Log:When The Confidant Needs To Confide

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When The Confidant Needs To Confide
Characters  •   The Martyr  •  The Confidant  •
Location  •  The Confidant's Room
Date  •  2019-05-15
Summary  •  The Confidant is visited by The Martyr and receives something he needed. Needed more than he thought he did.

The Confidant's usually wakes up and goes right to opening his door. A tradition he takes pride in, even if no one ever comes. Just keeping himself available is enough. You can't force a person to talk to you and spill their guts. So, after some time, and a sleep or two, the familiar tall, broad redhead steps out into the hall, marker in hand. He writes:

This door is always open. and underneath, he adds: It can't all be for nothing. He stands back and looks at it, thinking. One more thing. Above all else, love one another today.

Satisfied, he goes back into his room and leaves the door about half open.


A Man turns up and knocks lightly on the doorjab. He is just barely above average in height, classically handsome with dark eyes, tawny skin, and black, curly hair. His features are strongly masculine, with high, aristocratic cheekbones and a cleft chin. A regal nose shadows full lips.

He is impeccably groomed, freshly shaved, with a lingering scent of citrus and fougere aftershave. He is wearing a black dress shirt, a purple vest with matching tie, and deeply pleated black trousers. His shoes are impecably polished. There is a subtle grace to his walk, despite the tentativeness. "Chance?" His voice is a rich tenor with a Pacific Northwest accent.


The Confidant is sitting in the cozy little nook, long legs folded up on the couch as he reads Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Odd choice. He look up at the knock and he gives a welcoming smile. The kind you give a stranger. But, this stranger calls him Chance. His smile falters and he looks suspicious. He stands up. All six feet, four of him. Man, Holden was a lot smaller. "What's on your door?" He takes a breath and paces away. "I knew this would happen. I mean, you spend the whole encounter fucking blind, yeah, you'll miss a face. I expected this. A new face wouldn't know my name though. Fuck me." He says to himself, quietly before turning back to the unfamiliar face. "Sorry. Moment there." He shrugs and throws up his hands. "I haven't a clue who you are. I hate that. But hi. And if you call me Chance, I know you...do I?"


The Martyr looks sheepish, "The severed heart. I'm Dare. I was Finn and Osiris. Kemen. I woke up different." He is about Kemen's height and build, but the accent is Finn's. The cadence tends to slide between the two. Finn, Dare, and even Osiris when he was trying to smell mortal all favored this soert of cologne.


Chance blinks a few times. You can almost see the gears turn. Slowly, but they turn. "I-I can hear you." Beat. "I mean, I recognize the accent. Oregon. Finn's and...pardon me, please?" He steps up to the new Dare, leans close to his neck and sniffs. Once. Twice. And then he backs up, out of the bubble. "I don't have Holden's nose but the cologne is familiar. Ah! Quick test! Beaver Lake. Finn and Derek had an epic clash. Derek did something pretty fucking nasty to Finn. What was it?" Beat. "Derek didn't remember shit but I remember everything. Including all the shit that was repeated to him. Or lied about." He sighs. "Anyway. What's the answer?"


Looks sorrowful, Derek spat on me and I spat back. I'm not proud of it. I really am sorry, and i honestly didn't know he had no memory until after."


The Confidant looks relieved. "I'm not proud of it either, man. And if I didn't apologize before, let me extend it to you now. Derek spent like, his entire adult life trying to be someone he wasn't. Even after his memory issues." He takes a deep breath. "So...you woke up with a new face. I...don't want to ponder that too much right now. Besides, you are here for a reason. What can I do for you? Wanna sit? Feel free."


The Martyr nods, "You did, we both did. We had some good talks before we were Gods. I thought... I should see how you were doingg and also... check in a little. Because of Briar." Dark eyes search his face.


Briar's name brings a smile to Chance's face. Big and happy all the way to his blue eyes. "We're good. Yeah. Great. We talked and...heh, cried. Mostly me. That was a hard wake up. Harder than Beaver Lake and I died there. In pain and misery. I think...it was like waking up from a really good dream. I was happy, man. I was head over heels in love with Dia. She made me a better person and all that shit and then...here we are. I know we aren't finished there. We didn't bring anything back, see? So, we might land there again. Blindness sucks, by the way. Worst one yet. I thought the voices were one bad. Then my memory was shot. But no...blindness was the worse." Chance sits and pulls his legs up. "But Dia made me...Holden feel whole. And here? Briar's got half of my heart. Senni has the other half. Er, Misty. But, I haven't seen her back yet and I'm too chicken shit to look right now." He shakes his head. "How are you feeling? Second go. Came back with a new face. Are you alright?"


