Gojo's lounging out in the sunlight in the garden when Fel comes out, and he glances over at his lover with a grin, propping himself up on his elbows. "Hey."
There's a calm energy around him, far more than usual. He's lacking both his mischievous, almost manic energy and his sharp, calculating guardedness. Instead, he just seems ... content.
"C'mere. Talk to me."
Gojo nods him over. He's got a picnic blanket laid out, and it's large enough for there to be space for Fel to sit near him.
Sitting up a little more, he reaches out for Fel as his lover comes close, draping his arms around Fel's shoulders and leaning in to kiss his cheek, then pulling back just enough to meet his eyes with a smile. "My name is Gojo Satoru. My given name is Satoru." He doesn't think Fel knows that.
Hoping to find some peace in the garden in order to clear his mind, Felwinter very nearly turns and heads back inside when he sees that Gojo is already out here. Gojo, of course, notices him before he can. And perhaps there's a little spike of dread at talk to me, because nobody ever asks to talk to him for good reasons, but he heads over obediently nevertheless.
He's used to Gojo draping on him by now, so that doesn't strike him as anything particularly out of the ordinary. And yet there's something different. He can't quite put his finger on what. It's almost a little too sincere, that kiss a little too unguarded, no motive behind any of it. Gojo tells him his name and...
Well, he doesn't really know what Gojo expects him to do with this information.
"I see. I'd assumed it was the other way around." An awkward pause. "You're in a good mood."
"Mm." A thoughtful noise, not quite confirmation. His mood is ... something, for sure. Not a good mood, he doesn't think. His heart aches with grief and guilt over some of the topics he recently discussed with Choso. But he feels freer, and he knows that looks on the surface like a good mood. Maybe it is. It's just a very complicated good mood.
"People mostly call me Gojo back home. And here. I'm more comfortable with it. It has a lot of power behind it--I'm the head of my family, and it's a very, very old and very, very wealthy family. When I am Gojo, I wield all of that. Plus, in my culture, it's much more common to call acquaintances by their family names. I have trusted friends I've known for years who call me Gojo. I don't like people calling me Satoru, with very few exceptions." He remains draped on Fel as he talks, tucking his cheek against Fel's shoulder, wanting the comfort of having him close.
Letting himself get lost in thoughtfulness as he talks, Gojo stares into space, gazing vaguely at some of Choso's plants. "Back home ... I've told you about my powers. I'm the strongest, by far. And I bear so much responsibility because of that. I don't ever let myself rest, because no one else can do what I can. And it's so horribly lonely to be the only one who wields that kind of power. To be a god-thing without equals."
They've touched on these topics before, but never with this kind of vulnerability. And he offers it up relatively easily, even the parts of it that are such deep wounds.
"But I'm not." His eyes lift to Fel's. "The strongest." His lips quirk, a little bit challenging and a little bit playful. "Not here. Am I?"
He doesn't want an answer. He's not done talking. Letting go, Gojo stretches, lifting his face to the sky and then leaning back on his hands. "I'm still top-tier. No doubt." The curve of his lips widens into a smirk, all cocky confidence. "But maybe ..."
Tipping his head to look at Fel again, Gojo holds his gaze for a moment, expression sly and guarded, shameless and goading. "I'm going to say something horrible. Don't storm off on me just yet. But I've never really thought of you as my equal, Fel. Because back home you wouldn't be. And that's the real Gojo Satoru. Back home. All that power. Without equal."
He drops down onto his back, eyes on the sky again, voice thoughtful and distant. "Gojo, the avatar of his family. Gojo Satoru, the Strongest. I've just been acting like this version of me doesn't count. Like all of this doesn't matter. It's all just an amusing diversion until I resume my real life."
Twisting his middle and index fingers together in front of himself, just below the level of his chin, Gojo gazes up into that limitless blue sky.
"I don't think I'm going home, Fel. I think this is my real life. And I think I might like to just be Satoru. Who isn't the strongest." Eyes sliding back over to Fel, warm and fond and wry, Gojo lets that hand drop beside his head, against Fel's thigh. "And who has a very patient and very forgiving Exo for an equal."
[This is Felwinter frowning down at his syntrofos. He doesn't put names to his relationships, whatever they are. If only because he doesn't know what they should be named.]
I can spend time with you, if that's what you wish.
[ gojo..... it's said with affection(?) at least, in set's vicious little way. more or less he thinks the same as fel, only recalling the use of the word "partner" from some time ago. ]
The relationship is inconsequential, as long as you come see me when I call! Where are you living now?
