"If there was a button that killed everyone I hated, I probably wouldn't press it ... but if there was a button that killed everyone who hated me, I'd press it without hesitation."
Back to normal … like we’re all just supposed to forget.
[ John’s right, he’s instantly bristling. The thought of having to tend to the ills and the wounds of those that had turned on him almost gleefully in his perception … the stubborn, feisty flame inside the shy looking boy still burns hot. ]
[ John remains calm, his tone coaxing, even if the void of his eyes is a merciless wasteland. ]
But we have to be smart. They don't believe they did anything wrong, and they have numbers and resources. I could kill them all when they return, and she'd just bring them back and then they'd have another reason to hurt everyone.
It would be better if they couldn't reach us to hurt us. So what do we need?
[ Like a teacher might ask his class to pitch suggestions. ]
[ He murmurs a response hesitantly. Being a teenager from a modern big city whose mother was still responsible for providing most of those things for him he feels the least prepared of anyone. Adjusting to life in the town had been difficult enough. He’s learned to become slightly more independent being on his own, but it’s still an intimidating leap that’s being suggested. ]
Let's put that aside as potentially impossible for now.
[ John couldn't manage it, and he's egotistical enough to assume that means it's impossible. At the very least it's going to take a lot of power and resources they don't have. ]
But yeah. And there's two ways to get that. We can become an invading force: take their land, their shelter, their tools and their food. Steal it while they're gone and hope it's enough to fight when they're back.
Or. We can pretend to forgive and forget. Let them lower their guard. Stockpile food and weapons, get Void Touched working at the essential businesses, with access to the blacksmith's forge and the clinic's medicines.
[ The idea of playing nice as preparation to catch them off guard appeals to Junpei. Satisfies the part of him that's hurt, and the part that feels unsure how good he'd be at a physical rebellion. Lying, he feels like he can manage. Relishing the idea of lulling those that turned their backs on him and those he cares about into a false sense of security. Pretending to be the good little subject, successfully cowed by the will of the villagers and their ruler. Those thoughts can keep his anger beneath the surface, the promise of eventual revenge. Of independence from their fickle whims. ]
[ Hesitant to put an exact date on it when he doesn't know how hard or how long a winter here might be, if others will take to this idea. ]
Listen, in the meantime. There's a thing Ianthe and I can do, called blood warding. It creates a barrier, or a lock, tuned to you and your blood. If you pick somewhere small, like a cupboard or beneath a bed, I can ward it for you. Then you can keep your stockpile safe there. You could even hide there and nobody could touch you.
[ The area behind the medicine shelf in the clinic comes to his mind instantly. It's where he's hid his journal, his collection of scraps of things he wants to keep.
But he doesn't want anyone else to know about the journal, or that spot, so he swallows that instinct down. ]
Things feel so ... uncertain here. Claiming any one place ... it's not really mine. I'm just borrowing it. Especially since most of the residents are gone. It's hard to know where would be safe.
[ Slightly apologetic, because he remembers Ianthe choosing to isolate herself at the toga party so Junpei could have a good time without having to see her, knows that's complicated. But one single necromancer capable of breaking a ward is a lot less to have to worry about than the entire population of Rubi. ]
[ There had been a very brief period after being resurrected that he did fear Ianthe, the residue of Kraken's experience being hunted and eaten sticking to him.
But now things were ... well, some weird form of okay. Ianthe had saved him from the red fog the other day, and they'd had a long talk about various things. Gotten drunk. Had him wake up with pigtails. She was someone he actually trusted, felt some connection to. He was fine with her being able to reach him. ]
[ Except that reminds him of making Junpei drink a lot of water, and he has a mental record skip with his own mug in his hand. John isn't the type to blush, but he drums his fingers on the table. ]
[ Junpei is luckily too much in his own head at the moment to make the connection between that or the fact that his other encounter with John also involved him consuming something at the other’s behest.
That means John is alone in his suffering as the boy brings up the cup to his lips, adams apple bobbing as he takes a long swig of his tea. When he brings it back down there’s the tiniest glisten of moisture on his lips, and his tongue darts out to collect it. ]
[ A response that comes out a touch more defensive than he intends, sensitive about that particular vulnerability even if John didn’t intend that with his comment at all.
He’s quick to protect himself by following up with a question, hand coming up to push a stray bit of hair behind one ear. ]
[ ‘A fair bit’. So many warning alarms are going off in his head. He struggled only last month to keep people’s hands off of him who meant him harm and now he’s just strolling on consensually into this? ]
I wonder if my cursed energy will cause any issues.
