He will float a little closer, but he won't say much of anything. He's just here to be here, to make sure Jedao isn't alone while he's dealing with this shit.
Jedao thinks asking for help is a good and important skill. But it doesn't matter if there's no one to ask, nothing they can do.
Hemiola is the first friend Jedao ever had, and he would do almost anything for it, but it can't cuddle, and it doesn't really know how to comfort anyone - not to mention needing to limit their meetings to what they could sneak past surveillance. Their support had mostly been in the form of silent understanding, the presence of one other creature that remembered Kujen. Once he tried to work through hurt and frustration sparring with James, only for James to interrogate him about it so much that he ended up feeling more sulky and bitter than when he started.
Gonou or Eiffel or Shen Wei would hold him - Shen Wei under explicit direction - but there's only so much of this Jedao wants to put on Gonou right now. And explaining the situation to someone else feels exhausting and humiliating just to think about, quite aside from the issue of not wanting to spread Hakkai's business if he wants to keep it private.
"I...like touch. I don't know if you can do that. You could maybe see if Jeep is in the office - that's Hakkai's little dragon."
"Yeah, I wasn't really used to it either," he says quietly before he considers the problem.
He has a hand. It's a shadow of Arthur's physical hand, visually insubstantial but perfectly able to touch or hold things. But it's just a hand and a forearm, and he's not sure if that is what Jedao is looking for.
"I can do that," he says earnestly, and he'll float a little closer before deciding on Jedao's shoulder, moving to give it a little squeeze. If he gets a good reaction, he'll start running gently along the upper arm, up and down. It's a much different angle than he's used to for this, but the touch is still gentle even if it isn't 'warm', per se.
"I only have one hand. Usually when I'm with someone who's having a rough time and I'm by myself, I, um, well-" A pause. "Do you know how the thing with my mask works?"
He's posted about it on the network at least twice, one with Arthur and once without, but he's never really gone into how it feels beyond the most mechanical basics. He'll wait for the answer before going further, just in case the very idea freaks him the fuck out.
A little bit of the tension shudders out of his shoulders, and he sighs.
"I saw the warnings. I'd be your anchor." Not a word either John or Arthur ever used for it, so clearly there's something close to analogous in his own world. Jedao shivers for a moment, not flinching away but simply - carrying the wave of inexpressible feeling forward from his own past, compressed intensity and grief and wistfulness and vulnerability and intimacy, recognition like a guitar string vibrating in resonance with a pure tone.
"Generally, I take a sense and a couple of pieces of their body, I assume in a mirror of what I have from Arthur. I can usually pick the sense, that's... more normal. The parts happened by accident so I guess they always will."
That's the bog standard stuff. He's going to go on.
"It's... I guess more like how other people deal with each other. I can sort of feel the emotions going on, I can't read the thoughts or anything; we're completely different people. It's more like being able to read someone's expression, just from the inside. And they can read mine, unlike with this mask. It's... closer."
"...maybe sometime." He might like to try being close like that, but.
"You don't want to feel what I'm feeling right now." Jedao doesn't want anyone else to feel what he's feeling. Maybe especially not John, who has his own reasons to dislike Nathaniel.
But Jedao reaches, catches, just - holds the spectral hand for a minute. Squeezes a little, breath hitching.
He can squeeze that hand back, and he will, careful and gentle. He doesn't mind leaving his hand there. And at least this close, Jedao can feel the edges of his robes, another physical touch.
In better circumstances, he might have huffed a small laugh. Poetry is the province of the Andan, and as ancient rivals to the Shuos, their arts were not particularly appreciated or encouraged in the Citadel of Eyes.
"I'll do a short one, then. If you don't like it, I'll stop. But I know it helps sometimes."
A pause before-
"When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don’t stand still and look around On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit."
He waits in silence for a little while, not sure at first if that's the end. He doesn't hate it. He doesn't know if he likes it, either. More than anything, it feels like - a lot of work, to figure out how to feel something about it at all. He doesn't know what a hoe is, for one thing, but is imagining some kind of long sword. He can feel the steadiness of the cadence but has no reference for the context of simple rural life. His time with his only friend, before the barge, had to be very carefully stolen, every time.
