I'm not going to ask anyone to experiment on you. That's not - after all of what you just told me, I'd never suggest anything like that.
[ and it's frustrating to see that heine doesn't trust him enough to see his good will for what it is.
yet — can rin truly blame him? taken as a child, stripped of his humanity, forced to live with a bastardization of his own worst traits lurking in the shadows of his heart. one wrong turn and the ribcage closes, the blood turns sour in his mouth. maybe that's all that rin is, a moment away from his thoughts, a distraction.
worse than that, rin can't blame him. there are monsters and monsters lurking in tellus, each of which wouldn't think twice before grinding human bone and sinew to dust. but heine's worst fears are inside of him.
of course rin can't blame him. ]
But -- you think I don't see how rattled you are?
[ this is the only way rin knows to reach out. maybe tellus has stripped him of his softness, his ability to drop the gnashing teeth and flame-bright eyes.
but heine - of all people - should understand. ]
You think this tough-guy shit is gonna hide any of that?
[ it's not about saving all of them - rin knows fully well how small his hands are, how great and vast the universe is. it's not even about saving the other inhabitants of tellus, though that would be the logical argument.
it's about that edge of desperation that rin can read in the tight angles of heine's body, as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.
i just want to help, is what rin is telegraphing. a thin, wavering note that he wishes he could make audible. ]
Newsflash: it isn't.
[ it doesn't matter. even if heine tells him to fuck off, rin's going to do what he thinks is best. ]
Isnt it? Isn't it exactly what you're suggesting? [ maybe that is harsh. it's certainly unfair, since rin's suggestions come from that space between his ribs that housed colour and sentiment and something heine will never comprehend.
he still remembers the walls he woke to; there was nothing else and rin says it rattles him and it does. and he hates that it is as clear as surface of water, even if some things are still distorted against the proverbial liquid.
firered eyes and heine turnstile scarlet of his away and laughs. actually laughs, harsh raspwhisper and the tight angles of his body coil at the subtle vibration, hands stuffed into his pockets. ] Really.
You think you can fix it? [ the reason aside, it's a laughable idea.
or maybe there was a part of him that did not want to let the dog go. to not have the potential to block that thing out, because that would mean letting go of that guilt, if his intentions, if that need. of that purpose, assigned to a stray.
it comes down to this; rin doesn't know what is best for him and heine would never allow that truth to show through. the burden was his own, shoulders used to the weight. his smile is uncomfortable and thin, rin's whisper thin intentions lost on deafened ears. ] We're from completely different worlds. Didn't think I would have to remind you.
[ even though the strange light in heine's eyes is foreign. though he stands like the scarecrow rin has oft likened him too, bones in the guise of limbs, lumps of coal for eyes. like something too different for rin to reach out and recognize as human.
except that's not true. only a moment ago, heine had proved just how human he is. even if he doesn't want to admit it. even if he's so deeply embroiled in his own self-hatred that accepting help seems anathema. ]
Unless you're too proud to accept help.
[ it's a shot in the dark, rin's verbal gun empty of ammunition. heine stands on some distant precipice that rin can't reach; acting as a guide would be impossible.
rin makes up his mind in that moment, away and apart from the conversation at hand. even if he gives in today, he's not going to stop. he'll talk to tadashi, he'll talk to every single medical and technical expert amongst their numbers if it means helping heine find a solution that works for him.
if it means losing heine's friendship, so be it. some things are worth more.
in the end, whether heine wears that sickle-curve of a smile or not, he's still made of flesh and bone. there's still a beating heart hidden within. and rin's come to care about its perpetuity, even if heine seems to have lost hope long ago. ]
Che - [ a click of his tongue, and the rise and fall of a shoulde in a shrug, a creak of cartilage in its socket.
rin speaks of pride and it should make heine rise in his hackles. should parry the jab, like a starved dig eager to action. except he speaks of pride and heine covets his lack of admittance. in silence like of a doberman's jaw, wet and unyielding. his pride sits in his throat, in his chest. I'm the thump thump thump of rotten heart because pride and guilt is the very thread which weaves the paperthin blue of his veins.
and that's fine. ] Accept help?
Or some daydream? [ he cannot accept. will not. because nothing about his nature would allow him otherwise. and the hound bays in echo, hungry and messy and crude and for a moment longer,heine does not remember where he starts and the collar ends.
perhaps he never will. ] Look. I told you what you needed to know. That's it. I'm not asking for help. [ so stop shoving it down my throat is implied.]
[ rin nearly forms a rebuttal, crude in his own desire to make heine see his perspective.
and then he looses his tethered breath. it's not worth it. ]
Fine.
