eschatological | [psl] post-mortem; closed to @destinymaker

[ As far as death goes, it had been a fortunate one. As far as loss goes, he'd been let down gently. Gilbert Durandal arrives in the liminal space between life and eternal oblivion feeling something strangely akin to satisfaction. Though his body (or what passes for one) is perfectly unharmed now, he feels Rey's bullet in his chest like a droplet of warmth.

This is what the end feels like, felt like. Surrounded by the people he loves, save for...

The door to his office slides open soundlessly, as it had done a thousand times in life. Rau is sitting right where Durandal would expect him, where he'd sat a thousand times in life and then a thousand more in imagination.

It doesn't feel like it's been two years. At the same time it feels like it's been an eternity. Durandal smiles thinly as he steps past his beloved chess set sprawled all over the floor and sits down on the couch across from Rau. ]

Did you enjoy the show?

[ Rau’s gloved hands come together briefly, the deliberate one-two-three echoing in this quiet place; his lips flicker into a slight, wry smile, just for an instant, and his eyes crinkle minutely under the mask. He’d call out the drama-llama aspect — yes, yes, acta est fabula, plaudite, princeps — but Rau is nothing if not self-critical and, well, pot meet kettle. ]

You played your part well.

[ He puts his chin in his hand again, this time in deliberately-choreographed thoughtfulness. His voice is light and even, but there's no trace of the smile. ]

Still, the genre seems to have slipped away from you. You were never one for tragedies.

Edited (tfw html) 2023-10-03 02:59 (UTC)

[ Durandal's eyes hang onto Rau's every movement, tracing the path of his hands almost reverently. Even though his hallucinations had always been a dead ringer for the real thing, he wants to force it to sink in that this is more than that. A genuine reunion, a consolation price for all his troubles. ]

No, that was your forte. I recall playing a supporting role in your final showing.

[ He remembers how it felt, following the fragmented live coverage on the news and knowing that nothing, nobody, could have held Rau back from his true conviction - burning as bright as the sun that will swallow the solar system one day. ]

... it is good to see you, Rau.

[ Close and familiar inspection will also reveal the lack of certain tiny movements. The absence of living flesh means the absence of painfully deteriorating cells means the absence of minute trembling in those gloved hands. ]

"Supporting role" is a lovely way to say that I would have let you die in nuclear hellfire, [ he says, still pleasant, a little wry, and totally devoid of remorse. That death was never the goal, but it was a perfectly acceptable price to walk the path to the end, to guide humanity to its final wish. Would totes attempt mutual annihilation again. ] You would have seen me much sooner, that way.

[ He nudges one of the fallen chess pieces--a white pawn--with a boot toe. ]

But you wouldn't have liked dying before you could try.

[ Durandal exhales in subdued amusement. Of course you would have, he answers wordlessly through a smile and an incline of his head. It's hard to take Rau's attempted doomsday scenario personally. From the first time they met, from the moment he put those life-extending pills into Rau's hands, Durandal had known that he was helping prolong the life of a violent nihilist. He'd simply opted to see that as a personal challenge. And when Rau went and tried to destroy the world after all, that was... unfortunate, that's all. ]

I would have been disappointed, to say the least.

[ And like this... 'You didn't come home to us' is a petty complaint in the face of all they were negotiating, yet it's the most serious objection Durandal has to all of Rau's actions. ]

Ideally, I'd have liked to give my answer to you in person. But then... you would have rejected me either way, hm? Even Rey did.

[ And he rejected Rau's answer as well. ]

Edited 2023-10-05 12:16 (UTC)

[ He grins at Rey’s name for a moment, with wild, sharp-toothed delight usually reserved for the privacy of a cockpit. Everything about Rey is an absolute delight. But he shakes his head and tsks at the rest. ]

You're cleverer than that. Rejection of an answer is rejection of an answer.

[ Rejection of the speaker is incidental, whether it's enabling the Peacemaker Force or firing a bullet. ]

And his answer was amazingly tidy, really.

[ That's a good expression, Durandal thinks. Rau presents himself as so detached, but Durandal has never believed that to be entirely true. There is something simmering below the surface, something Durandal would describe as all-encompassing desire, and that's the part that kept his eyes glued to Rau all these years. ]

He made sure to show me his determination.

[ He reaches to his chest and places a hand over an imaginary gunshot wound. Durandal is a man who hates to lose, so how is it that being shot makes him so strangely happy? ]

So you approve?

[ Rau’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, invisibly, behind the mask for a moment. Then he stands and crosses the short distance between them, through the graveyard of chess pieces; his movements are as fluid, confident. He stops just in front of Gil, places a gloved hand over Gil’s own without leaning down. He is dead, and the touch does not have the physical warmth of Talia’s arms. ]

Oh, yes.

[ The words and gesture are a wholehearted affirmation. ]

Our rejections are identical and opposite, and our contradiction is an elegant refutation in and of itself.

You have many talents but none so finely honed as that of negation. Of course Rey would take after you.

[ Negating even himself. From that perspective, a denial of becoming Rau may just be the most Rau-like thing he could have done.

