[Being in Kaisou is… mostly new to Phainon, these days. Beyond his forced cryosleep for the past four years in Meropide, he barely knows the city at all. While the Black Order had moved his team from place to place, he’d never truly settled somewhere long enough to really get to know it as well as he’d like.
So, naturally, extrovert that he is, exploration becomes his main goal now in Kaisou. As it stands, Phainon visits the buildings that catch his interest first- the Crystal Tower, Blue Fish Park, Kaisou’s mall- all of which he finds something to love and easily enjoy.
Today’s agenda is no different- he’s in the library and trying to find books on both history and potentially appraisal. There’s plenty he has to catch up on over the past four years, and simply coasting by isn’t enough. Sitting at one of the tables in the main room at least allows him to spread his work. One hand is in a book about Athenian Greek pottery, the other in a history textbook over recent historical events in the past decade. Split between these two is a notebook with scrawled ramblings that seem to be turning more and more into illegible chicken scratch as Phainon’s eyes keep crossing in trying to read what he can. He looks like an exhausted college student who’s caught between studying for two tests, even if that’s not even close to the truth.
After another moment, he pulls back, both hands withdrawing and scrubbing his face instead.]
If I read anything else about digital currency or "metaphorical gazes" I think my brain is going to explode.
[A very clear whine, but he doesn’t raise his voice too much. It is the library, after all, and the last thing he needs is to be scolded for speaking loudly.]
[ Mydei's arrival had been... chaotic. moving in itself had always been something he wasn't entirely looking for too, a part him hesitant to leave his mother behind in Sparta while he established a new life elsewhere. but it had been her insistence that he go, that he meet his half-brother, that he see more than the same walls and faces he had spent the last twenty two years with. he hadn't the strength to deny her, even without the distant voice in his mind the urged him to go, because Gorgo will always get what she wants in the end.
but then there was meeting his half-brother and all that entailed, thinking on it now made his head throb and his chest constrict. better not to think on it for loo long, else his sleeping companion decides to wake and urge Mydei to suplex him again. all of it is too new, too fragile, and as such must be handled with the utmost care. which is, in part, exactly why he finds himself drawn to the library─ the perfect place to convalesce and consider what his next moves will be.
if only his thirst for knowledge did not so quickly distract him from his original goal.
he had been thumbing through a book when the voice hits his ears, sharp and familiar, making him lose his place in the epic. ordinarily Mydei would have grumbled to himself and moved elsewhere, continuing his reading a quieter corner of the library but today? something about the voice grates him, forcing his feet to stride right over to the man's table. one hand bracing against the surface as Mydei bodily leans down to hiss in the man's ear. ]
[It's a small mercy that Phainon isn't incredibly prone to immediately jumping at the hiss, or even worse, elbowing the stranger in the gut. He does, however, stiffen like someone who's been caught doing something he shouldn't. Mydei gets a bit of a nervous chuckle, the Deliverer shaking his head and slowly turning to look at this newcomer with his apology.]
S-sorry, sorry, I'll be sure to keep it d—
[The sight of a blonde to red braid makes him freeze, voice suddenly gone, breath pulled from his lungs, as his eyes trail upwards to a face he never thought he'd see again in this lifetime.
(The smell of wheat in a summer field, ripe for harvest. The echo of gauntlet to sword, a clash of strength and skill, a match all in their own. Eyes like the holy candles in the halls of Okhema that would never go out, providing warmth and a sense of home to those who came and went. A smirk that would call him a thousand names and yet only say one word that encompassed all of them. A voice like thunder yet so easily capable of speaking with the quietest of words, if those were even needed at all. A longing, a desire that is soul-crushing, bone-deep in everything that defines Phainon, creates him, enables and devours him whole. His heart, his soul, his very self, standing side by side and yet having never seen each other until now...
Phainon knows this one, perhaps better than he even knows himself, some days. How else would he recognize his other half?)]
Mydei??
[His is the last face Phainon thought he'd ever see again. Hoped to, of course. Prayed for, more than anything else. But to actually see him here and now...]
