ph_logs | [Closed] Well, well, look who's inside again

[Closed] Well, well, look who's inside again

Who: Jax (

jeveuxpartir), & Ragatha (

raggedydamn) (and potentially other CR!)

What:Reconnecting after the fall of King Eligos

When: The days following the incidents on March 15th

Where: Jax's townhouse, Downtown Hollow

Warning(s): Suicidal ideation, past gore, and everything that goes into that :)

If it weren't for the knocking at the door that echoes throughout his home, Jax still wouldn't have found a reason to pull himself out of the bed, even at the sun-shining hour of 3PM.

Maybe it isn't the most mature choice, to hide away in his house, or the "responsible" thing to do. Nor is it probably up there in the choices he could've made that might've been filed under "considerate of others." But considering that he got his skin ripped off, got impaled, and accepted his death all in the span of a few hours, then proceeded to have to claw his way desperately through bones and monsters and continued terrors.

Yeah, maybe he should've gotten in touch with the people who give a damn about him. But he distinctly did not do that.

In fact, the note on his door, left to potentially deter visitors, reads:

DIED.

COME BACK LATER.

But, when the knock comes, within a few minutes there's footsteps on the other side of the door nonetheless, and a familiar voice that pipes up. He sounds hazy with sleep, the way one might after a nap that was supposed to be twenty minutes turns into a three-hour one. (That's not entirely off, either, but does it count if you've been in and out of sleep for an entire afternoon?)

"So, can you not read, or are you here to try to do a seance or something? Because I'm not really feeling up to that kinda thing right now."

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"N-no, we got out. We... had to take a break, after everything, but we eventually kept going. It was relatively quiet, and then there was the weird coronation thing, and then we just... ended up back in town. We found out pretty quick that we were still inside the barrier, but I was worried. When you weren't there."

He's letting her get so close. Pomni should quit while she's ahead. Being close to him means pretending not to be. She said so herself. She wars with herself, between pulling away before it gets any deeper and springing for more.

He's so soft.

"Do you wanna go somewhere more comfortable than the floor?"

Warning lights blare in his mind, begging him to escape. The touch is overwhelming. Her hands feel electric over his short fur. It's terrifying. He doesn't want it to end. He knows better than to let her keep doing this. It'll only hurt both of them in the long run.

He's always been weak to whatever impulse pushes him right along, though, hasn't he?

Blinking slowly, he glances up to one of the adjacent windows. Sun's starting to set lower now. It'd be time to send her along soon enough, and it'd be better for her to do so. (He doesn't want her to leave.)

A soft breath, and he shifts a little bit.

"...Yeah, might as well. My back's gonna split in half if I keep doing this sort of thing to it. Dealer's choice to the next spot."

"Is bed okay or is that too weird?" Please say yes. Please let her stay. Please let her bundle up in you and listen to you breathe so that she doesn't forget it's real.

Oh, wow, she's really going that far in here, huh? That probably doesn't mean anything. She's probably just wanting to stick close, maybe make sure he doesn't abstract in his sleep or something. (It gets more possible by the day, after all.)

"Dealer's choice is dealer's choice. I think you're nuts for it, but that's your call. C'mon."

"We both know this house call is the only reason we're not both in bed. Let's just..." She shrugs. "Let's just get back to it. Together."

That actually manages to get a little laugh out of him, even as tired as it is. Alright, fair argument.

"Bed-rotting together? Yeah, that sounds like a solid way to spend the rest of the night. Let's do it."

"Cool." Pomni is... hesitant to pull away from contact. Like doing so will make it end forever, like this is her only chance.

He won't push her away now, will he? After everything. Her heart aches at the idea. But she hauls herself up, and offers him a hand.

(Please don't change your mind.)

She's fair to worry. For even just a moment, the thought does cross his mind. That this is his out, and that it'd be for the best for both of them if they stopped this right here, right now.

But she reaches out, and he caves in just as quickly.

His yellow glove finds her own gloved hand, and he pulls himself up to his feet.

The trek up to his bedroom is short and quiet, and for one of the few rare times that he doesn't prattle on, the trudge up the stairs is silent. His bed is disheveled still, and he doesn't bother to fix it before he gets back into it, lying back and letting his head sink into the pillows on his side.

