[ There is an impulse, from the moment he wakes up, to reach out to Jedao as soon as he can. He's thinking clearly by then, more or less, and so he thinks better of it.
It's on the fourth day, when he can walk without stumbling and his vision has stopped blurring at the edges, that he sends the message. He still hurts...pretty much everywhere, but that's the sort of thing he can focus through fairly easily. ]
Can we talk? Like this or in person, whichever you'd prefer.
[ He'd rather apologise face to face, but it...doesn't feel like that should be up to him. ]
[ The door opens immediately. Before he even speaks, Zerxus just - looks at him for a moment, as if making sure that everything he saw - everything he did, instead of trying to help - has faded. There's no hiding the guilt or worry or embarrassment, and he doesn't even try. ]
Thank you. For coming, and for -
[ He stops, and shakes his head; they can have that conversation inside.
He gestures Jedao inside as he steps back. There are two chairs at the fireplace; Tempus is curled up on the balcony pretending to sleep. ]
[Jedao looks crisp. He's brushed back his usually slightly messy hair; he's wearing a sleek black turtleneck instead of something puffy and shapeless. There's no hint of a wound on him - nor does he move with either the weariness or stiffness of someone sticking it out through a death toll. He nods, and moves to one of the chairs, taking the opportunity to glance around the space; his eyes widen, for just a moment, observing Tempus.]
[ Zerxus is certainly moving stiffly - easier to see, with just the vest - but it doesn't seem to make him any slower, as he moves to his own chair.
As he clocks that moment, Tempus lifts his head and gives a chirp that's halfway between welcome and warning. ]
He's more angry than me than he is at you. [ As he sits, he meets the griffon's gaze and something passes silently between them. ] Tempus is - I summoned him with a spell, a very long time ago. Usually he fights with me.
[ And it's difficult to argue about the logistics of corridors and the vague metaphysics of being a celestial spirit on the Barge when you got yourself killed. ]
"More sensible than me, you mean?" Just as dry, but anything sharp in it is directed entirely inward. "I got lucky with that, yes."
His expression changes a little, as he leans forward; the uncertainty falls away, and he just looks gently, fiercely determined. His voice remains soft, but there's an iron steadiness to it now.
"I should have listened. I'm sorry for being an idiot, and I'm sorry for hurting you."
Jedao looks away. Zerxus is being gracious, and Jedao doesn't want him to be an ass about it, exactly - but it's vaguely galling anyway. How dare Zerxus be the person he seemed, the person Jedao wants him to be, but not when he actually needed help?
Except he didn't need it. Clearly.
It just would've been nice.
"If I'm strictly honest with myself, I knew you were compromised," he says quietly. "I could tell your ego was pushing you towards the edge. I didn't want to coddle you, even though it was - lazy, not to. Sloppy work. That's on me."
"And I could've tried more effectively, is the point, but I didn't bother. I'm so...tired of being the one who keeps my shit together. I'm too young to be tired of anything. I feel like such a child, being mad that grown-ups don't take me seriously. But then I'm the one acting like a grown-up. It's infuriating."
"Given that the Admiral is the only one who's ever paid me anything, I feel like containing crises here to the best of my ability actually sort of is my job," Jedao points out.
He's all set to point out that the Admiral is paying all of them, and the question cuts him off. His brow furrows, for a moment.
"At first. I was - I wasn't born in Avalir, I wasn't a wizard, there was some controversy there. I had to earn trust and respect, and for some people I never would, but that was fine. I had - there were people who could stop any of that from interfering with my job."
That was how they'd phrase it to him, at least, whenever Patia and Loquatius conspired in his defence.
"I feel like I'm stuck in a trap level, here. I can't earn anyone's respect because if I let them see that I'm smarter and more competent than 96% of the people here, they just hate me for being condescending. Like it's my fault no one else has any tactical training or emotional self-discipline."
"I'd like to think wardens aren't that insecure, but I've done my reading." He's nowhere near finished, but it's enough to know that among the strengths his colleagues usually seem to have, 'self-assured professionalism' sure isn't one of them.
"For whatever it's worth, I'm well aware that you're smarter than I am." No hesitation, and no self-consciousness either.
"Yes." His tone doesn't change but he does look a little defensive. "That wasn't - in my right mind, you're my ally. You're the person I trust. Not him."
For the first time, he can't keep his voice calm and steady; some of that dread and desperation breaks through, for a moment.
He wants to pretend the slip didn't happen. He could do that, in Avalir; some people noticed when his gaze turned hollow and distant, but then it would pass and no one had to deal with it, especially him.
The Barge demands rather more from him, and that's fair; it's a better place, overall.
Zerxus closes his eyes and focuses on the crackling of the fire, on the whispers still haunting his dreams. "I'm afraid of the future I know I just got a taste of. I'm afraid of failing the people I've sworn to protect, all over again, because I'm not strong enough to handle it."
