. He made me promise him to free everyone else while he helped me find Felix. To...burn your body and destroy the blades. To let you be gone."

The mug makes a clunk against the table form where it's slipped form Jim's fingers but it was only a centimeter or so off the table and doesn't tip over. Jim's hands are shaking. Just like Mitchell, Harrowheart asked Jim to give him mercy. He'd been able to do right by Gary. But with Harrowheart...

"None of us were fit to be standing by the time I got out. I couldn't...I couldn't do what I promised you I would. And when I recovered I was too ashamed to try and find you again."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart shakes his head with such force that his shoulders shake with it. "No, no, no, no, no," he says, plowing past Jim's emotions like his ears and heart were equally closed to them. He can't stop shaking his head, defying and denying what Jim is trying to express. "No, no, no," he continues, over and over again until the air in his lungs is utterly spent and the last word has passed his lips in a wheeze.

He inhales sharply and his hands come closer to Jim, fingers splayed across the table.

"He's wrong. You can't listen to him. I shouldn't have listened to him! Jim..."
He doesn't need to breathe, but suddenly he can't stop himself from it. A physical tick, a habit that should have died years ago with his body. He inhales and exhales in fast, deep heaves. Why did he bring up this topic? What can he say now? He looks his friend in the eyes and he knows what he's feeling. He hadn't ignored it at all, despite the way he'd acted earlier. He knows. He knows.
"Jim," he whispers, and then for a long time nothing more.
"I didn't die good like you, Jim. I didn't fight for a good end."

He sits further back in his seat. He wants to look away, but he owes it to his friend to keep his eyes up.

"I gave up."
His hands, severed from his wrists, clench on the table, and he winces.

"I got tired of it, Jim. I got tired of hard days endin' with nightmares. I got tired of livin' a pointless life that hurt in every way a life could hurt. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to be so gone that even my soul was gone. I wanted to die, and I wanted the whole universe to ever forget I existed. And I wanted it so bad and for so long that eventually I couldn't wait for someone else to do it."
He can't look at Jim after saying that. He doesn't even want to speak. He's got so much more to say, so much to explain, but he can't. His eyes slip away a final time and he watches the empty spot next to Jim with distant eyes.

Jim
There shouldn't be such understanding in Jim's face, but there is. How could a guy who has everything Jim Kirk does understand how bad a life can hurt? But there is. When Harrowheart describes what the shade of himself is, Jim knows all too well what his friend is speaking of. Why it looks different from the man he knows now. Would Jim's own shade be sixteen, starved near to death with hollowed cheeks and dead eyes? Would he be the tear streaked man who still had the blood of Admiral Pike on his hands? Which suicidal Jim would be the one to beg his friends for death if the situation was reversed?

And yet....and yet...

The blades are still here. Jim can't forget they don't want to be destroyed, nor the souls held captive within (those that remain that is) to be freed. How much of this is Harrowheart's true feelings, and how much of it is necromancy from a set of sentient weapons hell bent on adding to their feast?

Jim doesn't know. He may never know.
"I tried telling myself it couldn't be right, when I heard about how you and Isidor were doing."
"When Lawrence told me what happened, I wondered if I knew anything about you. If the man I thought I knew was really the one inside those swords and what was left was whatever they'd allow. I decided it couldn't be that way. That it wasn't fair to you to think like that. You wouldn't be able to be with Isidor or be friends with V or that costumed guy you hang around if that's all you were. I've seen the proof otherwise for myself."
Jim sighs.
Shakes his head.
He doesn't know what the right answer is.

Harrowheart
"It's not right!" Harrowheart insists. "For the first time ever I'm happy to be around, even if I am a fuckin' corpse! Even if it took me this long! I finally have a place I care about and people I care about, and they care about me, too! Other people tell me I mean somethin', and for the first time I feel like it's true! And this?"

He gestures to himself as he sits up straighter. "This is the me I wish I could'a been all my life! And that?"

He knows exactly where his runeblade is now and gestures toward the little entry room where he'd left it. It isn't visible and isn't lit, but it's there. It's got to be.

"That is where the me that was the real me all my life is fuckin' trapped, and he can stay there, stuck in those blades where I can't hear him in the Nexus! Fuck the 'real me!'"

Harrowheart presses his hands against his chest and leans in, coldly serious yet thankfully filled only with passion, not rage.

"Just 'cause someone begs to die don't mean they should, Jim. I am free, and I am in control, and for the first time ever, I get to choose to laugh, and have friends, and be in love, and feel like I'm loved back. Don't you make no mistake, I'm in control of who I am when I'm in the Nexus. I fuck my life up or I succeed on my own terms."

Jim
It's a powerful exclamation.

