arclightning | deer country inbox

dont know

Well figure it out because I need to talk to you

i can nfind a lantern

[ Mako waits a little bit, flings himself out of bed to go shower, and comes back to Wu wide-eyed telling him to call Manabu, and that—

That makes sense. That's easier than making him walk, they can talk it out at least, and Mako can sort through the harsh worry in his belly.

He does exactly that, stabbing a finger into Manabu's name and waiting with his arms crossed and the Omni pressed close to his ear. Whenever Manabu picks up, if he does, he just gets a terse, ]

Hey. I'll come to you.

...

[there's not much of a hello or an answer to follow, save for some quiet and then a soft:]

Prufrock.

[and that's it. Manabu's still trying to get his voice to work the way it should, so he doesn't dare much more.

and...given the way Mako sounds, there's likely not much else that he can say.

so Manabu just goes, pulling on the coat Michael had brought over for him, and takes himself out of the apartment, out to sit on a stoop near one of the Prufrock lanterns, rubbing at his calves, trying to feel more whole and himself before the inevitable encounter.]

[ It's not even that Mako's angry.

Well: he is. He's angry at the city, he's angry at whatever caused those things to follow people around, at the beasts—

not at Manabu, though.

He's worried, mostly, and has no idea where to put all of that worry and so it comes out in the jerky movements he uses to yank his jacket on over his shoulders and wind his scarf around his neck and hold an arm out for Zuko, who coils around the scarf with a quiet, soothing trill. He lets himself feel the warmth of her for a moment, hating the chill in his fingers, and then goes to grab Manabu's weird gun from the cabinet he'd locked it into.

Going through the lamps is a weird, disorienting thing. It feels like taking the world's biggest step, like the world drops out from under you for a moment.

Mako gets lucky: he's thinking about Manabu, maybe, and how he probably should have brought bandages or something too, and so he stumbles out of the light nearly directly in front of his friend.

Clouds hang thickly over the city even at this hour, casting a dark pall over everything. Heavy, damp cold clogs the air, seeping in through the cracks in clothing. Mako stares down at Manabu for a moment, his breath misting up in front of himself too-quickly. The cold makes his shoulder hurt, creeping against the still-healing skin. ]

[the telltale groaning of the little lantern keepers prompts Manabu to lift his head, blinking through the hair in his face to see exactly who he hoped to see. despite the circumstances, he can't stop himself from feeling a beat of relief to see someone familiar, someone who he ties to more reliable and sturdy feelings...but that relief doesn't really melt into joy, since...well...circumstances being what they are...

with a little grunt, he pushes himself off the step, hanging onto the brick bannister beside him as he steadies.

seconds pass in silence before he clears his throat, swallowing the lump back down, and bobs his head in a feeble nod.

quietly:] ...Hey.

[ He's standing, and his eyes are clearer than they were in the forest—Mako is scanning him without realizing it, looking for any hint of shadow behind him or fear on his face, anything that might suggest Manabu isn't actually as okay as he looks.

Physically, anyway.

Mako's sure Manabu isn't okay emotionally. He wasn't, after he'd died, and he was somehow even worse when he'd become that fire-eyed monster back in Deerington trying to burn everything he touched.

But he's here and standing in the light of the morning and there is no shadow with pointed limbs lurking behind him and no copper smell of monsters and Mako relaxes, marginally.

Well. First things first. ]

Grabbed this for you.

[ He lifts the bundle that is Manabu's weird gun, wrapped in some leftover patterned cloth from a project of Wu's to keep it safe. ]

[Manabu's eye drifts down to the bundle, which...doesn't really register as anything familiar. and of course not - it's wrapped up! so his first thought is that it's food, Mako being Mako and all.

he makes a soft, acknowledging sound, hesitating for a beat before thinking to hold out his hands to take it. this is easier to do than, say, speak on anything. funny how he can come up with whole conversations and setups in his head and they can all vanish into nothingness in the moment.]

[ Mako doesn't... exactly mean to smack it audibly into his outstretched hands. He is jerky and clumsy with relief and anger all at once, basically slams it into Manabu's palms with a rough sound. ]

You dropped your damn gun when that thing—

That's what did it, right?

