closed.
Who: Shiroe and Daedalus.
When: Monday morning.
Where: Ye olde Diner.
Summary: There are ... a lot of things they need to talk on. Especially after the cherry blossoms.
Warnings: Anger and general unhappiness.
( challenge rating: over fifty. )
When: Monday morning.
Where: Ye olde Diner.
Summary: There are ... a lot of things they need to talk on. Especially after the cherry blossoms.
Warnings: Anger and general unhappiness.
( challenge rating: over fifty. )
Or perhaps it fed on something in the darkness. That was a thought too gruesome in implications to share, especially if it involved anything sentiment making contact with the mind of a mutation. He'd seen psychics show up at the ER in comas, or in a state of catatonia, because of brushing mental (or "spiritual") wavelengths too closely with a monster of the after-siren.
Another uncomfortable notion, worrying, considering the very boy seated across from him, who was a Mu prone to panic attacks. He hoped that Shiroe would learn to temper at least some of his curiosity, to prevent himself from ever stretching himself out into the dangerous territory of darkness exploration. For that danger alone, he hoped that the experience earlier in the summer, with his stolen heart, had some long-sticking impact. It was bad enough Re-l went out in it far too often, confident in her healing, and in her wings, and in testing her limitations.
At times, Daedalus truly resented all the built-in caveat of his namesake. It left him an overly protective young man, acutely aware of the loss associated with risks taken one step too far, and perhaps that had even been an intentional part of his making.
Daedalus has a love/hate relationship with boundaries. He likes to toe across them when no one's looking, but then it's concern that keeps him in restraint, and it's the inward struggle against that restraint that feeds his working momentum. It's much like a pressure cooker, churning a potentially dangerous amount of steam. That's why the regency always permitted him some liberties. Yet freedom from defined purpose doesn't suit him well either. When he lets go of his cares- because it's just too much, that's when his apathy grows sluggish to the point that people like Raul, people who know him well, will call him out on it. Hopefully. Most of the time.
Shiroe may catch his attention drifting into the usual fray of tangents, away from questions and mushrooms, and bound up in that sentimental stillness which is a lie, because it's nothing but restless on the inside, restless and fit to burst.
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He did sense the difference; not only that, but he was willing to call the other on it - though it wasn’t with his usual amused look, or even with something that could be put close to ‘concerned.’ It was focused, instead, maybe even equal to being outright staring. It could be worth noting he'd never done something like that before, but times had changed.
(That month without a heart had led to some serious consequences: these days, instead of standing for the turbulent mentalities of his housemates, he'd actively try to influence them, mostly for the better; people who were angry enough to hurt, he would avoid and maybe sometimes mentally persuade others to do the same, as much as some may have gotten angry over the fact that he was invading their minds without permission (it would have happened anyway) -- a month without a heart and he was finally developing a sense of empathy.)
"... If it fed off the Darkness, it would have spread all over by now. And it probably would have only latched onto Darkness monsters, too. Unless it's some sort of Darkness agent." That last part-- was the first semi-ridiculous statement he'd given since they'd met up, but it was pointed; he didn't want Daedalus drifting into thoughts of Re-l or Raul, didn't want to catch glimpses of hospital calls or Romdaeu. He wasn't sure, however, if it was strictly because he wanted the doctor's full attention (right then, right there, Shiroe would say whole-heartedly that it wasn't) or just because... There had been enough of that.
Daedalus, Shiroe was convinced, needed an outlet that didn't involve Re-l, himself (well, maybe himself), work or. That blond.
The problem was, that cut down pretty much all of the outlets available. He'd have to get more creative in his thinking- or maybe it was just that the other needed to let go, but that meant something like a breakdown, and those were always messy; absently, instinctively, Shiroe started to try to mentally press a feeling of focus into the other, if only to help things keep calm--
- Wait, no. He was supposed to be stubborn, right then. Instantly, the musing expression on his face turned back into a half-scowl, eyes refocusing onto Daedalus's and mental probe boomeranging back with enough swiftness that it might just have been picked up by the other. This solemn business was obnoxious, the Mu childishly realized; but outright touching the topic still seemed beyond taboo. There was no way he could. None. And so, he continued with his increasingly displeased face and slow, slow poking at an overly syrupy piece of french toast.
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"You're probably right." the doctor concedes, after brushing off concerns of losing those reckless people most precious to him, and settling his mind back on the mushrooms, the convenient conversation piece, around which so many periphery feelings and unspoken things seemed to orbit slowly, held off by the distraction of something concrete and topical. "Any sentient receiver which would have fed off of the darkness probably wouldn't have flourished from contact with it."
