[It's hard, to reach for the ideas he wants. Even if he weren't still a little hollow, it's not something his society ever gave him words for.
Thoughtcrime isn't real is the existentialist conviction curled in his ventricles. But he's from a world where thoughtcrime is, in fact, extremely real.]
I did what I did. You didn't do anything but tell the truth.
No-- [It's a protest, or the start of one, but he cuts himself off.] I would like to. Face to face, if you're okay with that? Hakkai can be there, anyone you want.
[The more eyes the better, echo the Shuos words. But better for who?
If Neal wants to tear into him - no, he doesn't really believe that, he half realizes, half reminds himself. But if he hurts Jedao by accident, Jedao doesn't want Hakkai getting mad about it. Neal has every right to his reaction, whatever it is. And having to gauge all his words for two sets of different emotional reactions sounds - impossibly exhausting, right now.]
Just us is fine. Unless there's someone you want to be there?
I can do that. [There's relief in his tone, and possibly a little bit of hope. It's a chance to make a gesture of conciliation.]
----
When Jedao comes to the Enclosure, he'll step out onto the balcony overlooking the pool behind the former Palazzo Sasso, now the Palazzo Avino, on the Amalfi Coast. Neal himself is down below with his back to the pool, hands on the railing, breathing in the smell of the sea.
Jedao arrives looking - okay? He's brushed the worst of the bedhead, although there's a quality of lumpiness that comes from wearing two sweaters, one on top of the other. No bags under his eyes. More than anything, he just looks...subdued. But he does love seas; he takes a deep breath when he arrives, eyes closed, tasting the salt on the air, then slowly breathes out.
"You're welcome." Neal is sincere and equally subdued, tired in his own way, but he's slept, at least. He's... centered, at least. "I lived here, for a while, when I was younger. I always wanted to go back."
Despite the warmth, he does not take off any of the sweaters, but he finds a chair. A little ways away from the staircase, so it doesn't look like he's lingering by the door ready to sprint away, but like - not that far.
"Most planets don't get tides, you know. Moons that big are rare. It's one of the things that's really special about Earth."
He can feel the pull of it, in his moth sense; it feels like a gentle hum like a dance in the next room to quiet, steady music.
"I didn't know that." He'd like to learn, though. God, whole other worlds--
One thing at a time.
A deep breath, and Neal turns to lean his back against the railing and look at Jedao properly. Not in the face, maybe, not if eye contact makes Jedao any kind of uncomfortable that Neal can catch, but at least toward him.
"You were right. About me needing to leave. I was-- When you said it, I heard--"
He takes in a slow, deep breath. "There's a lot I need to figure out. And..."
And what? God, he feels like a failure all at once. Like he's giving up, proving everyone who looks at him as fractured or fragile right. Neal rubs his face.
"I'm sorry," he finally says, softly. "Even if you think I was only telling you the truth, the truth doesn't have to be told as a weapon."
"I didn't mean it to be a weapon," Jedao says quietly.
"I just think you deserve a fucking break. Not because you're - just. Literally everyone needs to rest sometimes. It's part of being a person."
He swallows. He wonders if Neal will hate him for noticing things again, but ultimately doesn't have the mental energy to dance around it.
"And whoever made you feel like needing one makes you a failure was a shit commander and I'd like to make him wear cold wet socks for the rest of his natural life."
Neal breathes out a laugh at his feet, tired and borderline sheepish. "I know. I know you didn't. I did, though. And that, I'm sorry for."
As for that last part though--god, that hurts, it hurts so badly, and it's not because Jedao is wrong. Neal closes his eyes, trying to hold back the burn starting and partially succeeding. They'll just look very damp when he opens them again, gaze now fixed near Jedao's feet.
"He's-- Well, it's not just him. It was never just him. But he's a good commander. He's an excellent commander. His people would probably very literally die for him. I just... didn't realize until fairly recently that I actually wasn't one of his people."
It's a vast oversimplification, but Neal doesn't have the energy or the security to get into the mess that is his relationship with Peter Burke.
Trust an Andan to confuse winning people over with wielding them well. Maybe if they were taught to rest appropriately they'd be called upon to die less Jedao thinks waspishly, but clearly it's not something to tear into right now.
"Okay. Well - I forgive you, then. We were both in a really bad place. I'm sorry I miscalculated with Eiffel, and I'm sorry I - let my self-destructiveness hurt you, too."
He wouldn't have obeyed if part of him hadn't just been waiting for the excuse.
The irony is, Peter is a good commander. He just tried to be commander and father to Neal at the same time, which went about as well as could reasonably be expected.
Neal smiles, though the expression is... tired and sad and careworn.
