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

[ If Gil hadn't dumped all those feelings, he would have gotten a verbal swipe about how domestic and sedate he chose to see Rau. This is the claws-sheathed version of this conversation! As it is, Rau reaches down to pick up the black king, twirling it slowly and idly between gloved fingers. His voice is amused, tolerant. ]

I offer you a perfectly good reason to believe it was all as true as anything, and still you insist on the absolute truth. Really, you don't make things easy on yourself.

Edited 2023-11-04 01:43 (UTC)

[ Something less than the truth is simpler - they've only just talked about it. It's what Gil has given the public, and they'd lived easier lives for it. But for himself...

This mistaken world has set him on a path that allowed him to grow desires for that which he cannot have. And yet, proving Rau so annoyingly right, desire doesn't disappear so easily.

He smiles, thinly. A little sardonic. Watching Rau from the corner of his eyes while ostensibly looking at the chess pieces before them. ]

And what would you think of me, if I was so easy to placate?

I would think very little of you, [ he concedes with a smile. Both in the sense that that Rau would think poorly of him, and wouldn't find him interesting enough to think of him often. The scope and uncompromising nature of Gil’s wants are fascinating. ]

Or, because you did not want the simple answer, perhaps you would be thinking that for me.

[ Rau clearly finds this idea funny, rather than a real source of concern. At some point, you just gotta accept that whatever is animating your perception and consciousness, your consciousness wants most of what you perceive to blow up in a clash of superweapons. ]

Perhaps I am, even. What a thought - rather than being reunited with you in death, I've been sent to my own personal purgatory in which I can torture myself endlessly by reiterating our arguments over and over and over...

[ Though judging by the levity in his tone, he doesn't truly believe that. Or at least, it doesn't make a real difference anymore when they're stuck in limbo anyway, with nothing to affect but each other and whatever unfortunate dead souls may cross their path in due time. ]

"The one thing you cannot run from is yourself."

You aren't inclined to run away from yourself. [ Rau tosses him the black king and continues casually, blandly, not at all in the air of someone delivering a sort-of compliment. ] It's one of your better features.

[ The thought that this is purgatory is hilarious though, because Rau is perfectly certain that any postmortem system worth its salt should have sent him straight to hell. And if it's Gil's purgatory, well -- Rau cracks a smile. ]

But we really will be here a long time, if my presence is meant to purify your soul.

[ The compliment is understood as such and though Gil makes no outward motion of acknowledging it, he's pleased. He was never insecure about Rau's appreciation of him (why would Rau ever bother, otherwise?), but that doesn't mean it's not nice to have your ego stroked. ]

Maybe I'm meant to purify you instead.

But that would be a shame, because as much as I long to give you that release... to do it because some cosmic force has declared it a fitting punishment is just antithetical to the sentiment.

[ Rau settles back against the sofa and laughs with incredulous surprise. Ah, that's good. Purifying the soul of completely unrepentant, quasi-patricidal, traitorous attempted mass-murderer. ]

An impossible task, whoever set it.

It would appear so.

[ Punishment, purify... Those aren't words that ever came to mind for Gil, not when it came to Rau. ]

Especially if 'purity' includes feeling repentant - even I have no intention of forcing that onto you.

[ What Rau did and wants is evil, but... that's his prerogative to want and feel, after all this world has put him through. They can agree on as much. ]

[ That's sweet. And sensible. To Rau's mind, his worst inclinations are as inherent to his existence as breathing -- perhaps more so, given that he no longer particularly needs to breathe. ]

You could not. Even in life, you never tried to change human nature, simply to constrain it.

Your impossible dreams have such interesting boundaries.

[ No tameness, no repentance. Really, truly, simply happiness, apparently. What an alien thought. ]

That's because I don't consider my dreams impossible, merely improbable.

[ Gil turns the black king that Rau tossed at him, and holds him up into the light. This king has fallen already, but he moved with purpose when he was still on the board. ]

I am working towards realization of my dreams and in doing so, I have to consider the parameters of possibility.

[ He sets the king piece on the table, a good distance from the white queen already standing here. ]

Though... in this case, it's maybe less a matter of probability than of preference.

