WHAT: After reliving the day that Tennal was thralled, Surit and Tennal reunite and discuss what it's like to still be synced. WHERE: Battle of the Quarry, 2029 & The Outpost, 2033 WHEN: Tuesday evening, 2033 WARNINGS: Some (off screen/implied) violence STATUS: Complete
Tennal was used to listening to his gut feelings. Not necessarily acting on them, and sometimes flat out ignoring them when he didn't like what they were telling him. Usually, it was a precursor for shit to hit the fan, or an experience that was bound to make him wildly uncomfortable. And it was in those moments that he mentally stretched through his sync with Surit for some kind of calming peace against the chaotic current of his oceanic mind. He either needed Surit to agree with him—another person to read the bad vibes—to either agree that whatever Tennal's instincts were telling him was right, or to shake him out of the anxiety spiral.
And right now? His gut was telling him that he probably shouldn't be here.
Seizing the Quarry was supposed to be a step in the right direction in gaining high ground. This would be another claim to land where the Outlanders could lay some roots, and attempt to push Interitus forces out of the forest. They needed this, they had planned for this. But so did Interitus.
From his vantage point within one of the rock crevices, Tennal read the shift in the battle before it even started. The almost-tangible heaviness that moved across the Outlanders was like a blanket of adverse weight. Doomed, his mind supplied to himself and unhelpfully to Surit through the sync, as the first explosion ricocheted through the quarry. It wasn't only that they had been compromised, and that this was a trap, but something else more sinister started to permeate the surface thoughts of the fighters below.
Tennal was supposed to be relaying information, navigating the frenzied space to assist the Outlanders from an attack they expected. But this? The dread was overwhelming, and his eyes searched for Surit in the fray. Tennal was supposed to have his back, and the irrational thought of being too far away as everything started to go sideways was all-consuming. He couldn't stay up here, with what little cover he had.
Another sparking explosion lit up the sky; magic Tennal had seen before, magic that belonged to one of the Outlanders. But it wasn't directed at the wraiths that swarmed them, or even the Vorerra generals, but at them. Time slowed, stopped, for a breathless, terrible second as realization dawned across the rebel Outlanders.
Guidance fucking Lights he swore down the sync, as he ran into the fringes of the battle for the quarry. His thoughts were thrumming over and over with Surit, get out of there, get out, he turning us—
The battle had started out well. Surit felt strong. He felt useful. He felt connected to Tennal in all the best ways and capable of seeing the ebb and flow of the fighting like watching the ebb and flow of chaotic space. He had an assault rifle, which was a close to their rifles at home as he could get, and a bo staff strapped to his back. It was a common weapon on the outer planets at home, but it was also capable of being non-lethal if he needed the option. So far, the monsters that had been thrown at them hadn’t been interested in diplomacy though, so the stick remained untouched.
He felt the metaphysical shift in the battle a few seconds after Tennal; he had years of experience with his reader abilities now, but nothing like Tennal’s natural instincts. It was possible he was too rigid to ever get there. One day a few seconds delay might be the end of him, but he hoped it wouldn’t be today. He tried to stay calm and pushed the feeling down the link to Tennal.
Can you tell where its centered? As he sent the thought back to Tennal, he pulled out his radio. He might be capable of yelling into the minds of their allies if he focused hard enough, but it wasn’t his style. If we can find the source fast enough, maybe we can--
Surit was knocked to the ground by a wave of energy. Some kind of power he’d never felt firsthand. His head and vision spun.
Everywhere, nowhere, I can't seem to find— Tennal felt the same energy roll over him like a tide. Where Surit was knocked to the ground, this wave didn't seem to take him down. It flooded through him instead, sinister and ominous. His instincts were screaming to run from it, but he couldn't run from what he couldn't see. There was one tiny moment, a sliver of a second, where every part of his mind tried to reach into Surit's for shelter, to escape his body before it was no longer his, before the fear of what was happening seized him.
At first it was a darkness, then a nothingness. A blissful short circuiting and rewiring. It felt as though clawed hands sunk deep into his mind and latched on. Tennal, who was not born a fighter but who grew into one for the people he loved, wanted to fight this. No, please, he said against the chains trying to drag him down and under the surface of the sea. He didn't want to drown in this, but in the end Tennal was not strong enough, no matter how much he tried. He had lost his freedom in an instant.