[ he had retreated to this library to spare himself from a headache, to stop and breathe and think some thing through, yet not even an hour in and he finds himself standing face to face to his headache incarnate. the noisy man looks at him properly and Mydei feels his heart leap up into his throat, irritation overcome by a chaotic mix of recognition and fear.
his name from those lips, called in the heat of battle, in the midst of competition, in casual and friendly conversation. those eyes, strikingly blue, bearing the symbol he struggles place but knows it bears heavy mantle of hope. he knows this man. he knows this man. Mydei's mouth falls open with aborted words, only to clamp shut mere second later. his head pounds, chest aches, questions heavy and thick on his tongue that he struggles to even swallow.
why does he know this man? why does this man know him? ]
Who are you? [ do not forget your oath. ] Why do you know my name?
[He sees that— the moment of recognition, or maybe he thinks he does. Phainon would like to think he knows and understands the other man in more ways than he can think of, but... well, this is a new life. Things may have changed, like they have for Phainon. Who's to say every part of Mydei has stayed the same?
As for the questions... Who are you, Mydei asks, and for the briefest second Phainon's heart shatters into a thousand pieces— but only that, because this isn't the first time he remembers Mydei not knowing him. Knowing Khaslana.
So, he doesn't remember. That's... that's not fine, it hurts, but it's also something Phainon can work through on his own time. He'll just have to start at the beginning. Like before. Like every time the cycle was reset, and he would have to do everything all over again. It's... manageable. Doable. And hopefully, Mydei will remember, with time.
He gives him an awkward laugh, but does at least drop his voice lower. Library voice and all that.]
Oh, uh... I could've sworn you'd remember. I'm Phainon. Phainon Kamaris? [God, he's trying so hard to not just blurt out "I knew you in a past life and I loved you because you were my soulmate." HELP.] Anyway, good to see you again. Or, well- re-meet you, I guess?
[ he is hurt. the man is trying to school his expression but Mydei can recognize the subtle shifts that tells him the man before him expected something he did not get, and that hurt him. his pulse thunders ears, louder than it did when he met Gilgamesh, threatening to swallow him whole. there is no need for him to feel guilt for something he did not do and yet, and yet─ the look of hurt in those eyes is like thousands of knives piercing his chest.
he doesn't understand. ]
What is that supposed to mean? 'Could've sworn I'd remember'? I have barely been in this city for twenty four hours, how am I supposed to remember someone I have never met? [ the name rings familiar, painfully familiar, and for a moment he wishes he was back home. with his mother, with Phaistas, far from this library, this city, and these eyes that all but bore into his soul. ] Answer the question, Phainon. How is it that you know me?
[Some part of him, as foolish as he knows it is, hopes that Mydei will drop asking how he knows him and instead move onto something else. Like what Phainon is reading, or maybe Mydei would just walk away, it’s certainly still an option, right—?
…He does not, and Phainon sighs, the barest hint of frustration in the exhale. He really, really does not want to make this worse for either of them, or potentially force Mydei to have a sudden memory— but he refuses to lie to him when he knows, knows Mydei can read him like a book, even like this. So he won’t.]
I really doubt my answer is going to make any sense to you. [But he won’t keep it from him. Phainon shifts in his chair to fully look at Mydei at this, blue eyes unwavering even as the golden ones that look back feel like they could break him apart where he is.]
How familiar are you with the idea of past lives, Mydei?
[ he cannot even if he wanted too. the oath he took, the price he paid, burns in his veins like molten gold, reminding him he has long since forsook his ability to walk away. even then he wants to know why this man looks upon him with such familiarity, why he feels this pull in his chest─ it is not Enkidu's chains that bind Mydei to place, but his own.
he takes a step back, arms crossing across the dark shirt that hugs his chest barely hiding the brilliant red tattoos the decorate his skin, eyes narrowed in barely veiled suspicion. ]
I am familiar enough, whether I put stock in such nonsense is another thing entirely. [ a part of him wants it to be nonsense, wants the stories his mother used to tell him of lives unlived were nothing more than just stories. tales to inspire a curious youth who spent far too much time reading about the heroes of old. ] Are you to imply that we knew each other in a past life?