Edited (forgot he gets autocensored) 2025-07-16 14:51 (UTC)
He made quite clear that he wished to bend my skill at coordinating and connecting people to his ends. I replied, more or less, that since I did not know what his ends were, aside from some cryptic doubletalk he'd made on the topic, no.
And then he tried to get Tartaglia to give him a list of everyone who expressed interest or showed up at our fight club, which ... that kind of reporting to anyone makes me uncomfortable.
[ Brickston's sense of time was terribly skewed this month. Lost in the throes of his Katalyth studies for hours and days it was no wonder he'd eventually crash and sleep whether he wanted to or not. The dreams were anything but restful, however. He saw horrible images of fellow Augmented in cages—kidnapped, tortured, put on display. He saw Momo, possibly others, but it served to greatly reconsider his opinions on Patho-Gen. He was terribly conflicted... but then additionally there was a message from something else, a request accompanied by flashes of images of the rotting furious Terra-types below Kelesis.
"Don't let Karteria take any more away. End them here, where they belong."
It wouldn't be the first time he discovered a message in the tunnels that left Brickston terribly guilt-ridden. Back then he walked away not knowing what more he could possibly do.
Now it's clear. ] They're down here suffering, Felwinter.
[ He just knew he couldn't possibly do it alone. He shuffles along Felwinter's side in the dark, able to see without need of lantern or light. The smell down here is still foul, the air still stagnant and reeks of death. He keeps stepping forward, almost drawn to the dark concrete room with the lone broken computer terminal in the middle of it, once again. Plants shuffle and groan and wetly slither in the dark, anticipating something.
Brickston understands if they're killed that will lessen Karteria's food supply, but, perhaps uncharacteristically callously he finds himself less concerned about foods he can't eat anyway. The latter half of his thoughts breach his mouth, muttered; ] ...what makes one life-form more valuable than the other...?
[ The sound of leaves ruffling soft in a breeze follows his otherwise silent arrival, as god of war and Augmented of verdant life alights nearby the Exo. Despite the horrors visited upon a number of his imprints ( Eleanor, Liem ) and the struggle he was now facing as one, the brash and feral idiot he was ( TAKASUGI ), had to deal with electroshock "therapy", he looks no worse for wear. Strong, health and immeasurably confident in himself despite the worsening views of Terra-type Augmented. He exudes it: the drive to accomplish his task, the foresight to have long prepared for it — heedless of opposition, or obstacle.
Maybe, that is why he finds it easy to go to Felwinter. Despite that he's taciturn and reluctant to bond — for good reason, Set assumes — the fact remains that a desert god is the culmination of eons and eons of erosion. Even mountains become part of him, as fine-grained sands, in the end. Why rush anything? ]
There is a naughty boy we are being hired out en masse to deal with. I think he ought to be convinced to join the militia, and I bet you and I would be effective recruiters. Come with me. It is better than seeing you struggle under whatever weight continues to haunt you, my kindred spirit.
[Is it so obvious that he's struggling? Felwinter had assumed that he'd distanced himself enough to avoid drawing too much notice to it. Busied himself enough that it didn't look like he was wallowing. He's not sure whether it's the breaking of an imprint that had thrown him so off-balance, or the fact that he had been leaning so heavily on said imprint as he navigated the his grief and guilt over the deaths of the Iron Lords.
He fixes his unexpected visitor with a level stare, impassive as always. Guarded.]
You've overlooked one very important detail: I am an Exo. No Karterian would listen to what I have to say. You'd do better to ask someone else.
[And that's all there is to it. Why would Set ask something like this of him in the first place? It almost feels like the commission is just an excuse to seek him out. "Lonely beings need pestering the most." Wasn't that what he had said?]
What's so special about this boy that he would warrant your personal attention?
I do not care what they think — I am not Karterian. I am the god of war, who seeks a companion sound of mind and experienced in these matters. You are my counsel, not theirs. It has to be you.
[ It's quite obvious that Set is enamored with Felwinter's existence, in the way that someone who always seeks new knowledge and experiences can only be. Impassioned, curious, without reservation as he aims to embrace that which defines the man's life and relationships. He's reminded of Eleanor, when he sees Felwinter; their inorganic nature ( even though Eleanor's was partial ) very, very similar to his own, for he was not flesh and blood either. Just sand.
He descends toward Felwinter, reaching his hand out to seize at the other's wrist and tug at him. Determined, but also unstoppable in his attentions. ]
The boy? He is a loser. Pathetic, spoiled, rotten. The kind of child that needs to be scolded thoroughly for living such a lackluster life.
