Day 57: Greenhouse (third shift)

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So speak of the day's events as one would speak of the week. They hadn't parted ways, yet, and despite the growing annoyance in Albedo's mien, he had no thoughts to separate from Nigredo. Though, speak plainly, and Albedo wouldn't--not if people were around as much as were seen. He spent a moment in irritation, considering, then decided to flee the

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[falseblack]

One could take present happenings and pick them to pieces. Today was something he could mangle on sheer principle; it seemed right to thoroughly analyze a pair of disappearances, a brother's friend, and a deal partly unwanted. Nigredo's thoughts, however, were several hours ahead, locked onto what was inevitable. They had only gotten the sword. Sync and his acquaintance would require the shield, and with three as a necessity, the boy would be taken. There existed no other alternative. He couldn't even ask his brother for assistance. He honestly did not know if he wanted to live past this afternoon.

It was a sullen Nigredo who offered his consent when his brother asked to go outside. Attempted to be a good sport by walking to the greenhouse on his own. A failed attempt, perhaps, but he neither flinched nor complained at the assistance. They managed to make it inside with only a couple of soldiers supervising, and with some allowance, he slid from Albedo's arms to a bench. There, he watched his sibling move without restraint, speech and connection subdued. A part of him wanted to curl in his seat to sleep but understood how ill-mannered that would be in front of another.

Then, the elder walked to him, sat in the spot nearby, and spoke in a manner recognized as death. That question alone shattered all other attentions; how Albedo could focus on such a thing was beyond anyone's comprehension.

Nigredo froze, heart in his throat. Quotes held ways of evoking memory, fresh and pristine as if happening in the moment, and he didn't know what to tell Albedo. That night was easily misunderstood without added explanation, and now the sibling wanted a clear answer. He stared, eyes wide, mind drawing an absolute blank.

That somehow prompted speech.

"Nothing," he began, the word barely edging out of his lips. "Absolutely nothing. That night, I heard you call, and then--" There was a pained swallow, and Nigredo felt his chest constrict. What was the point of this? {--nothing. You were gone like you were never there, and no matter what I said, Rubedo and Klavier thought it was nothing.}

A head tipped forward. Breath catching on the inhale. {That night I thought you left me alone.} That was all.

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There was a break shown, clear and perfect, and Albedo wondered what he had stumbled onto. Of course, he knew in some way--it was why he had held it instead of tossing it away--all that was said in that night had some meaning if one cared to look. And here was the resolution, the complete agreement of the fact, in a way Nigredo would likely not want to portray so readily. Nigredo stared, and Albedo only waited. A waiting that was not long in coming.

His brother spoke in a way disjointed and perfectly clear and Albedo could now at least see the cause. What night would Nigredo refer to as such but that one, and here it was spoken clearly--for Albedo had called, though he couldn't easily say why, and Nigredo had shown up with Albedo's twin and that man. That night, and here, those words, words familiar, that Nigredo had practically said the morning after. "I thought you had left me alone."

And how had Albedo replied? With mention and claim to Rubedo, as want prompted him to do here. Here; claim hesitation instead, for allow understanding--Nigredo did not want to be compared to Rubedo, it was likely not that he would compare Albedo to the eldest, either. There was something of a dull shock in this, and yet, Albedo still wondered: Why was it that the lack of Albedo's presence meant Nigredo was alone?

These, however, spoke as secondary. Placed aside to focus instead on the meaning behind sentences spoken within the link, given as fact and emotion both. The lack of a sibling along it... Oh, Albedo knew that feeling. Knew it quite well. Knew the utter death that came from being cut off, the complete desolation that was the product of one needed vanishing without a trace. Here, was that in its entirety, and here was a step further than Albedo had touched.

Here was an undercurrent of panic, the very reaction expelled from a break in what was needed.

Here, again; this was the first time that Albedo contemplated that Nigredo, despite his apparent maturity and stoicism, despite his delicacy and loneliness, that the perfect little baby, fashioned as the greatest tool, was actually more hopeless than he. Needed more than Albedo, and was only better at hiding it--no, incorrect. Not hiding, perhaps, but simply killing off the pieces that desired those things. Desired, wanted, needed, craved. All of those could be applied, and Albedo only looked at Nigredo, near vacantly. There came shifts and settles in the middle Variant from a plethora of things, and here, perhaps, it was only a ending in itself. Something settling to permanence without anything more.

