(chuuya's unfairly pretty, and he would have kissed the man if he had had the chance growing up, but alas, fyodor will get the honest answer he seeks.)
You'd be absolutely wrong! I'd rather live in eternal suffering. It was a girl I had to escort for whatever reason.
[ he rolls his eyes at that comment, honestly who is dazai fooling here because... ] A girl you were escorting- so no one you care to remember much about? Why would you give that away to a person who was simply passing by your life instead of someone who was--[ fyodor gestures with one hand, as if to say 'remain' 'stay' 'last'. ]
She was your first and maybe you were her first, should that not have been more...important?
[ he thinks he would have liked to have been someone's first something but his hands are only good for death. he certainly has been everyone's first and last death so. ]
It was important, though. I'm a bit different in these things than most! She was nice and I almost died not too long after. It was enough for me at the time, see?
Need and consequence, emotion and physical, emotion with the physical. It feels like everything is a little scrambled in that wonderful brain of yours!
You see, Fy. It's all very relative. You might have a need, and you can squash it easily, and there might not be any emotion. That said, with emotions, I suppose it is wonderful to show it through the physical. They converge, and they separate.
I just said this is not something that should be undertaken lightly, darling Dazai. Crime and Punishment may not kill you if we touch but that's is a poor reason to try this.
[ ...fyodor, god lord, please ] And I don't like you enough to let you that close either way.
I am not exactly sure what you want from me here. I offered before and you said no, and now you are offering but it's not-[ fyodor looks momentarily frustrated. it had been easier when the choice hadn't been entirely his, but now. ]
The physical is less important to me than the emotional, Dazai.
That's exactly the point. I said 'no' because you thought about me and my needs, instead of your emotions, and I'm offering to take care of both. It's completely different, Fyfy! Ultimately, however, your decision!
(he won't push. he just wants to make the difference clear.)
Ah, you said you don't like me enough for it, so... I don't think I even understand why you offered it in the first place. What do some things mean to you, Fyfy?
I thought it was what you wanted, that's what I thought. Better to satisfy your need than have you become compromised or distracted by someone here.
I might not understand it entirely but I am intimately aware of the effects it has on people. [ you know, like from gogol ]
You said before that I didn't know what I want, but you're wrong. I do. In this- if I ever were to consider it, I know. [ he is speaking a lot, honest in the way he gestures ] People love Him without every seeing Him or touching Him.
Sad that you think I'd become compromised or distracted even if I was sleeping around left and right. I'm perfectly good at multitasking, Fy, and it can mean something or it won't. It's not like that for me.
(this conversation is confusing, but certainly enlightening.)
That's devotion, but neither of us is untangible, Fyodor. What is it that you want from me?
[ what fyodor isn't outright saying, for someone like him: sleeping with someone would compromise him because the physical and emotional are linked.
fyodor deals in absolutes, he can't do something halfway, half-heart in and the rest out. not to mention his ability's complication and everything else that came along with that. ]
Devotion.
[ but not really. not exactly the same devotion he holds for God. ]
My devotion doesn't look the same as yours. Would you expect so?
(he assumes, at least. not when dazai's physical and emotional needs distance, converge, and distance again. he can't promise his entire heart, but he can promise that the space fyodor takes up in it is solely his, his own to hold, his own to find himself in adoration.)
You're not a God-fearing man so I expect that your devotion wouldn't. [ but then again, fyodor doesn't exactly fear god. why should he when he's already very much set to go to hell?
this discussion does feel a little like hell. the discomfort itching under his skin.
fyodor is not dazai, he doesn't have the tools to know where and how to split those distances, where to allow them to converge again. how can he know what he's never done? where a heart is not for one single person—he is not sure he even has one. when dazai asks what he wants from him and 'devotion' is the one word he can conjure up, and the meaning is opaque. after all, fyodor would say ivan is 'devoted' to him and that's a whole morally questionable experiment that has nothing to do with romance or sex. ]
In this time we have spent here, the differences between us--I don't like them.
Should I change? Should you change? Or will you simply accept them, Fyodor?
(the two first ones seem unlikely. dazai is ever-changing, yet, awfully the same, like a maze that ends in the beginning, and changes the rows once it does. a never-ending attempt at goodness, where he fails, where he succeeds, reminiscences, dwells and moves on, like a wave that crashes and returns to sea.
fyodor, he thinks has lived in the same way for so long, he hasn't been shown something different, something better and more beautiful, even if that might seem unlikely to someone who believes they're embraced by god themselves.)