[ He sounds like he hates the kid, wtf. Except for: ] I love those kinds of children. They deserve structure and routine that serves to strengthen their confidence and provide them with life skills they can rely on as adults. All children exist to be raised well and given opportunity, because children are proof of love.
[ Is the reason not obvious enough, by that? Set, for all his feral ways and rudeness, is a father. ]
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Who is "us"?
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obviously
[ It's not obvious. ]
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[It is a little odd, considering what a dick Gojo tends to be to Choso. Did Choso agree to this or was he bullied into it?]
I wasn't planning on staying in the city. I want to head back out as soon as possible.
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exterior; garden - late afternoon
There's a calm energy around him, far more than usual. He's lacking both his mischievous, almost manic energy and his sharp, calculating guardedness. Instead, he just seems ... content.
"C'mere. Talk to me."
Gojo nods him over. He's got a picnic blanket laid out, and it's large enough for there to be space for Fel to sit near him.
Sitting up a little more, he reaches out for Fel as his lover comes close, draping his arms around Fel's shoulders and leaning in to kiss his cheek, then pulling back just enough to meet his eyes with a smile. "My name is Gojo Satoru. My given name is Satoru." He doesn't think Fel knows that.
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He's used to Gojo draping on him by now, so that doesn't strike him as anything particularly out of the ordinary. And yet there's something different. He can't quite put his finger on what. It's almost a little too sincere, that kiss a little too unguarded, no motive behind any of it. Gojo tells him his name and...
Well, he doesn't really know what Gojo expects him to do with this information.
"I see. I'd assumed it was the other way around." An awkward pause. "You're in a good mood."
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"People mostly call me Gojo back home. And here. I'm more comfortable with it. It has a lot of power behind it--I'm the head of my family, and it's a very, very old and very, very wealthy family. When I am Gojo, I wield all of that. Plus, in my culture, it's much more common to call acquaintances by their family names. I have trusted friends I've known for years who call me Gojo. I don't like people calling me Satoru, with very few exceptions." He remains draped on Fel as he talks, tucking his cheek against Fel's shoulder, wanting the comfort of having him close.
Letting himself get lost in thoughtfulness as he talks, Gojo stares into space, gazing vaguely at some of Choso's plants. "Back home ... I've told you about my powers. I'm the strongest, by far. And I bear so much responsibility because of that. I don't ever let myself rest, because no one else can do what I can. And it's so horribly lonely to be the only one who wields that kind of power. To be a god-thing without equals."
They've touched on these topics before, but never with this kind of vulnerability. And he offers it up relatively easily, even the parts of it that are such deep wounds.
"But I'm not." His eyes lift to Fel's. "The strongest." His lips quirk, a little bit challenging and a little bit playful. "Not here. Am I?"
He doesn't want an answer. He's not done talking. Letting go, Gojo stretches, lifting his face to the sky and then leaning back on his hands. "I'm still top-tier. No doubt." The curve of his lips widens into a smirk, all cocky confidence. "But maybe ..."
Tipping his head to look at Fel again, Gojo holds his gaze for a moment, expression sly and guarded, shameless and goading. "I'm going to say something horrible. Don't storm off on me just yet. But I've never really thought of you as my equal, Fel. Because back home you wouldn't be. And that's the real Gojo Satoru. Back home. All that power. Without equal."
He drops down onto his back, eyes on the sky again, voice thoughtful and distant. "Gojo, the avatar of his family. Gojo Satoru, the Strongest. I've just been acting like this version of me doesn't count. Like all of this doesn't matter. It's all just an amusing diversion until I resume my real life."
Twisting his middle and index fingers together in front of himself, just below the level of his chin, Gojo gazes up into that limitless blue sky.
"I don't think I'm going home, Fel. I think this is my real life. And I think I might like to just be Satoru. Who isn't the strongest." Eyes sliding back over to Fel, warm and fond and wry, Gojo lets that hand drop beside his head, against Fel's thigh. "And who has a very patient and very forgiving Exo for an equal."
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TEXT ( @ SET )
Will you be able to tear yourself from your lover to spend some time with me, Felwinter?
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[This is Felwinter frowning down at his syntrofos. He doesn't put names to his relationships, whatever they are. If only because he doesn't know what they should be named.]
I can spend time with you, if that's what you wish.
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[ gojo..... it's said with affection(?) at least, in set's vicious little way. more or less he thinks the same as fel, only recalling the use of the word "partner" from some time ago. ]
The relationship is inconsequential, as long as you come see me when I call! Where are you living now?