One that pulls at all of the things Jim has had to overcome and still struggles with when the years of trauma catch up with him and hold him hostage inside his nightmares. The captain doesn't agree with disregarding whole parts of himself but he also doesn't have the kind of segmented psyche that Harrowheart has. It's simply not an option for most people. And it's a relief to hear his friend saying he wants to live and more importantly why.

"Sure as hell sounds like it." Every word rings with emotion because Jim's so very glad Harrow wants to be here as much as he's wanted by his friends. "Being able to have a choice in the matter is one of those freedoms most people don't think about. I'm...shit, I'm really glad to hear you say that."

He's been so worried all this time. Guilty and rife with self loathing.

Harrowheart
And now it's Harrowheart's turn to look guilty. His shoulders sag and he glances away before looking back at Jim.

"I... I guess I didn't expect you to... To just believe me? I feel like everyone always wants to tell me I'm wrong about who I am and what I know. Everyone thinks they know better. And I don't know a lot about a whole mess of things, but I think I know myself, at least a little."

He presses his palms together and winces, then tries to force a smile that comes off altogether unconvincing.

"Guess I gotta... Say thanks again."
How many times is he going to sigh in one night? At least once more, it seems. He does, and then begins to nod.

"I hate to admit it, but... That's why I did what I did to my sister in the first place. 'Cause I got tired of her tryin' to convince me of somethin' about myself that... I guess I finally didn't wanna believe anymore."


Jim
"Well, it brings us back around to something you just said. You want to fuck up ties with your family that's your choice. Most people don't come from a place where violence against someone else is an acceptable solution to a problem. I don't agree with it but I do understand it. I don't have a goddamn thing to do with my family so I got no right to tell anyone else how to be with theirs."

Jim scrubs his hand down the front of his face.

"It's not great, what you did. And you gotta be better about taking responsibility for your things. Like your Runeblades. Did you know they were trying to threaten me when you were messing around in the bathroom? I didn't touch them--I fucking know better than that. But if you're not careful history could repeat itself and the not so lucky victim might be someone you don't give a shit about and has no one to save them. Or...more likely since it's targeting people you know...it'll be someone you care about."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart opens his mouth to refute what Jim has said before he's even done saying it, but somehow he thinks better of that and keeps quiet while he listens to the rest. He lets Jim's words settle in his mind, and they leave him leaning over the table looking down at it, arms crossed and hands folded.

Responsibility has never been his strong suit. But if Jim is right -- which he most certainly is -- then he's got to start changing course. His eyebrows furrow and his lips shift side to side as he thinks about the way forward.
"The reason I went to Felix in the first place was so I didn't have to worry about what they did, or what they made me do, when I was outside of the Nexus. But maybe I... Maybe..."

He shakes his head and tries. again. "I've been turnin' a blind eye to what they still can do when I'm here. They can't --" Light, he hates the way he has to say this to Jim "-- give me the Hunger, but... Everything they did to Felix. And... And you? Now? I didn't... I didn't even know."
He drops his head and his hands rise to catch him by the temples. He stares at the table and croaks, "I didn't even know. Fuck me, what if you are right and I am just what they let me be? What if they turn me off and on like a-- like a machine? And make me want friends so they got people to take advantage of? What if..."

His face starts to twitch until he's left shaking his head in tiny, desperate motions.
He can't let that train of thought take hold, but now that he's thinking about it he can't stop pulling strings. How much of his own existence is even real? And, more depressingly, how can he be so quick to doubt himself after so strongly asserting his own reality before? Does he really lack all conviction?

Jim
Jim nods.


He might not have known what the Hunger was before their trip to Nirn but he sure as hell figured it out after they got there. He's seen Harrowheart when he's all but lost to it and if he lives a thousand years he'd like to never see it again. Hell, he didn't even get the worst of it. That nightmare extravaganza falls strongest on Isidor's shoulders for how closely she was watching over the death knight while they were travelling.


"Well, for starters, I like to think they'd probably make you do more fucked up shit if you had no will of your own, even here in the Nexus. You didn't know the blades were taunting me. Taunting Felix still, every chance they get. They might go after Isidor or Stratos too. Or someone else, V or any of your other friends. I'm surprised they didn't act out to any of the Durants at the wedding." It's not easy, none of this is. As much as Jim would like to he can't just start refuting every worry he's had just because now Harrowheart knows it's been bothering him.


"I'm not a mage, Harrow. I don't know how this works. But if you want to live on your terms, regardless of what state your body's in, you gotta figure out what that means for you. If it were me...but that doesn't matter. I'm not you. I can't make your decisions for you. But I am your friend, so I'm warning you that those blades are still not satisfied with just you. All the happiness in the world won't do you a lick of good if those fucking things take someone you care about."

Harrowheart
"If it were you?"