And it's not - relevant, he thinks, with a little burst of frustration in his chest. Because Nathaniel was never his friend.
"Thanks," he says eventually, quietly. He means thank you for trying, but it's hard to make that sound not sarcastic, and he isn't.
He wasn't referencing Nathaniel. There's no more to say there. Instead, he'd been trying to tell Jedao why he'd come. Why he was here.
That some people would make an effort to be his friend. For trying.
But for John, the response isn't something he's going to hold against Jedao. Whether he likes poetry or not, Jedao is still someone he cares about. And he'll give him a squeeze, a gentle one, on the shoulder.
Jedao still has a lot to say about Nathaniel. But it's all too embarrassing, and it feels like an imposition, besides. John is - reacting to this sanely. Correctly. Like a good friend to Hakkai. He's just angry. He's not wasting his precious revelations about love and loneliness on Nathaniel.
"What would you do," Jedao asks slowly, very quietly. "If in another year you found out that actually, Arthur hated you. That he'd always hated you, and the times it felt like he didn't, he was - drugged. And other times just faking it. And, like, you'd seen the drugs, and just hadn't wanted to ask what they were for. But then you found out anyway. What would you do with that."
The hypothetical is half Nathaniel, half Dhanneth. Jedao is so tired of regretting people he's loved.
Said... quietly. But honestly. It's his own pain, the one he doesn't talk about much because it's too raw, too deep, but it's under the surface, always there. It's as much a part of their relationship as anything else.
"He hates that I took his eyes. He hates that being involved with me, opening my book, ruined his life. He wants to go home, and he can't. Because of me." A pause. "Most of the time, he loves me more than he hates me. But I'm always afraid that once he no longer relies on me for his arm and for his eyes, he'll change his mind."
Beat.
"...I'm not trying to shift the focus here, I'm just explaining why I can't really answer that properly."
"It's okay," he says easily enough. It's nothing new and Arthur's not the one jabbing at it, so it doesn't actually hurt. It just is. "You didn't know. And neither of us really talk about it much.
"But I did have a different friend where something like that happened. We're not really friends anymore, because" and a slight pause as he adjusts his language, "they don't want to be. They don't think I'm worth it. It's not the same but... yeah, I survived that. And you can survive this too."
"I know that," Jedao mutters, ungracious even though he doesn't want to be. He has, at least, not destroyed Nathaniel, not watched him -
He doesn't want to think about that. And he can't do the only things he knows will really make him stop. He feels like he's stuck on the edge of an event horizon, crushed and stretched at the same time, the moment elongated forever around him.
"Good," gruff, but not angry. Be ungracious as you want, Jedao. He doesn't really know how to be anything but what he is and honestly, he's still working that out himself.
"But if Arthur decided to leave," he says after a moment, "and used his deal to make sure I could never see him again, just to make sure... I think I'd question all the things he taught me and all the moments where I was happy with him. I'd wonder if this whole thing, being 'John', being... whatever I am... if it was real or if I was just deluding myself. If there's any point in trying if the people you love might decide they don't love you enough to stay."
"Ah," Jedao says, still softly, voice horribly dry. "Well."
Well. Yes.
"The first person I ever loved told me that he'd always hated me, the whole time, from the very beginning, in just about exactly those words, and then shot himself in the head."
Which, as a mode of ensuring they never see each other again, beats the pants off a barge deal for efficiency.
"Of course not. Mandrake doesn't even know I'm a demon, too."
Nathaniel doesn't know yet that he hates Jedao, has hated him the whole time. He'd just not cared one way or the other. Jedao was smart enough not to trust him with information. He just...let himself pretend that loving him anyway wasn't twice as stupid and vulnerable.
"We hadn't been together a full year, or anything," Jedao says softly. "But it was still pretty much my whole life, at the time." Which John will understand better than anyone.
"Which is about more than time, yes," he confirms because yes, he definitely understands. "I'm sorry someone was that awful to you. But I'm glad Mandrake doesn't know. Even if I'm sure it means-"
There's a pause as he reevaluates. Obviously not. Of course Mandrake wouldn't speak his mind the way he does with Arthur to people he was intending to poison. He wouldn't want to put them on his scent. Which means-
"...he didn't talk about the shitty way he thinks about people around you two, did he?"