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text | un: summerboy
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But no, not yet. I haven't heard from him.
[Not that Felwinter can blame him, honestly.]
text; un: infinity
possibly it's nothing of consequence
but will you please do me the favor of giving set no intel or information that he doesn't already have
especially not about me
but also general intel about the augmented or any information known to the augmented
as he is closely involved with the locals, including the karterian military
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I'm concerned about Set's ambition, myself.
He called me out recently to speak to him at Library Sophia.
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He made quite clear that he wished to bend my skill at coordinating and connecting people to his ends. I replied, more or less, that since I did not know what his ends were, aside from some cryptic doubletalk he'd made on the topic, no.
And then he tried to get Tartaglia to give him a list of everyone who expressed interest or showed up at our fight club, which ... that kind of reporting to anyone makes me uncomfortable.
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text; @nanami.k
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I'm trying to locate him.
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@aodh
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[Avoiding the question? Absolutely. He strongly doubts Aodh has any interest in his current struggles.]
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backdated mid-late October [action]
"Don't let Karteria take any more away. End them here, where they belong."
It wouldn't be the first time he discovered a message in the tunnels that left Brickston terribly guilt-ridden. Back then he walked away not knowing what more he could possibly do.
Now it's clear. ] They're down here suffering, Felwinter.
[ He just knew he couldn't possibly do it alone. He shuffles along Felwinter's side in the dark, able to see without need of lantern or light. The smell down here is still foul, the air still stagnant and reeks of death. He keeps stepping forward, almost drawn to the dark concrete room with the lone broken computer terminal in the middle of it, once again. Plants shuffle and groan and wetly slither in the dark, anticipating something.
Brickston understands if they're killed that will lessen Karteria's food supply, but, perhaps uncharacteristically callously he finds himself less concerned about foods he can't eat anyway. The latter half of his thoughts breach his mouth, muttered; ] ...what makes one life-form more valuable than the other...?
ACTION ( PAID FUTILITY ; VELVET CLAW ).
[ The sound of leaves ruffling soft in a breeze follows his otherwise silent arrival, as god of war and Augmented of verdant life alights nearby the Exo. Despite the horrors visited upon a number of his imprints ( Eleanor, Liem ) and the struggle he was now facing as one, the brash and feral idiot he was ( TAKASUGI ), had to deal with electroshock "therapy", he looks no worse for wear. Strong, health and immeasurably confident in himself despite the worsening views of Terra-type Augmented. He exudes it: the drive to accomplish his task, the foresight to have long prepared for it — heedless of opposition, or obstacle.
Maybe, that is why he finds it easy to go to Felwinter. Despite that he's taciturn and reluctant to bond — for good reason, Set assumes — the fact remains that a desert god is the culmination of eons and eons of erosion. Even mountains become part of him, as fine-grained sands, in the end. Why rush anything? ]
There is a naughty boy we are being hired out en masse to deal with. I think he ought to be convinced to join the militia, and I bet you and I would be effective recruiters. Come with me. It is better than seeing you struggle under whatever weight continues to haunt you, my kindred spirit.
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He fixes his unexpected visitor with a level stare, impassive as always. Guarded.]
You've overlooked one very important detail: I am an Exo. No Karterian would listen to what I have to say. You'd do better to ask someone else.
[And that's all there is to it. Why would Set ask something like this of him in the first place? It almost feels like the commission is just an excuse to seek him out. "Lonely beings need pestering the most." Wasn't that what he had said?]
What's so special about this boy that he would warrant your personal attention?
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[ It's quite obvious that Set is enamored with Felwinter's existence, in the way that someone who always seeks new knowledge and experiences can only be. Impassioned, curious, without reservation as he aims to embrace that which defines the man's life and relationships. He's reminded of Eleanor, when he sees Felwinter; their inorganic nature ( even though Eleanor's was partial ) very, very similar to his own, for he was not flesh and blood either. Just sand.
He descends toward Felwinter, reaching his hand out to seize at the other's wrist and tug at him. Determined, but also unstoppable in his attentions. ]
The boy? He is a loser. Pathetic, spoiled, rotten. The kind of child that needs to be scolded thoroughly for living such a lackluster life.
[ He sounds like he hates the kid, wtf. Except for: ] I love those kinds of children. They deserve structure and routine that serves to strengthen their confidence and provide them with life skills they can rely on as adults. All children exist to be raised well and given opportunity, because children are proof of love.
[ Is the reason not obvious enough, by that? Set, for all his feral ways and rudeness, is a father. ]
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