Anything Harrow might have been about to say about the blades, the party, and their relationship with the other mages they both know is stopped before it's spoken. He stares at Jim, concerned, and asks, "What would you do?..."

Jim
"The bond you have with the sword is one thing. I don't...know how all this works. But you need that blade and that's fine but if it were me, I'd make damn sure no one else could be hurt by it."

A beat then, because that's the whole point of a sword isn't it? To hurt and kill others? Harrowheart's a death knight on his own world. He's seen a lot of violence on Azeroth, Jim's sure of it.

"Anyone who isn't an enemy, I mean. You know what I mean." He waves his free hand in the space between them as if to banish his own awkward phrasing. "There's gotta be some kind of mage either in your world or maybe in the Nexus who specializes in containing magic. You can't be you without the blade so destroying it's out." Much as Jim would like to. "Next best thing is to contain it so it can't hurt people unless you want it to."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
Harrowheart wheezes an exasperated laugh. "Why do you think I went to Felix in the first place? 'Cause he told me he could bind it. 'Cause he thought he knew enough to keep it quiet so I could pretend to have a normal life. Jim..."

He turns his hands up on the table to expose his empty palms. "I know you ain't a mage, but... This is what a curse is. It ain't somethin' that goes away easy. Ten years ago I made a bargain with the blades. I gave my soul up 'cause I thought it was the only real freedom I'd ever have. I chose to become a monster thinkin' it'd get me outta the hurt I felt. I traded my pain for others' pain, and I didn't care about the consequences. Just because I do now don't change the terms of that deal."

His hands slip to the edge of the table and off, out of sight on his lap. He shakes his head in small motions. "What happens if I get a mage to contain 'em... And then someday somethin' goes wrong and the spell breaks? What happens when all their bound up anger comes out all at once? Nothin' good. Ain't we learned anything at all from what happened to Felix? Askin' other folks to help me out is hurtin' them to save me from my own pain. It's the same bad choice I made ten years back."
He shrugs his shoulders and leans to catch a glimpse of the entryway where the blades are resting.

"I think I been lyin' to myself about the kinda life I can live since I found this place. I been takin' it for granted that it's peaceful here in the Nexus. Pretendin' I can have a life like a livin' man. But I think... Maybe..."

His eyes shift to Jim once more and in a hollow voice he says, "It's time I remembered to hold up my end of the bargain. It's time to give 'em what they want. What I promised I'd give 'em. Forever."

Jim
Cue one supremely unimpressed starship captain.

"So that's it? Your solution is to just give up? You're a soldier I get that in Azeroth, that means you have to take lives. Probably lots more than I want to hear about or can contemplate. But you don't have to just let them do whatever the fuck they want to the people around you and you shouldn't. I know what a curse is, and I know what you think that's made you."

Jim sets down his charmingly stupid mug so it's text faces Harrowheart. He gestures around them to the house he's built. Not just things, everything he's accomplished here.

"This is who you are. Everything you've chosen to be. Yeah, there might be a price to pay for that, and I know. Now. I know what that means you have to do outside of the Nexus. But they shouldn't get to run free around here like a spoiled kid just because they're bored."

Harrowheart
There are a number of times throughout Jim's words – most especially at mentions of curses – that Harrowheart opens his mouth to speak. But he hasn't got it in him to overtake his friend, and so he lets Jim say what he feels he needs to. Only when he's through does he huff a laugh. "Everyone always thinks they know better about me. At least your bullshit's positive."

His hands are back on the table now, spread far apart, while his forearms still rest in his lap.

"What I'm proposin' ain't givin' up. It's... Choosin' not to starve anymore. Choosin' to do what I was made to do to keep me – and them – goin'. And the problem ain't that I don't wanna do it – 'cause it makes me feel good, Jim. The problem is... Can't no one else handle the idea of me doin' it. Think about it."

He gestures to himself, then to Jim. "You ain't made to be friends with a killer." He vaguely rolls his hand in the air. "Isidor ain't made to love a killer, hardass as she thinks she is. Viatorus can't even think about killin'. But that's what I am! And that's what I'm supposed to do. And that's the root of this whole problem, ain't it? That I don't wanna do what I'm supposed to do, because it ain't convenient. Choosin' to go back to doin' it... Is that really the same as givin' up?"
"Or."

A little silence passes. His eyebrows tilt upwards as he searches Jim's face.

"Am I just sayin' that 'cause that's what they're makin' me say?..."

Jim
"I'm not trying to--" But he is though, at least a bit. Jim sighs in concession but does shrug his shoulders to show he doesn't fully agree with the sentiment. "I'm not going to give up on this. On you and everything you've tried to accomplish here. That's not me thinking I know better. That's my commitment to you and everything I've learned about you. Good and bad. You're my friend, I'd do the same for them too."