"I wish we hadn't really met the way we did. I think we'd get along in different circumstances. I think we could still. You're... ferociously intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor, and I want to know how you broke into Malcolm's room when I designed the lock to replace the first one after he got his medications stolen. ...I mean, yeah, I could have broken in still, but I designed it."
There's a sting of irony in that last part. He quiets again. "I am sorry. I was so... I am still lost."
An admission that no one else has gotten, one that feels strange to offer now. But he trusts Jedao not to share it for some reason.
"I'm not who I was when I got here. I don't know who I'm supposed to be now. I need to go figure it out."
"Well, I cheated a bit," Jedao admits after a few moments. It makes a little rill of fear skitter up his ribs, but Neal has already seen his blood, so there's no point in pretending to be human. And it's something Jedao can give him, right now.
"That's one of the big security holes in the cabin system, that doors don't count as inside themselves for the cabin thresholds. You can kick in a door with super strength, or. If you're...telekinetic." Not a word native to his own situation, but Eiffel has called him an Exman enough for him to pick up the lingo. "You can just nudge the lock mechanism from the inside."
So. That's how.
"After - after the worst shit of my life. I was a political prisoner for two years. Gentle house arrest with lots of side interrogation, sort of thing. I was more restricted than here, but - all of the violence and chaos, there wasn't any of that. I knew what each day was going to be like, and...I could just breathe, for a while. I didn't have to make any giant decisions or deal with constant crisis or look after someone and put their issues before mine. I could just water my little onion plant and go to art therapy and play stupid video games and grade papers and then go to sleep. And when I started to scheme about maybe escaping, there was no deadline, no pressure. I could just figure things out at my own pace. It was maybe the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me."
Shuos-zho would hate being called kind out loud, but he doesn't have to know.
"I would have been a complete fucking mess of a warden if I hadn't got that time, which I know because one of those age floods took it away from me for awhile." And he'd been fucking deranged about almost everyone he met, way worse than Neal is.
"I want...that kind of time for you, to figure out who you want to be. The space to breathe instead of always getting hit with the next thing. I don't really believe in deserving as a good metric, most of the time. But I think you deserve that."
Ah. An interesting exploit, and one he's going to try and find a way around as soon as he possibly can. Maybe something as simple as wedge of some kind while inside, though that leaves things vulnerable when a person isn't home--
Right, focus.
It is... profoundly disorienting to hear that Jedao thinks he deserves anything. He's more than a little taken aback. He's also startled to realize somewhere during the description of how Jedao spent his days under house arrest, Neal started getting tense, like he was bracing himself for the scolding or condescension he was sure he'd have to ride his way through if he wanted to finish this conversation without a fight.
He clears his throat softly and looks away. "My life has been... the next thing and the next thing and the next thing for a long time. I don't know if it's ever been anything else, honestly. I don't know why it's so... different here."
"There's safety nets here. There's your warden who's hopefully got your back, and the death toll, and so on. It's not always gentle, but - the stakes go down a little, in some ways. But there's also....there's so much time in between the crises, and only so much work to fill it up with. If I hadn't learned how to sit with my own thoughts before I got here, I'd have cracked like an egg, I think. And graduating means you have to take some walls down, right? You stopped running flat out long enough to say hey, that was all fucked up, I didn't deserve that - and that makes it harder to shove everything back down and do it to yourself."
Jedao swallows, then shrugs.
"Maybe it's none of that, I'm just speculating. But even if you could force yourself to keep marching, like you had to before - you deserve rest anyway."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Me too.
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[It's hard, to reach for the ideas he wants. Even if he weren't still a little hollow, it's not something his society ever gave him words for.
Thoughtcrime isn't real is the existentialist conviction curled in his ventricles. But he's from a world where thoughtcrime is, in fact, extremely real.]
I did what I did. You didn't do anything but tell the truth.
But if you want to talk about it, we can.
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no subject
If Neal wants to tear into him - no, he doesn't really believe that, he half realizes, half reminds himself. But if he hurts Jedao by accident, Jedao doesn't want Hakkai getting mad about it. Neal has every right to his reaction, whatever it is. And having to gauge all his words for two sets of different emotional reactions sounds - impossibly exhausting, right now.]
Just us is fine. Unless there's someone you want to be there?
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[For much the same reasons.]
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Can you...make us a place in the Enclosure? Somewhere outside, maybe?
[Neutral ground, but - he likes planetary skies.]
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----
When Jedao comes to the Enclosure, he'll step out onto the balcony overlooking the pool behind the former Palazzo Sasso, now the Palazzo Avino, on the Amalfi Coast. Neal himself is down below with his back to the pool, hands on the railing, breathing in the smell of the sea.
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"Hi. Uh, thanks. For this."
