ximilia | post-jump scare. Un; Aleksander

Meet me by the corner shop at 8 o'clock.

[Sure enough, Clayton arrives at 8. It doesn't matter to him that his plans for the day have to be put aside for this; he's doing this for someone who needs it, for one, and two, the facade of this small, tranquil town is being rapidly torn down in his eyes for various, deeply unpleasant reasons that he doesn't want to think about right now.]

[Needless to say, having the opportunity to do some good for his teammates is a welcome distraction.]

[Maybe his teammate is already present at their meeting place, maybe he isn't. Either way, the man who approaches looks like he hasn't slept well in at least a week, though he's able to hide a lot of that behind the conveniently scruffy wear of fuzzy fall jackets and untucked plaid button-up shirts. He also does a fantastic job of occupying himself by chatting up the corner shop cashier, if he ends up having to wait. Like everything is normal.]

[Aleksander stands under the light of a single street lamp. Unlike how he might have looked earlier, he's now dressed fully in black; black boots, looking a little worse for wear, black shirt and trousers and over it all, his black kefta.

But he waits, patiently, until Clayton looks in his direction before raising an eyebrow.]

This way.

[The road out of town unspooling before them, dark tarmac and the occasional car driving slowly in either direction.]

[Clayton might've missed him if Aleksander hadn't called in his direction - with the full black attire, he gives the convincing illusion of a shadow cast in the light of the streetlamp rather than a person. He does a double-take, glances around to see if anyone else is watching, then jogs ahead to catch up.]

Hey - hope I'm not late? [He flashes Aleksander a lopsided smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.] Don't think we've met formally. I'm Clayton.

[And he's extending a hand for a handshake, which he's...kind of getting the impression might not be met, but. No harm in trying.]

[Aleksander looks at the hand for a long, uncomfortable moment before he takes it in a firm grip.] My name is Aleksander.

[He forgot, in the dream-that-wasn't, the nightmare in the library and the endless sands of a successful mission that still ended with unending suffering.

His name, and the promise that brought him here. In the eons he spent in this dream, it all vanished, ground up in to dust until his mind had been a blank slate. Breathing only because he had to, walking because there was no other choice.

And he turns his gaze on Clayton, eternity in his eyes as he looks at him and looks through him-] You are on time.

Let's go.

[Ahead of them, the road stretches on.]

[That's a good start! Clayton's smile flashes into something more genuine for a few, happy moments, pleased at this little victory in an otherwise shitshow of a week, before his eyes open and focus again on Aleksander's.]

[There's...nothing there. Those are the dead eyes of a man that's broken and just going through the motions. Apparently, Clayton's week wasn't the worst one by a long shot. His brow crinkles with sympathy.]

Well I'm pleased I got to meet ya, Aleksander, and that we got the chance to do this together.

[Clayton ushers him on with a casual wave of the hand and starts down the road. This is likely to be a long walk, so maybe some small talk will make it go by a bit faster and help keep Aleksander's mind somewhere else?]

So what inspired this? Someone say somethin' that made you think we'd couldn't leave?

We were trapped on a mission- [And it still flashes behind his open eyes, the endless sands and the vague memories of the mission, refreshed by his own notes and the half-remembered dreams he had about it.

About the people, locked in their patterns and going through the motions of a life they didn't live. The acrid scent of gunpowder and starvation.] in a small town, much like this one.

Everything was a mirage. One last desperate wish from the sole survivor. This mission reminds me of it.

[Hmm, maybe not. The guy's clearly working through some stuff, directly related to that other mission or perhaps combined with something that's happened here. Clayton certainly knows that people--he's experienced some shit, and he kind of doesn't want to talk about it or think about it very much.]

I gotcha. Suppose that was a...rough one to carry out. [Clayton can sympathize. He's not sure exactly what happens when the orbs are taken away, but he's assuming that their effects on the local environment are removed - and that survivor would be forced to face their trauma and loss head-on. It must have been gut-wrenching.] Sorry you're reminded of it.

We do what we must to get the reward at the end.

[As toneless as the rest of his speech, eyes only briefly flicking over Clayton before settling back on the road.

Before Ximilia, before Alina, he thought he knew what eternity meant - that he would have the patience for it, unique and alone, triumphing over the parasitic Lantsovs and bringing peace to his people.

But now...]

Is this your first mission?

[The gaze that meets Aleksander in that brief moment is one of genuine concern. He can't possibly mean that, can he? Maybe the stress is just getting to him; it's obvious that something happened, and whatever it was must have gotten his spirits down. Surely that's all. Surely he can't believe that getting their wish justifies ruining the lives of strangers.]

[Right?]

[Feeling a little disturbed, Clayton welcomes the change of topic, though his slightly wary tone betrays him.]

Yeah, it is. [His hands go into his pockets to fight off the chill of autumn now that they're well away from civilization. A forest has sprung up on either side of the road and the sidewalk has ended, forcing both of them onto the shoulder.] Am I that obvious?

Not at all.

[The hard pavement gives way to the soft dirt under his boots and the sharp clicks are replaced with softer swooshes of too-long grass getting trampled beneath his feet.]

This could have been your second or perhaps third one, as well.

[It seemed to take a while, for the reality of the deal they made to sink in. The futility of it.] How far are you willing to go, Clayton, to undo your regret? We have all asked ourselves this very question, and the answer-- changes. A little more with each mission.

[The question catches him off-guard, in spite of the fact that it's not the first time he's had it asked of him before - well, kind of. He listened to Ed ask it of himself just before mission start. Clayton had been more than happy to brush it off at the time, hoping that being vague and emphasizing Ed's inherent usefulness to the mission would help him feel better about how much harder it was apparently getting for him to deal with the requests the orbs were making, but he hadn't paused for a second to consider how he'd answer the same thing of himself.]

[Getting his first personal mission had made finding that answer more pertinent. Abandon someone in need. Sure he'd been able to find what felt like a reasonable workaround, but how many more missions would he be able to do that on? What if it doesn't work? What if he can't get away with it in future?]

[Clayton's expression has gone from concerned to downright anxious at this point.]

...I dunno. I'd like to say I'd do what it takes, but... [He shakes his head, tucked into his raised shoulders.] ...Everybody's got their own limits, and...I ain't sure I'd be able to live with myself if I went past mine.

[That's what his regret is, after all: Finding that limit and going past it because he thought, at the time, he had no other choice. If he did it again, here, just to undo the first, then maybe things back home would be different, but personally? He's not sure the trade would be worth it.]

post-jump scare. Un; Aleksander

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