[ The most awful thing: becoming something you hate, causing pain. It's Mako's nightmare, very literally, plays itself out in destruction and fire in his dreams. He'd felt so helpless, hates that he can imagine how Manabu must have felt if he was aware at all. And Mako couldn't do anything. Didn't do anything.

He's angry, mostly, at himself. ]

[Manabu wasn't expecting such a rough pass, and he's not very dexterous in this moment, so it's inevitable that the bundle drops to the ground with a clatter and a hitching of his breath. his heart skips a beat with an unexpected pulse of fear that he has to quickly swallow back down, unable to register what it is Mako asks in the moment.

after a hesitation, he crouches down, pulling at the tie and exposing the gun. he stares at it as though it were something foreign to him for a beat before carefully picking it up in both hands, staring at it for a few seconds more before something clicks and he...turns the safety on.

click.]

[ Mako almost flinches at that click, manages to keep himself steady out of sheer force of will. Manabu looks like a lost puppy or something, crouching there with this weapon in his hands. ]

I'm... not gonna ask if you're okay.

[thank goodness for that - Manabu wouldn't have anything good to say, and even less of a chance to say it well.

guilt weighs him down like an anchor, and it makes it feel nigh impossible to get back to his feet... so he doesn't. his eyes stay on the gun in his hand as the last time he held it bubbles back to the surface of his mind. he knew he hurt Mako - almost killed him - but upon waking from death, it was more just an understanding without details than a proper memory. even now, he can't properly paint that moment, not with the way fear was strangling his psyche, not with how he was physically being strangled by the avatar of his own loneliness.

if you stay, he will die.]

...You should've...run.

[his voice is barely above a mutter, and his words are slow, like someone just learning to form them properly. true to form, he's been able to get on his feet faster than getting speech remastered, and that would suit him better if he wasn't having to catch up with Mako.

he swallows.]

Coulda. Killed you.

Wouldn't've been the first thing. Won't be the last.

[ Mako says it like the implacable fact it is, at least in his own mind. He stares down at Manabu for a few moments, then sighs, runs a hand through his too-long hair, and drops down beside him, opting for the steps he was sitting on instead of the ground. He's still angry, but he has no right to be: it isn't like he made a promise to Manabu like he did to Korra that he'd follow him into any fight.

It's just that, at some point, he had. He just hadn't said it out loud.

How could he not? Manabu woke to a worsening nightmare and immediately shoved himself into trying to help, failed at that because they all failed. Failed as much as Mako did to keep everything together and functioning, and still he's trying because there's no other choice. Maybe it's his familiar tenacity. Maybe it's the amount of times they've been in trouble together.

Maybe it's that Mako looks at Manabu and sees something so familiar in gritted teeth and tenacity, in how hard he's trying.

He lets out a slow breath, tries to let go of his pointless anger that isn't really anger anyway, it's the fact that Mako couldn't do a single thing to prevent this. ]

Would you have? Left, if I told you to?

[there's a tightening in his chest, an extra weight of dread set upon him as Mako moves to sit near him. it's the wrong feeling to have and he knows it, and it's what stays him in place for a few beats after Mako even speaks again.

Manabu slowly shifts off his haunches and sits on that bottom step, drawing the gun and fabric into his lap. he's so relieved...something of his actually remains; his heart has been breaking over and over again as he futilely, feebly searches for the satchel that has Bruce's harmonica, so having this last bit of connection to home is even more significant.

one last thread.]

Mmh-? [the question finally processes, but Manabu doesn't understand it. his brow furrows and he glances over the bridge of his nose Mako's way.] Left...where?

[ Quietly, patiently, Mako repeats himself, shifting a little closer to Manabu like one might toward a skittish cat: let him approach you, don't move too fast. He just got back from the dead, and he's jumpy on a good day. ]

If I'd been the one telling you to leave while I stayed behind to get ripped apart by monsters, would you have listened to me?

[...oh. he means...if that moment was reversed. his eyes wince. ripped apart by monsters...is that what happened?

no, that...that wasn't it. Childe did it. he said so. but maybe that detail isn't really what Mako's on about. he just means...]

...N...no.

[probably not. not if he saw a chance to help. and only if he knew he could've gotten help from someone stronger, someone better.]

Yeah.

