etraya | un: henry123

Well, if I do see people in the walls or strangeness in here, I'll let you know.

[Vander was being completely genuine. He might not believe in ghosts and hauntings, but he understood that just because he hadn't seen it didn't make it a falsehood. This place was teaching him plenty when it came to realities of other places, and it did make him appreciate the straight-forward familiarity of Runeterra.

He nodded his head. Clearly Henry had counted them.] That's quite the party. I bet they talk over each other too.

[And well, that was depressing, wasn't it? Oh, no wonder he had shown up here then!]

We're all going to die, Henry. Just some sooner than others.

Thank you.

[ Henry does genuinely mean that, as well. He thinks that he would very much like to know if the same horrific events that happened to him were starting up, again. However, a sense of hopelessness settles on him; he isn't sure what he would be able to do to stop things if they started.

Huh? ]

Oh. No. I met them one at at time. [ Well. ] Except one. He just gave me notes under the door. But he was already dead so -- [ His mouth quirks to the side in a way to say: "I don't know."

He feels his eyes widen at that statement; he looks troubled at the idea. Yes, well, yes; he understand that everyone is, but -- ]

Even so, people shouldn't die the way they did.

[Perhaps this young man could find some relief, temporary or otherwise, here in Etraya. Perhaps Aurora could ease some of the suffering? He was reserved on his opinion on Aurora and her willingness to help anyone, but he thought in this case that she might consider it for the safety and contribution of one of her recruits. Who knew.

Well, it was clear that this man lived an interesting and tormented life. He made a point to tuck his hands into his trouser pockets as a gesture of settling into ease with Henry.] Notes under a door? That's old fashioned; I would have thought most places gave that up when I was a kid.

[Vander's expression softened, remembering how he had died. Yeah, it hadn't been pleasant, hadn't been what he had wanted, but it had been his time to go he supposed. There were worse ways.]

People die the way that they die. When it's your time, you just... go, I suppose, whether you suffer or go quietly in your sleep.

Mm.

[ Henry doesn't have much of an answer to that statement. He wonders if he should add that the notes also appeared around his apartment. It seems like Joseph was trying to drop pieces of his research into the reality that Henry occupied. However, he couldn't give it all at once, for some reason.

However, if he had everything that Joseph knew, what would he be able to do with any of it?

He lets that question go because of what Vander says. His eyes unfocus. Henry has always been more of a pool of water - low energy, little expression or shifts of tone in his voice. He would rather run or seek an escape than fight.

However - however - he doesn't think it was those people's time. He doesn't believe they deserved the way that they died. Someone dragged them into a hellish, closed-off world and tortured them to death. Their last moments were in fear and pain. Because of some ritual. He barely understands what the ritual's goal would be. He just understands -- it wasn't fair.

Henry used to be angry about what was happening to him. It was a quiet frustration that burned in the back of his mind. But he wasn't an explosively volatile individual. It's why everything in his apartment remained in place and untouched; he wasn't the kind of person to grab a lamp and slam it against the wall to shatter it in helpless bitterness.

However, he is upset what happened to all those people. Some of them weren't innocent; some of them had done terrible things. But even then, it wasn't fair.

So, he stands - denouncing what is said in silence alone. His fists clenched and shaking; his eyes refocusing to quiet, raw anger he has. Enough to be able to kill someone. Enough to feel nothing afterward.

But the pool of water doesn't remain disturbed for long. His shoulders relax and posture droops. Vander isn't the one who did anything; this is just his opinion. He tips his chin in a small nod, accepting that is just what he thinks. ]

I guess.

[ Is what he says at last. ]

[It wasn't difficult to read the room, especially since he was watching Henry to begin with. His perception piqued when the other man withdrew completely from the conversation, filling the air with an angry silence. So, death was a subject that may require a bit more investigation then?

His own perception of it was perhaps skewed given the high mortality rates of his people, of the accidents and the bodies he had seen over the years. It seemed that Henry did have feelings on the matter, and they likely were in conflict with his feigns nonchalance about it. Death was one of those subjects that stirred emotions in people, and it was never a simple feeling either.

He lightly set his hands on his hips rather than cross them over his chest, not wanting to make Henry feel like he had closed off from the conversation. He doesn't move when Henry stood and all the clear signs of fury were there and within a few seconds, they were gone again. He'd met a few men like that. Hard to read, harder to disarm once provoked in his experience.]

