( KENOS ) COMMUNION.

[appeale]

come on, wake up.	you have to be careful.
don't make mistakes.	you know how quickly kindness can turn into violence.

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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late takiltu ; communion

[epiprocta]

[ How long has it been since they all awoke at that wretched tree? Two days, maybe three? Time doesn't really have any meaning anyway, not with the way Gen's been aimlessly sleeping the hours away, drifting between nightmares (awful but familiar), coherency (awful and unwelcome) and some unpleasant middle ground (awful all around). But at some point, trying to sleep any more just rewards him with a throbbing headache and dizziness, and so he needs to do something, no matter how much he doesn't want to.

And so one afternoon finds Ruby receiving a nudge across Communion. It's more listless and weary than Gen's usual mental signature across Communion, like he simply can't muster the energy for his usual, prickly facade. The equivalent of a hand smacking open-palmed against her door, just once, in a drained demand for her attention.

And the moment she answers, Gen's words come through, hoarse and curt: ]

Where are you.

[appeale]

[ Rudbeckia's memories from waking are blessedly vague, a kaleidoscopic blur vibrant fears and despair so deep she has yet to surface from it even now. she remembers stumbling from her cocoon like a feral, undead thing; retching, as though she could empty out the horror filling her to the brim; screaming until her voice gave out; collapsing into a sobbing heap and clawing at the dirt, so desperate for an outlet that she could only lash out mindlessly, animalistic. she remembers, too, that there were others—but even seeing Gen there in the roots wasn't enough to pull her out of the mire that had buried her mind.

days later, though the body she's in is the same that she came to possess the last time she died, there is a lingering feeling of rejection that she can't shake. she feels like she doesn't quite fit in it, like she's merely a shade struggling to puppet this body from outside of it. she doesn't—want to be here. she wants to live, she always wants to live, but coming back just to be beaten and mocked and scorned and shoved face-down to the ground so that others can step over her, again and again and again and—

there is something wrong with the projected image of Ruby when she meets Gen in that shared space, near-ghostly and flickering, appearing as though there is an outline of her misaligned with the rest of her shape. and then the visual slips away too, smothered in a dark veil and reduced to sensations alone over their connection. ]

Set's shrine. [ her voice is small and exhausted past any words, though she manages to scrape together some pale imitation of wryness: ] I'm not really welcome in Springstar.

[epiprocta]

[ Set's shrine. Vaguely, past an incredible headache, Gen notes that that has a pro and a con. Pro: it's close, and he doesn't need to bother dealing with Springstar's bullshit. Con: it's, well. Set's. And he doesn't need to deal with all that exuberant energy right now; he feels like his head's going to explode if he has to tolerate all that solar-bright, burning energy right now. ]

He's not there right now, is he. [ Gen barely gives Rudbeckia a chance to answer that before following it up, more weary than he is curt. ] -- tell him to leave, if he is. Make something up.

[ Is that a high demand to make of someone clearly unwell? Probably, yeah. But just like he doesn't think he'd be able to tolerate Set in this moment, he also simply doesn't have the mental capacity to take Ruby's wellbeing into consideration right now. All he knows in this moment, past the splitting ache in his temple and the discomfort roiling in his chest, is that he needs to talk to her. Alone. After all, she'd been the only one he'd noticed at the tree reacting in normal fashion. Not just brushing that whole incident off like people dying and then coming back to life is just something that's supposed to happen.

He hates this place. He hates the fact that he's back. He hates the fact that he's having to have this conversation at all. But he'll hate it even more if he has to keep these frothing, anxious thoughts to himself instead of getting to vent them to someone who might understand. ]

I'm heading over. Don't go anywhere.

[appeale]

[ although there's no sound of laughter, some wry humour seeps through their connection, dark and bitter as poison, reminiscent of the "Rudbeckia" that Gen encountered in the haunted house: ] Where would I go?

[ but she swallows the poison, as she always does. there's no point in being sharp or acidic, certainly not here. exhaustion wears her down, and though he may find it strange and contradictory, somehow Ruby is softer in Gen's presence too; a show of sincerity, not the sycophantic performance of someone malleable and sweet. for all his rough exterior – which she is in no way ignorant of – she leans into him like someone finding blissful relief in the shade. she is not suited to the sun any more than he is. ]

He isn't here. But I'll let him know to give us space. [ it's still surreal to be able to do such a thing. to ask another for something and have even a sliver of faith that they will listen to her. every time, it unsettles her, the sense that it shouldn't be this easy. ] I won't move. I'll wait right here for you.