zauneyete | KENOS IC CONTACT

KENOS IC CONTACT

SILCO

CONTACT

WRITTEN ◦ ACTION ◦ COMMUNION

[ Communion with Silco is like being doused in cold, polluted water. It feels like taking a breath is difficult, like there's fingers around your throat, pain all over. The water is too-slick like it's almost more pollutants than water, and the water crashes against you, inescapable, even if you were to somehow find the ability to breathe, there is still no escape from the sickening undertow. Somewhere, perhaps deeper in the water, or something else, is a simmering, vile hatred, resentment, and it feels like it should be hot enough to make the water around you boil, even if it's almost too-placid, and too cold. Like all of this hatred is buried deep. Then again, the fact that it feels so close means it must burn so hot. ]

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It seems fitting, does it not?

[ Implied, of course, is not just Silco's... everything, but the added weight of that name, the knowledge that they shared from experiencing and seeing things, context that is lost to most. Experience and observation that make things apparent.

He wonders, of course, if there is something to that. They all know that there is something else, a weight that now hangs over their heads, given what happened to Yima, and how. ]

I have fought fights like this before, time and time again. Since I was a boy I have been at war with those who would consider themselves my betters. I understand what kindness gets, what it does. I have seen it, and detest it for what it does to people.

[ There is a wealth of context here that Silco does not offer in communion, but is easy to pick out. That was Vander's way, to be kind, and understanding. What it led to was stagnancy in squalor. Fitting, he considers, that it is Amos whom chooses this path, when from the very first moment they had met, Silco had thought of him and his old friend/betrayer as the same. ]

It would be inauthentic, and unbelievable, for me to change paths now, wouldn't it? They know whom I am, even if they do not understand me, or my motivations.

From you, they expect understanding. It would be... entirely in line with what they know of you.

As long as we do not lose sight of the end, and become enraptured with complacency, it will see us through.

[ There's the impression of Amos' expression twisting a little, part wry, part annoyed as Silco elaborates on his positions, again. Dredges up his childhood, which is a less frequent occurrence, and makes Amos think: I could have known you, back then. They could have grown up together, and not a whole lot would be different from the way it is now.

Except they might not be able to get along at all, considering how Amos had liked Vander. Considering how for all of their similar circumstances, they've managed to take vastly different paths — and the thing that bothers him the most is he's far more likely to go down Silco's than Silco ever is his.

He's right. Nobody would buy a change of heart from him. Amos might hope for one, vastly down the line, but as far as this war is concerned? He knows it's not going to happen. ]

Yeah. Alright, I'll keep the blows soft. Might need you to cool it sometimes, but I'll keep people going.

[ A deep breath, because turns out, maybe Silco has somewhat bothered him. ]

Kindness can keep people alive, though. [ Amos doubts he would have lived past childhood without it, but also: ] Yima came to get you, didn't she?

[ A kindness. ]

Look, if this ends up with us having to kill everyone on the other side, then we will. But after? You might have to reevaluate.

[ And who knows how likely that'll be, considering who he's talking to, but.

He would like that. ]

[ Silco does not believe it is kindness.

He couldn't. No, it was advantage, and it's still a puzzle to him, that Yima thought him more valuable than Sebastian and all of his power. Amos didn't know how... much it had cost them yet, and he was not about to share it, either, that Yima had chosen him over the demon. He still remembered it, the feeling of his soul being tugged free, as if it were something tangible within him, and how... that tug had felt both like silencing everything he was, and more painful than the night he'd lost everything. It had been his own foolishness, that he had agreed to that, and had found the noose around his neck.

It was Yima's benevolence that had helped him slip it.

It garnered respect, but not adulation. Understanding, but not love. Yima was not kind, she was simply... mercenary. Silco understood that. He knew it better than probably most. And it is that knowledge, and the knowledge that they are the same, that causes him to share: ]

Kindness is a tool. One that only the right hands can wield. Yima understands that better than anyone.

After all, she was the one who asked me to make sure we had monsters on our side, you know. She understood what I do, that there is a time and place for power and muscle and a time and place for kindness and cajoling.

As long as those we utilize our strengths with believe, of course. Less than that, and they become a hindrance.

We would do best to keep that in mind.

[ He can't tamp down the frustration building up within him. Amos knows he's broken beyond repair; has known this for most of his life, only to maybe have found the fix for him. It should have been impossible, but because of who Yima is, it's reality. Gradual, but reality.

And Silco is apparently more broken than he ever was, which is difficult to fathom, that there's absolutely no breaking through. Amos will point out objective fact — that Yima came for him — and Silco will brush it aside with talk of tools and timeliness, reducing that precious love down to a sociopathic practicality.

Fuck's sake, he wants to growl out, and leaves the impression of it to his mind instead. There's no reasoning here. There's no argument to be won, because you can't argue with a brick wall. There's just... ]

Don't insult me. [ Amos responds with teeth, jaws snapping; Silco would do well to remember he isn't the only monster here. And apparently Amos can get offended, after all. ] You look into what my name means and tell me what I'm getting out of it other than kindness. Yima can give me that, and you reduce it to a tool. A tool for fucking what.