His other friends, Jim means. It shouldn't be a surprise Jim got up and stomped across Tamriel to go and track down the Runeblades. Even if Felix wasn't their target he'd have done it to help out Harrowheart. There's precious little Jim Kirk won't do to help a friend in need when things look bleak.

"So what are you going to do about her then?" It's easy to brush the rest of those examples aside (especially his own) when Harrowheart mentions Isidor. Because he's damn well sure she's the most important person to the knight out of everyone mentioned. "Because I know damn well she's not about to give up on you either." Jim shouldn't know that, though. He's quick to add--"That's not her style and we both know it."
The last bit though...what a kick in the teeth.
Jim shakes his head slowly.

"I don't know. I wish I did, it would make a lot of things easier. If you find yourself giving up what you really want for what you think you have to do, then maybe. I won't give up on the things you want though. I don't think your other friends will either."

Harrowheart
Changing tactics seems to have worked, if the way Harrowheart sincerely listens without the half-expressed urge to interrupt is any indication. Now and then he even nods -- especially at the end. Giving up what he wants... It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. His brows furrow and he gives one final and determined nod to Jim.

But when it comes time to speak he's a little less confident. "I don't know what to do about Isidor," he says. "I know she ain't gonna give up on me. She's like a little crab, she gets her pinchers into somethin' and she don't know when to let go. But that means if I ain't careful, I'm gonna drag her into a world of hurt. I gotta start thinkin' a lot smarter than I'm used to." He laughs self-consciously and tries for a smile. "I gotta start thinkin' for two, but I ain't even used to thinkin' for one."
He's quickly serious again with a shake of the head. "Sometimes I think she don't know what she's got herself into, thinkin' she can lo-- be with-- a monster. And don't give me any shit about usin' that word, 'cause we both know what I mean." He waves the comment off with a flick of his hand. "She saw me back on Nirn, but that was different. There was an excuse for all the shit I did and what I looked like. But she ain't spent a week with me on Azeroth -- or on Earth, even. She ain't seen me get the Hunger when I'm whole. She sure as Hell ain't ever seen me kill someone. Not a person with thoughts, anyhow."

He looks around the bare walls of the sitting room, considers the gaudy damask design, and keeps on shaking his head. "Part of me thinks that if I really loved her I'd let a breather man take my place so she could have a normal relationship. The kind where neither of us think about shit like this. Bein' honest -- not sad, not makin' excuses, but honest? I know that the responsible thing to do would really be to let her go."
He sits up a little straighter in his seat, only now aware of how he'd slid down with splayed legs. When he's upright again he continues confidently. "But I do know I love her. There's a lot to love about her if you get to know her, but there's a lot about her that she don't show other folks. Hell," he laughs, "There's a lot about her she don't show me. But that ain't the point. The point is that I want to do right by her and be a partner she can be proud of and happy with. I know she don't want a guy like Zandros. And I know I..."

Once more he's looking around the room, and now he smiles at what he sees. He nods at Jim. "I want this. What I made here. Not all by myself, but with my friends. I do wanna be happy, and I do wanna at least try for normal -- sometimes, when I can get it. But I know I can't ignore the Hunger forever. I can't hide in the Nexus forever. And I sure can't put my blade in a cage and figure that lock ain't gonna get picked sooner or later."

"We ain't gonna figure out what I oughta do right now. I'm gonna have to think on it a while. Bein' responsible means bein' slow, I guess. And enough about my bullshit anyhow. I'll get back to worryin' about whether or not I'm even real when you're gone. While you're here we oughta talk about your bullshit. I mean, you do got some, don't ya?"

Jim
It's good to know that 'love' is a four letter word for other people too. Makes Jim feel a little bit less like the odd man out being afraid of the idea for as long as he was, even as he was in the middle of it with Felix. Still feels a twinge of panic every time he remembers what he's trying to do, where he's headed. Isidor and Harrowheart are also of two different worlds but they've got other complications too. Ones Jim can't even imagine standing between him and Felix. It's no wonder his friend is nervous.

The stakes between he and Isidor are higher.

"Maybe not, but if you're not going to lock them up you're going to have to learn how to work with them Outside of when you're...using them." And then, because he knows Harrowheart will go there if he doesn't, JIm makes himself go on. "Killing with them." It's an uncomfortable truth but a truth nonetheless.
"You'll have people here supporting all those goals and ideals you have here, too."
People like Jim, like his friends. Like Isidor.
Harrowheart's putting in the time and the effort to think on this and to work out what's going to be best for not only himself but the people he cares about too. Jim can't ask for anything more than that. He nods, and hopes the death knight knows how big of a step that is. That he won't be alone in his efforts.

Even if he might be alone doing the killing.