[Even the way Mydei looks at him brings both a sense of joy and a strike of agony in the same measure. Mydei is here in this life, alive, no longer tied to the notion of Strife or of the burdens of being a crown prince— but he does not remember Phainon. Mydei has no recollection of Castrum Kremnos, of the agony of losing his home, of the madness in the ravages of Nikador— but he does not remember Okhema, her people, the friends he and Phainon would fight to protect, and also die for. Over, and over, and over, and over-
(The stab is clean, decisive. Completely through his entire chest, sword impossibly long and yet again claiming golden ichor as it trails down the blade. Phainon is weightless in the air as he’s held there by this weapon, impaled by this monster who has been determined to stop the Flame Chase no matter the cost. Has killed his friends right in front of him, let the supposed savior of Amphoreus watch them die and be unable to save them. Weakly, a hand reaches downwards to the handle of the sword, his blood coming down faster to reach his fingers… and set the thing alight in a sudden blaze.
The Flame Chase is dead. The end of Amphoreus nears. But that never was the point, was it?
A lone number flashes in his mind while vessel and origin recombine. Phainon can’t understand what exactly this means, only knows that he tears himself apart from the inside out like a creature pulling itself out of its cage, its own skin, clamoring to the surface. He is molded beyond what he knows as the man named "Phainon," turned into the result of millions of eons of rage and hate against those who would doom his home, his people, and the entire cosmos. In this, he is now forged into something new.
No, not something new. Something that once was, and is now whole once again.
Golden eyes flicker open, the equivalent of a sun burning alive in his chest. He knows what he has to do.
33,550,335.)
Phainon jolts suddenly, surprise across his gestures, one hand coming to scrub his face in apparent disbelief. A memory? Even now? As it is, he barely registers Mydei’s question, only blinking for a long moment before squinting his eyes shut and shaking his head like some sort of dog getting himself dry.]
Yeah. That— basically, yes. We knew each other in our past lives.
[A life in Amphoreus, one that Phainon, as the Deliverer, would give anything to have back as each and every cycle came to its soul-crushing end. One he eventually refused to accept the supposed fate that awaited him and everyone he loved. One he would fight for until he could no longer remain as he was, but still insisted on continuing to pass the torch. And would continue into forever, if he had to.]
[ something in the way Phainon loses himself to his memories doesn't sit well with Mydei, guard lowering as the man obviously struggles with something. despite his trepidation, his suspicion, Mydei has always been the sort of person who helps those who need his help, someone who risks his life in order to ensure the health and safety of others. even now, suspicious and uncertain, he reaches out to rest a hand on the other's shoulder to shake him from whatever visions had stolen him away─ but the man breaks himself free, surprise clear on his expression.
truly, he had hoped his mother was not as intelligent and wise as she was. that her stories were mere stories rather than truths she skilfully wove anew. how much did she know? how much does she know even now?
he speaks true, mydeimos.
he squeezes Phainon's shoulder and exhales, his hand falling away to hang back at his side. ]
Come with me.
[ Mydei does not wait nor does he explain where exactly he is leading Phainon, he simply turns and walks away expecting the other man to follow. he walks out of the library, not once looking back, stopping only briefly in front a food truck in the parking lot to purchase a couple of cold drinks before moving a little further out. it only takes him a moment to locate a spot underneath a relatively large tree far from the eyeline of the general public, but once he does Mydei stops and holds the bottle of cold water out for Phainon to take. ]
My mother liked to weave stories of past lives when I was young. Apparently I was an unruly child who would not go to sleep until I heard at least one. She is the only reason I cannot dismiss your claim entirely.
[ that is a lie, but this Phainon does not need to know about his companion. ]
[There's hardly any time between Phainon returning back to reality and Mydei beckoning for him to follow— but somehow, it feels like it's hours in between. The hand on his shoulder, the squeeze, the sudden shift in how Mydei tells him to come with him...
A part of Phainon is almost too terrified to go, to see what awaits him. What if it's nothing like he hopes or remembers between them?
Still, staying here is pointless, especially since the other fully expects him to follow after him. The Deliverer has nothing actually keeping him at the library, so he does simply get up and follow right after Mydei, noting the way they go, and who they interact with. For the first time in all of this, he stays quiet, observant of their surroundings rather than immediately assume anything. It's only after Mydei hands him the drink and explains his change of heart that Phainon speaks, very clearly listening.]