Rau, who is staring down at him right now, an arrogant looming figure holding his hand without any of the warmth and affection he might long for. And that's just as well. His smile widens. ]

... finally you're tangible to me.

[ He takes his hand out from under Rau's, but only so he can immediately grab his gloved hand in both of his own. So stable... A miracle he'd yet to achieve in life, no matter how hard he'd been trying. ]

[ He neither pulls away nor returns the gesture, but it does elicit a tilt of the head and a wry huff of laughter. Congrats on making it to one-sided handholding, over gloves, after everyone is dead. ]

"If death is like taking a trip from here to another place, and if it is true, as we ware told, that all of the dead do indeed exist in that other place, why then, gentlemen of the jury, what could be a greater blessing than that?"

[ The recital is breezy; words are easy. Then he refocuses, presses their hands flush against the place where a bullet hole would be. His voice is amused but reproachful. ]

How ludicrous, for a man to want so much, but to build a world of we can and we should. To dream so much, and still think that the dreams of humanity could be locked back in their box.

[ He just died, he thinks he can be forgiven the sentimentality involved in one-sided gloved handholding, thank you very much. ]

What is a dream but a sign of deficiency? What is a wish but an admission that you are lacking?

[ The bullet, lodged squarely in the middle of his chest. His heart, just a little to the side, beating in an endless repetition of want, want, want. Even as he is nothing but a metaphysical representation of what he once was, that much cannot change. ]

Once we are in the places we are suited for, what will there be left to want?

[ A world in which he never would have met the people he cherishes the most. A world in which the pain of loss is an unknown fiction to him. ]

"Suited." [ He shakes his head. ] I told you that our contradiction was a refutation.

[ Rau tugs his hand free, leans in and presses the fingers hard over Gil's heart, like he wants to claw after Rey's bullet up to the wrist. It is ungentle, implacable. His head dips low, so that his mouth is an inch from Gil's ear. He does not raise his voice, but the words spill out with fierce, absolute conviction. ]

We were a perfect test of "destiny" — if "can" and "should" and "suited" and the matter we're made of could define the world, then he and I would be one and the same. But he was better than the filth, [ the word is a snarl, ] that he was spun from, or perhaps we — [ his free hand taps the bridge of the mask and the face that Rey never grew into; it is a palpably self-loathing "we" that encompasses the predecessor and the self, but not the might-have-been successor ] — were worse than what we were made of.

In either case, he and I, [ not "we" this time, ] are the ultimate proof that "suited" is meaningless, that "destiny" cannot force the world's maladies back into a box. And that is the identical part of the rejection that he and I offer: humanity will only and always "want."

[ He inhales sharply, exhales just as sharply, then pulls free, stands back again and recomposes the usual facade. One hand settles at his hip, the other pushes stray wisps of hair from his face, repairing the tiniest cracks in the stone veneer. After a moment, he smiles broadly and brightly but thinly, his fangs hidden away again; his voice is back to steady politeness. ]

It is only human for you to want, to dream. I do not reproach you for dreaming itself.

But it was foolish to think that you could save anyone else from the same.

... you are disappointed in me.

[ Despite all the harshness in Rau's words, Durandal does not sound hurt. It's a soft-spoken surprise, almost wonder.

He's seen the way the mask slipped just now and he's ready to dig his claws into it and never let go. To be disappointed in someone, you need to have let them in first. Durandal never once believed that Rau thought ill of him - he's not the kind of person who would waste his time on one he didn't find entertaining. Beyond the mere advantage that Durandal's knowledge as a geneticist provides, their friendship was genuine. There is no doubt in his mind. It's just Rau's ceaseless determination towards the end of the world that is harder to break through.

And here, where there's no world left to end, he's willing to take some chances with it.

No longer wanting to be looked down on, Durandal rises to his feet and stares straight into Rau's eyes as best as he can with the mask in the way. ]

Seems like you and I will keep wanting even in death. Into eternity, bound to the curse of our humanity.

[ In a perfect world, Rau would have never been born. Durandal would never have allowed for another tragedy like his very existence. Yet as is, he lived and he lived so fervently that is was mesmerizing. ]

Then let me want all over again. A paradoxical desire that has killed me once before.

To make you happy.

Edited 2023-10-07 23:27 (UTC)

[ The mask’s relative inscrutability usually a tiny bonus to hiding a face he hates, but it’s a nice bonus right now. He’s closer to perplexed frustration than disappointment—the perplexed frustration of never quite being able to kill Mwu, of never quite being able to break Kira Yamato, of not being able to make someone see the world as he does. He has said it so many times, that people will always desire, that desire will spiral into hatred and destruction until there is nothing left to destroy. And yet there is that handful that resists.

He shakes his head. ]

You really are incredible. Even after walking a bloody path to defeat, you still believe that there has to be something wonderful out there — somewhere, somehow, someday.

[ Gil smiles. Smiling is second nature to him - he has found out very early that smiling is the path of least resistance towards his goals. It's because mankind will keep on wanting that it finds itself drawn towards one who can make promises. ]

I'm afraid I'm incorrigible that way. Greedy and selfish.