The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins seemed to subside instantly. There was no more horror to hide from. He was the horror now.
Tennal exhaled, with unnatural effortlessness. He was standing, undisturbed, while the cacophony of noise and clash of the battle raged around him. Inky wraith-like smoke rose from his shoulders, shuttering his vision. When he opened his eyes to the fighting around him, they were a fathomless black, and spreading to his temples as Interitus dominated his mind.
He had shifted from a rushed search for Surit in the fray to turning deliberately to where he was on the ground. How easy it had been to find him while they were linked. To know where he was at all times, his mind was so open to Tennal. It was trust that bound them together, and now it was trust that would break him.
Once he had his attention, this shade of Tennal mouthed the words watch at Surit. And then toward the nearest Outlander, architect abilities flaring to life, he uttered a single command; they went from attacking monsters to laying into their allies.
“No!” Surit felt all of it - Tennal’s fear, the wave swallowing him up into darkness, the shift to emotionless monster. He felt the darkness reach out across the intangible line that connected them and only his instincts to slam down every mental wall he had kept him from following in Tennal’s shadow. There was no mental wall that could completely cut him off though. It was as if he was in a small space vessel with chaotic and hungry space just outside a flimsy door.
He pushed himself off the ground, dodging away from two others locked in battle. If only he could dodge Tennal’s demand - watch. He saw Outlanders turn on their own and Tennal there on the rise looking like a terrible conductor. Surit ran towards him, mentally fighting for control.
There was no controlling chaos, of course. Maybe if he’d still been an architect, he’d have stood a chance of stopping this. But it took all he had to keep Tennal from taking over more and more minds at once.
Tennal, please! Come back to me! He knew it was useless; he could feel how none of his boyfriend remained in the driver’s seat. But he kept shouting across their link as he stumbled up the hill. If for nothing else than to let his Tennal know he was still here. Surit would not abandon him.
He was an impassive audience member to the battle. The evil that a few of his words could conjure was vicious, cruel, and impartial. Was that someone he knew? Was that someone he trusted? Was that someone he had an earlier conversation with before the day had started? All of it simply vanished, all of the knowledge and the particular care Tennal once held for his Outlander friends, gone.
The only thing standing in his way was the constant drum of the other voice down the link. Surit. He was going to be a problem as Tennal tried to wrestle for his architect-control against his mind's other half.
His dark eyes followed Surit stumbling toward him, a ghost parading around in a Tennal-shaped shell. Whatever was left of Tennal was dead on contact. They were strangers now, with the unnecessary and inconvenient sync. But his mind wasn't interested in untangling knots, only sowing madness and turmoil. His desires now belonged to Interitus.
He uttered another command into the fray. And then another. Blood and agony were at his hands, steps before Surit reached him. And then he turned, with the full force of his new monstrous and inhuman gaze. Get out of my mind before I scramble yours.
It was all so horrifying in so many ways. Surit couldn't leave but he wasn't sure he could stay either. Tennal was both sides of a coin while Surit was only tails. But he had to try. Even if it meant he might not survive. He stopped out of reach of Tennal, even though reach was a ridiculous concept at the moment.
It's our mind, not yours. And I won't leave him. I'll fight for him, if it's the last thing I do, he thought fiercely.
It wasn't the last, but it was a mental battle that he wasn't skilled enough to win for good. That didn't mean he couldn't come out on top of a skirmish though. He started sectioning off Tennal's chaotic mind within the organized precision of his own, with well-earned walls and carefully carved blockades. All he was trying to do was to sever the connection between Tennal and the other Outlanders. To give them a chance. It was the only card he had to play.
This Tennal was not a defensive creature. He could sense what Surit was attempting to do. The ferocity in how he segmented Tennal's mind, one wall after another in an attempt to break the connection to the others. And where Tennal, untouched by darkness, might have allowed him to for the safety of the others and himself, this one chased. The Outlanders were dropped from his command while he became a foreboding, chaotic tidal wave against the mental barriers.
It was heroic. Stupidly so, Tennal would have told him that. Probably something like you Lights-forsaken bastard, don't sacrifice yourself to save me. But none of that mattered now, did it? There was nothing left of him, and so he turned all of his combined abilities pursuing Surit's mind. He was goading him, right? If that was going to be what he wanted, Tennal would give him a run for it and wouldn't stop.