[ dark hair obscures fyodor's expression briefly as he dips his head in acknowledgment of dazai's questions. divergences in their philosophies are rooted in one single point: the death of a man to whom dazai made a promise, one kept, even in this place. the details and intricacies are not for fyodor to know (yet). to him the death of a man during a conflict is a much repeated story that has no real impact, it's a footnote in the mental file he keeps on dazai's deflection from the port mafia.
dazai's ever-changing, whimsical nature is, and what fyodor is, what crime and punishment truly mean is still fyodor's secret. the avulsion of soul from flesh—precise, clean, simple in a way dazai's mind is not. answering those questions is unnecessary because while they are different they are also alike, two of a kind. that's the point. dazai understands him, knows his mind but he doesn't surpass fyodor's intelligence, and by that same measure, fyodor understands dazai, knows his mind but fyodor cannot predict dazai's moves with the simple ease he does others.
and fyodor is not arrogant enough to think he ever will manage that dissection of dazai's mind, that an incursion into the labyrinth will allow him to emerge at the centre and not the beginning. the centre where the very essence of dazai's soul could be made and unmade by pressing the pads of his raw-bitten fingers against it. sometimes, fyodor thinks he would want that because then fyodor would be able to craft a mirror from that fabric and see himself cleanly, clearly. as god intended him to be; no crime, no punishment, no longer human.
that is, however, a flight of fancy.
fyodor is six years old and six-feet deep inside a grave—only god answered then; now, fyodor is twenty-two years old and sitting on a patch of grass in a world that seems a cruel parody of limbo, and god doesn't speak, instead, dazai still sits here with him. it is unbearably human and it burns like hell. listening because of some misguided, manipulated glitch of emotion overriding his rational mind.
this is, undoubtedly, a colossal mistake.
and yet fyodor answers so there is nothing left to chance and assumptions. he answers dazai when he would answer no one else. ]
I cannot do anything but accept them. [ after all, manipulating dazai like he does others to shape them wouldn't work, nor would a physical approach—a scalpel would ruin a mind like dazai's. it'd be worse than just killing him outright, and fyodor's cruelty has reasons, a greater purpose. trying to change dazai serves no final goal, no lofty ambition, nothing of value worth the effort would come from it, and fyodor is not a man to focus on worthless endeavors and lost battles.
someone must clean those sins in the aftermath of said conflicts; if humanity cannot stop sinning, cannot stop being foolish, cannot stop killing one another then—
salvation of the soul depends entirely on being released from the yoke of sin: death. infinite in its embrace; not finite like a maze that ends in the beginning but an all-encompassing horizon. a vast sky with no end, unchanging, steadfast, unmoved by the slaughter below its gaze. he can bear witness to the labyrinth dazai traverses, and the water, sand, and salt that compose the waves dazai follows but fyodor does not how to be part of those changes, those movements.
the enormity of what dazai has brought up between them is an incipient spark in the periphery of fyodor's emotions; he's not devoid of feeling after all. but he only knows what he can see bloom between others, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to find that same thing dazai has obliquely alluded to in this conversation. he knows what he wants and he also does not, what a pathetic contradiction for a man of blacks and whites.
there is a heavy wariness as fyodor lifts his head, palpable in the way his eyes turn to dazai; the smile drawn out—no teeth, no malice, only a placid sort of acceptance. ]
Very well played, Dazai-kun.
[ besides, how can fyodor ever truly explain?
the embrace of his god isn't beautiful, it's cruel. ]
(in another world, in another universe, their difference would be nothing. intellects and minds alike, breathing from the same darkness, selfishness, of doing the worst for their own goals. dazai's never seen much of a difference, good, bad, those things are so poorly put together, separated, a gray area that never fits right. from fyodor's point of view, he is solely a bad guy because he is trying his most to do good, even if it burns him with sin. dazai? dazai is a bad guy, trying his most to do good, while his tactics might pour the same darkness they share deep in their hearts - both save, or try to, in their own minds, in their own rights.
a younger dazai would find this to be exciting. everything had bored him back them, everything was too awfully obvious, his life a pit of numbness he could never climb out, and fyodor would have provided him with just what he searched. the carnage, the sin, the worst of the worst, right in front of his eyes to watch closely as their blood spilled against a wall. this dazai would rather stop the hand that touches one into their demise, take it to his lips in a kiss, and try to show fyodor there are other ways to save.
the smile is warm, it makes his heart skip a beat, even though he should always be in control of it. fyodor is beautiful, and there's no bloodspill that could make dazai think otherwise.)
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(chuuya's unfairly pretty, and he would have kissed the man if he had had the chance growing up, but alas, fyodor will get the honest answer he seeks.)
You'd be absolutely wrong! I'd rather live in eternal suffering. It was a girl I had to escort for whatever reason.
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She was your first and maybe you were her first, should that not have been more...important?
[ he thinks he would have liked to have been someone's first something but his hands are only good for death. he certainly has been everyone's first and last death so. ]
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(PLEASE HE'S ALREADY DYING.)
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[ ...fyodor, god lord, please ] And I don't like you enough to let you that close either way.
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The physical is less important to me than the emotional, Dazai.
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(he won't push. he just wants to make the difference clear.)
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I might not understand it entirely but I am intimately aware of the effects it has on people. [ you know, like from gogol ]
You said before that I didn't know what I want, but you're wrong. I do. In this- if I ever were to consider it, I know. [ he is speaking a lot, honest in the way he gestures ] People love Him without every seeing Him or touching Him.
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(this conversation is confusing, but certainly enlightening.)
That's devotion, but neither of us is untangible, Fyodor. What is it that you want from me?