He watched Shiroe poke at his toast, and glanced down at his own menu. Diner food was so heavy with oily fat or carbohydrates, after a night on his feet. He thought briefly about Francis Bonnefoy, who seemed to think any limit on cooking with butter to be appalling.
"Went ahead and ordered without me, did you?" He ventured almost fondly across the table, with a quieter note of apology as Shiroe played with his saturated breakfast and looked quite unhappy. It sounded like an apology for so much more than that alone. "I didn't realize I was running so late."
He orders wheat toast with the smoked salmon that usually goes on bagels, and opts out of the cream cheese for a side of vanilla yogurt.
"Anyway, now that they're sampled in a controlled environment, they're likely to plumb the depths." He goes on idly, the subject matter turning flat. There was little point in speculating when someone else was doing all the research. Daedalus was still a bit sore for doing so much clinical work these days, so much care, which was draining with effort and rewarding with interpersonal gratitude, but it didn't hold the same keen excitement of research and development. Which could also be frustrating, when it dead ended, or worse when your funds were lopped off on the whim of higher powers desiring applicative results. All the same, he missed some of the lab environment. "So it's a matter of time, before SERO's a bit more clear on their function."
Then, again, again, a little wistfully- "It's a shame you're not taking bio this semester"
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"You weren't." It wasn't a grudging admission, finally; it wasn't even a particularly unhappy one. Then again, it wasn't happy, either. "I was just hungry, so I hurried her." That should've been said with a smile, but Shiroe was in the awkward in between place of getting back to rights and sticking to the stubborn unhappiness; he heard and understood that all-encompassing apology, but he didn't acknowledge it.
He did bite his lip, fork finally stilling against his plate. There would be a significant break between Daedalus's words and his reply, but it did eventually come.
(He didn't feel as angry now. If he examined how he felt, he could term it as more 'sad' and 'betrayed,' but anger was still his forte, and when applied to him, sadness was far more difficult to accept.)
"I wonder how far it's gotten already." Quietly- this wasn't so scientific, but -- "If it really is sentient, even in a controlled environment, it'll still be taking in information. They couldn't have destroyed all the mushrooms." And wasn't that a funny thing? What if these fungi continued to evolve? - And then, for that last comment, he gave a snort that wasn't quite amused but wasn't quite dismissive.
"Do you think they'd learn about the mushrooms? Not the first year students, but -" Wouldn't that have been funny. How many gas masks would he go through before one kept the spores completely out?
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"Go ahead and order more to take home with you" He offers generously to that, as if he hadn't spoiled him quite enough. Perhaps it was a bit of guilt over that elephant still in the room, as if the over-indulgence of feeding it might make it wander off. "Whatever you'd like."
For all he enjoyed scientific conversations, he could hold them with any of his colleagues, and none of them would be quite so imaginative on matters as he suspected that Shiroe was capable of...and yet he still assumed that the boy was always holding back a little- assumed, because it was true to his own nature to play his cards close to the table when under the scrutiny of someone older and possibility more experienced.
Now and then, it occurred to him that projecting exorbitant amounts of himself onto Shiroe was probably psychologically unhealthy. Not unhealthy enough to stop.
"If they truly are sentient, it's a question of ethical population management as well." He pointed out, remembering the extermination trucks that pulled up curbside not far from the Newcomer Clinic, the men in white coveralls, similar to the contamination suits worn by those who stepped out beyond the dome. "We're lucky the government hasn't given the same termination order to human immigrants."
He shrugs, as if to say 'You tell me.' After all, he had placed Shiroe on Hillsdale campus in part to be his eyes and ears. "Don't they teach things of current topical importance?" And then a gentle reminder, fond with pride- "(And you're second year, now)"
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Because as much as he wanted to, some part of him- the part that thought about his family still, that would have him curled up under three layers of sheets and turn a dry pillow wet, a part that was very small but still so powerful- knew for a fact that he couldn't abandon Alois and Ciel any more than he could abandon Daedalus. There were bursts of rebellion, of course, of moments where he would walk off and not look back, but he'd always eventually come back. It was a fact that he wouldn't discuss under the threat of death. Mostly because he himself barely acknowledged it (honestly, there were so many little parts of himself that he didn't realize, he was an unhealthy enough person alone).
Daedalus's projections, as usual, rolled right off his back. The comment on termination, however, didn't. It got the first sharp, knife-pointed grin; the sort of grin that made some people want to hit him, for all that he looked barely thirteen. "They hadn't even in the beginning. I guess the people here are too normal at their cores for that."
Because the people of Siren's Port were 'normal,' Shiroe had found, compared to most other worlds - compared to worlds that weren't his or Daedalus's, that was, and if people were normal, they'd have to be abnormal. Even if it meant letting newcomers in.
