[ Hindsight. He looks into the water... What does he see? Is it just his reflection but Nanami blasted on his left shoulder and left side of his face. ]
He does see his reflection, and it's very clear. Gojo Satoru, the left side of his body scalded down into the flesh, his good looks ruined, one of his brilliant blue eyes missing.
There is an outline of someone else sitting perfectly in the reflection of him, but the hair mixing with his own hair is blonde instead of white. The face that looks back at him, transposed over his, is tired and familiar.
But then something breaks the surface of the water out toward the middle of the pool, closer to where the fountain is pouring its streams of water.
A man surfaces from below the water, stopping at the navel, but he is definitely nude from the waist up. He looks familiar in an unfamiliar way of the last time Gojo had seen him recently.
For a long moment, he regards Gojo from where he's standing, blinking water from his lashes. "Satoru," Geto says teasingly, as if he's trying to see if Gojo will say something back to him.
Damn, it's fine, probably. Just realized I have tormented you before with these gay pieces of shit in 7Rings. Well, this is the consequences of your own actions.
"Are you going to come in?" Geto asks. He doesn't make any move to go toward Gojo. He does lift an arm out of the water to extend it, palm up, in Gojo's direction. He's waiting.
"Do you still think they all deserve to live? I thought you would come in and make it so. To try to stop me."
[ It really is my fault for being here... He leers at this version of his best friend. You should tell me how muscular he is because Satoru would pay attention to that, not out of admiration but more like comparison. ]
You plan to go on your impossible campaign while naked?
[ How annoying—this is a trial, isn't it? He comes over, anyway, even though he thinks this is a bad idea. IS HE EXPECTED TO GO INTO THE WATER? ]
Gojo has one good eye left, and that's enough to see the Geto Suguru in front of him is carved out with muscle. He has a broader chest and shoulders, a tapered waist, but it's still slightly thicker than Gojo's own.
The question makes him laugh, and the laugh sounds exactly like the laugh Geto used to give when he wasn't burdened by the weight of a duty that watched people die. "I would put clothes on," he reassures.
He hand curls, beckoning Gojo into the water. He finds that, strangely, he can't resist even if his brain wants to do it. His body doesn't listen. It begins stepping down into the water.
"Why? I want to see you. I want to know what the great Gojo Satoru would trade."
[ i see you really are here like you are 18 and still on the twinky side
This is the stupidest reassurance, but the sound of Suguru's laughter, so similar to that of last summer, has him shut up. Even here, when they have moments where they can be happy despite bodies dropping everywhere, his laugh isn't bereft of weariness that can sink into bone.
He's stepping down into the water, annoyed and unahppy that he's being influenced. ]
Geto takes Gojo's hand once Gojo is close enough, and Geto draws him in closer, right up in front of him. Close enough that if Geto happened to lean forward, they could touch foreheads, but Geto doesn't for now.
It's easy to see the existential fatigue sitting under Geto's eyes when they are this close. The slightly older man who has long since reconciled with himself that ordinary people are simply monkeys.
"You remember where you had been before." It's not a question. "I will give you a piece of the puzzle for that place, but you have to give me something in exchange. Will you, Satoru?"
[ Stop. Why must he see a future he doesn't want. He doesn't pull his hand away, but... ]
... I will. [ Instinctively, he squeezes his hand. ] I can't give anything that'd send me back dead, obviously. I might not own anything I currently have here, either.
I only have my organs and limbs to offer, unless you'd accept nebulous things like chances and opportunities.
Geto smiles at Gojo. It's a smile caught between two places of time: the carefree, stupid smile of a teenage boy, and the sly smile of a young man who has accepted he will need to be the villain, to play the part.
The other hand rises up and cups Gojo's cheek on the damaged side.
"I know," Geto says, but the voice isn't Geto's anymore. Geto's reflection in the water looks a little different, too. Gojo can feel the sudden swell of a primordial, dark call in the pit of his chest. A fiendish patron extending power to him, but pulling on his soul in return. "I want you to give up all of your love for me.
[ This should be expected, but he tries to stab Belial with a dagger, specifically in the liver. ]
That's difficult... I'd let Suguru curse me for as long as I live.
[ He says that, but it isn't like he has control over it.
The strongest curse is love itself, love that lingers after people are gone... Love with nowhere to grow, to fester into grief, to haunt them and their dreams. How is he going to make that promise? He's already toiled in it—a memory of his friends dying, of Suguru running the marathon but falling behind... Looking behind him to see a blanket of corpses, a bleak future where he struggles to uphold a promise woven out of this curse placed on him. ]
You'll have to rip it out of me!
[ WHY IS A PATHETIC YEARNING GAY TRYING TO COAX HIM ]
Belial laughs, and it rings out in the whole of the flora-filled fountain room. His hand grips Gojo's, hard, crushing some of the bones in it as he holds it pinned there, solid and unmovable. He keeps the dagger right where it is.
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
The fiend shoves his opposite hand straight through Gojo's chest in the center, blowing it open out the back. His hand grips the heart, and he laughs again, thrilled. "I hope it was worth it," Belial says slyly. He allows Gojo to slide off his arm and down into the water, the hand on Gojo's and the dagger letting go.