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fyodor deals in absolutes, he can't do something halfway, half-heart in and the rest out. not to mention his ability's complication and everything else that came along with that. ]
Devotion.
[ but not really. not exactly the same devotion he holds for God. ]
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(he assumes, at least. not when dazai's physical and emotional needs distance, converge, and distance again. he can't promise his entire heart, but he can promise that the space fyodor takes up in it is solely his, his own to hold, his own to find himself in adoration.)
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this discussion does feel a little like hell. the discomfort itching under his skin.
fyodor is not dazai, he doesn't have the tools to know where and how to split those distances, where to allow them to converge again. how can he know what he's never done? where a heart is not for one single person—he is not sure he even has one. when dazai asks what he wants from him and 'devotion' is the one word he can conjure up, and the meaning is opaque. after all, fyodor would say ivan is 'devoted' to him and that's a whole morally questionable experiment that has nothing to do with romance or sex. ]
In this time we have spent here, the differences between us--I don't like them.
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(the two first ones seem unlikely. dazai is ever-changing, yet, awfully the same, like a maze that ends in the beginning, and changes the rows once it does. a never-ending attempt at goodness, where he fails, where he succeeds, reminiscences, dwells and moves on, like a wave that crashes and returns to sea.
fyodor, he thinks has lived in the same way for so long, he hasn't been shown something different, something better and more beautiful, even if that might seem unlikely to someone who believes they're embraced by god themselves.)
...i am so sorry
dazai's ever-changing, whimsical nature is, and what fyodor is, what crime and punishment truly mean is still fyodor's secret. the avulsion of soul from flesh—precise, clean, simple in a way dazai's mind is not. answering those questions is unnecessary because while they are different they are also alike, two of a kind. that's the point. dazai understands him, knows his mind but he doesn't surpass fyodor's intelligence, and by that same measure, fyodor understands dazai, knows his mind but fyodor cannot predict dazai's moves with the simple ease he does others.
and fyodor is not arrogant enough to think he ever will manage that dissection of dazai's mind, that an incursion into the labyrinth will allow him to emerge at the centre and not the beginning. the centre where the very essence of dazai's soul could be made and unmade by pressing the pads of his raw-bitten fingers against it. sometimes, fyodor thinks he would want that because then fyodor would be able to craft a mirror from that fabric and see himself cleanly, clearly. as god intended him to be; no crime, no punishment, no longer human.
that is, however, a flight of fancy.
fyodor is six years old and six-feet deep inside a grave—only god answered then; now, fyodor is twenty-two years old and sitting on a patch of grass in a world that seems a cruel parody of limbo, and god doesn't speak, instead, dazai still sits here with him. it is unbearably human and it burns like hell. listening because of some misguided, manipulated glitch of emotion overriding his rational mind.
this is, undoubtedly, a colossal mistake.
and yet fyodor answers so there is nothing left to chance and assumptions. he answers dazai when he would answer no one else. ]
I cannot do anything but accept them. [ after all, manipulating dazai like he does others to shape them wouldn't work, nor would a physical approach—a scalpel would ruin a mind like dazai's. it'd be worse than just killing him outright, and fyodor's cruelty has reasons, a greater purpose. trying to change dazai serves no final goal, no lofty ambition, nothing of value worth the effort would come from it, and fyodor is not a man to focus on worthless endeavors and lost battles.
someone must clean those sins in the aftermath of said conflicts; if humanity cannot stop sinning, cannot stop being foolish, cannot stop killing one another then—
salvation of the soul depends entirely on being released from the yoke of sin: death. infinite in its embrace; not finite like a maze that ends in the beginning but an all-encompassing horizon. a vast sky with no end, unchanging, steadfast, unmoved by the slaughter below its gaze. he can bear witness to the labyrinth dazai traverses, and the water, sand, and salt that compose the waves dazai follows but fyodor does not how to be part of those changes, those movements.
the enormity of what dazai has brought up between them is an incipient spark in the periphery of fyodor's emotions; he's not devoid of feeling after all. but he only knows what he can see bloom between others, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to find that same thing dazai has obliquely alluded to in this conversation. he knows what he wants and he also does not, what a pathetic contradiction for a man of blacks and whites.
there is a heavy wariness as fyodor lifts his head, palpable in the way his eyes turn to dazai; the smile drawn out—no teeth, no malice, only a placid sort of acceptance. ]
Very well played, Dazai-kun.
[ besides, how can fyodor ever truly explain?
the embrace of his god isn't beautiful, it's cruel. ]
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a younger dazai would find this to be exciting. everything had bored him back them, everything was too awfully obvious, his life a pit of numbness he could never climb out, and fyodor would have provided him with just what he searched. the carnage, the sin, the worst of the worst, right in front of his eyes to watch closely as their blood spilled against a wall. this dazai would rather stop the hand that touches one into their demise, take it to his lips in a kiss, and try to show fyodor there are other ways to save.
the smile is warm, it makes his heart skip a beat, even though he should always be in control of it. fyodor is beautiful, and there's no bloodspill that could make dazai think otherwise.)
I accept you as you are, too.
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