debriefing ♔ in the emptiness there's a solution | just look within yourself for absolution

[nepotism]

♬ locking up the sun- poets of the fall

WHO || Wynn, Buffy, Myri, Finnick, Spike, Gar, Archer, Des, Vi, Rafael, Fred Jr., Dumage, Mark, Rocket, open! [Closed]
WHAT || Andres Mission Debrief & Aftermath
WHERE || Knights HQ, lobby etc.
WHEN || September 18th [forward dated*]
HOW || Actionspam. Single thread, don't worry about maintaining tagging order.

There are plenty of missions that return to the castle a success - most of them, even. The defeated air of the solemn group that returns from their diplomatic mission to Andres Isle to hear the demands of dictator Dimitris Sarandis makes it quite clear that this wasn't one of those.

Starting with Sarandis' actual demands - for all Knights to withdraw from Andres under penalty of death, or for Wynn to offer his own head in return for Thomas' safe return - and ending with the unexpected, disturbing confession from Kat that she intended to stay behind on the island because she had "fallen in love with" the dictator, the events of the island made it very clear that Sarandis was cannily playing his hand to get the Knights where he wanted them.

Fred Jr. shoves open the doors with his unnatural strength, stalking in ahead of the group into the lobby. Whoever's on desk duty isn't going to have to roll a high wisdom check to see that these people are pissed... and distraught... and a myriad of other emotions on the bad end of the scale.

*I am changing the date of the briefing log and Andres log/live session to have taken place in September, to avoid us being in backdated hell forever, and to allow for a September squiring ceremony before apps are closed. Carry on... in the future!

Comments

[romanticidal]

[ he looks up, pressing the case aside as she draws closer, studying her features with a thoughtful expression marred by the crease in his forehead. ] I know you will come out of this safely, carina. I have watched you walk through danger many times. You are like the tempesta - there is not anything that can stop you.

You know this, si?

[slay]

[ She hesitates a bit before drawing a smile over her expression deliberately, ducking her head. The smile, at least, is genuinely drawn, even if her own uncertainty would usually squash it. ]

Of course I do.

[ Reaching out, she smooths his shirt, studying her handiwork rather than looking him in the eye (bluff 23). ]

It’s just … you know. War. [ Her eyes widen briefly on the word. It’s a big word. ] It’s not spooky demons in alleyways anymore. I’ve never done anything like this.

[ Finally, her eyes lift to his. ] At least, not that I can remember.

[ She should tell him. Really, she should. This could be her last chance. But if she comes back, then it means she worried him for nothing. If she doesn’t, then it won’t matter in the end, anyway, if she’d told him or not. It’s happened before that she didn’t come back. Who knows what circumstances that was under. ]

[romanticidal]

[ his sense motive is only a 14 ok :( so he assumes she's more upset about ~going off to war~ itself, than about... anything unspoken. he reaches a hand out to grasp gently at her arm, meeting her gaze. ]

It is not experience that wins battles. It is heart.

And you have that.

[slay]

But I won’t have it there.

[ Her hand settles over where his heart rests in his chest. Her own pulse hammers in her ears, an incessant drumming. ]

It’ll be with you.

[ Even if he already knows, even if she’s already told him, she feels the need to make it clear, now more than ever. Backing off doesn’t mean moving on. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at it and physically restraining herself with clenched muscles from leaning in right then. ]

[romanticidal]

[ ♬ more than this - the cure

holding his eyes the way that she is, it's impossible to miss the tiny shift of recognition there, something clicking into place with the words and gesture.

she's told him point blank that she loves him before, and he's said the words back with simple confidence, but the fine razor edge between one kind of love and another has always obscured the meaning of that particular confession, and also his understanding of it. it's hard to say which was more or less painful - if he'd meant he knew she loved him romantically, and felt the same, but still wouldn't press things forward for one reason or another, or if he honestly saw their friendship as strong enough to toss the phrase around without having romance even figure into it. or maybe it wasn't either - maybe he didn't feel the same, or maybe --

well, with them, there was never any shortage of maybes.

for a moment now, however, the maybes seem to disappear. there's very little room for ambiguity in her statement, even from the rafael giovanni school of wisdom checks. his mouth opens very slightly as if words are looking to pour out, but vanish the second they hit his lips. there's a softness to his gaze, but also a small degree of sympathy, of doubt, fear even. but none of those things completely dilute the fondness either, the understanding of what she's saying and an acknowledgement of the pain lying at the heart of her dramatic confession.

he seems to get it. on a profound shared level, he gets why this is killing both of them right now. but getting it doesn't change the reality of what this is, either. what circumstances have brought them to.

a good-bye. ]

Carina... [ the word seems a little breathless, and also, quite simply, miserable. there's a weight of impossibility in the air, a sense that this moment serves as a representation of all they have to look forward to if their hearts stay on this track - duty or destiny pushing them in opposite directions. his fingers curve against her arm, as if gripping it a little more tightly could possibly change that, could give him the time he might actually need to ground himself here.

but that's it. that's all he can say. that's all you get. ]

[slay]

[ Even if that hasn’t always been the case, by now, Rafael is an open book for her. Watching the pieces finally click into place causes her heart to skip, jump, tighten in her chest painfully, wondering what his expression will finally settle onto. Now that the words lie between them for judgment, for reaction, she can’t hide under any easy misinterpretation.