[ Mako shoves his knee into the side of Manabu's, his voice like a blunt weapon. ]

That's what I thought. I'm trying to be a good person here, and that means not leaving friends behind in the woods to die. Got that?

[Manabu doesn't seem too fidgety right now - more sluggish than anything, contrary to his usual, jumpy self. his head turns back, casting Mako out of his line of sight, but the sense of his presence remains even after the nudge. it's a comforting sensation, and he's grateful that even the freezing chill of his blood doesn't blot that out.

it makes him miss Bruce and the others real bad, but he knows now that the simple act of missing them is what makes things worse for himself.

this place...really wants him to let go, doesn't it. the river of blood, the ghost on his back and at his throat...

he closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nose.]

You'd...still be good. Run-running.

You have...people from your home. To look after.

[ People from his home, huh.

Mako lets those words settle like snow between them, turning them over quietly in his head. It's true: he has a lot of people from home, people he'd die for. People he almost did die for, back at home where death meant more.

He's grateful in a way that hurts, sometimes. Maybe it would be easier if they weren't here, if he wasn't always wondering whether they'd been yanked away to some awful fate without Mako's knowledge, if he'd let them down somehow. Maybe he wouldn't have nightmares about Korra dissolving into stardust and bone or Wu's eyes shining bright and awful, the thud of his body, or Bolin at the bottom of the sea, limp and broken the way Mako was.

But maybe that's wrong. ]

...is that what's getting you?

[Manabu can't respond in words right away, because no sooner had he heard his own remarks in his head than his throat had tightened up. people from home...to look after... if he imagined it lasting longer than ten minutes, he'd likely just find a different shade of despair in having his loved ones here. would he even be able to feel any warmth from his mother's embrace anymore?

Louis had told him she didn't want to live in a world without him, but...that's exactly what she's got now. does she know? do any of them know?

he swallows against that tight feeling in his throat, holding his breath for a few beats before he can find it in him to speak again, but slowly, carefully: every other syllable is a risk to stutter or crumble.]

Childe said. It looked like me. Just worse. W-wu said, too. Gy-hh...guess so.

[he stops, teeth clicking at his jaw clenches and he gulps again. a chilly vapor is expelled when he huffs out his breath.]

It was me. Mm-maybe...it was...the real me. The one who. Died. In the dream. Hh, he keeps...fol-following me. And then. This. So.

[he exhales again, shakier, taken by a shudder.

quieter:] I don't like. Where mm-my...head's at. Anymore.

... I had one.

[ Mako hasn't told anyone outside Ange, who saw it, and Wu, who he tells everything. It's a hard thing to admit: that he wasn't strong enough, that he let his own sense of missing home to get to him that much.

But it's worth it, because if Manabu is wishing for his friends and his family, if he was lonely enough to get swept up in all of that, then he needs to know he isn't alone, actually. Not as singular as he thinks he is. Not a failure. Mako shifts a little closer, pressing some heat into the air around them with a minute wave of his hand. ]

Followed me around for a week before I figured it out. Had no idea.

You saying he was following you before this month?

[it takes a second for it to really connect - what Mako's saying, what it means. when it does, Manabu lifts his head and turns it to look at him, searching his expression. as if he'd find any deceit on a good day! he's not that insightful. still, it helps to match a face to the words. Mako's never given him reason to doubt him before, and that still holds true now.]

...N...not--well. [his eyes wince.] Different ways. Saw him in, in the river. Didn't see since. But Wu did. Ch-Childe did.

He won't...go away.

...I'm sure someone smart would tell you something about being haunted by your own death or something, but...

[ But Mako's not a therapist or anything like one, and he just shakes his head. ]

I think this place is just fucking with us. Same as Deerington.

[that answer seems too easy, too...safe, contrary to the context. like it's letting Manabu off gentler than he's gotten? hell, he doesn't know, and if he tries to think about it too much his head starts to hurt and his focus fuzzes out - a pale echo of how he'd disengaged back when that Waste with Mamoru's face had passed.

his gaze drifts away, head turning and tilting down.]

I...I don't nn-know. Mako. I don't know. [he swallows, pursing his lips into a tight, thin line to fight down the dreadful feelings trying to bubble over and rattle his tone.

after another gulp, he shakes his head.]

I just. Need to...make it stop. Or I'll get ss, someone killed. I almost did...

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