He reached an arm out, touched Nigredo's hair and ran fingers down his jaw to rest on his chin. "I didn't," he said quietly, firmly. As stern as a promise, as gentle as an apology. "I'm not leaving."

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There lay a query among the mental process, a detail made apparent thanks to a name. Albedo would wonder why and draw comparisons between the twins, despite Nigredo's absolute displeasure in the contrast. He looked at his hands, pausing once for courage, before gazing up at the elder with broken eyes.

"Rubedo told me how I died." Gave the absolute truth without blurring the lines of reality. Perhaps he felt Nigredo was mature enough to handle the news, but the lie explained nothing of the lack of brotherly concern and conduct. The eldest could have stayed by his side. He had chosen to flee in fear, as though Nigredo had been something unwanted. "Then he left me by myself."

He smiled with his eyes closed, waveform fluctuating between emotion and its absence. Gratitude and heartbreak. "You stayed with me," he murmured, "even as I thought you wanted me to go away." Murder had a way of planting such reasoning; another had confirmed it in their words. Even now when Albedo had claimed otherwise, Nigredo perhaps could never be certain. There was blame there that the youngest could not escape from, as demonstrated earlier this morning.

But back then, he had found something else in the claim. {You comforted me when there was no one else,} came the sending, a whisper within their shared connection. {That will never be forgotten.}

It should have ended there. A confession was best left without a response; one could not shatter when parts did not move. Albedo, however, touched him, and the boy knew only misery from the act and the words. He opened his eyes, dismay in place of what had been before. "I'm sorry for yesterday," said Nigredo, low enough for a brother to hear. "Thank you for staying with me."

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Nigredo spoke, and Albedo nearly did not comprehend. "Rubedo told me how I died." The eldest told him? How in the future Nigredo had died, was dead as Albedo apparently was? But that seemed not to be it at all, instead it traced backwards, was a response to a question Albedo hadn't asked, and he hesitated, listened. Did not wholly comprehend.

Explain better than Nigredo could. Albedo had learned to put the parts and pieces together and he could see it as such: Rubedo had seen the youngest the day after, spoke to him, likely waved it off with a grin, and departed. Wasn't that Rubedo, after all? Saying such things without a thought for the listener? For the delicacies in which they had existed? Albedo could understand this, for he knew it well. Knew it perfectly, in sharp details, for Rubedo had the absolute tendency to say the worst thing possible.

Yes, Albedo knew it. Yes, so in that, he understood.

Continue on, and Albedo would deny the statements. That he would want Nigredo to go away? He had protested, that very day--that he did not want to be alone, that he did not want the other to die. Had there been a comfort in it? Albedo had not thought that way then--it had not been about Nigredo's feelings, in truth, but Albedo's own, and only now could he begin to glance backward and see. "You comforted me," Nigredo said, and Albedo wondered if he truly had.

But speak of not forgetting, and Albedo would consider it. For Nigredo did not forget that easily, and his brother knew it, and stated so perfectly eluded to something else. Meaning, in forms, that Albedo would not have understood that day in the showers. Meaning, that now, he still struggled to take in. If given to him that way, it meant only that... Albedo had become something precious, hadn't he? By moving selfishly and clinging, he had become something that existed wholly.

Oh, what was the line? 'The eyes hath opened,' and his brother's did, misery leaking from his pores, made clearer with the words revealed. An apology for that, Albedo had never expected, and still here it was, there for him to take. An apology and gratitude, and again, Albedo felt small. Completely worthless in the face of it. "You have to understand," he said quietly, explanation following. "I don't have any right to your apologies, to your gratitude. Don't you wonder why I never take them? I'm the last person you should be--"

Thanking. For what, really? For being the creature that he was. How perfectly faulty.

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The explanation settled as odd. From Albedo's perspective, an apology registered as flawed. Gratitude as bemusing. Nigredo, in truth, had never understood and assumed his gestures were something annoying to the middle variant. Something insufficient from a brother who carried a power abhorred and stood in his way. How could he understand otherwise? It was as if the other was saying he was undeserving.

Nigredo stared, countenance unchanged. The greenhouse was sticky in its heat, and people were making themselves heard. Still, he would ignore them for a reason he held close to his heart. To offer it now in earnest.