"I'd suppose they do." The grin was fading, but not completely. He raised only one eyebrow. "I'm a second year, but I'd probably have to take first-year biology. Or something like that-- they do placements, don't they?" Hmm. "Anyway, just maybe the psychology department will see some of the mushrooms, too. If they do effect the brain..."
Even if it was biology, and the most they could hope for was information on hallucinogenics, a boy could muse.
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And so he'd cut ties with half of the Phantomhive Household, and it was very hard to keep an ear to the ground about Shiroe's well being, nowadays. There was that thoughtful butler, Claude, the one who slaved happily over Alois, who seemed to understand the real point behind his casual inquiries, but there was also something about The Help in that household Daedalus knew instinctively not to wholly trust.
"...how has Gilbert been?" He asked tentatively, as the waitress finally delivers his plate to the table. "Is he still smoking?"
(The paper-thin slices of cured salmon were something that Daedalus had been told was acquired taste, the first time one of his co-workers had introduced it, and it was one he was fast acquiring. Dr. Xavier had a hearty laugh, the first time Daedalus had dropped by the clinic after lunch one day marveling over his new discovery of lox on bagels, and he still hadn't quite figured out why. Nowadays he even skipped the cream cheese and the bagels, and had it plain on wheat, although his amused associate still suggested marble rye as the 'superior' substitute.)
Daedalus didn't know what to make of that sharp smile while he bit into his toast. Watching Shiroe's grin, it was difficult to tell if the observation was covering for unease with the subject, or triumph at the trump care that people would never be so barbaric as to slaughter involuntary arrivals. Unless they were sensationalist crazies, like the Newcomer Killers.
It was difficult to agree entirely, when information was being released just now that these spores could be a sentient colony, and yet they'd exterminated them so thoroughly, and yet SERO planned to continue a weekly spraying or so.
"You'll hear about them in Psychology, I'm sure, as new information comes out." He nodded, sitting back, seeming satisfied with the thought that Shiroe was really in his second year now, and still doing very well, quite possibly having absorbed enough Psych 101 over summer readings to sail right through. "But if there are any Professors of Biology giving open lectures on the subject of those mushrooms, or students presenting projects, I think you should make a point to sit them, for personal edification. If you need me to explain any terms that are foreign to you, I will."
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"Yes." Not fiddling with his food any more - rather, actually cutting up a bit and taking a bite. Swallow. "He's been all over the place. If Oz hadn't shown up again, I think he might have really collapsed."
That could have easily been sugarcoated, but with the way Shiroe was- the fact that this was with Daedalus- crossed that option firmly off the list. He mentally listened in to the doctor's categorizing of the food; he felt the continual unease that saturated the air; he tilted his head down through it all and continued on.
"Then again, lately, desperate living is all the mansion seems to be able to uphold.
"But I will." Another bite, another tilted look, the hint of amusement gone along with his smile, all disappearing as if they hadn't been there in the first place. But this was still a free and genuine answer (he was being sincere a lot today, seemed like): "If I'm free. Would you like me to video tape it all for you?"
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You really don't see the obvious parallels, do you?
Maybe he expects sympathy out of some defensive camaraderie with Gilbert's position. If Re-l ever- (No, no, something within him rebels immediately and refuses to entertain that notion) Instead he wonders what he'd ever do with his Monday mornings, if Shiroe disappeared, 'never showed up again'.
Probably not take up chain smoking, nor compulsive baking. Possibly go straight home and to sleep. Which, after the night shift at Skye Medical in the fall, might have been along the same vein as collapsing from overworked exhaustion.
He'd have considerably less outlet for his ideas, and passing 'heretic' notions, and paternal instincts.
"It's an incredibly difficult thing, Shiroe, when you lose the people most important to you." He tried to explain in a measured, sobered way of conveying something poignant, a little bit reproachful for those casual smiles and flippant observations. But then he left it there, because really Daedalus didn't really want to think about personal losses right now.
"I'd appreciate that." It was an acknowledgement of the unspoken agreement- I help you with admissions to a University, paying for books, you help me by keeping your ear to the current research SERO isn't dumping on the unaffiliate hospitals. It was a good arrangement, and good to be direct about its terms, once in awhile. "If there's anything else you need help with..."
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And, no, he didn't understand. Or, well, he did, in a way, but he didn't understand it -- couldn't intellectually figure it out, would only scoff and smile flippantly about it all, because why would anyone become so upset over another's leaving? They all should have accepted that it was a possibilty. An inevidtability, even. There was no reason to be upset with odds like that. Absolutely none. Except there was, wholly and fully, and Shiroe understood that in the way that he'd gone practically suicidal after Jomy's departure, had rushed into meeting Xehanort and taunting Re-l and diving unabashed into Claude's psyche, all things that could have or definitely had harmed him.