[ That, as far as he knows, resides in the soul rather than the blood, but there are so many things he doesn’t fully understand about it and how it functions. He’s been told all humans back home carry at least a little as a result of negative emotions, but is that unique to his world? ]
Honestly... we're all cursed here, but I've never noticed any difference in anyone's energy. Even fully transformed, the monsters just feel human to me.
[ Of course, Junpei's speaking of a different kind of curse, and a different kind of energy entirely. That probably isn't reassuring. What hopefully is, is John adding: ]
It won't be a problem. I've been warding House and I's door for months.
… I should probably practice having a calm facade before they’re back. It won’t be easy.
[ Even with the ward on their door, he thinks, they both still had to flee to the forest. But he doesn’t want to mention that out loud and sound like a cynical ingrate over John’s offer. ]
I need to get better at reigning myself in in general, I guess. It’s caused me enough problems.
[ Low and bitter, as if he’s a middle aged man and not barely eighteen. He holds the handle of his cup and swishes the remainder of the liquid around the bottom before sipping it. ]
[ John wants to argue, but he thinks it might be too cruel, when the love that makes him grateful his feelings still work is with Junpei's senpai. Instead he just acknowledges that with a solemn dip of his head and finishes his own tea. ]
Getting to the clinic's going to be a fucking journey, and I need to know you've had a full night's sleep and a real meal before I take your blood. So let's meet back here for breakfast tomorrow, okay?
[ He finishes the last of his tea and sets the cup back down. Sleep hasn’t been easy, nor has eating, but he’ll try to go through the motions of both. ]
… I don’t really need to tell you to take care of him, I know … but I’ll say it anyway. I just need to.
[ To look after House. That's what he learned in the Void. And even then, you fail and fail and fail. John gives him a grim little smile. ]
See you then.
[ He's already in the kitchen the next morning, cooking buttery eggs — he's never going to be in master chef territory but he's better than Ianthe so there's no shell - and no raw potato. He's also got a slab of meat waiting: ]
[ It's not really John's standard either, but his focus here is iron and protein. It's very easy for him to get meat (given his work at the hunting lodge and ability to preserve it) and eggs (given Bertie) and also in his cooking wheelhouse, so Junpei gets served up a plate of vaguely scrambled eggs and a medium rare steak.
John has his sliced very thin and very rare, nearly tataki, with sour black bread and, as always, a cup of tea. He'd thought about adding beans in tomato sauce but that made him think about cooking for Kiriona and that made him sad. ]
[ No point in lying. When he first arrived it was nightmares about his bullies, then it became nightmares about his monster, about the cages. About losing the people he’s come to care for so deeply. Sleep has always been a challenge, it’s just the form the challenge takes that has shifted.
As embarrassing as the also frequent dirty dreams have been, at least they’re a respite from waking up in a panic. ]
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[ John’s right, he’s instantly bristling. The thought of having to tend to the ills and the wounds of those that had turned on him almost gleefully in his perception … the stubborn, feisty flame inside the shy looking boy still burns hot. ]
It makes no sense.
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[ John remains calm, his tone coaxing, even if the void of his eyes is a merciless wasteland. ]
But we have to be smart. They don't believe they did anything wrong, and they have numbers and resources. I could kill them all when they return, and she'd just bring them back and then they'd have another reason to hurt everyone.
It would be better if they couldn't reach us to hurt us. So what do we need?
[ Like a teacher might ask his class to pitch suggestions. ]
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[ He murmurs a response hesitantly. Being a teenager from a modern big city whose mother was still responsible for providing most of those things for him he feels the least prepared of anyone. Adjusting to life in the town had been difficult enough. He’s learned to become slightly more independent being on his own, but it’s still an intimidating leap that’s being suggested. ]
… or her being dead.
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[ John couldn't manage it, and he's egotistical enough to assume that means it's impossible. At the very least it's going to take a lot of power and resources they don't have. ]
But yeah. And there's two ways to get that. We can become an invading force: take their land, their shelter, their tools and their food. Steal it while they're gone and hope it's enough to fight when they're back.
Or. We can pretend to forgive and forget. Let them lower their guard. Stockpile food and weapons, get Void Touched working at the essential businesses, with access to the blacksmith's forge and the clinic's medicines.
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How long do you think we'd have to play dumb?
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[ Hesitant to put an exact date on it when he doesn't know how hard or how long a winter here might be, if others will take to this idea. ]
Listen, in the meantime. There's a thing Ianthe and I can do, called blood warding. It creates a barrier, or a lock, tuned to you and your blood. If you pick somewhere small, like a cupboard or beneath a bed, I can ward it for you. Then you can keep your stockpile safe there. You could even hide there and nobody could touch you.