The mental ocean was thrashing wildly, throwing himself against every protection in an effort to break and bend the shields, find the weaknesses. Surit's mind would be his and then it would no longer be theirs, but Interitus's.
And so without any self-preservation, without even knowing who or what he was anymore, Tennal's corrupted mind threw an entire mental ocean against the precise barriers. For what could stop the fathomless deep?
Like a battering ram, his mind kept coming, and coming, and coming—
"Surit?" Tennal was sure that was him. He was older, sure. He looked profoundly lost in thought, also familiar. He had grown his hair a little longer, and the facial hair was doing something strange and exciting in his stomach, but well. That could have still been the adrenaline from the arrival and navigating the labyrinthine tunnels of the Outpost. But what he was sure of was Surit's intense stare, one he could easily pick out of a crowd.
Maybe it was cheating—it was definitely cheating—to try and skim the surface of his thoughts, but when Tennal did there was nothing there. Surit's mind felt so locked up tight to Tennal that it was more than just the usual mental barriers. His brows furrowed together.
Confused but determined, he approached, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "It is going to be incredibly awkward for the next week and a half if we don't say anything to each other, and you know how well I do with awkward."
Surit hadn't purposefully avoided the arrival. When an emergency supply run had come up that morning, he'd simply taken it. Gladly. He'd hoped to prepare himself more for seeing Tennal. Fortify his heart as well as his head. But all he'd managed was daydreaming about moments they'd shared before everything went to hell and about the future that had been stolen from them. He hardly considered himself prepared when Tennal's voice cut through his defenses. His shoulders tensed and he froze in place before he finally turned slowly around.
"I…wasn't going to avoid you," he lied, adjusting his pack. Lights, Tennal looked young. Young and beautiful and determined, and it felt like a knife right under Surit's ribs. As painful as it was, he couldn't stop staring. "But I hate to tell you, there's zero chance this won't be awkward." After a pause, he swallowed, his jaw clenching, and then he looked down the hall of the Outpost. "How much did they tell you?"
Tennal raised one single, curious brow at Surit. He didn't have to read this older version of his boyfriend to know that something was up. It was almost unfair, to have this much knowledge about a person and also be able to slip into their mind to find out more. Except that Tennal was single-handedly blocked and the realization that he hated this was a bright, vibrant thought. Somewhere, trust had been broken.
"Zero chance is fatalistic, and you know that I'm supposed to be the pessimistic one of the two of us," Tennal said, trying to keep with casual conversation. He desperately didn't want to think about the other question. How much did they tell him? Enough to make him curious, and enough to avoid the topic of conversation—mostly—before he left. He knew that Surit guessed it, that Surit could make those rational jumps as to what happened, but now Tennal was facing it with another Surit.
He hummed, thoughtfully. "They told me enough to get me here. But they didn't mention the beard," Tennal said, and he went to reach for Surit, to touch it. To touch him. But he stopped, sensing at the last moment it wouldn't be appropriate. It didn't stop Tennal from feeling that itch at the back of his mind, real and alive. Tennal did not want to recognize it as the absence of his Surit in this timeline, the pull of their sync, and how he was trying to rectify it here, unintentionally.
"But you could tell me. Or are you not allowed? Paradoxes and what not."
Surit flinched when Tennal started to reach for him. It was a fraction of a moment, and it was immediately followed by the complete opposite move - Surit leaning towards Tennal. He was torn, for both emotional and very physical reasons. Being linked to a thrall for years now had done its damage. The only time he felt Tennal any more was when he opened the mental gates to try and stop Tennal from mind controlling rebels during battles. He wasn't always successful, but even when he was, he felt hollowed out by the experience.
"...They didn't tell me I couldn't. I probably would even if they had, because you need to know if you're going to be out there." Please don't go out there. The thought was too fast and too strong. It slipped through his protections like air finding the tiniest crack to escape through. He frowned, taking an involuntary step back.
"Sorry, I think, proximity might complicate things here." Not that they could do anything about that now. Surit blew out a breath and met Tennal's eyes. "Did they tell you about thralls?"