"Oh, not with his full vitriol, I'm sure. But I'm perfectly well versed in how imperials think of pawns, peasants, slaves, traitors, and treacherous slave. I knew him well enough to have a clear idea. If I'd wanted to know."
His heart aches, a little, at even the mild criticism of Dhanneth. It's - strange, to be defended, and it feels a little bit wrong and unfair, when Dhanneth can't defend himself.
"He had every right to hate me," Jedao says quietly. "A million times more than Mandrake does." It's not his fault he was the second person Jedao ever met, one of only two people he'd ever known show him kindness. It's not his fault Jedao fell in love with him, or that -
This is Major Dhanneth. I thought I would make you a gift of him.
Suddenly, horribly, starting soft and then growing in volume, Jedao starts to laugh.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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And that's that.
He will float a little closer, but he won't say much of anything. He's just here to be here, to make sure Jedao isn't alone while he's dealing with this shit.
Finally, though-
"...anything else that would help?"
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Jedao thinks asking for help is a good and important skill. But it doesn't matter if there's no one to ask, nothing they can do.
Hemiola is the first friend Jedao ever had, and he would do almost anything for it, but it can't cuddle, and it doesn't really know how to comfort anyone - not to mention needing to limit their meetings to what they could sneak past surveillance. Their support had mostly been in the form of silent understanding, the presence of one other creature that remembered Kujen. Once he tried to work through hurt and frustration sparring with James, only for James to interrogate him about it so much that he ended up feeling more sulky and bitter than when he started.
Gonou or Eiffel or Shen Wei would hold him - Shen Wei under explicit direction - but there's only so much of this Jedao wants to put on Gonou right now. And explaining the situation to someone else feels exhausting and humiliating just to think about, quite aside from the issue of not wanting to spread Hakkai's business if he wants to keep it private.
"I...like touch. I don't know if you can do that. You could maybe see if Jeep is in the office - that's Hakkai's little dragon."
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He has a hand. It's a shadow of Arthur's physical hand, visually insubstantial but perfectly able to touch or hold things. But it's just a hand and a forearm, and he's not sure if that is what Jedao is looking for.
"I can do that," he says earnestly, and he'll float a little closer before deciding on Jedao's shoulder, moving to give it a little squeeze. If he gets a good reaction, he'll start running gently along the upper arm, up and down. It's a much different angle than he's used to for this, but the touch is still gentle even if it isn't 'warm', per se.
"I only have one hand. Usually when I'm with someone who's having a rough time and I'm by myself, I, um, well-" A pause. "Do you know how the thing with my mask works?"
He's posted about it on the network at least twice, one with Arthur and once without, but he's never really gone into how it feels beyond the most mechanical basics. He'll wait for the answer before going further, just in case the very idea freaks him the fuck out.
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"I saw the warnings. I'd be your anchor." Not a word either John or Arthur ever used for it, so clearly there's something close to analogous in his own world. Jedao shivers for a moment, not flinching away but simply - carrying the wave of inexpressible feeling forward from his own past, compressed intensity and grief and wistfulness and vulnerability and intimacy, recognition like a guitar string vibrating in resonance with a pure tone.
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Given the whole 'I don't usually get help' thing, he's going to specify.
"I like being like that with people I like. It feels... more real. But I also know it can freak people out."
Another pause.
"I like you. Just so we're clear."
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That's the bog standard stuff. He's going to go on.
"It's... I guess more like how other people deal with each other. I can sort of feel the emotions going on, I can't read the thoughts or anything; we're completely different people. It's more like being able to read someone's expression, just from the inside. And they can read mine, unlike with this mask. It's... closer."
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"You don't want to feel what I'm feeling right now." Jedao doesn't want anyone else to feel what he's feeling. Maybe especially not John, who has his own reasons to dislike Nathaniel.
But Jedao reaches, catches, just - holds the spectral hand for a minute. Squeezes a little, breath hitching.
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"Probably not. I'm sorry you're feeling it."
A pause.
"Do you like poetry?"
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"I don't know," he answers honestly.