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But he doesn't want anyone else to know about the journal, or that spot, so he swallows that instinct down. ]
Things feel so ... uncertain here. Claiming any one place ... it's not really mine. I'm just borrowing it. Especially since most of the residents are gone. It's hard to know where would be safe.
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[ Those horrible black eyes are earnest. ]
Nobody could get in except you. —And Ianthe.
[ Slightly apologetic, because he remembers Ianthe choosing to isolate herself at the toga party so Junpei could have a good time without having to see her, knows that's complicated. But one single necromancer capable of breaking a ward is a lot less to have to worry about than the entire population of Rubi. ]
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But now things were ... well, some weird form of okay. Ianthe had saved him from the red fog the other day, and they'd had a long talk about various things. Gotten drunk. Had him wake up with pigtails. She was someone he actually trusted, felt some connection to. He was fine with her being able to reach him. ]
... I'll think about it.
[ A beat, and he'll add in a softer tone. ]
Thank you.
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[ Rolling his eyes; don't thank him. ]
Drink your tea.
[ Except that reminds him of making Junpei drink a lot of water, and he has a mental record skip with his own mug in his hand. John isn't the type to blush, but he drums his fingers on the table. ]
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That means John is alone in his suffering as the boy brings up the cup to his lips, adams apple bobbing as he takes a long swig of his tea. When he brings it back down there’s the tiniest glisten of moisture on his lips, and his tongue darts out to collect it. ]
… maybe somewhere in the clinic.
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If you tell House he'll just ask you to stash drugs there.
[ Non-judgemental, just a warning about keeping his "safe house" at the clinic. ]
But I can do it wherever you want. I'll need your blood, so probably better to take care of it while the place is empty.
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[ A response that comes out a touch more defensive than he intends, sensitive about that particular vulnerability even if John didn’t intend that with his comment at all.
He’s quick to protect himself by following up with a question, hand coming up to push a stray bit of hair behind one ear. ]
How much blood do you need?
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[ Used rarely and mostly only when House talks him into it. ]
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I wonder if my cursed energy will cause any issues.
[ That, as far as he knows, resides in the soul rather than the blood, but there are so many things he doesn’t fully understand about it and how it functions. He’s been told all humans back home carry at least a little as a result of negative emotions, but is that unique to his world? ]
All right. Before they come back.
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[ Of course, Junpei's speaking of a different kind of curse, and a different kind of energy entirely. That probably isn't reassuring. What hopefully is, is John adding: ]
It won't be a problem. I've been warding House and I's door for months.
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[ Even with the ward on their door, he thinks, they both still had to flee to the forest. But he doesn’t want to mention that out loud and sound like a cynical ingrate over John’s offer. ]
I need to get better at reigning myself in in general, I guess. It’s caused me enough problems.
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[ John dips another bikkie, crunches into it slowly. ]
Suppression isn't good for anybody, especially here.
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[ Low and bitter, as if he’s a middle aged man and not barely eighteen. He holds the handle of his cup and swishes the remainder of the liquid around the bottom before sipping it. ]
I’d still turn it off if I could.
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Getting to the clinic's going to be a fucking journey, and I need to know you've had a full night's sleep and a real meal before I take your blood. So let's meet back here for breakfast tomorrow, okay?
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[ He finishes the last of his tea and sets the cup back down. Sleep hasn’t been easy, nor has eating, but he’ll try to go through the motions of both. ]
… I don’t really need to tell you to take care of him, I know … but I’ll say it anyway. I just need to.
See you tomorrow.
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[ To look after House. That's what he learned in the Void. And even then, you fail and fail and fail. John gives him a grim little smile. ]
See you then.
[ He's already in the kitchen the next morning, cooking buttery eggs — he's never going to be in master chef territory but he's better than Ianthe so there's no shell - and no raw potato. He's also got a slab of meat waiting: ]
Morning. How do you like your steak?
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Steak as part of breakfast is such a foreign (literally) concept to him that he takes a minute to make sure he heard John correctly.
After a few confused blinks he sets himself down in a seat, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. Voice still scratchy from having just woken up. ]
Uh, medium rare … thanks.
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John has his sliced very thin and very rare, nearly tataki, with sour black bread and, as always, a cup of tea. He'd thought about adding beans in tomato sauce but that made him think about cooking for Kiriona and that made him sad. ]
Sleep okay?
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[ No point in lying. When he first arrived it was nightmares about his bullies, then it became nightmares about his monster, about the cages. About losing the people he’s come to care for so deeply. Sleep has always been a challenge, it’s just the form the challenge takes that has shifted.
As embarrassing as the also frequent dirty dreams have been, at least they’re a respite from waking up in a panic. ]
Being on an actual bed again helps.
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timeskips a little to wrap this