Whose preference? [ he drawls, but there are teeth showing in his smile again. Surely Gil won't claim total altruism in this. ]

[ That tone of voice, that expression... Even if Gil had been inclined to lie about this in the first place, Rau would be making it very hard on him.

Fortunately, Gil's been nothing but honest since they came here. The outside world no longer exists, any concerns about social consequences are a far-off memory. The biggest concern he's having is whether or not he's cheating on his ex-girlfriend who may or may not be reunited with her own late husband right now, and that's just... That's so abstract it is laughable. They'll work it out. They have an approximation of 'forever' to do so.

Gil leans forward a little as he responds. ]

Mine.

[ Rau chuckles, warmly self-satisfied. He doesn't return the lean, but he tilts his head inquisitively, appraisingly. ]

You'll need a better plan than your last one.

[ But speaking of Talia, he isn't making personal swipes about her. It's a minute sign of increased tolerance. ]

A different caliber of plan, that's for sure. Proving something to a ghost is quite different from being ghosts together.

[ The Destiny Plan is still a bit of a touchy subject... Rey's rejection put a definitive end to it, more so than the mere thwarting of its implementation could have, but one does not let go of a life's work that easily. It's been ten years since Gil first sat awake at his desk late at night, scribbling down his first notes. Using pen and paper instead of a computer, because he felt it helped him think, because he wanted it to be raw and direct somehow. Ten years of deliberation and refinement... The Destiny Plan is a part of Gilbert Durandal by now. He can't cut it out so easily.

So Gil isn't going to dwell on the exact nature of plans for too long. Not when he has a different question to ask. ]

You dodged my question earlier. So you will remain to watch me struggle at your seemingly impossible quest?

[ As hollow as a victory that is, having Rau agree to stay with him when there is nowhere else to even go. And still, he'd like to hear it, some real words of commitment. ]

[ The answer is yes. Out of curiosity, out of amusement, out of general enjoyment of Gil's company, and, yes, because there is not particularly anything else to do.

The real question is how evasive Rau's next answer will be. It would be easy to pull away completely, and start on a winding denial of having dodged the original inquiry; it would be equally easy to simply point to the circumstances given that Gil has, very functionally, a captive audience. But both would only delay the inevitable, and they're a little too petty. On the other hand, it would be very strange to simply say yes -- life needs to struggle more than that, Rau needs to struggle more than that. ]

I'm here, [ he offers mildly, and nothing in his inflection suggests that he considers it anything less than a completely responsive answer... even though he's still being slightly difficult for the sake of being difficult. He's human, after all. ]

... you're so stubborn.

[ This is, of course, the pot calling the kettle black. Being annoyingly stubborn is how they endure each other, one must assume. They say hell is other people, but if this is their punishment then Gil doesn't feel particularly bothered by it.

"I'm here" is hardly an answer, but it's answer enough. Gil has no idea how he'll go about seeking to disprove Rau's nihilism this time. He'll have to test all boundaries of their little mind prison for that. But knowing that Rau will watch him try, this time, without disappearing to a realm that is deader than dead...

Well, it's more commitment than Gil would have asked for in life. And it's enough commitment that it fills his chest with something warm and comfortable.

He's leaning forward even more now - not in the same way as when he brought this foreheads together earlier, though. There is a different intent here, and it should not be particularly surprising after all that has transpired.

Gil won't ask for permission, but he gives Rau enough time to push him off if he really feels he needs to. If Rau doesn't do that, however... then he'll connect their lips in a kiss. ]

[ For a moment, it's like kissing a statute as Rau considers the gesture. It isn't unexpected or unpleasant or particularly unwelcome, but it's simply so mundane after one of them tried to end humanity and the other tried to rewrite its fate, after they've meandered through life and death and the nature of existence. And Rau has existed in an isolated world of words and weapons for so long that Gil resorting to physical affection almost feels like cheating. But as he himself noted earlier, if there are no rules, he can't really accuse Gil of playing dirty. Well. If they're putting words aside for the moment, so be it. Rau leans slightly forward and --

Bites Gil's lower lip sharply, hard enough to hurt though not hard enough to break skin. In part to test Gil's assertion that he doesn't want everything to be perfectly domestic, and partially to make a point that this isn't going to be easy.