[ He'd already announced it, an exploration into what he thinks is the right thing to do. It's baby steps, he knows. He's still figuring it out. But he's committed to it — and has not forgotten that it was Silco's idea that resulted in the vast majority of the deaths in Springstar. Amos takes responsibility for it, because he has to, but it hadn't come from him. ]

We're utilizing our strengths. We only got so much time to perfect them, but we will. But maybe you would do best to keep in mind that there are ways that aren't yours, and you're going to have to accept them, or you're not going to like what comes after.

[ He wants his perfect world in the life after. Wants to be there with Yima, with everyone else who will come. Wants peace, and kindness, and for men like him and Silco to have no place, shaped into something new and better.

And for as much as Amos can vow to protect Silco as though he's his own, there's the other side of that: he can vow to put him in time out until he grows the fuck up and stops threatening what he (and by extension Yima, he assumes) wants. They both understand violence, so surely he can understand this, too. ]

[ Silco wants to fight, and rage, because it is all he knows. Silco has had to fight for everything from the right to breathe to the food he consumed; and then for even simple human companionship, only to find that he didn't fight hard enough — or truthfully: because he didn't know how to not right — and so he fought for revenge, and family, a place, and for freedom that he would never see because they had stolen the only thing he'd ever cared about.

Silco doesn't voice it, that need to fight, because Amos is devoted, not less than he is, but in a way that prioritizes heart over mind, and he understands that it is the reason for his name. He may not recognize it, and hell, he may see it as something else, but Silco can see it. The choice for what it is. Something that makes Amos feel loved, and oh, he was certain there was... something from Yima, but if Amos were to be inconvenient slightly more?

Would she have done the same?

If Silco were to question anything, doubt it, or become more inconvenient, would he have been saved? Would he have been saved if he hadn't just murdered Quetzalcoatl?

He keeps it to himself, of course. Because like always, when Silco speaks his mind, when he is honest about the realities, this is what happens. He knew it from the beginning, of course, hadn't he? What Amos was like, how similar he was to someone else that he knew. All heart, no brain. No calculation, only brawn. That was why he'd been needed after all, wasn't it? Why Amos had come to him? To make that hard choice, and therefore it doesn't have to lie on his conscience, while Silco took the fall for murdering people in Springstar's streets.

After all, he was happy to be the monster they all saw. ]

Don't worry, Amos. [ It's mock cheery, as if he is talking to one of those investigators, who often came by, to "investigate" his work. The ones that Marcus had to send down that he had to play nice with, even though everything in him wanted to drive a knife into their back. Not quite to that level with Amos, though it is close. ] I have not forgotten.

Just know that this world we are building is a committee. We will all give and take. There are certain things that I want for this world, and none of it has anything to do with me.

Just remember that sometimes thinking with your heart leads you to ignore that which is before you. It is a trap that many fall into — I did as well, and ignored the evidence once. It is a mistake I will not make again.

[ A sensation of clasped hands in communion. ] Though, I'm quite glad it is you she has tasked with this and not I. Just remember what my Name means, hm? [ Who it is ]

There are worse fates than it being I.

[ After all, Silco had not done the unthinkable. ]

[ He bristles at the mock cheer, not particularly enjoying being talked down to. There's the sensation of him pacing as Silco speaks, a large predator stuck behind the bars of communion, where all he can do is listen and observe — and all of the frustration that comes with that impotency.

Words are not his domain, after all. Raw physicality is, but maybe one day feelings, too. Heart. Because Amos has had to fight since childhood, a constant battle for survival — but in him, he knows he wants better.

And Silco does not, and it's going to drive him mad. ]

I like the other one more. [ It's petty, but after how his recent talks have gone? It's true, despite what had occurred. ] I hear your shit about committees. It'll happen. But at the same time? I am not letting you fuck this up.

[ Their new world is going to be good. Amos will see to that, will fight and scrap and claw until it's established as such. Silco warns him against thinking with his heart, and it goes in one ear and out the other — because there's so little that Amos actually wants, but he wants this, and will get himself fucked up in the pursuit to achieve it and never notice.

He trusts Silco to help see Zenith's victory through. But once they're there, and the next step comes? Where they have to build? That's when it's most likely to get especially ugly between them, and Amos is preparing for what feels like the eventuality of it. ]

But if you want to talk about not making the same mistake twice — don't mock me again.

[ Because he wants it. Wants his Name. Wants his new world. And if Silco is going to pose a threat to that like he suspects he will, he'll be ready. ]

[ He says he will not let him fuck this world up, and there's a flicker of anger, a roiling rage, something that is so fervent, it hits that wall of static again, a gap in his memory that often comes up when he thinks of a night where he'd — — where the person who would have said something similar was gone fully. Amos continues to hammer it in, how similar he is. And there's almost a moment where he wants to mock him. For his Name, for the Connection, because it is laughable when there is so much hate in his heart, and the expectation of betrayal runs deep.

