"Oh," Mithos says, before he can make his mouth not. He's never been one for silence, so as soon as his thoughts are most of the way in order he keeps talking: "I mean, good!" he says. "It's not like- I wouldn't have let you, anyway." It's supposed to come out haughty, but mostly it comes out flustered, because-- he is flustered. Lloyd being explicit about that is good and nice and definitely the last thing Mithos expected. Kindness from a human? Unheard of. He's kind of skeptical, kind of offended, kind of relieved even though he doesn't like being that. He keeps a tight hold on the emotion bleed even though right now he assumes Lloyd couldn't feel it anyway.
"Anyway yeah I'll make it perfectly clear if you need to stop--" Mithos says rapidly, gets caught becuase he wasn't sure how he intended to finish that, exactly. He swallows. "I think we'll be fine, Lloyd. I think this'll be fine."
Pause. Don't let the silence sink in too long.
"I'm going to talk to Kratos now," Mithos says to excuse himself from the conversation.
He doesn't quite get the chance because as soon as he's done with Lloyd, Anna pulls him aside.
"What do you want?" he snaps at her.
She smiles polite enough, but there's a clear edge in it.
"I really don't want to start a fight with you or anything," she promises. "But I want to make one thing clear: if you hurt Lloyd I will snap your neck."
Oh. Well that's more like what he'd expected from humans.
Mithos scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You'd honestly kill me?" he asks. "Yeah right."
"We both know it wouldn't be permanent for you," Anna says, her smile bright. "It just has to get Lloyd out of the resonance."
For a moment, Mithos feels fear. Then all he feels is anger. How dare she threaten him like that!? He shoves against her with all his strength-- She steps back, but does not stagger. Nor does she seem surprised or upset. Fuck her. Mithos storms off, abandoning his plans to talk to Kratos for the moment because Kratos knows him, and he'll know he's upset, and maybe Kratos should know that his wife just threatend him but!! Mithos doesn't want to open that can of worms right now because he'll just say something he's going to regret and he doesn't want to make this any worse.
Kratos finds him eventually, though. Mithos doesn't say anything when Kratos sits down next to him, but he does glance over to check... Kratos looks okay, right now, and he was holding hands with Anna earlier, so unless anything's changed...
Mithos slowly flops against Kratos' side, and Kratos laughs softly, not moving but apparently content to let Mithos use him as furniture for a moment. It's nice, really. It's only been a few weeks since Mithos saw Kratos last, but he did miss him.
"I'm sorry I couldn't drive you," Kratos says, quietly.
"It's fine," Mithos insists. "I mean, I wouldn't want to separate you and- and Anna, again."
"It wasn't your fault last time," Kratos says, and Mithos almost chokes. Guilt slides down his throat, hot and thick, wraps iron claws aroud his stomach and squeezes. "She could have told me that she was alive, but she didn't," Kratos continues, even though Mithos barely hears it. He grips at his pants, knuckles tight and white and every inch of him aching. He's so glad he's not in resonance with Kratos right now.
"Yeah, well, it would've been my fault this time," Mithos says, and then changes the subject. "How's Martel? They haven't-- Have they fired again?"
From the feel of the way Kratos shifts, he's shaking his head. "They haven't since- since we found you. Which means they only fired twice. And since Tethe'alla doesn't have the means to fire back... Perhaps they were just testing. Perhaps they won't fire again."
"You don't trust that," Mithos argues.
Kratos sighs. "I don't," he admits. "But I can hope. We..." He goes quiet for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts. Mithos does his best not to fidget, knowing that could easly take Kratos' good day and make it a bad one. "Even if I am not driving you, we can always... go. We would be faster alone. And..."
"If we're in a group it's safe to take the train," Mithos argues. He's been thinking about this. "I think that cancels out the time we'd save if it was just the two of us traveling."
"If you're sure..." Kratos argues back, gently.
There's safety in numbers. And security has probably been tightened. And unfortunately his driver is in this group. And he doesn't want to leave Zelos, exactly, and. If Martel is not being hurt, then she can wait, just a few extra days...
"If they fire the cannon again, then we'll talk about it," Mithos decides. "But-- The only way to get to her faster would be if I flew, and I'm not. I can't go alone."
Kratos squeezes Mithos' arm, gentle and reassuring. "You won't have to," he promises.
- - -
Traveling is uneventful. Mithos mostly avoids everyone else. He's not in the mood to talk, doesn't have anything to talk about, too busy juggling his worry for Martel, his dislike for his current situation, and trying not to murder Anna. She isn't even doing anything but he hates her he hates her he hates her and when he doesn't hate her it's because guilt is choking him and frankly it's miserable all around.