The child shook his head slowly, indicating his disagreement. "If I'm worth living to you as I am--" As he existed, without the question of powers or vessels. If he was deserving of life to Albedo, then the reactions were obvious. Albedo could take his sentiments if the former wished, regardless of past actions and judgments between them. "--you have every right to take what I have. That is enough for me." More than deserving.

"And I will always apologize," he concluded, "until you don't want me anymore."

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The words Nigredo used kept to clarity and perception--without the flaws readily apparent. Albedo understood, in whole, what the other meant. If Nigredo's existence had value to Albedo, then Albedo could do what he wished, in all simplicity. A straightforward mindset, and one that nearly split the boy. Of the part the cared for his brother enough to consider his feelings, Albedo was nearly dumbstruck at the thought. If Albedo accepted his brother, his brother would allow anything? It was wrong, and horribly stunning in its enticement--and herein laid the other half, for Nigredo had but signed a part of himself away with the words. Albedo would not forget that sentence easily: "--you have every right to take what I have."

And Nigredo was no innocent. He understood Albedo likely better than any other here, at least in motivation and movements, if not the reasons why. And Nigredo should then understand how dangerous those words could be. It was likely he did, and said them anyway. Be it possibly from a complete disregard of self--but here, have Albedo remember--he had said he believed Nigredo when he said he had no intention of going away.

Take that into notion and what was left. Nigredo was offering himself up to his brother with perfect simplicity, and Albedo shuddered, eyes closing. Whether or not Nigredo knew in full what his words had done, Albedo had broke apart the reasons and rationale, and here was what had been gained. He moved to counter the final statement, stomach fluttering as he still felt sensations. "I will never not want you," he said, near whisper, clear in tones. "No matter what you offer up, I'll always want you."

His hand dropped from Nigredo's face onto a hand, fingers wrapping around to hold--not with desperation in ways before but of reassurance. A need for touch for Albedo, and a fortification that he would not leave for the other. Fine, then; let Nigredo have his thanks and apologies. Albedo would take them. Fine. "All right," he said, softer than before. "I forgive you." {I love you.} "But you have to understand I was telling the truth."

He sent without words. It was important that Nigredo understand. It was difficult for Albedo, a shifting of self, and if the one he had shifted for did not even accept it, then.... Violet eyes stared at his brother. {Understand.}

Please. Understand.

[falseblack]

To give one's self away was part and parcel to acceptance. To offer everything for the chance to be seen as worthwhile was prepared for since birth. Isolation led to deficiency, possibility to desire. From the start, it was his brothers who defined his existence, and in the end, Nigredo would give himself to one, the other, both, or no one. His wants subsisted in this paradigm, and no hand--Father, sister, circumstance--would force a change.

So this, therefore, was a natural progression. The shock held in the mental sphere rang as incomprehensible; after all, Nigredo had no reason to hold himself when another would take him without question. Perhaps it was a dangerous mindset when considering this particular sibling, but in his limited view, exceptions were virtually nonexistent. Which was why he played his cards with a delicate hand. Kept parts buried deep inside and out of reach.

He didn't know if he ever would have come as close in the Yuriev Institute as he had here. As well as the amount of desperation he held to speak of acceptance. To think it was possible of this brother. Albedo was not so easily swayed from his twin. Nigredo could only be an afterthought in comparison.

But Albedo would state otherwise. Without wanting, the youngest trembled against the elder's hand, unable to properly form his response. Albedo would never not want Nigredo? Could Nigredo possibly believe that? He wanted to see. Even as he could not accept the claim logically, the variant wished to witness a confirmation, to transform fear to assurance.

Because in the end, Nigredo wished not to be separated from them, even as his own life moved to disallow want.

The free hand reached to grasp the hand that held, tightening to demonstrate need. In full view of his brother, Nigredo's expression crumbled, mirroring the other as he might have been on another day. He understood this was not easy for Albedo as it was for Nigredo, and the latter could not afford to pick at the details. {I understand,} he sent, with more force than was thought possible for one of his character. {Thank you.}

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To have an act reacted to spoke too much of what was wanted--here, claim it; because what did Albedo want more than reactions, more than love responded to and need placed before him. His waveform shuddered in the aftermath, though his eyes remained locked on his brother. There was truth in the sending, truth and emotion both, and Albedo loved Nigredo, then. Loved him entirely, and that was given in whole.