"I really didn't mean to get all existential on you..." Though Jim squints and draws his head back ever so slightly. "My bullshit? Like what?" As if he doesn't have enough to fill a grand library. Which bullshit might be the better question. And Harrow doesn't even know about anything after Nirn. His neck prickles with discomfort and the captain shifts in his seat, suddenly fidgety.

Harrowheart
Harrowheart laughs, and when he smiles it's genuine and knowing. Jim's fidgeting, it seems, is lost on him. "Like what?" he asks slyly. Jim, you know like what! "You actin' like you don't have bullshit, or you darin' me to pick just one thing? You tryin' to tell me you left Tamriel with no bullshit? Nothin' changed, nothin' to talk about at all?"

It's not fair to smile now, so he runs his hand across his mouth to regain some seriousness in his expression. "You and I ain't talked about anything that happened since that trip, really. And I sure ain't talked to Felix. And Isidor... We talked... Once... But sometimes I get the feelin' she don't wanna share her problems with me."

Jim
It's like having the ice underfoot give way. Suddenly being plunged into frigid memories he's kept a slim grasp of for so many months. Jim sucks in a sharp breath. His blue eyes lose some of their fierce edge.

"No one talks about it. Felix doesn't...can't. Every time I've tried he pulls farther away into himself. Isidor won't. She's too proud. Stratos pretends it doesn't get to him and he's got more important things to do back home anyway. And I..."

Rotting hands and sloughing skin wrapped around his throat. Squeezing the life out of him when he tries to open his mouth. Being alone in the same bed with Felix again had taken months. The nightmares are still there, even if they're not as frequent.

"....I've put it behind me."
He doesn't sound sure of himself in the least.

Harrowheart
"No one talks about it," Harrowheart agrees.

And then there's silence.

No one talks about it.

"But maybe we should?"

Harrow raises his eyebrows and watches Jim expectantly.

"You and I both know none of us put it behind us. Not you, not me, not the rest of 'em, and apparently not my runeblades. Maybe we should talk about it, Jim?"

Jim
There's an unwillingness that draws up Jim's shoulders, threatens to have an ugly, weak part of him lash out at Harrowheart that takes so much out of him to resist. It would be easy to snap, to jump to his feet, to snarl and posture and pretend to be bigger than he is because the things Harrowheart wants to discuss frighten Jim Kirk to his core.

Threaten to bring the broken man he tries so hard not to show to anyone to the surface.

But if he refuses, he's no better than Felix's cowering. Than Isidor's rage. Stratos' feigned indifference and Harrowheart's willful ignorance. It's no desire to be better that makes Jim speak up. It's a fear of being the worst among them. This was the man with no real reason to be in Nirn. No magic or special skills to add to the group's repertoire. He was the weakest back then when the danger was at its greatest. Will he be the weakest yet again?
The tips of Jim's fingers are bone white, so hard is his grip on the table between them.
"Okay. Let's talk." His voice is tight with all the emotions so barely held in check.
There's so much to say, so much he still knows nothing about. Why Felix chose to go down this path, to what end. At what point was he no longer himself. Jim doesn't know. There's so much he doesn't know. May never discover.

"Everything that happened before he took your...the blades. I don't know anything about it. I've put together bits and pieces listening to you. But that's it. I didn't know anything was wrong until he tried to kill me in my sleep and fled after."
"...Until I came to you for help."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
The tension radiates off Jim like a heat, and Harrowheart finds himself leaning away. Strong emotions like that have a way of catching, and he'd rather not feel any of that coursing through him.
"Before he took 'em," he repeats stiffly, buying himself time to conjure up the memories. "It started... I suppose it started when I first met him, didn't it? One of you told me he does bindin's and conjurations, and I asked him if he figured he could do somethin' for me. If he could bind my runeblades so I could get some distance. He said he could try. But a real long time passed between then and when he and I met again to give it a chance."
He sets to nodding as more of what transpired returns to his mind. "We met somewhere in the Nexus where he had the ritual all set up. He brought me -- them -- an orb with a vampire soul, because he said he was gonna bargain with 'em. Said that's how he does his magic. He makes deals. I figured that'd work. I didn't know no better, either way. He said..."
He narrows his eyes and looks away from Jim. It's been so long. Such an important moment, and yet the memory of it is so foggy, so shrouded by distance.

"No. I said... I said... No matter what happens, don't touch 'em." One serious nod and a nasal snort. "I said don't touch 'em. I'm sure I did, Jim. I'm sure I..."

His eyebrows tilt and he steals a fleeting glance.

He mutters, "I'm sure I said it..."

Jim
Jim's felt their will when he was inside of them. Seen how deeply they sink their hooks into a mind and try to bend it--break it if need be--under their pommel to do their bidding.