But he does not push him away. ]

[ It's hard to tell just how long he's wanted this already. Their ideological bouts had always been satisfying, their relationship was not precisely lacking, but... Gil is a man of flesh and blood, in the end. Even when they were discussing something dry and theoretical, or maybe especially then, Gil couldn't help notice the way Rau's hair falls over his neck, the curve of his jaw, the way his lips curl when he's focused...

And it hadn't been important enough to act on it then, to complicate themselves even further, but it remained on his mind.

Kissing Rau is different from kissing Talia, or kissing the very few other women he's been with in the interim. Gil is used to people who melt into him and Rau is anything but that. Rau is stiff and closed off until he isn't, until there's sharp pain that briefly makes Gil flinch.

He pulls back, but only just a little. His eyes are endlessly fond. ]

So that's what you're into.

[ Rau isn't getting time to respond before he gets another brief kiss. Gil wraps an arm around his waist, too. Utterly shameless. ]

This is your preference.

[ The words are more thoughtful than anything, and again, there’s a fractional delay in Rau’s physical response while he assesses, takes his bearings.

Rau’s scheming meant that he was largely solitary for the last two years of his life. War itself had been isolating; the world narrowed to a single warship or operations center for weeks at a time, and, despite close confines, rank or politics kept him distant from most of ZAFT other than the unlamented Patrick Zala. While most of the armed forces discretely resolved the solitude of service in their downtime or shore leave, Rau had been rather busy with trading weapons and plans and weaknesses across enemy lines, which required secrecy constantly and physical affection only rarely. The mask and polite aloofness and general distaste for most of humanity did the rest. Fllay Allster’s clinging and fluttering had been, oddly enough, some of the closest and most prolonged human contact he had in the months leading up to his death. And then he had simply been dead.

He does not regret it, but remembering how to be close is like adjusting to gravity and solid ground underfoot after months drifting weightless. The stomach drops, the heart beats faster, blood pulses harder. So much more contact, so much more push and pull.

But but he has always handled the reversion to gravity well enough. It’s only ever a matter of taking the first few steps to regain steadiness and control.

He swings a leg over Gil, straddling him without settling in his lap; one arm rests lightly on Gil’s shoulder, and his gloved fingers tangle loosely in dark hair. ]

Your plan.

[ And there, the fluidity and note of challenge are back in place. ]

[ Calling it a plan seems rather generous. Gil has no illusions that Rau will simply become happy through a kiss as though he were a princess in a fairytale. This isn't a plan so much as it is an investment, a probing path forward to see where a plan might start taking shape.

It is also just... nice, really nice. Rau is suddenly back in control and Gil can't complain about it one bit when it means that Rau is also all over him. ]

My desire. [ he says and it is half an addition and half a correction. ] To have you as you are, even if it's playing with fire.

[ An ouroboros of preferences then, because for Gil to want the authentic violent and untamed Rau, Rau first needs to want to be violent and untamed.

Though maybe 'violent and untamed' is not the right words for the position they have settled into here. Rau may not have completed the movement of coming into Gil's lap, but he's given Gil an excellent vantage point to pull him exactly there.

They're both dead, these bodies are likely nothing but psychological manifestations of what they think should be happening physically, but his heartbeat still speeds up in a way that he finds genuinely a little embarrassing. Like a teenager all over again. Gross. ]

"Have"?

[ He echoes the word with a knife-edged smile, not yielding an iota. In this position, needling about a double-meaning is unnecessary, but Rau has a bad habit of playing with his food. And if Gilbert Durandal wants to win, Rau is going to make him fight for every step, every move. ]

[ This relationship is nothing but a competition as to who can be the most annoying man in the world. Rau is currently in the lead.]

In my afterlife, by my side, as my partner...

[ There are so many meanings to 'have' and he means every single one of then, next question.