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"I'll do a short one, then. If you don't like it, I'll stop. But I know it helps sometimes."
A pause before-
"When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit."
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And it's not - relevant, he thinks, with a little burst of frustration in his chest. Because Nathaniel was never his friend.
"Thanks," he says eventually, quietly. He means thank you for trying, but it's hard to make that sound not sarcastic, and he isn't.
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That some people would make an effort to be his friend. For trying.
But for John, the response isn't something he's going to hold against Jedao. Whether he likes poetry or not, Jedao is still someone he cares about. And he'll give him a squeeze, a gentle one, on the shoulder.
"Any time."
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"What would you do," Jedao asks slowly, very quietly. "If in another year you found out that actually, Arthur hated you. That he'd always hated you, and the times it felt like he didn't, he was - drugged. And other times just faking it. And, like, you'd seen the drugs, and just hadn't wanted to ask what they were for. But then you found out anyway. What would you do with that."
The hypothetical is half Nathaniel, half Dhanneth. Jedao is so tired of regretting people he's loved.
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Said... quietly. But honestly. It's his own pain, the one he doesn't talk about much because it's too raw, too deep, but it's under the surface, always there. It's as much a part of their relationship as anything else.
"He hates that I took his eyes. He hates that being involved with me, opening my book, ruined his life. He wants to go home, and he can't. Because of me." A pause. "Most of the time, he loves me more than he hates me. But I'm always afraid that once he no longer relies on me for his arm and for his eyes, he'll change his mind."
Beat.
"...I'm not trying to shift the focus here, I'm just explaining why I can't really answer that properly."
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He feels very selfish, and awkwardly young. At least it's hard to feel any more stupid.
"You can survive it, for the record." More or less.
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"But I did have a different friend where something like that happened. We're not really friends anymore, because" and a slight pause as he adjusts his language, "they don't want to be. They don't think I'm worth it. It's not the same but... yeah, I survived that. And you can survive this too."
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He doesn't want to think about that. And he can't do the only things he knows will really make him stop. He feels like he's stuck on the edge of an event horizon, crushed and stretched at the same time, the moment elongated forever around him.
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"But if Arthur decided to leave," he says after a moment, "and used his deal to make sure I could never see him again, just to make sure... I think I'd question all the things he taught me and all the moments where I was happy with him. I'd wonder if this whole thing, being 'John', being... whatever I am... if it was real or if I was just deluding myself. If there's any point in trying if the people you love might decide they don't love you enough to stay."
CW: suicide
Well. Yes.
"The first person I ever loved told me that he'd always hated me, the whole time, from the very beginning, in just about exactly those words, and then shot himself in the head."
Which, as a mode of ensuring they never see each other again, beats the pants off a barge deal for efficiency.
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Well. Fuck.
"That is... incredibly fucked up. Shit."
A short pause while he processes-
"...did Mandrake know about that?"
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Nathaniel doesn't know yet that he hates Jedao, has hated him the whole time. He'd just not cared one way or the other. Jedao was smart enough not to trust him with information. He just...let himself pretend that loving him anyway wasn't twice as stupid and vulnerable.
"We hadn't been together a full year, or anything," Jedao says softly. "But it was still pretty much my whole life, at the time." Which John will understand better than anyone.
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There's a pause as he reevaluates. Obviously not. Of course Mandrake wouldn't speak his mind the way he does with Arthur to people he was intending to poison. He wouldn't want to put them on his scent. Which means-
"...he didn't talk about the shitty way he thinks about people around you two, did he?"
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His heart aches, a little, at even the mild criticism of Dhanneth. It's - strange, to be defended, and it feels a little bit wrong and unfair, when Dhanneth can't defend himself.
"He had every right to hate me," Jedao says quietly. "A million times more than Mandrake does." It's not his fault he was the second person Jedao ever met, one of only two people he'd ever known show him kindness. It's not his fault Jedao fell in love with him, or that -
This is Major Dhanneth. I thought I would make you a gift of him.
Suddenly, horribly, starting soft and then growing in volume, Jedao starts to laugh.
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Which is when the laughter cuts him off. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move away, won't let go...
But he is listening to make sure it doesn't go too far.
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