Cold water pours into the hole through him, washes up over him and consumes him. He had been standing when in the pool, but now that he is being baptized by it, he sinks down, and down, and down, watching the rippling, watery image of Belial with his heart grow farther and farther away.
That's what it's like to be a Warlock with a fiendish Patron. A would-be god bestowing upon you some dark, terrible power, and you giving to them your life and service in return.
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[ He looks around the room to see if he can notice anything off, but then reads the plaque to see if it says anything. ]
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The water of the fountain is beautiful and clear. The sound of it invites the feeling of being refreshed and replenished.
The plaque in front reads:
Waded waters of transaction
may extend some satisfaction,
or may become an unwanted distraction.
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[ Hindsight. He looks into the water... What does he see? Is it just his reflection but Nanami blasted on his left shoulder and left side of his face. ]
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There is an outline of someone else sitting perfectly in the reflection of him, but the hair mixing with his own hair is blonde instead of white. The face that looks back at him, transposed over his, is tired and familiar.
But then something breaks the surface of the water out toward the middle of the pool, closer to where the fountain is pouring its streams of water.
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[ He is very annoyed by it, but doesn't stay on his reflection for long despite the familiar haggard visage it holds. They're all tired.
Quickly, he turns his attention toward the direction of the sound??? ]
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For a long moment, he regards Gojo from where he's standing, blinking water from his lashes. "Satoru," Geto says teasingly, as if he's trying to see if Gojo will say something back to him.
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It takes him a moment, still guarded. ]
Suguru.
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"Are you going to come in?" Geto asks. He doesn't make any move to go toward Gojo. He does lift an arm out of the water to extend it, palm up, in Gojo's direction. He's waiting.
"Do you still think they all deserve to live? I thought you would come in and make it so. To try to stop me."
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You plan to go on your impossible campaign while naked?
[ How annoying—this is a trial, isn't it? He comes over, anyway, even though he thinks this is a bad idea. IS HE EXPECTED TO GO INTO THE WATER? ]
Can you go back inside first?
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The question makes him laugh, and the laugh sounds exactly like the laugh Geto used to give when he wasn't burdened by the weight of a duty that watched people die. "I would put clothes on," he reassures.
He hand curls, beckoning Gojo into the water. He finds that, strangely, he can't resist even if his brain wants to do it. His body doesn't listen. It begins stepping down into the water.
"Why? I want to see you. I want to know what the great Gojo Satoru would trade."
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This is the stupidest reassurance, but the sound of Suguru's laughter, so similar to that of last summer, has him shut up. Even here, when they have moments where they can be happy despite bodies dropping everywhere, his laugh isn't bereft of weariness that can sink into bone.
He's stepping down into the water, annoyed and unahppy that he's being influenced. ]
Fine. I'll play the game.
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Geto takes Gojo's hand once Gojo is close enough, and Geto draws him in closer, right up in front of him. Close enough that if Geto happened to lean forward, they could touch foreheads, but Geto doesn't for now.
It's easy to see the existential fatigue sitting under Geto's eyes when they are this close. The slightly older man who has long since reconciled with himself that ordinary people are simply monkeys.
"You remember where you had been before." It's not a question. "I will give you a piece of the puzzle for that place, but you have to give me something in exchange. Will you, Satoru?"
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... I will. [ Instinctively, he squeezes his hand. ] I can't give anything that'd send me back dead, obviously. I might not own anything I currently have here, either.
I only have my organs and limbs to offer, unless you'd accept nebulous things like chances and opportunities.
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The other hand rises up and cups Gojo's cheek on the damaged side.
"I know," Geto says, but the voice isn't Geto's anymore. Geto's reflection in the water looks a little different, too. Gojo can feel the sudden swell of a primordial, dark call in the pit of his chest. A fiendish patron extending power to him, but pulling on his soul in return. "I want you to give up all of your love for me.
"Make me that promise."
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That's difficult... I'd let Suguru curse me for as long as I live.
[ He says that, but it isn't like he has control over it.
The strongest curse is love itself, love that lingers after people are gone... Love with nowhere to grow, to fester into grief, to haunt them and their dreams. How is he going to make that promise? He's already toiled in it—a memory of his friends dying, of Suguru running the marathon but falling behind... Looking behind him to see a blanket of corpses, a bleak future where he struggles to uphold a promise woven out of this curse placed on him. ]
You'll have to rip it out of me!
[ WHY IS A PATHETIC YEARNING GAY TRYING TO COAX HIM ]
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"Don't threaten me with a good time."
The fiend shoves his opposite hand straight through Gojo's chest in the center, blowing it open out the back. His hand grips the heart, and he laughs again, thrilled. "I hope it was worth it," Belial says slyly. He allows Gojo to slide off his arm and down into the water, the hand on Gojo's and the dagger letting go.
Cold water pours into the hole through him, washes up over him and consumes him. He had been standing when in the pool, but now that he is being baptized by it, he sinks down, and down, and down, watching the rippling, watery image of Belial with his heart grow farther and farther away.
That's what it's like to be a Warlock with a fiendish Patron. A would-be god bestowing upon you some dark, terrible power, and you giving to them your life and service in return.
The next time he opens his eyes, he has left the Folding Halls of Halas completely.