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"Most planets don't get tides, you know. Moons that big are rare. It's one of the things that's really special about Earth."
He can feel the pull of it, in his moth sense; it feels like a gentle hum like a dance in the next room to quiet, steady music.
no subject
One thing at a time.
A deep breath, and Neal turns to lean his back against the railing and look at Jedao properly. Not in the face, maybe, not if eye contact makes Jedao any kind of uncomfortable that Neal can catch, but at least toward him.
"You were right. About me needing to leave. I was-- When you said it, I heard--"
He takes in a slow, deep breath. "There's a lot I need to figure out. And..."
And what? God, he feels like a failure all at once. Like he's giving up, proving everyone who looks at him as fractured or fragile right. Neal rubs his face.
"I'm sorry," he finally says, softly. "Even if you think I was only telling you the truth, the truth doesn't have to be told as a weapon."
no subject
"I just think you deserve a fucking break. Not because you're - just. Literally everyone needs to rest sometimes. It's part of being a person."
He swallows. He wonders if Neal will hate him for noticing things again, but ultimately doesn't have the mental energy to dance around it.
"And whoever made you feel like needing one makes you a failure was a shit commander and I'd like to make him wear cold wet socks for the rest of his natural life."
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As for that last part though--god, that hurts, it hurts so badly, and it's not because Jedao is wrong. Neal closes his eyes, trying to hold back the burn starting and partially succeeding. They'll just look very damp when he opens them again, gaze now fixed near Jedao's feet.
"He's-- Well, it's not just him. It was never just him. But he's a good commander. He's an excellent commander. His people would probably very literally die for him. I just... didn't realize until fairly recently that I actually wasn't one of his people."
It's a vast oversimplification, but Neal doesn't have the energy or the security to get into the mess that is his relationship with Peter Burke.
no subject
"Okay. Well - I forgive you, then. We were both in a really bad place. I'm sorry I miscalculated with Eiffel, and I'm sorry I - let my self-destructiveness hurt you, too."
He wouldn't have obeyed if part of him hadn't just been waiting for the excuse.
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Neal smiles, though the expression is... tired and sad and careworn.
"I wish we hadn't really met the way we did. I think we'd get along in different circumstances. I think we could still. You're... ferociously intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor, and I want to know how you broke into Malcolm's room when I designed the lock to replace the first one after he got his medications stolen. ...I mean, yeah, I could have broken in still, but I designed it."
There's a sting of irony in that last part. He quiets again. "I am sorry. I was so... I am still lost."
An admission that no one else has gotten, one that feels strange to offer now. But he trusts Jedao not to share it for some reason.
"I'm not who I was when I got here. I don't know who I'm supposed to be now. I need to go figure it out."
no subject
"That's one of the big security holes in the cabin system, that doors don't count as inside themselves for the cabin thresholds. You can kick in a door with super strength, or. If you're...telekinetic." Not a word native to his own situation, but Eiffel has called him an Exman enough for him to pick up the lingo. "You can just nudge the lock mechanism from the inside."
So. That's how.
"After - after the worst shit of my life. I was a political prisoner for two years. Gentle house arrest with lots of side interrogation, sort of thing. I was more restricted than here, but - all of the violence and chaos, there wasn't any of that. I knew what each day was going to be like, and...I could just breathe, for a while. I didn't have to make any giant decisions or deal with constant crisis or look after someone and put their issues before mine. I could just water my little onion plant and go to art therapy and play stupid video games and grade papers and then go to sleep. And when I started to scheme about maybe escaping, there was no deadline, no pressure. I could just figure things out at my own pace. It was maybe the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me."
Shuos-zho would hate being called kind out loud, but he doesn't have to know.
"I would have been a complete fucking mess of a warden if I hadn't got that time, which I know because one of those age floods took it away from me for awhile." And he'd been fucking deranged about almost everyone he met, way worse than Neal is.
"I want...that kind of time for you, to figure out who you want to be. The space to breathe instead of always getting hit with the next thing. I don't really believe in deserving as a good metric, most of the time. But I think you deserve that."
no subject
Right, focus.
It is... profoundly disorienting to hear that Jedao thinks he deserves anything. He's more than a little taken aback. He's also startled to realize somewhere during the description of how Jedao spent his days under house arrest, Neal started getting tense, like he was bracing himself for the scolding or condescension he was sure he'd have to ride his way through if he wanted to finish this conversation without a fight.
He clears his throat softly and looks away. "My life has been... the next thing and the next thing and the next thing for a long time. I don't know if it's ever been anything else, honestly. I don't know why it's so... different here."
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Jedao swallows, then shrugs.
"Maybe it's none of that, I'm just speculating. But even if you could force yourself to keep marching, like you had to before - you deserve rest anyway."