It gets even worse the next time they stop to rest. Warring hatred and guilt suddenly become fear fear fear fear fear. He doesn't know where it's coming from until he realizes that the emotion bleed is suddenly open again. Anger washes over the sea of fear, fear that must be Lloyd's and--
A part of him wants to go ask Lloyd what the fuck. A part of him is worried, for a moment, except it's not the kind of fear that comes from being in danger and there's no sound, no spike in the ambient ether that would signal a threat. It's just an overwhelming dread and panic and.
Mithos sits and grits his teeth and waits it out. It does end eventually, at least. Weird. Mithos wonders if it has to do with... whatever it was Lloyd did with the emotion bleed. Did Lloyd dampen his emotions, or just postpone them? And what... caused this?
Mithos remembers that when Lloyd first resonated with him, there was dread then, too. Does that mean that whatever brought on this wave of bad emotions has something to do with Mithos...? Mithos knows Lloyd's from an alternate dimension, so maybe it has something to do with that, as well. He's worrying that problem over, (wondering how terrible an alternate Mithos must be to get Lloyd to respond like this), when all of a sudden an information packet pings for his attention. He hesitates for a long moment before accepting it, turning the ether signature accompanying it over in his mind as he examines it. Of course, seeing how he's alone, the information packet could have only come from one source. But why the hell is Father contacting him now? Why did he never deem to bother before??
He's bitter, but too curious to deny the package just because he hates his father. So he opens it.
The transmitted knowledge is recieved instantaneously, though it takes Mithos a few extra seconds to process it. The concept of-- a battle. Of Lloyd standing proud and tall against a harsh ideal. Mithos catches a glimpse of his own face, twisted by madness and grief, understands with a pit in his gut that Martel has been dead thousands of years, knows that... that somehow, some way, he had to be stopped, and Lloyd was the one who...
It doesn't make any sense.
How does Father know all this? How can Mithos be sure that any of this information is accurate!?
He could ask Lloyd, sure, but how does he open the converastion without needing to explain his Father's involvement...
There's another way, though. Perhaps not the kindest way, but it will be easy, and he can be quick about it, so Lloyd will never know. All Mithos has to do is wait until Lloyd finally sleeps, (how Lloyd goes days without sleeping, Mithos has yet to figure out, though he's starting to think Lloyd isn't human at all), and then: Mithos plunges into the dreamspace, opens the port and hooks into Lloyd's consciousness.
If he wants to go unnoticed, he has to be quick. A simple memory transfer shouldn't take more than a few seconds-- images flicker through his head and then in a sea of I didn't want this I didn't want this I didn't want this Mithos loses both grip and footing, and the dreamspace shifts suddenly and all at once, green glass and the glow of technology, room illuminated by the runes on the walls as much as the flower, the seed overhead, Martel's shape, translucent like a ghost, and it is the sight of her that makes Mithos choke. He doesn't have time to take it in before something slams into his gut and throws him back, the burning taste of ether-not-ether, pain sharp and bright. He looks up and sees-- himself, laughing, deranged and without a spark of sanity in his eyes. He is glowing and terrible, wings of rainbow unfurled behind him, and his voice echoes all around:
"I don't care about that anymore! A world for me and my sister-- that's all I wanted!! Why would you take that from me!?"
The fight won't stop it won't stop there's no end to it, no end to the tears pouring down his cheeks, he didn't want it to happen like this he is sure but he also isn't sure what is happening other than that he cannot stop it, and why did they ask him to do it, anyway. It's a weird kind of vertigo, when Mithos has coherency to his name, the action of fighting himself and also his body moving like he is not used to it moving, a sword in each hand and he must be seeing this through Lloyd's eyes. The knowledge Father sent him was right, then, but he does not know what to do with that realization, does not have the time to do more than idly make it before his brain latches onto Kratos in the memory-dream, relief that Kratos is here filling him to the brim, and he watches as Kratos rushes the other Mithos--
--and suddenly he is the other Mithos and he barely gets up a sword (that isn't his sword) to block a blow from Kratos, and he hisses because his balance is all wrong and all he can hope to do is stagger out of the way and try again but he doesn't get the chance to do that before a hand closes around his arm and yanks him until his stomach connects with a knee, forcing all air out of his lungs and his head rings with the force of another blow and why is this happening, why is Kratos hurting him--
Everything
stops
The dreamspace is engulfed with a gentle cradle of ether that Mithos has not tasted in hundreds of years, and that ether rends the dreamspace free of all shape and form. Mithos is too busy reeling from everything he just saw to really acknowledge or appreciate that his Father, the Architect is here, his vision still spinning even as nothingness takes shape again, painting the picture of a patch of dirt in a field of grass, a campfire crackling pleasantly underneath a blanket of stars above. The sight is comforting if foreign, crafted with the fondness of someone else's memories.
