[It is unlike him to do this in this fashion, but he recognizes the necessity of it. Still, when he reaches out it is unlike the gentle brush of Cathaway, uncolored by emotion, an empty space that seemed to gape, somehow nearly as unsettling as a mind too bare. His words are preceded by the obviousness of his attention, an anticipation, the mental equivalent to clearing his throat. And the words- stony and without warmth or comfort, unyielding and stern. He will not react to interruption. He won't even hear it.]
There are many things to discuss with you. [You- you, all of you, everyone he addressed- the clear knowledge that it was not a personal message, but a shared one.] This mission was a failure. Do not think to see it as anything less. The simplest of exercises intended only to allow those unaccustomed to gain some small experience with unfamiliar places. A harmless excursion.
[There's a pause, like a breath, a cold wind going colder.]
It was my failure that I saw you as anything but children, incapable of understanding that your choices have consequences. It is not a mistake I will make again. Your actions have proven you to be irresponsible, dangerous, and foolish. And as a result one of your own has died, for nothing. Those in his brood have now lost something irreplaceable. Do not imagine this feeling will go, do not imagine this emptiness will be filled by another. It will not. You will never be as strong as you could have been with him.
[It is simple fact, even as they grew they would lend each other strength. Now they had one less to draw from. There was a potential they would never reach. He has been cold, he is still cold, but for those in Adara there is an echo, more than simple sympathy. A clear understanding of what it is they have suffered.]
Hosts are lost. This is the reality of our situation, but Adam Parker did not die because we sought to strike a blow against the ones who hunt us. He did not even die because he made a foolish mistake. He died because you made a selfish choice. Remember this, your decisions effect more than you. Even your own life is not just yours any longer. You should be at least responsible enough not to drag those who should be able to rely on to their death.
[There is little point to this, he knows. Those that had behaved poorly would not listen to words, and if they had not yet learned a lesson there would be more loss and more suffering before they did. Still, this is too soon for this.]
There will be some time before you will be sent on your first true mission. I suggest you use it to better yourselves, for all of your sake.
[And the connection drops- cleanly as if he had flipped a switch. His mind was still there, as it always was, but distant, uninviting. This was never meant to be a dialogue.]
[ She doesn't bother to reach out for him mentally, for all she uses it to guide her to him, there's no point, she knows he hates this -- even if she does it more comfortably over speaking.
They haven't spoken -- she'd kept her distance after he'd left her, respecting that she'd overstepped and upset him. But this feeling, it drives a need to find him, Aoba and the new one. Just to check on them, just to know they're there.
So she finds him walking on bare feet, and doesn't say much of anything, fingers ringing over themselves, eyes down. Wets her lips and the word comes out small, tired. Watching him to work out if she'd be welcome. ]
[Both an acknowledgment and an answer-- it's not like he has a door to close anyway, but not telling her to go away is as good as an invitation at the moment. He's just stretched out on his bed, arms folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't even get a glance in her direction.
He's too tired for that right now. It'd be great if everything just stopped for a while, but if he can't have that... well, this will have to do.]
[ It feels less empty being close to you -- is what comes up first, as something brittle in her mouth, all honest and ugly with the grief of it, the next is calmer, more controlled: Prince said I should check on everyone.
She settles somewhere between. Breathes out. ]
I thought... I thought we should maybe talk? If you wanted.
[Ares shrugs even though the gesture is barely visible, but the bleed of emotions that he doesn't know how to stop makes it clear he's not being honest.
It still hurts.
There's still a hole there that he doesn't know how to handle besides just not handling it, it's still raw, he still hates it-- he doesn't know how to talk about it, either. Just wants it to go away.]
[ That's almost enough, to make her go, not all the way into the room, her hand hovering on the door frame. To go or to stay? Another time, she might recoil, retreat, that's what Jack had made her do, beaten her down, that it becomes instinctual a reaction on that process.
But no -- no, she wasn't doing that anymore, and she wasn't -- this agony is shared between them. It's a starting point at least. ]
Ares... we do. We need to talk about this because... I don't think we can afford to just... avoid each other. I did that with Parker when he made it clear he didn't want anything to do with us and...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Day 165, mid-morning
There are many things to discuss with you. [You- you, all of you, everyone he addressed- the clear knowledge that it was not a personal message, but a shared one.] This mission was a failure. Do not think to see it as anything less. The simplest of exercises intended only to allow those unaccustomed to gain some small experience with unfamiliar places. A harmless excursion.
[There's a pause, like a breath, a cold wind going colder.]
It was my failure that I saw you as anything but children, incapable of understanding that your choices have consequences. It is not a mistake I will make again. Your actions have proven you to be irresponsible, dangerous, and foolish. And as a result one of your own has died, for nothing. Those in his brood have now lost something irreplaceable. Do not imagine this feeling will go, do not imagine this emptiness will be filled by another. It will not. You will never be as strong as you could have been with him.
[It is simple fact, even as they grew they would lend each other strength. Now they had one less to draw from. There was a potential they would never reach. He has been cold, he is still cold, but for those in Adara there is an echo, more than simple sympathy. A clear understanding of what it is they have suffered.]
Hosts are lost. This is the reality of our situation, but Adam Parker did not die because we sought to strike a blow against the ones who hunt us. He did not even die because he made a foolish mistake. He died because you made a selfish choice. Remember this, your decisions effect more than you. Even your own life is not just yours any longer. You should be at least responsible enough not to drag those who should be able to rely on to their death.
[There is little point to this, he knows. Those that had behaved poorly would not listen to words, and if they had not yet learned a lesson there would be more loss and more suffering before they did. Still, this is too soon for this.]
There will be some time before you will be sent on your first true mission. I suggest you use it to better yourselves, for all of your sake.
[And the connection drops- cleanly as if he had flipped a switch. His mind was still there, as it always was, but distant, uninviting. This was never meant to be a dialogue.]
165 later
They haven't spoken -- she'd kept her distance after he'd left her, respecting that she'd overstepped and upset him. But this feeling, it drives a need to find him, Aoba and the new one. Just to check on them, just to know they're there.
So she finds him walking on bare feet, and doesn't say much of anything, fingers ringing over themselves, eyes down. Wets her lips and the word comes out small, tired. Watching him to work out if she'd be welcome. ]
Ares?
no subject
[Both an acknowledgment and an answer-- it's not like he has a door to close anyway, but not telling her to go away is as good as an invitation at the moment. He's just stretched out on his bed, arms folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't even get a glance in her direction.
He's too tired for that right now. It'd be great if everything just stopped for a while, but if he can't have that... well, this will have to do.]
What do you want?
no subject
She settles somewhere between. Breathes out. ]
I thought... I thought we should maybe talk? If you wanted.
no subject
[Ares shrugs even though the gesture is barely visible, but the bleed of emotions that he doesn't know how to stop makes it clear he's not being honest.
It still hurts.
There's still a hole there that he doesn't know how to handle besides just not handling it, it's still raw, he still hates it-- he doesn't know how to talk about it, either. Just wants it to go away.]
no subject
But no -- no, she wasn't doing that anymore, and she wasn't -- this agony is shared between them. It's a starting point at least. ]
Ares... we do. We need to talk about this because... I don't think we can afford to just... avoid each other. I did that with Parker when he made it clear he didn't want anything to do with us and...
[ look what happened. ]