"But he did. They wanted him to and he did." Because Felix got too cocky? Thought he knew better? Or just wanted to try and appease them to prove he could make the ritual work? It doesn't matter why, really. Jim doesn't know enough about how Felix's magic works to really do more than guess anyway. The important thing is, he did.

"And that's all it takes?"

Harrowheart
"He did. That's what broke me outta the trance he put me in. I think he only meant to bind the runeblades, but I stepped into his runes and he started the spell, and it was like fallin' asleep. One minute I was steppin' into it, and the next it was all over. He put his hand on the runeblade and I woke up, just like that. I think..."

He inhales slowly and exhales just the same.

"I think he did a little necromancy without even knowin' he did? But even if he didn't, I... I know I was made to obey. To be under someone else's control. That kinda magic gets to me. It's like I can't do anything about it. Unless..."

He drags his hand across his brow and with a pinched expression slowly wonders, "Unless his magic didn't do it at all, and the runeblades put me to sleep so they could talk to him alone."

Hastily he continues, "That's all it takes, though. Touchin' 'em. You touch 'em and you got a connection with 'em. Maybe they'll use it, maybe they won't. But once you touch 'em, they know you. Sometimes I wonder if they knew me before they ever saw me, though."

Jim doesn't know magic, and he certainly doesn't know Azerothian history, but it still feels so otherworldly to clear his throat and begin explaining one of his world's most famous modern stories to someone who truly doesn't know it: "That's what happened with Arthas, the Lich King. Frostmourne, his runeblade, spoke to him before it ever saw him. It sensed his soul from halfway across the world, and it called to him. Frostmourne's the most powerful runeblade on Azeroth, but... If Frostmourne could do it..."

He looks toward the door, then slowly drags the white lights of his eyes back to Jim. "You ain't ever touched my runeblades, right? But they spoke to you. 'Cause they know you. They probably know your spirit better than I know you."

Jim
"You don't even have to touch them..." How horrifying. Those blades know Jim Kirk. Know his very soul, the essence of his being. Have beheld it in their steely grip only to have it snatched away so rudely by daedric magic. How many souls did they lose because of James T. Kirk?

Not enough. Never enough, so far as Jim is concerned. But a wrinkle in this tale, a new thread to consider. If Jim sought out revenge on the blades, he'd be killing Harrowheart too. Too steep a price to pay, and too foolish a quest to take on. Jim's seen Harrowheart fight at his fullest during the invasion on the Nexus. Has seen the raw power and might of his worgen form inside the nightmare realm. What chance does JIm stand against such a man wielding such a power as the Runeblades?

Last time he had divine intervention. If he tried again, he'd be on his own. A no-win scenario. He can't stop gripping at the table. His hands would be shaking if he did.

"No, but I was inside them in the soul gem."

Harrowheart
"Inside..."

There isn't enough blinking to make that make sense. Harrowheart stares at Jim, then at the table... And then something draws his attention toward the entryway of his home. He stares into the darkness like an animal aware of something human senses can't perceive.

"You were," he whispers.

The glow of his eyes lights Jim's face once again, and for a while he's silent.

"That's how you stole all them souls away. That's how you saw my spirit. That's how they know you."

"But they don't want you." He says it without a shred of doubt. "You ain't the kind of person who'd give 'em what they need."

Jim
"Don't ask me how. The gem we got from..." And here Jim's memory is hazy. He really can't recall how many of his nightmares were memories and which were just dreams anymore. A man with his brother's smile and kind eyes. A red skinned demon with a criminal grin. Each seems equally implausible, and yet....

"One of Felix's patrons. I'm sure it was one of his daedra. A big one. But I can't remember the details. Stratos used a soul trap spell to get me to where Felix's soul was being held captive."
They don't want him.
How reassuring.
He wouldn't give them what they need. Wouldn't he? If he was corrupted like Felix was? Jim's no stranger to the desire for vengeance and revenge. It's how he died, after all.
It's best not to ask questions he doesn't want to know the answers to.
"I don't know how it worked. But that's how I met your spirit. How I got Felix back."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart nods, and once again his eyes are narrowing with his thoughts.

"I don't know nothin' about daedra, but somethin's got me thinkin'... Did you say... Did you say Felix tried to kill you? He tried... Why didn't he succeed?"

Jim
Not the subject Jim wants to be drug back to, not a memory he wants to linger on. Already uncomfortable because he was in a body that wasn't his own at the time. Already worrisome because Felix had been missing for weeks and lying to both Jim and Stratos about where, at the time.

Best not to pause on how rough their reunion had been. How eager Felix was to mark and bruise Jim. To see the proof for himself that the starfleet captain was his and his alone. How exhausted it left them both and how thoughtlessly Jim had been to curl up to sleep beside the would be lich. How sleep and the very idea of safety even in his own quarters had been shattered by the hands closing tight round his throat, pressing Felix's weight down onto his neck.