I seem to have momentarily upset you. Did you want to talk about it, or would it better if I leave you to your own devices for now?

[ That's --

-- it's a good question. Should he talk about their deaths? His chin involuntarily dips down as he grits his teeth. Not all of the victims were good people. Some of them had done terrible things, but --

Andrew's body was never recovered. It probably would rot in that unknown prison without anyone finding it. Just like those children sent to that place. No one would know his part in their suffering. But is it up to him to decide how he should be "punished?"

Richard suffered so much before he died. However, the terrible things that he did -- was that his own doing or was he influenced by whatever was going on in the apartment building? Was it all right to brush it off as saying he was possessed? Manipulated by unseen forces? Was it right to wash away his actions? And what about the man that was murdered? Skinned?

If he talked about everything, what would happen? Would he feel better? He isn't sure. People died. He watched all of their deaths because someone wanted him to see it. His mouth feels dry. His eyes dip from side-to-side like reading a page.

His eyes remain unfocused until he blinks.

He lifts his head and looks at Vander. ]

I -- I don't know.

[Vander could tell that there was a lot happening behind the scenes where Henry was concerned, and he had no idea what the younger man was actually thinking about. He still watched, picking out the subtleties of body language. He suspected that Henry may be thinking about the very topic he wasn't certain the younger man may wish to speak on or not.

So he waited in the quiet unperturbed by it. There was no hurry on his part on if Henry would prefer he excused himself or if he stayed, and he had little interest in pushing potential boundaries of someone he had just met. Perhaps if he knew Henry better.

He tilted his head at the eventual answer. Poor guy wasn't decisive, was he?]

Well, would it make you uncomfortable to talk about it? Or have you had enough one-on-one visitation? It's your choice, and I'm happy for either. I don't want you feel obligated to have me around.

[ His eyes fix on his face before veering off to the side. Eye contact is hard on him. He tries not to fidget overtly much as he thinks of the answer to those questions.

He presses his lips together in a thin line before trying to answer. A soft-half noise comes out first before he closes his mouth again. Henry blinks and lets his gaze drift to the side once more. ]

I don't mind you being here. You're right that I do feel uncomfortable talking about the people who died. I didn't know them very well. Yet I was the only one there when they died. [ His eyes drift down to the floor. ] They died scared and they suffered to the last second.

[ And the person there to comfort them was Henry. ] It isn't about me. I don't think -- they should have been given more comfort. Some of them weren't good people, but I don't think that means they should suffer like they did. [ Maybe that's idealistic to think. He ended up saying all of this in the end; he thought about shuffling about and walking back to another room to indicate the conversation was over.

However, Vander did say he would listen to him before; he said that he would listen to the insanity that Henry has been enduring. It feels wrong not to "reward" the feeling of trust that he has in him by telling him some of his thoughts. Although, "reward" doesn't sound right. It isn't quite the right word, but he does want to give him something for his troubles. ]

I just know that what happened wasn't right. It wasn't their time.

[He let Henry decide without pressure; it would be easy to walk out if the younger man would prefer that thanks to there being no door. Yet, he felt himself relax as Henry decided to reveal a little more of the situation that had started the discomfort in the first place. Death.

He remained quiet and attentive, turning the information over in his head and how it might relate to his own world views. It didn't seem to him that it was Henry who killed them but had perhaps been present during their final moments. He'd been there a few times himself, and he found himself appreciating Henry's empathy when it came to other people. It was the sign of a good man.]

All of that is a sign of an empathetic person, especially putting aside when someone else has done what society considers 'bad' things in their lifetimes. [He couldn't say that he knew or understood the circumstances of those deaths, of course. There was nuance to everything, but he appreciate that Henry stood up for those people.] You provided them comfort during the potential worst time.

[He wasn't certain about 'their time' though. He knew many good people and many bad people who would disagree about their time. He might even be among them.]

Where I'm from, we have a duality figure called the Wolf and the Lamb. It is death. If one accepts death with grace and embraces it, the Lamb will take them peacefully. However, if one fights death and runs from it, they will be pursued and face the Wolf who tears them apart. Not sure I believe it myself, but I know that sometimes the seeming unfairness of death and its timing aren't usually things we decide for ourselves. [He didn't think he saw the Wolf or the Lamb in his final moments, but it wasn't exactly something he had been on the look out for either.]