Mithos collapses on his hands and knees, trembling and grappling at the dirt beneath his fingers for purchase as his mind navigates the tumultuous ocean of knowledge that has just been dumped onto him.
Lloyd is here, somewhere. Of course he is. This is Lloyd's dreamspace. But Mithos does not have it in him to look up to find either Lloyd or see if his father stayed. (He did not.) Mithos just stays where he is, and he trembles, and he cries.
WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SPEEDRUNNING THE TIMESKIP AND YET
"Anyway yeah I'll make it perfectly clear if you need to stop--" Mithos says rapidly, gets caught becuase he wasn't sure how he intended to finish that, exactly. He swallows. "I think we'll be fine, Lloyd. I think this'll be fine."
Pause. Don't let the silence sink in too long.
"I'm going to talk to Kratos now," Mithos says to excuse himself from the conversation.
He doesn't quite get the chance because as soon as he's done with Lloyd, Anna pulls him aside.
"What do you want?" he snaps at her.
She smiles polite enough, but there's a clear edge in it.
"I really don't want to start a fight with you or anything," she promises. "But I want to make one thing clear: if you hurt Lloyd I will snap your neck."
Oh. Well that's more like what he'd expected from humans.
Mithos scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You'd honestly kill me?" he asks. "Yeah right."
"We both know it wouldn't be permanent for you," Anna says, her smile bright. "It just has to get Lloyd out of the resonance."
For a moment, Mithos feels fear. Then all he feels is anger. How dare she threaten him like that!? He shoves against her with all his strength-- She steps back, but does not stagger. Nor does she seem surprised or upset. Fuck her. Mithos storms off, abandoning his plans to talk to Kratos for the moment because Kratos knows him, and he'll know he's upset, and maybe Kratos should know that his wife just threatend him but!! Mithos doesn't want to open that can of worms right now because he'll just say something he's going to regret and he doesn't want to make this any worse.
Kratos finds him eventually, though. Mithos doesn't say anything when Kratos sits down next to him, but he does glance over to check... Kratos looks okay, right now, and he was holding hands with Anna earlier, so unless anything's changed...
Mithos slowly flops against Kratos' side, and Kratos laughs softly, not moving but apparently content to let Mithos use him as furniture for a moment. It's nice, really. It's only been a few weeks since Mithos saw Kratos last, but he did miss him.
"I'm sorry I couldn't drive you," Kratos says, quietly.
"It's fine," Mithos insists. "I mean, I wouldn't want to separate you and- and Anna, again."
"It wasn't your fault last time," Kratos says, and Mithos almost chokes. Guilt slides down his throat, hot and thick, wraps iron claws aroud his stomach and squeezes. "She could have told me that she was alive, but she didn't," Kratos continues, even though Mithos barely hears it. He grips at his pants, knuckles tight and white and every inch of him aching. He's so glad he's not in resonance with Kratos right now.
"Yeah, well, it would've been my fault this time," Mithos says, and then changes the subject. "How's Martel? They haven't-- Have they fired again?"
From the feel of the way Kratos shifts, he's shaking his head. "They haven't since- since we found you. Which means they only fired twice. And since Tethe'alla doesn't have the means to fire back... Perhaps they were just testing. Perhaps they won't fire again."
"You don't trust that," Mithos argues.
Kratos sighs. "I don't," he admits. "But I can hope. We..." He goes quiet for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts. Mithos does his best not to fidget, knowing that could easly take Kratos' good day and make it a bad one. "Even if I am not driving you, we can always... go. We would be faster alone. And..."
"If we're in a group it's safe to take the train," Mithos argues. He's been thinking about this. "I think that cancels out the time we'd save if it was just the two of us traveling."
"If you're sure..." Kratos argues back, gently.
There's safety in numbers. And security has probably been tightened. And unfortunately his driver is in this group. And he doesn't want to leave Zelos, exactly, and. If Martel is not being hurt, then she can wait, just a few extra days...
"If they fire the cannon again, then we'll talk about it," Mithos decides. "But-- The only way to get to her faster would be if I flew, and I'm not. I can't go alone."
Kratos squeezes Mithos' arm, gentle and reassuring. "You won't have to," he promises.
Traveling is uneventful. Mithos mostly avoids everyone else. He's not in the mood to talk, doesn't have anything to talk about, too busy juggling his worry for Martel, his dislike for his current situation, and trying not to murder Anna. She isn't even doing anything but he hates her he hates her he hates her and when he doesn't hate her it's because guilt is choking him and frankly it's miserable all around.
It gets even worse the next time they stop to rest. Warring hatred and guilt suddenly become fear fear fear fear fear. He doesn't know where it's coming from until he realizes that the emotion bleed is suddenly open again. Anger washes over the sea of fear, fear that must be Lloyd's and--
A part of him wants to go ask Lloyd what the fuck. A part of him is worried, for a moment, except it's not the kind of fear that comes from being in danger and there's no sound, no spike in the ambient ether that would signal a threat. It's just an overwhelming dread and panic and.