The problem stood in how he was yet a child: Daedalus's student, Daedalus's prodigy, and he'd fly on up into the sun, burn and struggle in a vicious sea's waters without realizing the full consequences until he was dead. It was a backhanded result of having come from such a twisted utopia as his world had presented: he was a knowledgable child without knowledge, and who knew if he'd ever figure it out.
As it was, he made a point to keep that casual smile off his face, if only out of a reluctant reaction to being chastized. He did say, "Oz is fine now," but he didn't say Gilbert knew that; Oz was always fine; nothing was continuing; why get angry? because there was enough personal inner unease at an echo of Jomy (and Re-L, from Daedalus, because as many mornings as they spent together, Shiroe did understood fully that he would never be Re-l. that made him angry, in a way, but that was a topic for another day) that he maybe knew better.
"I'll tell you next Monday if there is or not." An acknowledgment and acceptance of terms. He was grateful for the books and the help, he was; even if he'd never actually accept any of it. Then again, he'd accepted the scholarship. Maybe he should've taken advantage of the rest.
Then again, he considered these breakfests as 'taking advantage.'
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Which was regretful. But he didn't want to give Vincent any further reason to antagonize Re-l, threaten her life or her safety.
He chewed his toast and stared thoughtfully out the window for awhile, tired, letting the stress of the passing shift gradually ease off his shoulders, listening to the banter between waitresses and regulars and a harried cook in the background.
Daedalus liked this diner. The incongruity to everything else he'd ever known was not so uncomfortable, tucked into the booths, with Shiroe here and seated across from him. Habit.
The only problem cluttering the table now was that elephant. There was color in his cheeks, when he tried to push it off his mind. Push the subject around again, refocusing.
"Did Mr. Chaolan ever contact you about an internship at Violet Sytems?"
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And now that it was thought about, it was there again. Not that it ever left, but it had maybe faded. Became a slightly less striking shade of bright pink.
Mr. Chaolan was a good distraction, Shiroe supposed. So was Daedalus's lingering regret over Gilbert, but that made him a bit angry, too, so he didn't focus too hard on it. He did focus his gaze over, dropping a toast-laden fork back to his plate.
He thought about deviating from the chosen topic-- very briefly thought about it- and then discarded that. "Violet Systems? What sort of thing did he want?"
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To which it was slightly insulting, to the both of them maybe, that Mr. Chaolan hadn't followed up on the tip off- but sometimes not every person could take a gentle nudge in the right direction. He hadn't really ever asked if Shiroe would be interested, just assumed-
The same way he'd assumed about the SERO scholarship.
"But they're probably quite busy, I should remind him again."
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Which wasn't to say that he'd personally reject the idea, but it was a question that he felt was at least somewhat real. The arcade was one thing - SERO was one thing - but a larger company...? Not even Hillsdale had been accepting of setting him up with something like that.
Then again --
"Should I say that I'm immortal?" And it was abruptly very, very funny in a very very off-beat way how true that could be, and he had to straighten up and grin about it because the other option was one that he wouldn't ever take, so there. Not that Daedalus knew about that little fact, probably, but - details. Maybe the doctor would find out.
Then again, maybe they'd actually talk about the elephant in the room. Everything was possible.
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Aren't I a bit young?
He looked the boy up and down, wistful, remembering when he was in his early teens, pushed through all the regimens and training programs, called the brightest star that Romdeau had to offer, given access to classified files, placed for exceptional things, important projects, handed the keys to all life in the dome in passcodes and retinal scans that would someday identify him alone as 'Medical Chief Daedalus'. Told to preserve their secret hope. Daedalus fostered a future, thought he was inheriting a grand legacy-
How young, yes, and idealistic he'd been, so early on! Before he'd had the chance to sort out truth from lies, and the limitations of human agency from fate. There was enough cleverness in Shiroe's eyes, sharp and insightful and with so much more vivacity than his own... Daedalus wondered if, like Re-l, and with a better understanding of awakened emotion than himself, Shiroe Rei Seki was mapped out to be better than himself, enduring.
It was his hope. A faith worth spending every monday at nine and a 22% tip on, to be sure their booth would be kept free for the following week.
"No." He shakes his head, leaning forward, elbows sliding onto the edge of the table. "Just say (in all modesty) that you're brilliant." There's a smug edge of pride in his voice there, warmed. "If you can be mature about your tasks, it doesn't matter how old or young you are. If you tell them you're immortal, they'll never offer you health benefits or pension plans!"
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