This is what remained. Albedo did not want to be alone, and he did not want Nigredo to be alone either. And he was finally realizing that the youngest was worse off than he--Albedo, even, had formed bonds here; had Nigredo, other than that man who could not even understand him?

Why did Nigredo want his life to end? Because of an ability forced upon him, one known by those he would never have told, and because of that, there was no remaining worth? So faulty, because even with that, if Nigredo did not abandon him, Albedo would keep overlooking it for as long as it was able.

He reached out his other hand to the knot of hands that had formed, and pulled his brother's hands to his mouth, touching his lips to fingers gently, eyes never glancing from Nigredo. "Listen to me," and he spoke, more sane and sober than he'd been all day. "I won't leave you alone. I won't. You can rely on me." {I'm not leaving you.}

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Albedo reached and brought hands to lips, kissing digits to affirm comfort. A promise given, less in spoken words and more in gestures. Tones. Nigredo watched like a chick observing its parent, searching for cues on appropriate reactions. He found plenty.

Nigredo wouldn't be left alone, he said. The promise was again offered so readily; the surface reaction was to rationalize the statements. You couldn't expect them to come easily, in the end. He supposed, however, that it was the simple fact of complexity that he was willing to take what was in front of him.

It was the child who answered his brother, soft and quiet and not at all the proud youngest of the night prior. {Okay.} Okay.

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An acceptance was a powerful thing, and in that, Albedo might have understood Nigredo for those aspects. Nigredo gave an acquiesce, and Albedo breathed out in something close to relief. The hands around Nigredo's fingers tightened, and then he lowered them to the table, giving his brother a wan smile. "Okay," he repeated.

Instinct pulled at him to touch Nigredo, to hug him, love him, kiss him, but Albedo withheld. This was serious, defining, and the youngest Variant did not hold affection as Albedo did, and he would rather Nigredo remember this than write it off as another day. Across the random materials and cut branches and leaves, their hands remained intertwined.

For a moment, Albedo only watched Nigredo. Carefully, intently, as one might to something valuable they possessed. Then he blinked, once, and some of the intensity fled. "Are you willing," he asked near-hesitantly. "To tell me what happened last night?"

[falseblack]

Discretion gave more than affection could, and for the present, the younger of the pair was content. Quiet solidified the flow of harsh emotions, the movements again becoming lost beneath the surface. Nigredo returned his brother's smile with something small yet perfectly sincere.

For this reason, the boy did not scowl at the memory of last night. Did not desire to roll over and die at the thought. Much of this was less important in light of the previous subject, and therefore, Nigredo shifted into an objective state. "...Yeah." He had promised, hadn't he?

His gaze met Albedo's, steady despite the subject at hand. This would be truth but in pieces, and though he would ordinarily offer all facts, Sync's presence rendered it difficult. Partial explanations, then. "I ended up in the basement with a couple of others." As he had stated last night. "They made the mistake of going into the room with the many weapons."

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Said like that, it was perfectly simple. For Albedo remembered, and Nigredo had just touched upon it previously--that night, and the effects of that. Nigredo had said that they had somehow came down there, but it was the others he had been with that had made a faulty decision. Albedo's expression tightened, and for any that knew, the anger building behind his eyes was obvious. {What idiots.}

This explained at least his brother's injuries, in nothing else. If Nigredo had been the one to fight the turrets, injuries would be known. Nigredo might have better accuracy than Rubedo, but Nigredo had more of a sniping mentality than all out warfare--despite his brother's apparent actions. "And let me guess--they left the challenge to you?" The boy scoffed, annoyance obvious at the unnamed individuals. "At least they knew enough that you were the best bet."

[falseblack]

Idiots was the correct term, but Nigredo had insufficient constitution to work out a tirade. Depression had its unfortunate way of killing anger. Besides, there wasn't much he could tell Albedo in terms of details. Three-fourths of his anger went to the roommate. Steering clear of that fact seemed smart.