Now, everything could change.

Except that it won’t, and it can’t. This changes—them. Being together, being able to touch and confide and—For the foreseeable future, that ends. Buffy can’t see beyond the dark shadow of Andres on the horizon. They only have this moment.

For the first time, seeing his surprise, watching him recognize what she really means, it hits her. He never knew because he could never imagine knowing. All of his gratitude, his warmth, his awe at her care and affection, even believing her to be his friend felt like too much, like more than he deserved.

The small moments come back in a rush. It never occurred to him to look for more, to believe that it could be more, because he could hardly believe himself deserving of her friendship. How could he think that she might love him, having seen what he is? Every dark and dirty part of him—that she would even choose his friendship had stunned him, that she might choose to love him not in spite of those things, but in part because of them must have been—

The single word draws her attention down, and for a moment, her gaze lingers on his lips. When she leans forward, the movement only happens above her shoulders, and she stops herself after mere millimeters, drawing in a sharp, fluttering breath and blinking rapidly. Her gaze leaps back to meet his, searching his eyes as if she hopes to find some reassurance in them. Instead, the cool sting of his doubt and fear hold her back. ]

I’m not asking you for anything.

[ She reads into that fear, that doubt, and draws her own conclusions about how he plans to meet her admission. Rather than suffer any discouragement, she preempts the very same. Raising one hand to cover his, she squeezes it, raises his palm to cup her face, taking the comfort that she needs from it. Slowly, she shakes her head, gaze dropping for only a moment before it returns to his face. ]

That wouldn’t be fair.

[ None of this, though, has been fair to either of them. Tongue darting out to wet her lips, she seems to hesitate on whatever more she might mean to say. There can be no follow-up if they have no future, and Buffy makes no guarantees of that. Instead, she begins to turn from him, releasing his hand: his flight won't wait for them to stare into each other's eyes. Won't wait for them to give last words and final yearning looks. ]

[romanticidal]

[ his hand presses against her cheek when she draws it there, a tenderness in the way his thumb brushes against her skin, but he looks so momentarily stunned still, thoughts skidding around trying to find purchase, that he doesn't really have time to react before she's turning away, before the moment passes.

he looks down as she turns from him, eyes seeming to search the floor as his forehead creases deeply. ] ... None of this is fair.

[slay]

You say that like it's new for us.

[ Life hasn't made a point of being fair to either of them. And yet. She offers a slight shrug, grabbing her jacket off the chair and pulling it on. Taking a breath, steeling herself, she glances back at him, expression plain. ]

All packed?

[romanticidal]

... Si. [ he looks away again just as she looks back at him, his gaze skating to his case, although he moves to shut his actual suitcase instead, before picking them both up. ] I suppose it is time.

[slay]

AGGRESSIVELY MAKES OUT WHILE HIS HANDS ARE FULL

[slay]

[ She moves readily to the doorway, turning her back to the door and pushing it open, but hesitating there with it only cracked. For a moment, she watches him, and for a moment she seems to relent, but whatever words she had readied are buried quickly. She's in no position to be making plans and promises. When they touch down in Andres, they may not be coming back. When she's alive and Kat and Thomas are home, she'll make promises. Until then, it's just time.

Pushing the door open the rest of the way, she holds it for Rafael to exit. Like a lady. ]

[romanticidal]

[ ♬ please remember - leann rimes

he ducks out ahead of her, and most of the walk is going to be in silence, lbr. heavy, layered silence. there's an extra quantity of hyper-awareness of each other's presence, what with all this romantic tension bubbled so close to the surface, but since his hands are too full to fight back to do anything anyways, he makes no contact with her until it's actually time to hug her goodbye, for which he sets down his gun case, wrapping one arm tightly around her, not seeming particularly fond of the idea of letting it end. ]

As soon as it is over, you must let me know. [ he turns and brushes a kiss to her temple finally, as if that's what can give him the strength to disentangle himself, and looks at her once more sadly as he says: ] Goodbye, carina.

And good luck.

[slay]

[ will save 18.

She shuts her eyes to hold back tears brought forth by the finality of it. Tongue pressing past to lick her lips, she turns her head and brushes her forehead against his, lingering close for a moment to bask in the intimacy for a moment longer. Finally, she straightens up, pulling back and letting a ghost of her smile brush over her lips. ]

You'll be the first to know what happens.

[ Reaching out, she squeezes his hand, then forces herself to step back, releasing him and turning away all at once — because if she wants to summon up the energy to disentangle herself, she must move decisively. She can't allow herself hesitation, or she'll lose the strength to walk away.

Pushing through the crowd, a few tears finally slip down her cheeks and she makes no move to wipe them away. ]