Gil is smirking though, not at all deterred by Rau choosing to be difficult. ]

As as well as in my bed... or well, that'd be 'on my couch' presently?

[ Does his bedroom exist in this facsimile of Aprilius? Things to explore later. ]

In my lap, if we want to get very specific.

[ Rau’s brows knit behind the mask for a moment. It’s not that he’s weak to frankness, per se, but laying everything out fully and directly gives him very little leeway to poke and prod. That is annoying.

And that directness puts the matter of bodies squarely at the forefront. Not the matter of the body’s existence; he wraps his fingers experimentally in the hair at the base of Gil’s neck, gathering loose curls around each finger and letting them slide away before starting again -- not enough to hurt, this time, just brief, dull tugs. Even through fabric, he can feel the warmth of skin and the loose slip of hair. These bodies are real enough for present purposes. But Rau’s body has been, had been, destroying itself on the cellular level at an exponential rate. In life, that body was as fast and strong as Al da Flaga intended, which Rau had put to good use... but it had also been increasingly, agonizingly painful for his entire adult life. In death, there are no more invisible pieces to break. The nerves in his newly steady hands calmly report the warmth of body heat under his fingertips, rather than screaming over their own breakdown. Interesting.

This won’t be the worst use of a body that doesn’t protest every gesture, if.... ]

You haven’t explained how that’s supposed to make me happy, [ he rebukes, with the deliberate nonchalance of inviting a subordinate to redress an error.

This won’t be the worst use of a body that doesn’t protest every gesture, if the man beneath him can deliver on his implied promises. ]

Edited 2023-11-05 21:42 (UTC)

[ That's the tricky question. Though Gil's wish to hold Rau close is selfish in nature, he wouldn't be pursuing it if he didn't think at his core that Rau would also be getting something out of it. If he didn't think that Rau could... well, maybe Rau would never fall in love with him the way he fell in love, but he could find a contentment with this. Pleasure. Amusement. Companionship beyond what they already provided to each other.

At the same time... ]

I can't guarantee that it will.

[ Honesty has carried him this far, maybe he will grudgingly allow it to carry him a little further. A certain amount of calculated vulnerability has always done wonders for him, in life. ]

I would have to be quite naive to assume that simply this is enough.

[ It's an amusing thought though - all this, and the solution was getting laid? Maybe in movies. ]

But for just now... well, you don't need me to list the physiological benefits. So let me ask a question instead: why did you allow me this much, if it doesn't give you anything at all? You're not the type to humor me, and you don't owe me anything.

[ That gets a flicker of immediate reaction, a slight clench of Rau's jaw and a slight tightening of Rau's fingers in Gil's hair.

It's aggravating. It's getting to be really aggravating. He can answer deception with a whole beautiful web of lies, respond to every negative emotion with a smile while planning something even darker and wilder, but this earnestness (this fixation on a tomorrow that defies the past and cannot be guaranteed--) wants to get under the gloves, under the skin, under his sense of the world and himself with it. From this vantage point (from this close), it's tempting to retaliate by getting under Gil's skin in return, by biting down on the vulnerable, real-enough skin above the collar, but Gil would just smile self-assuredly and file the non-answer away and ask the same question twenty minutes later.

Lack of hate should be enough. Feeling relatively unguarded, knowing that he can close his eyes without anyone asking dangerous questions about the fact that he wakes up convulsing should be enough. Curiosity, amusement, and general enjoyment should be enough. He likes Gilbert Durandal as well as anything, and that should be enough. Any deeper examination would be calamitous. ]

You kept me alive.

[ He tilts his head and bares his throat fractionally as he says it. Gilbert Durandal has known what he is and what he wants for years, could have slipped him poison instead of medicine at any time for years. Could have revealed what he was doing, could have revealed what he was, could have hurt Rey. He held all of Rau's vulnerabilities for years and did nothing, and that that should be enough.

And even if it wasn't -- he had listened. And Rau will listen in return.

This is as far as he can keep his voice nonchalant. It’s been years since he was this close to anyone, and Gilbert Durandal has gotten under his skin. The rest cracks like a whip. ]

Look for compliments somewhere else.

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