[ The day everything changed Albedo had taken to his own bed earlier than the others, hiding his irreparably streaked red face under starched sheets and a sterile pillow—refusing to be consoled, unwilling to be, unable, and Rubedo and Nigredo had selfishly obliged him by leaving him to his grief. They didn't know what else to do. Albedo understands that now because he senses it in Rubedo's thoughts, that terrible powerlessness. Rubedo was Rubedo; Rubedo was the leader. It had never occurred to Albedo to think of Rubedo as a person whose strength might fail.
The betrayal had been devastating.
And as if foreshadowing the night of their descent, Albedo waited in the dark until long after curfew, a huddled mass beneath the covers, for a comforting presence that never came. ]
No.
[ Taken as a response to Jr.'s second statement, it's agreement. Taken as a response to the first, it's a transparent lie.
His head throbs under starched sheets and a sterile pillow, tight with tears, eyes burning, nose burning, hiccuping wet breaths, inconsolable, but still a small weight settles on the edge of the bed before long. Still Rubedo tries: he shushes and soothes, holds him tight enough to stop the tremors, and even if it's through a watery voice he tells Albedo there's no reason to be afraid because it all works out in the end. We'll always be together. It's gonna be okay. And Albedo nods because he can't speak and falls asleep with a mind quieted by the fact that Rubedo just knows the future, and nothing goes wrong, and everything ends up being okay.
This never happened, of course. But it's a beautiful falsehood, isn't it?
Rubedo?
Regardless of which part he's really chosen to answer, one or the other or both, Albedo's expression remains stubbornly resolute as his voice catches on something rough in his throat. ]
BARRELS IN enjoy your pain
The betrayal had been devastating.
And as if foreshadowing the night of their descent, Albedo waited in the dark until long after curfew, a huddled mass beneath the covers, for a comforting presence that never came. ]
No.
[ Taken as a response to Jr.'s second statement, it's agreement. Taken as a response to the first, it's a transparent lie.
His head throbs under starched sheets and a sterile pillow, tight with tears, eyes burning, nose burning, hiccuping wet breaths, inconsolable, but still a small weight settles on the edge of the bed before long. Still Rubedo tries: he shushes and soothes, holds him tight enough to stop the tremors, and even if it's through a watery voice he tells Albedo there's no reason to be afraid because it all works out in the end. We'll always be together. It's gonna be okay. And Albedo nods because he can't speak and falls asleep with a mind quieted by the fact that Rubedo just knows the future, and nothing goes wrong, and everything ends up being okay.
This never happened, of course. But it's a beautiful falsehood, isn't it?
Rubedo?
Regardless of which part he's really chosen to answer, one or the other or both, Albedo's expression remains stubbornly resolute as his voice catches on something rough in his throat. ]
Not at all.