i_speak_softly | Sixtieth Theory [Action]

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Sixtieth Theory [Action]

[Luceti is a cruel and perverted world. That's the only possible explanation for why Don revives from his death-by-drowning at the bottom of the lake. He thrashes for the surface with none of his usual graceful movement, and crawls ashore, panting and trying to figure out what happened.

He knows he died.

He remembers there is a price for being restored to the living world.

He lies in the rain, wondering if it will ever end.

When he has enough breath back to sit up, he does so, and carefully checks himself over for what the Malnosso took. Limbs, senses, memories… all seem in order. He stands and walks, and his legs work. He speaks a few words, and his voice is still there.

It doesn't seem possible that the Malnosso brought him back for free, and he's scared for what hidden deficit might reveal itself later.

He has his mask, belt, and pads. All his other gear is absent, hopefully still at home where he left it.

He starts walking.

He knows it will take some time to travel from the western lake to the village, but he knows the way and he's not in a hurry. It will be good to get his thoughts together before he sees his housemates.]

((Don's death penalty is a language disorder called aphasia. Reference post is here, and linked from the index post at the top of his journal. Meet him anywhere on his way back to House 55.

Plotting note: In the near future, Don will want to go to the clinic to find out what's wrong with him. If your character works there, and especially if they would recognize aphasia, please hit me up via PM.))

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[Whatever this is, it's the most terrible thing that's happened to him as far as Robert is concerned. (Of course, Robert is not exactly getting the right impression about it.)

It becomes apparent in a few moments that Robert isn't simply clinging to Don, he's weeping very softly into his plastron. Faced with this situation after a week of worry and shame and impotent anger and the desire to simply drown his misery (and with even that option now taken from him), he can do nothing but quietly shut down.

Give him a moment, Don.]

[It doesn't take long for Don to notice that. He wipes away Robert's tears with a calloused thumb.]

Hey. No...

[Robert tilts his head up at that, looking almost tentatively up at him.]

... No...?

[No crying? Why shouldn't he cry?]

It's okay. I do it on the... [The idea of being willing to sacrifice himself is too complicated, and he can't even come up with wrong words for it.] Shit, Ronald, I can't do them.

[Robert is utterly speechless. Normally, "shit" would not be a word that registered much of a reaction from him, but the sheer unlikeliness of Don saying it for any reason completely floors him.

It's a moment before he can speak, and then -] C-Cannot do what?

The -- [A gesture that resembles something coming out of his head.] What's wrong with me?

They ruined you. [Bitterly, like it leaves a bad taste in Robert's mouth.] It... it is... a t-travesty. An absolute travesty.

[At least Don is aware that a problem exists. It would have been even worse had he lacked that awareness.]

[A strong reaction, and not the kind of diagnosis Don was looking for. He stands abruptly and paces away to the back room, returning after a few moments. With one hand he's spinning his bo in a nervous gesture. The other hand is a closed fist, and he holds this out, palm down, to Robert.]

[The suddenness of that reaction curbs the edge of his own anger at the Malnosso, and he's calmed a little by the time Don returns.

It's clear he has no idea what the palm is meant to be for, but he tentatively extends a hand.]

[Don opens his fingers, and the infinity pendant drops into Robert's hand. Then he turns his wrist over, waiting for his partner to put the silver chain back on him.]

[He nearly tears up again, but Robert steels himself. Pressing the briefest of kisses to Don's wrist first - whether it's apologetic, reconciliatory, loving or all three, it's hard to tell - he then begins to wrap the chain around Don's wrist again, its rightful place.

He remembers, poignantly and painfully, how to remove it, and so he repeats the same steps but reversed, taking the time to turn the situation over in his mind as he goes through the rhythmic motions.]

[Don watches the process, his mind running through similar thoughts. Why can't anyone understand what he's saying? And how will his relationship with Robert - or with anyone, for that matter - work if they can't communicate? Part of him is regretting giving the Botsu charm to the woman in the kimono, but another part thinks that's a selfish sentiment, and he pushes the idea away.]

[If Robert had known how Don's selflessness had saved Sayo, perhaps this would have been a small comfort.

At any rate, though, his mind is far from there. He is trying to figure out what all these disparate things mean. What was done to Don's mind? How much of what Robert says does he understand? What causes those non-sequiturs?

It's all baffling, and it's frustrating Robert that, once again, he cannot do anything.

He does up the latch on the chain, then, and pulls his hands away reluctantly.]

... th-there, Don.

Thank you.

[He shakes his wrist, making sure the chain is secure, then sits down again, resting his bo across his knees.]

[Robert manages a somewhat-wobbly smile up at Don in response to that, and leans backwards a little to better look him in the face.]

... Y-You are welcome, Don.

[He still loves Don. He will never not love him, no matter what the Malnosso do to him.

He can take comfort in that much.]

[Don watches Robert another moment before looking away. His gaze travels around the room, through the kitchen doorway - he's hungry - and lands on a bin overflowing with bottles. They look suspiciously like something he wouldn't expect to see in this house.]

Ronald, what is this?

[... Well.

That was something he had meant to explain beforehand, but... this is kind of a bad time, isn't it?

Robert draws a slow breath to steel himself, and admits in a quiet voice -]

... Empty a-alcohol bottles.

[Blunt as usual, he doesn't try to dodge the reality of what they are. And it's not like even a reduced-intelligence Don couldn't figure out what that means.]

[A gesture of hurt and nonunderstanding. Why were you drinking? Why were you drinking that much?]

[The gesture is nearly meaningless to Robert. He stares, with a hollow gaze, somewhat halfway past him.

He's quiet for a long moment, before he finally says:]

It was... t-too much, Don.

[An answer like that doesn't make the drinking okay, but it does make it hard for Don to stay upset about it.]

[Very sternly:] No more.

[He'll wait for Robert to agree to this.]

[He winces under the strength of that demand, but slowly nods after a few moments.]

... L-Leonardo refused to let me, anyway. [Robert's shoulders shake briefly, and he admits -] ... E-Even though... I still wanted to.

It... m-made it harder to have n-nightmares, at least.

[He'll have to thank Leo for that later.]

How many was I there?

[He never got an answer to that from Buffy.]

[... How... many...?

Robert furrows his brow as he attempts to make sense of that sentence. It feels like there should be a meaning to it, like Don is speaking in a cipher.

Is there consistency to this?]

How... many... w-were you there...? [He's repeating it to himself, almost faraway-sounding, obviously trying to make sense of the sentence.]

[Hm. Don gets up again, and comes back with two pencils and a sheaf of paper. On the first page he draws a calendar - not this month's calendar, because heck if he knows what day of the week any date is, but it should still be recognizable.]

How many was I there?

[How many -

Robert stares at the calendar, then reruns Don's second sentence through his head, and then stares at the calendar again.]

... Do you mean... how long you h-have been here since... s-since whatever happened? Would you not know that better than I would...?

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