His Name is Apt, as he will realize later when information is shared with him, but there's a moment where there is an implied stare, both eyes unblinking, mismatched. ]

I have already given up more than you could imagine to be here, do not think that my sacrifices will be in vain.

[ His humanity was gone, his actual life, and his hand, and everything else would be with it, and he knew that. He would cut himself into pieces for this world to be perfect, and it would not be perfect for Amos Burton. He intended to ensure that it would be perfect for one person, and one person only. He didn't even care if he didn't see it. He never had. It was too much to hope for, to be given such a gift. If he even got to hold his daughter once more? That would be enough.

There is a flicker of that conviction, something amorphous but strong, a devotion to something that was not here but it was truly powerful enough that even Silco couldn't hide it. It could almost be seen as — love? Twisted, and careful, and oh-so powerful but as quick as it surfaces, it's gone.

Just a flicker, before he drags it back down into the hidden depths of the dark, cold waters in his communion. He did not dare let too much out, but if Amos doubted him — then perhaps he would be reminded of this. ]

Just remember, Amos, that you are not the only of conviction, and not the only one that deserves this world. I am not building this for me.

[ Amos stares back, Silco's anger egging his on. There's teeth, the inaudible rumble of a growl. Someone threatens you and you don't talk, you kill.

Silco, of all people, should be able to understand that.

But for that flicker. There and gone, but something strong enough to make an impression, however brief. It stops Amos in his tracks, gaze darting away as if he's looking for its source, rumble stilling. He hardly knows what love is — certainly not enough to put its name to something so brief — but it still felt like something positive. Or if not positive, then at least... something to strive for. Like Silco isn't a total lost cause, as Amos had been on the verge of writing him off as one.

He almost doesn't hear what Silco says next, too busy focusing on that flicker. What it meant.

I am not building this for me, and. ]

Okay. [ Not a surrender, but a concession, instant and without fuss. It isn't all about Silco, and Amos can live with that. That should mean that he isn't in danger of losing his shit, tearing down everything they're working for. So that he isn't working on burning it all to the ground because he's a petty, spiteful man — but he's working for someone else.

Shockingly, that works just fine for an Exalt. ] Okay. Then we'll still build it together. With... with whoever else joins us, when we make it to the end. We'll all work on it together. Build it for everyone else.

[ It's exactly what Yima wants them to do, too. He's sure of it. So... okay. They'll do it. Amos will lower his hackles, and they'll get there. ]

[ There's a curious moment, a pause, where Silco's hackles rise, in reaction to the growling, simmering anger he feels from Amos, as if there is an escalation that will happen — because that is what will happen. There is no doubt in Silco's mind about that, even as —

Amos pauses, and Silco can feel it, the way he immediately backs down.

(Perhaps, having emotions is good?

No, it is the Exalts who are wrong.)

Though, as he softens, or perhaps concedes, and understands that Silco is not making this world to be burned down — it was never that, but he intended for it to be a place for those who sought, and hungered, to find places to succeed. To become more powerful. To give and take, but there is a philosophy there that is as much a part of Silco as anything else. ]

We will achieve it. Just as soon as we rip the remaining oracles from Meridian hands — and the rest of them, as well.

Right. [ No longer seeing a need to assert himself, the agreement comes easily. There's the impression of a nod, crisp and final. ] Good.

[ Whatever Silco's true intentions are... Well, he might have to have words with him then. But in the now there's no need; in the now they've reached an understanding. Something they may need to do time and time again, because it's what Yima will want from them, and—

Well, they got over this particular bump in the road smoothly enough. They can do it again. And again...

It'll be fine. ]

We'll lead the way, then. We'll be the last ones standing.

[ And, because they both know the next one will be coming soon — the next stage of their fight, the beginning of tipping the scales back in their favour, permanently — there's the impression of Amos meeting Silco's gaze once again, unflinching and with something that could almost be considered affection, if it could come naturally to him.

Maybe one day. Under Yima's guidance. ]

See you on the other side, brother.

[ Silco doesn't feel the same amount of assurance that Amos does. He acknowledges it as dropped, but... well. The man understood, wholeheartedly, that there would be a point at which Amos would find him too difficult to deal with. Too inconvenient. Just like every other time, it would happen. He was prepared for it, and that would, of course, be the path that led to his downfall time, and time, and time again. He couldn't trust it, even now. Amos would do it for Yima, but he expected that at some point... in some form...

Well. Yima would find a replacement, right? He would shore up his defenses and he would gird himself from the aftermath as best he could.

After all, he knew what ostracization was, and he expected it, given his name. Perhaps, more than most, he'd learned enough to know precisely what was expected of him. Good thing he thought he was on the right path.

He doesn't voice it, and keeps his communion leak tight, to not let anything through. Amos was volatile, and easy to set off, if he did not say the right words, do the right things, speak exactly as he wanted. He had to remember that. His fervency was of a different source, and that meant he would always have to be particularly cautious.

Despite the tone of address, the familiarity. When was the last time he had called someone that?

Ah yes. Sometime before the — static — ]

Yes. We will persevere. See you at the end of our next trial.

[ The word, perhaps, is a touch more loaded for Silco than it is Amos. ]

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