It's only then does he, after a beat of hesitation and uncertainty, pat the spot beside him.

"Come on in. Water's fine."

She waits to be fully invited one last time before she slides into bed with him. Her mind flashes with the image of laying her head on his chest, partly for contact, partly to reassure her that there's no spike through it, and partly just... because it would feel nice. But she doesn't do that. Even now, it seems a bridge too far. She opts to simply curl up on her side facing him and let her legs rest against his hip and her arms brush against his.

In the softness of their shared despair, she can hear him breathing. That's good enough for now.

When she doesn't move closer, Jax doesn't close the distance. It's fair, after all; maybe piling together was just as much of a surprise for her as it was for him. A fit of desperation, after having all but seen someone die. Urgent closeness to get that gravity again. The world's back underneath her now, so why would she need that anymore?

(The little touches are still nice, at least. Being able to glance over and see her soothes the fraying edges of his nerves. That'll be enough of a win for now.)

The quiet draws on for a while, with the last traces of the golden sunlight quelling to blue evening, then to the crisp darkness of a nearly full moon of a chilly spring night. The light from the streets catches into his golden eyes, even as they drift from the ceiling, to the window, back to her.

"...You awake?"

The question finally comes without any of the harsher tones, nor even a snide joking one. It's simple and quiet. Even careful, as if to avoid changing that, if she isn't still with him.

"Mmm, sort of," Pomni murmurs. She's been drifting in and out a little, letting sleep and quiet contemplation blur together organically without trying to exert any control over her state of being. Just focused on the feeling of him there, the warmth of his soft fur on her skin, the sound of him breathing. It's grounding. Even as she allows herself to drift, she feels held by his anchor.

With a deep breath through a nose that isn't physically there, she comes back to herself so she can talk to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he lies, quietly, easily. Just like always. "It's just..."

His attention drifts from her, slowly up to the ceiling. Over a full day, packed with so many conversations, talking about this hasn't gotten any easier. It's hard for his mind not to wander, turning in circles over and over, a carousel of strange grief and the sort of sadness that floods the mind like stagnant water, sitting and festering forever.

He lets out a sigh, frustrated for falling quiet on her again, after he was the one to speak up. He's always doing this, reaching out and pulling away at the last minute.

"...I don't know why you keep bothering with me." The words he finally settles on do nothing to really cover the churning storm in his mind, but it's a start. "Y'know what would've happened yesterday if I didn't get us in hot water? You n' Ragatha would've had a boring shift, with weird demon coworkers, and you would've gotten turned loose, confused and tired. That's it. But I got us caught in a—"

He grimaces, and lifts a hand off the blankets, gesturing vaguely.

"Torture pit. And you know I did the same

all the time in the circus. Don't you ever get tired of dealing with it all the time?"

"...We didn't know what would happen," Pomni reminds him. "Staying in the ceremonial hall didn't feel safe. And we had no idea what was outside. Besides, you didn't just run off on your own. I was the one who greenlit you to go try the keys. Ragatha and I both agreed to cover for you. We all wanted out. And even if we wanted to back out after it got weird, there was--- no way we could go back after what Claunthe did to you. We were in it together."

Pomni sits up a little so that she can look him in the eye. "I said I'm not leaving you behind, and I'm not gonna blame you for what you didn't know. You were genuinely trying to help. I'd be an idiot for being angry with you for that."

"Alright, well—"

That's hard to argue with, argumentative as he always is. He stops himself short, closes his mouth, pulls it into a thin line, and lets out another sigh, frustrated with himself, with the world they're in, with existence in general.

"This one had a good reason, but that's a one-off. It's gonna keep happening. You know that, right? I do this. I find a way to make it harder for everybody, and I floor it. And the closer you stay, the more you're gonna get caught in that. I mean..."

A quiet, derisive laugh. It's forced bitterness. He can't even look her in the eye.

"Have a little self-preservation, Pom Pom."

"Mm. Pass." Pomni lays back down, looping an arm over him. "Sounds cringe."

Her words catch him so off-guard that he snorts a laugh, letting his eyes drift closed and shaking his head. He doesn't budge even a little bit to move that arm off of him.