[ Gilbert Durandal is a man who can both make and believe in those promises. That may just be his worst quality. ]

As long as my consciousness still exists, I'll keep striving. I've never learned how to settle for less.

Good grief. Talia was right, you are a rascal.

[ But where Talia said the word tenderly, Rau says it dryly, with a hint of chiding exasperation. ]

[ Hey, don't quote his ex-girlfriend-current-something at him when he's trying to profess... something to you. That's not fair.

It does a whole lot to defuse the weird intensity though. ]

That makes for one thing you two can agree on. A wonderful start.

[ Rau's lip quirks at you two, and an eyebrow raises invisibly behind the mask. ]

Greedy, even for you.

To want you to get along?

[ Durandal will raise an eyebrow very visibly. If you think he's implying something more, then say it out loud, he dares you. ]

[ That's cute. Rau will pick that gauntlet up and tear it to pieces. ]

To want both of us.

[ And he walks past Gil, sits back on the couch leisurely, lets the words linger for a moment -- and then goes for the kill. Every word is perfectly amiable and reasonable, and every word is sharp as a fucking knife. ]

She would never have stayed if you won, if you really made that world.

[ It stings because Rau is completely correct about it. Gil experienced it on the road to his plans, the way Talia was slipping out of his grasp to the point where she seemed to consider even voicing her disapproval to him a waste of time.

Wanting her had always been another paradox to begin with. In an ideal world the two of them might have never met, for their genetic incompatibility would have been instantly apparent.

And yet.

There's a lot of 'and yet' in Durandal's head, it turns out. For a man who hates getting hurt, he does love putting his hands into fire.

One such fire is in front of him now, and even if Rau's words sting, Durandal is still going somewhere with this. He won't be so easily deterred. ]

And you would never have stayed with me under any circumstances, possessed by your drive towards destruction as you were.

[ He's being petty for the sake of making a point. ]

It seems to me then that all I'm doing is dreaming of impossible options - unless, of course, you're saying that's not the case now?

[ In the back of his mind he realizes that this is a ridiculous conversation to have when they're both dead and this liminal space might just disappear around them any minute. (And yet.) ]

Life was simple. All things are born, and all things die.

[ But it’s an excellent question, really. Rau’s very life was a testament to the human capacity for wild and unchecked desire, of selfishness, of the quest for immortality; at the same time, pain and untimely death were seared into every cell before he ever drew breath. He has lived in a world where human desire kindled into envy and hate then spiraled outward into an inferno of destruction. Oh, certainly, he appreciates that individuals are capable of goodness, even greatness. Though it’s irritating to admit, certain of those individuals have been able to protect humanity from itself, for a year or two at a time. But human desire is infinite, inexorable. It only takes one spark, one envious or hateful man, to fire a nuclear warhead or a wave motion gun, and in the great mass of humanity there are so very many envious and hateful men. Rau has absolute conviction that humanity will reach the end of that scorched and bloody path sooner or later.

But.

Here they are, having reached the end and continued onward. Individuals, cut off from the nightmarish mass of humanity. And although the mass is predictable, the individual is not.

Which is to say that Rau doesn’t have a proper answer to the question he’s really being asked. And because he doesn’t have a proper answer and is not pleased by his own lack of a proper answer, he’s going to toss out a tantalizing diversion instead. ]

And I have seen only one impossible dream come true.

[ Nothing about his imperturbable pose or tone gives the feint away — it flows perfectly smoothly, follows logically. But it is not a proper answer. And that, in its own oblique way, is as much of an answer as Gil is going to get for the moment. ]

[ Well, he hadn't expected Rau to give him a straight answer to begin with. Even death can't have made it that simple - or rather, death may have complicated the matter even further. They'd spend their lives navigating the complicated constraints of the mortal realm, of politics and people. Now, they are unbound and remain as nothing but their own pure essences. Where does one go from there? Durandal doesn't even know what exactly he's offering, he just knows that he's not going to pass up the chance for it.

Instead of sitting back down across from Rau and assuming their regular positions again, Durandal crosses over to Rau's side and sits next to him. They're not touching, no. He makes sure to leave ample space between them. It's not like he wants to drive Rau into a corner, either physically or mentally.

He's just demonstrating a possibility, one movement at a time. ]

Oh, have you?

[ In turn, he'll allow the conversation to progress on Rau's terms. ]

That's an unusually positive admission.

[ Deflection success, for now. Physical proximity isn't a bother, particularly when the reality of the bodies involved is dubious. In fact, the only reaction the move elicits is Rau turning his head, and that's because he wants to watch Gil's expression as he continues mildly, with the tiniest hint of teasing: ]

Ulen Hibiki's dream.

[ Kira Yamato is a pest, but he was a pest to Gil more recently than he was to Rau, so, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ]

[ Gil's lips curl, somewhere between distaste and amusement but leaning harder on the latter. ]

Of course.

[ Kira Yamato is an interesting individual in... well, he can't call it the worst way now. Rey seems to have gotten something out of it, in any case. Still. ]

Though the dream in question would deny it. He'd rather lay claim to ordinary humanity. It's not often that people are clamoring to consider themselves failures.

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