The Martyr nods, "I think something must have gone wrong somewhere. No one died and we didn't save the world. It feels half finished." He smiles, really pleased to see Chance so happy. "I told briar thee was nothing to worry about, that you'd love them still. I am glad it turned out that way for you both. You are... comfortable with how things sit with the three of us?" he tries to run his hand through a forelock he no longer has and only finds shor, tight, curls. He looks sheepish and lowers his hand. "There are some things to come to terms with... sexually. The Egyptian Pantheon had a very relaxed idea about many things, but I'm doing far better than I thought I would. For all the distance between Finn and Osiris, the God... fit me. I am not sure it could have been any other way. It is weird not being green and some other things, but these are minor things. I just... came together once I got over the initial shock." he studies him, "how are you managing, with all your facets?"


The Confidant chuckles. "Where to start?" He sighs. "Look, after the second or third go, the, uh, old timers got really relaxed on the jealousy front. Sometimes there are hard conversations but for the most part, we follow our hearts and if they lead in multiple directions? Whatever. Love today, man." He pauses and averts his eyes. "Like with Senni...I know she was there. Artemis. The Huntress. We had a snapshot love. The fuzzy past but...Dia happened. I don't know if she made it back. And that has me terrified. I keep thinking I didn't love her enough and I just wanted more time." He takes a deep breath. "Mm. Point is, uh, my heart is big enough for two. Briar is free to love who they please and how they please because we could pass out in an hour and we'd never see our love again. Happened to me. So. I know how it feels."

"Facets. I always come back feeling different about them. Derek was a dick. Jody was troubled. Chance and Henry were wound tight. Holden...Holden was a good man. Good to his core. Good in the marrow of his bones. Loved freely with a big heart and not an ounce of judgement. Holden was the closest to...me. Me here, I think. All of these bits and pieces of me are broken in the encounters. Always. That sucks and I woke up rough this time because it was all so bright and clear." He shrugs. "What I do know is they are a part of me. And no matter how hard I try to deny Jody or Derek...they are still me."


The Martyr says, “I am sorry I haven't seen her yet, but her sign looks the same if that helps. People are... slow to emerge this time. I think being gone so long and being so different... I think the ones who ate people are going to need a lot of help getting over this one. Which doesn't apply to your senni, but I'm already seeing the fallout from some of it. It might just be people need time to decompress before being around people again just generally."

He nods, "I really don't understand jealousy at all. I think it's something to do with my nature. I think it's natural for me to love many people. I still need to talk to some people and work out how we are now we're here, but shring is my nature the way love is my nature. I'm young but... now I'm also really, really old. Maybe having been so many people layered on top of each other when I was Osiris made me more like the elders here than I would have been if i had been only one person my second time around. Integrating more than doesn't selves was in snap shot time, but I lived that way for years with all that sometimes contradictory history and selves in my head. It's much harder to figure out how I used to manage as just Finn. All my edges are... soft, like a stone worn oval by the sea." His dark eyes have an Osiran kindness and empathy in thim, "I am sorry it's been so rough for you, time after time. If you need smeone to listen, I can be that for you if you like."”


"Her sign's the same?" Confidant perks up. "She's here. She's here. I will knock soon. Soon." He shakes his head. "I always say we have to love today but damn it the hell, I'm so scared. I suppose it's...it's the jealousy, you know?" He shifts and leans back. "I doubt it'll be an issue. It isn't for me. It's like an understanding we all come to after a few encounters. Things change. We do. Our loving does. No space for that here."

He snaps his fingers. "See, we have that in common, you and I. Love. I think for me it's...more about caring deeply. Very, very deeply. Down to my bones. No, the marrow. I need to know that everyone is okay. And all I know how to do that is listen. Listen if they want to talk. If. But not everyone is open. People hurt. I hurt. Over and over." He sighs heavily. "I'm old too. Old and have lived five different lives. Five different men with whole lifetimes. One with an eternity." He chuckles suddenly. "I said to Briar, I said, I am meant to be leaned on. But who do I lean on? Briar? Senni? You? No. I can't. These are my burdens. And I will bear them and theirs too."