"...I kneed him in the dick and threw myself off the bed to get away. Snapped him out of whatever trance he was in."

Harrowheart
Not at all the response Harrowheart expected. He twitches and blinks and shakes his head as if he needs to hear it again to believe it, but he doesn't ask for that.

"He woulda kept goin' you think?"

He's quick to shake his head. Jim doesn't need to answer that.

He lowers his head and rests his chin on the stump of his wrist. Sighs.

"It was worse than I thought, I guess," he mumbles. He looks down at the table and breathes in expressly to sigh through his nostrils.

"Felix was gonna be a real different kinda death knight than me," he thinks aloud. "Better, for sure. He wanted different things than I want. Or... Maybe I... I just never had the right victims before I learned some self-restraint."

Jim
"No. Not right then. When they got ahold of him again, probably. At the time he was..." Jim's shaking and doesn't quite realize it. His hands are steady where he's staring down at them--impossible for them to be anything but since he's gripping the table so tightly-- but the rest of him trembles with the memories.

"He was in disbelief. Apologizing." His voice is hoarse. Jim sucks in a breath. "Said he wanted to heal me from everything he'd done. But the spell wouldn't go right and that scared him more than what he'd done. He took his PINpoint and ran and left me there. Last I saw of him before we went to...." Oh, gods. This is harder than he thought.

Jim's stomach rolls unpleasantly.

"Before we faced him in the crypt."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart doesn't stop himself when his first instinct is to reach out again and put his hand over Jim's. Maybe a cold touch isn't what he needs at a time like this, but it's the only touch a dead man has to give.

This is so much worse than he'd allowed himself to consider. There's so much pain he's caused, and not even purposefully. Through selfishness and ignorance. Pointless torment. He opens his mouth, but what could he possibly say now that would matter or change things in any way?

"But he ain't like that now. Right? He don't hurt you anymore, or try to? He's himself again, and you're with him, and he remembers he loves you..."

Right?

Jim
For half a second it almost seems like Jim is going to flip the table over or lunge across the space between them and rip out Harrowheart's jugular, so strong is the total body tension and icy look that settles itself onto the captain's face the second Harrowheart touches him. No pity. He can't handle being pitied. Being felt bad for. Being coddled and treated like someone who needs that kind of protection.

But it only lasts for a split second before Jim forces himself to breathe and consider the facts leading up to this point rationally. Consider that he'd do the same thing probably if the situation was reversed. His glare evaporates into something heavier and tinged with guilt before he lowers his eyes completely out of shame for his reaction.

Jim doesn't pull his hand away.

"He's better now. We don't hurt each other and we're living together. We're still getting...I mean, going through with this. The whole...you know. Marriage thing."

Harrowheart
The absolute revulsion that seizes Jim the second they touch drives Harrowheart's hand away in an instant. He pulls it back and hides it beneath the table with the other one while he watches Jim, his pale face twisted up with dread. What did he say? What was so wrong?

Jim looks away, and eventually Harrowheart does too. Whatever mistake he made he'll try to push it behind them, since that seems to be what Jim wants now.

And still he can't help but ask something he shouldn't. "Why do you say it like that?"

Jim
"Sorry. I'm bad at...pity. Sympathy."

Jim knows it wasn't Harrowheart's intention but he doesn't look up from the table just yet. His shoulder stay sagged with the weight of his own feelings toward the reaction he'd given Harrow. So much of this he thought he was over by now. His ugly shadows still resurface though. They're not gone, even if they've stayed hidden for a long time now.

"Say what?" it's enough to make Jim look up.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
Say what? Harrow is taken aback by Jim's complete ignorance. He really doesn't know, does he?

"Say... Marriage. The way you say it. Like it's shameful, or dirty, or... Like you don't really wanna go through with it?"

Jim
There's a moment where understanding dawns on Jim. He does say it like that, doesn't he? Blue eyes track from one end of the table to the other before he meets Harrow's gaze. It takes a few seconds for his lips to quirk up in an uncertain smile.

"Because I grew up thinking that 'love' and 'family' were full of shit. That I wasn't worth basic human decency or more than a quick fuck from someone I'd never see again." Saying it used to hurt. He used to hide behind this. His weapon for never trying. "I still can't believe there's a person in the multiverse crazy enough to play with me for keeps, I guess. Come back to me after I've been married a decade and maybe I won't be surprised anymore."

When it comes to Felix Caelus, Jim has at least learned to be honest with himself. If he's willing to put his soul on the line and cavort with gods, demons, and the undead to save the man from his own twisted ambitions then 'do you love him' is such an absurd question to ask himself. It doesn't stop Jim from worrying about whether it will work out, whether he's the kind of guy who will make a good partner for life. If this whole living in another world thing is even possible for the long term.