"Fine. Whatever. Can't say I didn't warn you when it bites you."

"Yup. That's a me problem," Pomni agrees dismissively.

For a moment, Pomni considers saying to him what she'd said to Ragatha. The idea of missing that chance again--- it crushes her heart in her chest. But by the same token, she's sure she'd fall to pieces if he chased her off tonight.

No. He deserves to know. He deserves to feel loved.

"Can I tell you something?"

It's hard to know what this is going to be getting at, but Jax would be a liar if he said he wasn't interested. She's got his attention.

"Go for it."

"...When I thought you died," Pomni starts tentatively, "I was--- the thing I hated most was that--- you were gone before I could tell you something important. It was something I was having a hard time getting out, because I was worried how you'd react, but I---"

The words love you catch in her throat as she looks him in the eye.

The only thing worse than not getting to tell him would be getting kicked out right now, when she needs him the most.

Abort abort abort.

"---I care a lot about you. You mean so, so much to me, and I'd--- really, really hate it if you were gone. So. Don't ever think your life doesn't have any value."

For a long few moments, he doesn't know what to say— his attention flickers away from her for a moment while he sits with that. He does wind up looking back, and tossing her a little smile, even tired as it might be.

"...Glad to have you around, too, Pom. If it wasn't obvious, since I let you get in my bed and everything." The joke is a little flat, but it isn't a jab, at least. He reaches an arm over to give her a little nudge. "You don't go finding any demon torture traps to throw yourself in on my account, either, alright? Can't imagine not having you a round."

It's not so forward as I care about you, too but with as worn out as he is, he lets the fond glance and the closeness do the talking.

And that's enough for her. Pomni manages a little smile, hand curling around Jax's as she pulls herself a little closer.

I love you. The words go unspoken, but she hopes that by some miracle, if she thinks it at him hard enough, if she presses her forehead to his and beams him the information telepathically, he'll feel it somehow. I love you.

Is it friend love? Familial? Romantic? Does it matter? They went through something horrible together. Twice. And despite the rockiness of their relationship, Pomni feels like somehow, their spirits have aligned somehow.

"I won't. I don't wanna die for you if I don't have to. I want to live with you."

She's close. Closer than he's let anyone be, in fact; even during better days, all those years ago, he was held, but never like this. Never resting his mind against anyone else's, which, even if just for a moment, stops the horrible roll that has been going on for years. He's found himself starved for the touch, both unable to accept it and desperate for it to say, every touch putting him on edge and soothing him all at once.

His arm that doesn't have the hand being held tentatively loops over her, slow and careful. It feels like he's moving through water, weighted by lead, but he manages it. A soft sigh escapes through his teeth, and he lets his eyes slip closed, even if just for the moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds... that sounds good."

Maybe she really can get that from her mind, right into his own. Even if he can't put it into those words exactly, he's certainly feeling it, all the way down to his core.

"...Don't leave again, okay?" Pomni pulls back just a little too look him in the eyes. "Stuff--- happens here, and people die and come back all the time. Like that Yorick guy, he's getting killed like every other day. And I'd rather that not happen to you, but I won't get on your case. But. If it ever looks like there's no coming back... do me a favor and make sure you live. Come hell or high water. No matter what, we live. Got it?"

She offers him a hand with an outstretched pinky.

That's a hell of a promise to make him give, and she has no idea that it is. He could tell her that he can't manage it, of course— that this isn't the sort of thing he could ever see himself course-correcting from— but with the way she looks at him, the way she reaches out, he just can't find it in him to shoot her down. Besides, it's a nice thought, if it somehow managed to shake out that way?

(It wouldn't be the first promise he's broken. But for her sake, he'll add one more to the potential list.)

His pinky links with her own.

"You got it, Pom."

Some burden or other falls off Pomni's shoulders visibly as he accepts her terms. A bond forged in childhood superstition and playground secrets, the most delicate finger on each hand wrapped around the other like steel chain links. Unbreakable. She trusts him.

She loves him so much.

"Good," Pomni says succinctly. "Because if you ever make go through that again, I will find your ghost and kick its

."

She tucks her head back up against his chest, curling into him. She's never seemed smaller.

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