It's inevitable, that he'll be a weapon aimed at whatever is left of Exandria. The Barge, at least, was supposed to be safe.
Zerxus opens his eyes, and only regards Jedao for a moment before he stands up and walks forward, reaching out his own hands but not quite making contact. There's the faintest tremble to them, for all that they look unscathed.
Jedao takes both of his hands and squeezes, steady and hard. He tugs Zerxus down, cheating a little with a mothpush, at the crown of Zerxus's head, at the backs of his knees, half nudging, half forcing him to kneel, so that they're eye level again. Jedao leans forward and kisses the top of his head, right in between the horns.
There's no resistance; the push just has him going faster, bumping his knees against the floor in a way he might feel later but certainly doesn't now.
Right now, he's squeezing Jedao's hands like lifelines and blinking hard, over and over, because you don't just - you don't force a man to kill you and then sob into his arms about it.
You don't reject his forgiveness, either. "Thank you."
There's no tremble in his voice. You learn to speak clearly through all sort of pain, when people need to hear you.
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It's on the fourth day, when he can walk without stumbling and his vision has stopped blurring at the edges, that he sends the message. He still hurts...pretty much everywhere, but that's the sort of thing he can focus through fairly easily. ]
Can we talk? Like this or in person, whichever you'd prefer.
[ He'd rather apologise face to face, but it...doesn't feel like that should be up to him. ]
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[It's...curt.]
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My cabin - 206.
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Thank you. For coming, and for -
[ He stops, and shakes his head; they can have that conversation inside.
He gestures Jedao inside as he steps back. There are two chairs at the fireplace; Tempus is curled up on the balcony pretending to sleep. ]
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As he clocks that moment, Tempus lifts his head and gives a chirp that's halfway between welcome and warning. ]
He's more angry than me than he is at you. [ As he sits, he meets the griffon's gaze and something passes silently between them. ] Tempus is - I summoned him with a spell, a very long time ago. Usually he fights with me.
[ And it's difficult to argue about the logistics of corridors and the vague metaphysics of being a celestial spirit on the Barge when you got yourself killed. ]
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His expression changes a little, as he leans forward; the uncertainty falls away, and he just looks gently, fiercely determined. His voice remains soft, but there's an iron steadiness to it now.
"I should have listened. I'm sorry for being an idiot, and I'm sorry for hurting you."
How much that's worth is for Jedao to decide.
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Except he didn't need it. Clearly.
It just would've been nice.
"If I'm strictly honest with myself, I knew you were compromised," he says quietly. "I could tell your ego was pushing you towards the edge. I didn't want to coddle you, even though it was - lazy, not to. Sloppy work. That's on me."
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His ego has already doomed an entire world. It's a lot to deal with.
A bit hoarsely, "You were compromised, too. And you tried anyway, for as long as you could. That's - that's what I should have been doing."
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It's only compromised if you fail.
"And I could've tried more effectively, is the point, but I didn't bother. I'm so...tired of being the one who keeps my shit together. I'm too young to be tired of anything. I feel like such a child, being mad that grown-ups don't take me seriously. But then I'm the one acting like a grown-up. It's infuriating."
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"It shouldn't be - it isn't - your job to pick up the slack when we fail."
He thinks of Elias with a journal and a feather; he thinks of Maya, with an orb and a library.
"But thank you, for doing it anyway."
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He perches his chin in his hand.
"Did people hate you, for being First Knight?"
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"At first. I was - I wasn't born in Avalir, I wasn't a wizard, there was some controversy there. I had to earn trust and respect, and for some people I never would, but that was fine. I had - there were people who could stop any of that from interfering with my job."
That was how they'd phrase it to him, at least, whenever Patia and Loquatius conspired in his defence.
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"For whatever it's worth, I'm well aware that you're smarter than I am." No hesitation, and no self-consciousness either.
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For the first time, he can't keep his voice calm and steady; some of that dread and desperation breaks through, for a moment.
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"What are you afraid of, right now?"
It's not a test. But, Jedao supposes, it also could be.
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The Barge demands rather more from him, and that's fair; it's a better place, overall.
Zerxus closes his eyes and focuses on the crackling of the fire, on the whispers still haunting his dreams. "I'm afraid of the future I know I just got a taste of. I'm afraid of failing the people I've sworn to protect, all over again, because I'm not strong enough to handle it."
It's inevitable, that he'll be a weapon aimed at whatever is left of Exandria. The Barge, at least, was supposed to be safe.
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"It's alright," Jedao murmurs. "I forgive you."
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Right now, he's squeezing Jedao's hands like lifelines and blinking hard, over and over, because you don't just - you don't force a man to kill you and then sob into his arms about it.
You don't reject his forgiveness, either. "Thank you."
There's no tremble in his voice. You learn to speak clearly through all sort of pain, when people need to hear you.
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