Tennal didn't miss the flinch. It was odd, it would certainly give him a complex later. But he did his due diligence, held up his hands in surrender, before attentively shoving them behind his back. How long this would last was impossible—Tennal was a hand talker and contact maker, and Surit was the conduit for all of his touches—but he would try.
Except now Tennal could read his thoughts as easy as breathing, as easy as the sync, and he moved a step closer as Surit moved back. Guidance fucking Lights, this was going to be a mess. What had he done to Surit here? And would he do it again unintentionally?
"I'm not going out anywhere," Tennal reassured out loud, but he seemed confused as he said it, cautious with his words. The curiosity was still there though. "Not unless they tell me to, it's why I'm here—but okay, you've never been worried about being close to me before. This place is about the same size as the Fractal Note, you can't expect to never see me for the next ten-ish days. But who's counting?"
He didn't want to disturb Surit's space, and every nerve ending was calling him closer, but against better judgment—and with his hands still behind his back—Tennal took a step away. He was visibly frustrated by it, as he asked, "Is it because of a thrall?"
"It's not--I'm not…" Surit sputtered, anxiety making him awkward as always. He had to get himself under control. For both their sakes. He squared his shoulders and took a slow breath, eyes closed. Once he'd have easily sunk into Tennal's nearness and taken comfort from it. The feeling was still there; it was just dangerous.
"You are a thrall, Tenn," he whispered. "You have been for years. If they do send you out there, you might run into yourself. Don't try to talk sense into him, promise me." He opened his eyes to stare intently at Tennal now, stepping closer again. It was like they were dancing. A step away, a step closer, a hand out, a hand away. Surit ached. "Swear you won't try to talk sense into anybody out there on the battlefield, no matter which friend's face you see. I know you, I know you're used to talking your way out of things. It won't work here."
Tennal was not prepared for this discussion. He had hoped for a happier reunion, one where Surit didn't seem scared—Lights, was he scared?—of him. Tennal looked affronted by the urgency that picked up in Surit's voice, because he was still processing that he was a thrall. What a terrible fate he had wrung for himself in this future. Surit and Surit would, and clearly did, hate this outcome.
"I'm not, I won't, I'm—" He realized he was agreeing and promising to something he didn't know all the answers to, and that was risky in and of itself, even if it was to Surit. He abruptly held up his hand and waved them between them, as if he was clearing the space of intangible heaviness of the conversation. "Wait, just wait. Let me think about this for a second, because you're—I'm not going to do anything stupid." He paused, then corrected, "More stupid than I usually do. But if I'm a thrall, if I'm one of the people we saw when we arrived at the cottage then..."
He took a moment, a long moment. He paced a few steps away rubbing at his mouth to think. His mind, though, was amateurishly broadcasting But what about us? What about the sync? If I'm a thrall, then... Tennal was immediately back in Surit's space, closer than he had been before, comfort be damned. "You're still synced to me. Him. The thrall."
Surit seemed to withdraw on himself as Tennal began to pace. He was too clever, Surit's other half. Too sharp to let anything go unexamined. It would've been kinder to them both to avoid this encounter, but he was self-aware enough to know he wouldn't have resisted for long. Tennal had been a high-powered magnet from the moment Surit met him and time had only worn away Surit's resistance. He exhaled and then grimaced.
"Why do you think this is all shut down so tight?" He tapped his temple. "When was the last time I shut you out? Let's just say, I've had a lot more practice now." Too much practice. He was exhausted. But seeing Tennal as himself again did have a revitalizing effect. Surit came to a decision and he took Tennal by the elbow and started towards a hallway. "We shouldn't talk about this here. You--he--the thrall is a touchy subject for some people around here. Have you eaten? Don't lie."
Tennal didn't even put up a fight when Surit grabbed his elbow. Whether that was because he was still recoiling from all the information he was gathering or the fact that he was, indeed, hungry, was up for debate. He just mumbled something like I could eat.
But just because Surit said they shouldn't talk about it here, didn't mean Tennal was going to wait to ask questions. He, mercifully, lowered his voice to maintain some sort of privacy. "You know this would be easier if you would just let me in to your—no, right. Can't get in. But why?" He meant the 'touchy subject' situation. But Tennal was already attempting to supply solutions, and none of them were any good. Tennal knew what he could do now, and he didn't particularly enjoy the thought of turning it on his friends. An older version of him, who had practice, would most definitely be an unchecked danger.