He sighed, exhaustion seeping into the tone. "Not exactly." answered Nigredo, frank despite the withheld information. "I volunteered. Neither obviously had been trained in weaponry, and I couldn't afford to lose." Here, the child threw a pointed look to Albedo, the insinuation obvious. "I chose the weapon and took the test. But Albedo--"

What to say? Here existed bemusement. "--it was different." Enough for parts of Nigredo to wonder on the accuracy of Albedo's theory. The pieces fit if you considered the possible context, which the rest refused to look into. Another time, perhaps. "Impossible in reality, to be honest. They had me eliminate six standards, but... They were in the form they take when infected in the U-DO simulator."

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At the point, Albedo shrugged slightly, eyes skirting to the side briefly. His actions this morning held too much in mistakes to be rightly touched on more than they were. In that, of only, he did not speak--glanced back at his brother from the sides of his eyes to watch him speak instead. Nothing shifted in the tainted Variant's expression at the reveal; his mien remained thoughtful, calculating. For speak as much, his brother was right. Those forms did not exist in the reality that they existed in--he could rant and ramble on the different layers of consciousness and the forms took, but he gathered Nigredo wouldn't be as attentive an audience as Albedo would like. Instead he blinked twice, slowly, mulling it over.

What did that point to, other than an incomplete reality? A fissure of space and time, filled in by technology instead. It was not unrealistic on the whole--for Albedo had heard a Song that had not existed now or here, and yet it had been pulled to give to him, held out on hand and foot. And that night... There had been crackling and blurs of mismatched coding in the walls, to end with a brother dead and yet alive. And in that place. He wondered. If it was only....

He turned back completely, tilted his chin upward in declaration. "Work on this rationale, and note any other peculiarities. The institute aside, it's safe to say the area of the basement exists separately from the rest of this dimension. Either a completely separate realm of space-time, or a pocket of technology, like a precursor to the UMN, with anything that happens there existing as would happen in a synaptic net dive. Spoken plainly; what happens there does not hold true in the rest of this world. It is cut off and perfectly separate." He blinked again, expression edging in caution. Concern. "Do you understand?"

[falseblack]

His sibling had a talent for innate information. Oddly, it had failed to make an impact until now. Nigredo had always known--of this, there existed no doubt--but one could only regard so many traits with Albedo before care refused to hold. With nowhere to go, the understanding must have taken root in intuition. No other explanation could carry as well. By now, he was more comfortable with the idea that the other was infused with strange knowledge. In regards to U-DO, Nigredo had learned well not to question, and that itself was a little strange.

It made him wonder, the result of which caused the boy to stare openly at Albedo. For a while, he had assumed he had eventually overlooked the changes in his brother since the Miltian Conflict. Taint was taint. Albedo was Albedo. Presently, however, he found it much more difficult to separate the two spheres, as though the lines between them bled into each other. He was beginning to see the other as a new person.

That thought was striking when Nigredo considered it was this Albedo who would place care and preference on his younger brother as opposed to his twin.

"I understand," the boy acknowledged, voice soft. The explanation was plain and contained enough familiar elements for him to decipher the logic. His mind, however, moved in another direction. "The man wasn't lying, then. He talked as though the institute--" Or more accurately, the Institute. "--itself could be manipulated." "How to run the Institute itself" was the exact phrase. The connotations were obvious. "Did you hear the broadcast last night?"

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The reaction was interesting in itself, and he stared levelly at Nigredo as the other nearly gaped at him. From the theory, or from the information? His mind skewed at that point, and he could not remember if he had been like this before. Likely not, no? For how could a child, weapon or otherwise, speak philosophy and science, mixing and mingling both with the finesse of an expert. No, it had to have... come after, but note this clearly--it was as if it had always been there. Not like the knowledges that slipped and spoke to him, but a clear and steady interest in the subject, and Albedo did not know if he had that before. If he had wondered on the theories and digested knowledge on the subject. He did not know, and could not bring himself to ask--because asking would seem too much a death, too much an admittance to something lost in transition.

He glanced downward suddenly, something unnerving in sensation slipping from him, something obviously not related to the current subject.

He locked it away, shut it behind armored doors--a black Pandora's box not unlike others in his mind, only matched and beat by another one more worn, of colors that spoke of the brown of decay and the green of leaves, and he shut it away and then it was gone.

Albedo glanced up as if nothing had happened, the only obvious tell the slightly widened eyes, whites showing around the rims. "I didn't. Do you think it's important?" Ah, and that was a misstep. Albedo should have defaulted to that. A manipulation of their environment? Of course that was interesting enough to claim importance. "What did he say?"