I did?

[ In those two words, he sounds broken and unsure.

He could only stare at them as they died. It's only with Cynthia he spoke to her until she finally passed. With Richard, he tried to save him, but failed. He couldn't say anything to any of them; he could only sit down on the floor as Eileen bled out in her apartment. He isn't even sure she was aware he was there. ]

I wasn't able to do anything for them. I was just there.

[ Just witnessing their end. ]

I don't think -- I don't think a lamb could make their ending any less painful or scary. [ He holds his hands out, but he isn't one who talks with his hands, so he isn't sure how to gesture. There isn't flinging of his arms from side to side, but awkward jerking of his hands in the air. ] They were stabbed and burned and drowned and electrocuted -- numbers were carved into them.

[ His arms drop as his head drops. ] Her arm was broken. Not with any -- someone's hands -- [ He opens his mouth and stops speaking for a moment. ]

-- I didn't do anything for them. But thank you.

You being there is enough. Dying would be far more frightening to do it alone.

[He liked to think there was a certain kinship not facing that final end alone, to realize there was someone was there to bare final witness who had not been the cause of such torment in the first place. What would that have been like just laying in Shimmer knowing they were hunting Vi? No, his end had been easy to accept for the decision that he had made to sacrifice himself for her and moreover to see her one last time knowing she had survived the fall.]

If they embraced death, that is Lamb’s purpose. By the time that Lamb arrives, people will have likely accepted that their death is upon them and seek to follow. [He noted the way that Henry’s hands were held out, but he did not move to take them. It seemed to him the younger man was trying to gastrulate with his hands to emphasize the importance of a point of view.] That sounds like an unpleasant situation to experience. That’s a burden for you to carry, isn’t it? That’s heavy stuff. I appreciate you confiding in me with that information.

[He dropped his arms back to his side and telegraphed his movement as he raised a hand so that he could set it on Henry’s shoulder. He wanted to give a light squeeze with his fingers.]

When I worked the mines, people died crushed with cave ins, equipment malfunctions or just… reaching the end of what they could, and sometimes just being with them was enough. Passing on messages to their families afterwards too. Believe me, you helped by being there.

[ His shoulder drops immediately as the hand rests on it. He doesn't start crying, however. It feels like if he were to start that he isn't sure what would happen after. Would he able to stop? Did he have the right to act that way when he's still alive? It's a guilty conscience that keeps him from breaking down.

He pauses as he lifts his gaze up. ]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry you also had to see something scary.

[ His jumbled words came out instead of what else was going through his head. He realizes that he's been feeling sorry for himself instead of looking out to others. At least, that's how it feels to him. ]

I hope you also feel like you helped them. I'm sorry for what you went through, too...

[He shook his head a slightly at Henry's apology, and while he appreciated the condolences, that also hadn't been the point of his telling of his own experiences being in a similar situation as Henry had.]

Thank you, Henry. What little I could do for them helped, I think. I didn't want them to feel so scared in isolation.

[He tilted his head as he regarded Henry, and the younger man looked so...]

Would you like me to give you a hug, Henry? Tough subjects we're talking about here.

Yeah.

[ It's a soft response in return. Maybe it had been enough to help them. If Vander was able to offer some sense of comfort to those people, maybe he was able to help those people, as well.

His head lifts at the question if he would like a hug. ]

If you want to, Vander. [ Henry thinks he should try to make some decision for himself but he isn't really that decisive an individual. However, he thinks he should have some feeling one way or another if he wanted this or that; yet he doesn't know. ]

[Oh this guy. Vander was so bemused by his noncommittal, even if it came to actual physical affection. Many men didn't feel comfortable hugging relative strangers, but there seemed to be no discomfort in Henry. Maybe he wasn't hugged a lot?

Well, here went nothing then!

He stepped over and slung a big arm over Henry's shoulders, pulling the younger man against his side and then curling his arm down so that there was a true one-armed hug happening between them. He watched for Henry's reaction, willing to either let the other man go or increase the affection if it seemed to be wanted. Who knew. He'd hugged for less he supposed.]

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cw: death, corpses, brief mention of child abuse

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