And then he bounced back to another topic, scattered, clearly. "And he tries to get in? To yours?" Tennal mimicked Surit's temple-tap. He looked more concerned about that than his thrall-self attacking others. How was Surit sleeping? How was Surit thinking? How was Surit even functioning right now? "Am I—is he trying to get in right now?"
Surit didn’t immediately follow Tennal’s train of thought. The why seemed obvious; he couldn’t let in this Tennal without letting in his. But after a blinking frown, he realized what Tennal likely meant. “I’m sure it’s not hard for you to imagine what harm a rank one architect can do. It’s why you didn’t want me in your head at the start, after all.” He had no interest in telling Tennal who he’d hurt. Who he’d killed. It wasn’t a burden he should have to carry when he was here trying to help them.
“Anyway, he’s usually trying to get in, but when my shields are in place, I just feel like…a buoy being pounded by a stormy surf?” It felt a little silly to describe it that way, but Surit wasn’t sure how else to put it. He was too distracted by Tennal’s nearness anyway. He’d pressed in close to his side without realizing it. At least that made it easy to direct Tennal into their makeshift cafeteria. “I don’t want you to worry about this, okay? I’ve handled it for years and I’m still me. If he could break me, he would have. Just, focus on doing what you came here to do and staying alive.” He stopped moving to lower his face closer to Tennal’s. “Please.”
"Just because you have dealt with for years and are fine," Tennal said, giving Surit a sideways look that meant he was suspicious at fine as a way to describe his state of being, but was letting it slide. "That doesn't mean I have to be fine with it twenty seconds after hearing about it. I can worry, I am worried." Tennal huffed, trying not to seem ungrateful. Surit was taking a risk talking to him now; what sort of strange proximity sync business could interfere with all the buoying Surit had been doing? Not to mention, his own sync felt stretched and strained, and the little relief he found was being pressed against this Surit.
But when Surit stopped to stare him down, Tennal froze, stunned into silence. Not a natural state of Tennal Halkana, but one that was reserved for Surit. The seriousness in Surit's please did not go unnoticed. Tennal stared right back, almost like a challenge and an acquiescence all at once. Eventually Tennal seemed to give in and look away. "I have no intentions of dying or getting in bigger trouble than the kind we are already in. For your sake and, I guess, well your sake."
Tennal had no idea where he was going, but it was his turn to grab Surit's elbow and keep walking. As long as he looked like he knew where he was going, he'd find his way or Surit would correct him.
"No version of me would be okay with you living like this, by the way. I just want that stated on record." Record meaning Surit's supernatural memory recall. "Even if I can't do anything about it right now."
Surit closed his eyes for a second and then took Tennal by the hand. He threaded their fingers together so tightly, it nearly hurt. Lifting their hands to his mouth, he kissed Tennal's hand and then held it to his cheek for a second. He could've stayed like that for a long time. It felt like decades since he'd touched anyone, let alone Tennal.
"I've missed you so much," he murmured, sounding physically pained. "There aren't words for it. The only way I can do this is knowing that you're here for a purpose and I'm helping you fulfill it. So just please, set aside your worry about me. If we do this right…" He lowered Tennal's hand and smiled somberly. "...I'll be okay because you'll be okay."
Tennal was tempted to argue. He could dig his heels in, be stubborn, tell him that it is hypocritical of you, lieutenant, because you wouldn't let me tell you not to worry, and do all those things that brought some light into Surit's eyes. But everything softened and smoothed away when Surit kissed his hands. Tennal thought he might break apart, feeling the longing in it. He didn't have to read Surit's mind to know.
"Well then, we do it right," Tennal said, after a lingering, contemplative quietness. "Or we do it so spectacularly wrong that it comes back full circle to being right. I have a tendency to do both." He wanted to kiss him right then, but he longed to kiss his version of Surit too. Tennal wanted a lot all at once, a man of excess when little would do, but he was going to settle for food and handholding for now.
He tugged Surit along, abruptly shifting mood and topics, as Tennal often did to bring some levity to what was certainly going to be a tense ten days. "Now, let me see what you're eating in this place to maintain this beard..."