[ rin doesn't let anything go so easily, though.
maybe it's a virtue. maybe it's a personality defect.
but heine stands before him like he's proving something, folding the edges of his paper-thin skin back to show blood and bone and sinew. like it's nothing. like all that he's been through is another chapter in the story of his life, unremarkable in all respects.
and it isn't. it deserves the attention that rin's giving it. heine shouldn't have to live like this, isolated except for a moment here and a moment there, not unhappy so much as unfeeling.
he makes judgment after judgment, and it's folly or it's kindness or it's some corrosive mixture of both.
either way, this isn't the end of it.
rin looks away, both hands clutched like anchors in the ocean of flowers around him, and doesn't try to perpetuate the argument. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ and it's frustrating to see that heine doesn't trust him enough to see his good will for what it is.
yet — can rin truly blame him? taken as a child, stripped of his humanity, forced to live with a bastardization of his own worst traits lurking in the shadows of his heart. one wrong turn and the ribcage closes, the blood turns sour in his mouth. maybe that's all that rin is, a moment away from his thoughts, a distraction.
worse than that, rin can't blame him. there are monsters and monsters lurking in tellus, each of which wouldn't think twice before grinding human bone and sinew to dust. but heine's worst fears are inside of him.
of course rin can't blame him. ]
But -- you think I don't see how rattled you are?
[ this is the only way rin knows to reach out. maybe tellus has stripped him of his softness, his ability to drop the gnashing teeth and flame-bright eyes.
but heine - of all people - should understand. ]
You think this tough-guy shit is gonna hide any of that?
[ it's not about saving all of them - rin knows fully well how small his hands are, how great and vast the universe is. it's not even about saving the other inhabitants of tellus, though that would be the logical argument.
it's about that edge of desperation that rin can read in the tight angles of heine's body, as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.
i just want to help, is what rin is telegraphing. a thin, wavering note that he wishes he could make audible. ]
Newsflash: it isn't.
[ it doesn't matter. even if heine tells him to fuck off, rin's going to do what he thinks is best. ]
no subject
he still remembers the walls he woke to; there was nothing else and rin says it rattles him and it does. and he hates that it is as clear as surface of water, even if some things are still distorted against the proverbial liquid.
firered eyes and heine turnstile scarlet of his away and laughs. actually laughs, harsh raspwhisper and the tight angles of his body coil at the subtle vibration, hands stuffed into his pockets. ] Really.
You think you can fix it? [ the reason aside, it's a laughable idea.
or maybe there was a part of him that did not want to let the dog go. to not have the potential to block that thing out, because that would mean letting go of that guilt, if his intentions, if that need. of that purpose, assigned to a stray.
it comes down to this; rin doesn't know what is best for him and heine would never allow that truth to show through. the burden was his own, shoulders used to the weight. his smile is uncomfortable and thin, rin's whisper thin intentions lost on deafened ears. ] We're from completely different worlds. Didn't think I would have to remind you.
no subject
[ even though the strange light in heine's eyes is foreign. though he stands like the scarecrow rin has oft likened him too, bones in the guise of limbs, lumps of coal for eyes. like something too different for rin to reach out and recognize as human.
except that's not true. only a moment ago, heine had proved just how human he is. even if he doesn't want to admit it. even if he's so deeply embroiled in his own self-hatred that accepting help seems anathema. ]
Unless you're too proud to accept help.
[ it's a shot in the dark, rin's verbal gun empty of ammunition. heine stands on some distant precipice that rin can't reach; acting as a guide would be impossible.
rin makes up his mind in that moment, away and apart from the conversation at hand. even if he gives in today, he's not going to stop. he'll talk to tadashi, he'll talk to every single medical and technical expert amongst their numbers if it means helping heine find a solution that works for him.
if it means losing heine's friendship, so be it. some things are worth more.
in the end, whether heine wears that sickle-curve of a smile or not, he's still made of flesh and bone. there's still a beating heart hidden within. and rin's come to care about its perpetuity, even if heine seems to have lost hope long ago. ]
no subject
rin speaks of pride and it should make heine rise in his hackles. should parry the jab, like a starved dig eager to action. except he speaks of pride and heine covets his lack of admittance. in silence like of a doberman's jaw, wet and unyielding. his pride sits in his throat, in his chest. I'm the thump thump thump of rotten heart because pride and guilt is the very thread which weaves the paperthin blue of his veins.
and that's fine. ] Accept help?
Or some daydream? [ he cannot accept. will not. because nothing about his nature would allow him otherwise. and the hound bays in echo, hungry and messy and crude and for a moment longer,heine does not remember where he starts and the collar ends.
perhaps he never will. ] Look. I told you what you needed to know. That's it. I'm not asking for help. [ so stop shoving it down my throat is implied.]
no subject
and then he looses his tethered breath. it's not worth it. ]
Fine.
[ rin doesn't let anything go so easily, though.
maybe it's a virtue. maybe it's a personality defect.
but heine stands before him like he's proving something, folding the edges of his paper-thin skin back to show blood and bone and sinew. like it's nothing. like all that he's been through is another chapter in the story of his life, unremarkable in all respects.
and it isn't. it deserves the attention that rin's giving it. heine shouldn't have to live like this, isolated except for a moment here and a moment there, not unhappy so much as unfeeling.
he makes judgment after judgment, and it's folly or it's kindness or it's some corrosive mixture of both.
either way, this isn't the end of it.
rin looks away, both hands clutched like anchors in the ocean of flowers around him, and doesn't try to perpetuate the argument. ]