Mithos sits and grits his teeth and waits it out. It does end eventually, at least. Weird. Mithos wonders if it has to do with... whatever it was Lloyd did with the emotion bleed. Did Lloyd dampen his emotions, or just postpone them? And what... caused this?
Mithos remembers that when Lloyd first resonated with him, there was dread then, too. Does that mean that whatever brought on this wave of bad emotions has something to do with Mithos...? Mithos knows Lloyd's from an alternate dimension, so maybe it has something to do with that, as well. He's worrying that problem over, (wondering how terrible an alternate Mithos must be to get Lloyd to respond like this), when all of a sudden an information packet pings for his attention. He hesitates for a long moment before accepting it, turning the ether signature accompanying it over in his mind as he examines it. Of course, seeing how he's alone, the information packet could have only come from one source. But why the hell is Father contacting him now? Why did he never deem to bother before??
He's bitter, but too curious to deny the package just because he hates his father. So he opens it.
The transmitted knowledge is recieved instantaneously, though it takes Mithos a few extra seconds to process it. The concept of-- a battle. Of Lloyd standing proud and tall against a harsh ideal. Mithos catches a glimpse of his own face, twisted by madness and grief, understands with a pit in his gut that Martel has been dead thousands of years, knows that... that somehow, some way, he had to be stopped, and Lloyd was the one who...
It doesn't make any sense.
How does Father know all this? How can Mithos be sure that any of this information is accurate!?
He could ask Lloyd, sure, but how does he open the converastion without needing to explain his Father's involvement...
There's another way, though. Perhaps not the kindest way, but it will be easy, and he can be quick about it, so Lloyd will never know. All Mithos has to do is wait until Lloyd finally sleeps, (how Lloyd goes days without sleeping, Mithos has yet to figure out, though he's starting to think Lloyd isn't human at all), and then: Mithos plunges into the dreamspace, opens the port and hooks into Lloyd's consciousness.
If he wants to go unnoticed, he has to be quick. A simple memory transfer shouldn't take more than a few seconds-- images flicker through his head and then in a sea of I didn't want this I didn't want this I didn't want this Mithos loses both grip and footing, and the dreamspace shifts suddenly and all at once, green glass and the glow of technology, room illuminated by the runes on the walls as much as the flower, the seed overhead, Martel's shape, translucent like a ghost, and it is the sight of her that makes Mithos choke. He doesn't have time to take it in before something slams into his gut and throws him back, the burning taste of ether-not-ether, pain sharp and bright. He looks up and sees-- himself, laughing, deranged and without a spark of sanity in his eyes. He is glowing and terrible, wings of rainbow unfurled behind him, and his voice echoes all around:
The fight won't stop it won't stop there's no end to it, no end to the tears pouring down his cheeks, he didn't want it to happen like this he is sure but he also isn't sure what is happening other than that he cannot stop it, and why did they ask him to do it, anyway. It's a weird kind of vertigo, when Mithos has coherency to his name, the action of fighting himself and also his body moving like he is not used to it moving, a sword in each hand and he must be seeing this through Lloyd's eyes. The knowledge Father sent him was right, then, but he does not know what to do with that realization, does not have the time to do more than idly make it before his brain latches onto Kratos in the memory-dream, relief that Kratos is here filling him to the brim, and he watches as Kratos rushes the other Mithos--
--and suddenly he is the other Mithos and he barely gets up a sword (that isn't his sword) to block a blow from Kratos, and he hisses because his balance is all wrong and all he can hope to do is stagger out of the way and try again but he doesn't get the chance to do that before a hand closes around his arm and yanks him until his stomach connects with a knee, forcing all air out of his lungs and his head rings with the force of another blow and why is this happening, why is Kratos hurting him--
Everything
stops
The dreamspace is engulfed with a gentle cradle of ether that Mithos has not tasted in hundreds of years, and that ether rends the dreamspace free of all shape and form. Mithos is too busy reeling from everything he just saw to really acknowledge or appreciate that his Father, the Architect is here, his vision still spinning even as nothingness takes shape again, painting the picture of a patch of dirt in a field of grass, a campfire crackling pleasantly underneath a blanket of stars above. The sight is comforting if foreign, crafted with the fondness of someone else's memories.
Mithos collapses on his hands and knees, trembling and grappling at the dirt beneath his fingers for purchase as his mind navigates the tumultuous ocean of knowledge that has just been dumped onto him.
Lloyd is here, somewhere. Of course he is. This is Lloyd's dreamspace. But Mithos does not have it in him to look up to find either Lloyd or see if his father stayed. (He did not.) Mithos just stays where he is, and he trembles, and he cries.