The Martyr is quite firm, "Her sign is the same." He leans forward, eyes kind. "We are all afraid in these moments. I have faith that it will be all right though." his eyes go a little vague, "I understand intellectually that jealousy exists, but i've never really felt it. When I was Finn my issue with Addison had nothing at all to do with sexual jealousy and everything to do with.... We were fundamentally opposed by our natures and he was dangerous in a host of ways, even though he fought and died on the right side in the end. I never minded anyone else Danny was with. I am even further from that now. We are more elastic over time, not less, I think."

he gives Chance a crooked smile, "I look for the ones doing the caring and i try to care for them. It is so easy for some of us to give everything of ourselves and not notice our own stress. Our lives are full of trauma. Someone must care for the caregivers or they end up burning out. That is a thing Finn learned during the Plague and everything at the Lodge bore that out. This is a marathon, and people need to take turns looking after each other instead of letting the whole world rest all the time on the same shoulders." He touches Chance's hand, "You can't carry it all and yourself, and I am strong and my roots are very deep. you don't need to carry it all yourself."


"It's strange." Chance rests his hand on Dare's. "I never thought of this as a marathon." He says quietly. "But, after this, yeah...it's a long, long marathon. But it never ends, Dare. It's doesn't end. Death doesn't end it! Fuck, man, we all went to bed and just popped back here. /That/ is a race that isn't even over!" Chance gets a little wild eyed. His blue eyes go big and dart about. "I can't go blind again. I don't want to be sick or hurt or fucking crazy! I can't do this. Helping others. Loving others. I can do that. All day. All night. But to be fucking broken over and over and over and I can never deal with it! I have to deal with everyone else's shit! And I do it with gladness! And--And I never...work through it." He sort of collapses, bending forward and dry heaving.


The Martyr says quietly, "The Plague felt like that. That there was no end. I think that's why we come bak here between. To process. To try to recover. All we can do is get up each day and love each other and try to make what we can of this time." Gently, he disengages his hand, but only so he can come sit by him and rub his back gently, "You need to let it out, Chance. Big earthquakes bleed off pressure so there are fewer big ones. Grieve. Rage. Do whatever you need. I am here for you."


The Confidant shakes his head, defiant. "I can't do that either. I need to be strong. Strong. Strong for everyone else. They need me." He gestures wildly at his door. "They always need me. They always need me. They don't use me but I need to be ready, Dare. I need to be ready. And I have no time to fucking fret about my petty shit when the world is ending and someone needs a shoulder. Who even /cares/ about my problems? They have their own. And they need me." He buries his face in his hands. "I'm failing. Here...I fail. Here, where I am most needed. I just want to wallow. Why? It's over. I'm fine. I even look like myself again." He pauses and looks up. "Holy shit. What do I look like? You changed. I did, subtly, after Beaver Lake. I'm in better shape. I used to be softer in the middle." He looks lost. "Can I do this again?"


The Martyr shakes his head no, "This will make you stronger in the long run. Trust me on this. I can see the cracks, and what you've been through isn't petty. It's huge. This isn't wallowing, this is... like M*A*S*H. Tey do triage and the guy with the gaping chest wound goes first. Obviously, but when there is a lull, they carefully pick the shrapnal out of the skin of the medic who was standing next to him when the motar went off."

he glances towards the door, worried. "There is going to be a wave of incoming soon, I think. Most of them are holed up in their rooms. So many have killed people, eaten people, done other terrible things. They will need you when they are ready to talk, but right now? You need to let be deal with your shrapnel. You need me to disenfect and sew you wounds. You need bandages and healing and a good night's sleep so you will be more able to handle things when the next wave of casulties hit." he curls an arm around him and hugs him, "You look fine. You aren't failing. You will be able to do this again, just not today. Today, we take care of you."


Oh, Chance. He hesitates. He stiffens at Dare's touch. It is unfamiliar, after all. But Chance can't deny that he really, really needs the release. He needs to unburden. He needs to lean on someone and it's way past time. He finally just relaxes against his old friend with the new body and says, "I miss my sister." He laments. "You never met her. She was from the first Encounter. She protected me. Her Chance. I didn't need it but it was so nice to have her. She was younger but so fierce. Chance was deaf. Lost his hearing as a kid due to fucking neglect and Helena was my...ain't had another Doorless like her." He pauses and looks at Dare. "How much time you got? I have five lifetimes worth of woe."


The Martyr says, “I am so sorry you lost her. I think everyone likes being looked fter nw and then. Maybe especially when we really can take care of ourselves." His face is serious and full of a deep calm that he brought back with him from being Osiris, a calm that measures time in millenia the way other measure my years. "All the time you need, Chance. All the time you need."”