So your mother used to tell you stories like this? About past lives? [He finds that incredible, actually— not that he can honestly relate all that much, but it's... comforting to hear, in a way. He's actually glad Mydei has those memories (because he barely remembers anything about his own mother), they've clearly defined who he is in this life as well.]
She did, she likes to say the stories of eld are there to aid the people of today.
[ there is more too it than that. a thread hidden by her gentle smile and soft words, weaving it's way through everything she says and does, winding up and around Mydei's throat. he knows her well, loves her dearly, but he knows she holds a knife behind her back as she arranges the dominos to her liking. it is exactly how he ended up in this city in the first place.
Mydei twists the top of his own bottle off to take a drink, glancing off into the distance briefly before returning his golden gaze to Phainon. ]
Her favourite stories usually involve a lone hero who bares the weight of a world upon his shoulders. The trials and tribulations that faced him. And those who accompanied him throughout them.
A lot of old stories serve as reminders, yeah- I can see that.
[Phainon watches Mydei staring out into the distance, both hands on his own bottle, unsure of what else to do except listen. Normally that's something easy in just relaxing with Mydei by his side— but since the man essentially does not remember him like Phainon does, it feels... awkward. Like he's finished a story too early or gotten to a good part and can't say anything to anyone else for a while. It's hard.
That doesn't stop him from nearly choking on his drink a moment after he hears Mydei talk about Gorgo. Especially about her telling the other about a "weight of the world" hero and his companions. He coughs, loudly, shaking his head and clearing his throat right after.
Just how much does his mother actually know?]
Weight of the world, huh? That's awfully specific.
[As if she knew Mydei had someone he'd loved and cherished in another life, and knew exactly the struggles they both had.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; you know why I’m here
So, naturally, extrovert that he is, exploration becomes his main goal now in Kaisou. As it stands, Phainon visits the buildings that catch his interest first- the Crystal Tower, Blue Fish Park, Kaisou’s mall- all of which he finds something to love and easily enjoy.
Today’s agenda is no different- he’s in the library and trying to find books on both history and potentially appraisal. There’s plenty he has to catch up on over the past four years, and simply coasting by isn’t enough. Sitting at one of the tables in the main room at least allows him to spread his work. One hand is in a book about Athenian Greek pottery, the other in a history textbook over recent historical events in the past decade. Split between these two is a notebook with scrawled ramblings that seem to be turning more and more into illegible chicken scratch as Phainon’s eyes keep crossing in trying to read what he can. He looks like an exhausted college student who’s caught between studying for two tests, even if that’s not even close to the truth.
After another moment, he pulls back, both hands withdrawing and scrubbing his face instead.]
If I read anything else about digital currency or "metaphorical gazes" I think my brain is going to explode.
[A very clear whine, but he doesn’t raise his voice too much. It is the library, after all, and the last thing he needs is to be scolded for speaking loudly.]
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but then there was meeting his half-brother and all that entailed, thinking on it now made his head throb and his chest constrict. better not to think on it for loo long, else his sleeping companion decides to wake and urge Mydei to suplex him again. all of it is too new, too fragile, and as such must be handled with the utmost care. which is, in part, exactly why he finds himself drawn to the library─ the perfect place to convalesce and consider what his next moves will be.
if only his thirst for knowledge did not so quickly distract him from his original goal.
he had been thumbing through a book when the voice hits his ears, sharp and familiar, making him lose his place in the epic. ordinarily Mydei would have grumbled to himself and moved elsewhere, continuing his reading a quieter corner of the library but today? something about the voice grates him, forcing his feet to stride right over to the man's table. one hand bracing against the surface as Mydei bodily leans down to hiss in the man's ear. ]
You're too loud. This is a library.
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S-sorry, sorry, I'll be sure to keep it d—
[The sight of a blonde to red braid makes him freeze, voice suddenly gone, breath pulled from his lungs, as his eyes trail upwards to a face he never thought he'd see again in this lifetime.
