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cog_nomenFandom: Tales of Symphonia
Theme: Angels
Rating: PG
"What did you tell Anna when she asked you if you loved her?" Yuan paused, spoon sliding free of his coffee in a sultry manner, then continued, eyes sliding up to meet Kratos' gaze. "-Did- she ask you?"
Caught enough off-guard so that he didn't resort to his usual subject evasion, Kratos delayed as much as possible, his eyes sliding sideways while Yuan pushed a cup of coffee in his direction, encouraging. "I told her the truth. That I loved her as much as it was possible."
"Did that work?" The other Cruxis angel seemed interested in the response, lifting his cup to his mouth. They sat next to each other, deep in the workings of Yuan's latest diversion - his play resistance to Cruxis. It was intimate, there was coffee, they had been friends for what seemed like forever, and practically was. It couldn't be described as warm, really. Neither of them had anything left of that sentiment.
"No. But she knew I would, if I could." Kratos curled his hands around the cup, and leaned back. He hoped, without much expectance, that Yuan would let it drop for a long time. He wasn't ready for this yet, it was still too recent. He still felt his chest get tight, in that sort of detached way, when he mentioned Anna. He knew what he should be feeling, could recall how it felt, to some degree.
Yuan eyed him sidelong, through half a curtain of rich blue hair. "Was that enough?" To die for.
Kratos closed his eyes, shook his head. "For her, maybe." His muted emotions allowed him to speak without hitching up. "Not for me."
"That couldn't matter to you." Yuan stated, his voice turning suddenly cooler, as if he were irritated with his friend.
"No," came the response, quiet, calculated. He remembered how he had acted when he'd felt sorrow, though the feelings could not come back up. He could remember what they were like, drag the actions and logic for them forward, turn them over in his mind until he almost felt the emotion again. Reliving what he had felt in the past. He imagined it as worse, this time, than anything he'd felt before. "But it should."
"You're forcing yourself." Yuan slid closer on the seat, set his cup down. He took hold of Kratos' arm, and peered into his friend's face, watching a replay of expressions that were carefully remembered and redisplayed from when the man had the real feelings behind them.
"It's the least I can do."
Yuan wasn't particularly impressed by the attempt at chivalry. He understood, to a point, the desperate need to feel -something-. Sometimes, he wanted it so badly it became almost like a feeling of it's own, the remembered shadow of emotions played over in memory to give him examples of how one walked, talked, and acted in the throws of emotion. Old lines and postures were dragged up and reused in an attempt to appear average, give the illusion of a caring you could no longer feel in reality.
So when you were trying, did that make it a lie, anyway?
"I'm so bored, Kratos." Yuan did not retreat, pressed closer in fact. His voice dropped slowly in volume, and he leaned closer still, to ascertain his friend continued to hear him. "If I could still be sick of anything, I would be so sick of living the way I would if I could still feel injustice over her death. I do what I do, because I would have if I were what I was back then. I remember that love was wonderful, but I can't... remember why."
Foreheads brushed together, both leaning in to hear and be heard, discomfort at intimacy long ago forgotten. For a moment, they simply leaned against each other, forgetting to feign breath.
Theme: Angels
Rating: PG
"What did you tell Anna when she asked you if you loved her?" Yuan paused, spoon sliding free of his coffee in a sultry manner, then continued, eyes sliding up to meet Kratos' gaze. "-Did- she ask you?"
Caught enough off-guard so that he didn't resort to his usual subject evasion, Kratos delayed as much as possible, his eyes sliding sideways while Yuan pushed a cup of coffee in his direction, encouraging. "I told her the truth. That I loved her as much as it was possible."
"Did that work?" The other Cruxis angel seemed interested in the response, lifting his cup to his mouth. They sat next to each other, deep in the workings of Yuan's latest diversion - his play resistance to Cruxis. It was intimate, there was coffee, they had been friends for what seemed like forever, and practically was. It couldn't be described as warm, really. Neither of them had anything left of that sentiment.
"No. But she knew I would, if I could." Kratos curled his hands around the cup, and leaned back. He hoped, without much expectance, that Yuan would let it drop for a long time. He wasn't ready for this yet, it was still too recent. He still felt his chest get tight, in that sort of detached way, when he mentioned Anna. He knew what he should be feeling, could recall how it felt, to some degree.
Yuan eyed him sidelong, through half a curtain of rich blue hair. "Was that enough?" To die for.
Kratos closed his eyes, shook his head. "For her, maybe." His muted emotions allowed him to speak without hitching up. "Not for me."
"That couldn't matter to you." Yuan stated, his voice turning suddenly cooler, as if he were irritated with his friend.
"No," came the response, quiet, calculated. He remembered how he had acted when he'd felt sorrow, though the feelings could not come back up. He could remember what they were like, drag the actions and logic for them forward, turn them over in his mind until he almost felt the emotion again. Reliving what he had felt in the past. He imagined it as worse, this time, than anything he'd felt before. "But it should."
"You're forcing yourself." Yuan slid closer on the seat, set his cup down. He took hold of Kratos' arm, and peered into his friend's face, watching a replay of expressions that were carefully remembered and redisplayed from when the man had the real feelings behind them.
"It's the least I can do."
Yuan wasn't particularly impressed by the attempt at chivalry. He understood, to a point, the desperate need to feel -something-. Sometimes, he wanted it so badly it became almost like a feeling of it's own, the remembered shadow of emotions played over in memory to give him examples of how one walked, talked, and acted in the throws of emotion. Old lines and postures were dragged up and reused in an attempt to appear average, give the illusion of a caring you could no longer feel in reality.
So when you were trying, did that make it a lie, anyway?
"I'm so bored, Kratos." Yuan did not retreat, pressed closer in fact. His voice dropped slowly in volume, and he leaned closer still, to ascertain his friend continued to hear him. "If I could still be sick of anything, I would be so sick of living the way I would if I could still feel injustice over her death. I do what I do, because I would have if I were what I was back then. I remember that love was wonderful, but I can't... remember why."
Foreheads brushed together, both leaning in to hear and be heard, discomfort at intimacy long ago forgotten. For a moment, they simply leaned against each other, forgetting to feign breath.
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no subject
Date: 7 Dec 2005 15:39 (UTC)no subject
Date: 9 Dec 2005 15:43 (UTC)Kratos, I believe, forces himself. Yuan is just playing, I suspect.
Anyway, thank you for the positive reaction. ^_^