"I'm still terrified thinking about it. Marriage, I mean. Worried I'll fuck this up somehow."

Harrowheart
Harrow leans back, brow twitching at Jim's first sentence. He thought that? Anyone thinks that? Immediately he's leaning in again, desperate to hear the rest... And quickly regretting it. Elune, this is tragic. No one should think like that. That thought almost pushes its way out of his mouth but Harrowheart catches himself just in time.

When Jim has said his piece Harrowheart slowly gets to shaking his head. "How could you fuck it up? What could you do? Far as I've ever known you're an honorable guy. You try. You don't hurt folks -- Shit, you don't even like hearin' about folks gettin' hurt. And-- Jim! You risked your life to save Felix, and that was before y'all were engaged! How could you ever do worse knowin' your love's just gonna grow?"

Jim
The thing about abuse is that logic doesn't always apply. It doesn't have to be intentional or malicious, like his stepfather's was. His mother's inability to look at him without leaving or crying, especially around his birthday when he was little told Jim all he needed to know about himself. They said his mother loved him, but he never saw it. She left he and his brother with her husband while she drowned herself in work to deal with her grief over George's death. Jim's older brother said he loved him but left Jim behind the second he was old enough to get away.

Even if that was all there was, Jim would be twisted enough. But Tarsus made crystal clear the things Jim had already thought about himself. He wasn't worth being alive. He should die so that others, more worthy people, could survive. That he survived at all was as much to do with his rage over his aunt's death and stubborn refusal to do as he was told as it was luck. But Jim never believed those things said about him weren't true. He just survived anyway.

And a decade and a half after the fact now Jim knows it wasn't true. Logically he knows what his worth is, what he means to his crew. To Starfleet. To Felix and his brother. But all the logic in the known universe doesn't stop Jim's heart rate skyrocketing just imagining the ways he could ruin this. Because he always has. Logic doesn't override the wounds that linger unseen, even if they've finally started to heal properly after years of sitting and festering underneath his skin. Healing all of his real scars meant that no one could ever tell he was broken underneath.

"I don't know." It's the truth. An irrational fear Jim can't get over. "I'm not going to let it stop me from going through with it but...I can't stop being worried, either. My biggest worry these days is someone who shouldn't finds out Felix isn't from my world. Galaxy, even. If he ever got hurt because I was selfish enough to make him come live with me, I...I worry. A lot."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart exhales through his nose and raises his brows as he sits back, hands slowly folding before him. He sinks down in his seat and slowly sets to nodding.

"Fuck me, though. 'I don't know' is the scariest answer, ain't it? I'm scared of all sorts of shit I can't really explain, and it feels... It don't feel right when someone asks me why, and all I can say is 'I don't know.'"

He sits up a little straighter then as he remembers something. "Despoina asked me why I was afraid of fantasies and reality, and I felt... I felt real weird? Because I couldn't answer it. Fantasy and reality, that's sorta... Everything there is, ain't it? But I ain't scared of everything all the time? Only sometimes, only certain things that I don't..."

"Ah."

He bites his lip and starts to nod. "Things I don't understand. Kinda like... You... Don't really understand feelin' what you're feelin'. But once you understand it, it ain't gonna be scary anymore." He huffs a quiet laugh and lifts his chin at Jim. "Like you said. Ten years from now you'll get it, and then it ain't gonna be scary anymore."

Jim
Ten years from now it won't be scary anymore.

Maybe it's true, maybe not. But in ten years he's looking to have Felix Caelus still a part of his life. A thought he'd have never considered before Felix is now something he can't even fathom going without. All of this has left Jim emotionally drained. Interacting with the runeblades, talking about his death, casting the slimmest of lights over the darkest parts of his heart...he can't do anymore of that today.

"Come on, grab the whiskey. I've got our glasses. We're gonna head out to the porch and shoot the shit till this is gone. I'll bring you more next time I visit. S'a promise."

Because he will come back and there will be a next time. Harrowheart is Jim's friend. One of the oldest ones he's got in the Nexus. Out here Jim can tell himself he's away from the Blades' reach and relax, even if it's not true. Out here the leaves are falling and the breeze is blowing. Harrowheart still sits in his odd choice in fashion and Jim pulls his leather jacket tighter around him. Sits on the top of the stairs and takes his first drink of many. They've always done this together. Drinking and talking about random things.

"Jim, my buddy, my pal--you're not gonna believe what I saw the other day..."
"Have you ever seen a mage blink into something before and get stuck? Every time I think about magic it squicks me right out...."
"So this one time..."
"--finest ass I've ever seen..."

Things are going to be fine.