(The smell of wheat in a summer field, ripe for harvest. The echo of gauntlet to sword, a clash of strength and skill, a match all in their own. Eyes like the holy candles in the halls of Okhema that would never go out, providing warmth and a sense of home to those who came and went. A smirk that would call him a thousand names and yet only say one word that encompassed all of them. A voice like thunder yet so easily capable of speaking with the quietest of words, if those were even needed at all. A longing, a desire that is soul-crushing, bone-deep in everything that defines Phainon, creates him, enables and devours him whole. His heart, his soul, his very self, standing side by side and yet having never seen each other until now...
Phainon knows this one, perhaps better than he even knows himself, some days. How else would he recognize his other half?)]
Mydei??
[His is the last face Phainon thought he'd ever see again. Hoped to, of course. Prayed for, more than anything else. But to actually see him here and now...]
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his name from those lips, called in the heat of battle, in the midst of competition, in casual and friendly conversation. those eyes, strikingly blue, bearing the symbol he struggles place but knows it bears heavy mantle of hope. he knows this man. he knows this man. Mydei's mouth falls open with aborted words, only to clamp shut mere second later. his head pounds, chest aches, questions heavy and thick on his tongue that he struggles to even swallow.
why does he know this man? why does this man know him? ]
Who are you? [ do not forget your oath. ] Why do you know my name?
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As for the questions... Who are you, Mydei asks, and for the briefest second Phainon's heart shatters into a thousand pieces— but only that, because this isn't the first time he remembers Mydei not knowing him. Knowing Khaslana.
So, he doesn't remember. That's... that's not fine, it hurts, but it's also something Phainon can work through on his own time. He'll just have to start at the beginning. Like before. Like every time the cycle was reset, and he would have to do everything all over again. It's... manageable. Doable. And hopefully, Mydei will remember, with time.
He gives him an awkward laugh, but does at least drop his voice lower. Library voice and all that.]
Oh, uh... I could've sworn you'd remember. I'm Phainon. Phainon Kamaris? [God, he's trying so hard to not just blurt out "I knew you in a past life and I loved you because you were my soulmate." HELP.] Anyway, good to see you again. Or, well- re-meet you, I guess?
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he doesn't understand. ]
What is that supposed to mean? 'Could've sworn I'd remember'? I have barely been in this city for twenty four hours, how am I supposed to remember someone I have never met? [ the name rings familiar, painfully familiar, and for a moment he wishes he was back home. with his mother, with Phaistas, far from this library, this city, and these eyes that all but bore into his soul. ] Answer the question, Phainon. How is it that you know me?
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…He does not, and Phainon sighs, the barest hint of frustration in the exhale. He really, really does not want to make this worse for either of them, or potentially force Mydei to have a sudden memory— but he refuses to lie to him when he knows, knows Mydei can read him like a book, even like this. So he won’t.]
I really doubt my answer is going to make any sense to you. [But he won’t keep it from him. Phainon shifts in his chair to fully look at Mydei at this, blue eyes unwavering even as the golden ones that look back feel like they could break him apart where he is.]
How familiar are you with the idea of past lives, Mydei?
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he takes a step back, arms crossing across the dark shirt that hugs his chest barely hiding the brilliant red tattoos the decorate his skin, eyes narrowed in barely veiled suspicion. ]
I am familiar enough, whether I put stock in such nonsense is another thing entirely. [ a part of him wants it to be nonsense, wants the stories his mother used to tell him of lives unlived were nothing more than just stories. tales to inspire a curious youth who spent far too much time reading about the heroes of old. ] Are you to imply that we knew each other in a past life?
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(The stab is clean, decisive. Completely through his entire chest, sword impossibly long and yet again claiming golden ichor as it trails down the blade. Phainon is weightless in the air as he’s held there by this weapon, impaled by this monster who has been determined to stop the Flame Chase no matter the cost. Has killed his friends right in front of him, let the supposed savior of Amphoreus watch them die and be unable to save them. Weakly, a hand reaches downwards to the handle of the sword, his blood coming down faster to reach his fingers… and set the thing alight in a sudden blaze.
The Flame Chase is dead. The end of Amphoreus nears. But that never was the point, was it?
A lone number flashes in his mind while vessel and origin recombine. Phainon can’t understand what exactly this means, only knows that he tears himself apart from the inside out like a creature pulling itself out of its cage, its own skin, clamoring to the surface. He is molded beyond what he knows as the man named "Phainon," turned into the result of millions of eons of rage and hate against those who would doom his home, his people, and the entire cosmos. In this, he is now forged into something new.
No, not something new. Something that once was, and is now whole once again.
Golden eyes flicker open, the equivalent of a sun burning alive in his chest. He knows what he has to do.
33,550,335.)
Phainon jolts suddenly, surprise across his gestures, one hand coming to scrub his face in apparent disbelief. A memory? Even now? As it is, he barely registers Mydei’s question, only blinking for a long moment before squinting his eyes shut and shaking his head like some sort of dog getting himself dry.]
Yeah. That— basically, yes. We knew each other in our past lives.
[A life in Amphoreus, one that Phainon, as the Deliverer, would give anything to have back as each and every cycle came to its soul-crushing end. One he eventually refused to accept the supposed fate that awaited him and everyone he loved. One he would fight for until he could no longer remain as he was, but still insisted on continuing to pass the torch. And would continue into forever, if he had to.]
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truly, he had hoped his mother was not as intelligent and wise as she was. that her stories were mere stories rather than truths she skilfully wove anew. how much did she know? how much does she know even now?
he speaks true, mydeimos.
he squeezes Phainon's shoulder and exhales, his hand falling away to hang back at his side. ]
Come with me.
[ Mydei does not wait nor does he explain where exactly he is leading Phainon, he simply turns and walks away expecting the other man to follow. he walks out of the library, not once looking back, stopping only briefly in front a food truck in the parking lot to purchase a couple of cold drinks before moving a little further out. it only takes him a moment to locate a spot underneath a relatively large tree far from the eyeline of the general public, but once he does Mydei stops and holds the bottle of cold water out for Phainon to take. ]
My mother liked to weave stories of past lives when I was young. Apparently I was an unruly child who would not go to sleep until I heard at least one. She is the only reason I cannot dismiss your claim entirely.
[ that is a lie, but this Phainon does not need to know about his companion. ]
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A part of Phainon is almost too terrified to go, to see what awaits him. What if it's nothing like he hopes or remembers between them?
Still, staying here is pointless, especially since the other fully expects him to follow after him. The Deliverer has nothing actually keeping him at the library, so he does simply get up and follow right after Mydei, noting the way they go, and who they interact with. For the first time in all of this, he stays quiet, observant of their surroundings rather than immediately assume anything. It's only after Mydei hands him the drink and explains his change of heart that Phainon speaks, very clearly listening.]
So your mother used to tell you stories like this? About past lives? [He finds that incredible, actually— not that he can honestly relate all that much, but it's... comforting to hear, in a way. He's actually glad Mydei has those memories (because he barely remembers anything about his own mother), they've clearly defined who he is in this life as well.]
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[ there is more too it than that. a thread hidden by her gentle smile and soft words, weaving it's way through everything she says and does, winding up and around Mydei's throat. he knows her well, loves her dearly, but he knows she holds a knife behind her back as she arranges the dominos to her liking. it is exactly how he ended up in this city in the first place.
Mydei twists the top of his own bottle off to take a drink, glancing off into the distance briefly before returning his golden gaze to Phainon. ]
Her favourite stories usually involve a lone hero who bares the weight of a world upon his shoulders. The trials and tribulations that faced him. And those who accompanied him throughout them.
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[Phainon watches Mydei staring out into the distance, both hands on his own bottle, unsure of what else to do except listen. Normally that's something easy in just relaxing with Mydei by his side— but since the man essentially does not remember him like Phainon does, it feels... awkward. Like he's finished a story too early or gotten to a good part and can't say anything to anyone else for a while. It's hard.
That doesn't stop him from nearly choking on his drink a moment after he hears Mydei talk about Gorgo. Especially about her telling the other about a "weight of the world" hero and his companions. He coughs, loudly, shaking his head and clearing his throat right after.
Just how much does his mother actually know?]
Weight of the world, huh? That's awfully specific.
[As if she knew Mydei had someone he'd loved and cherished in another life, and knew exactly the struggles they both had.]