Oscar's own bristling annoyance could be felt through their connection as well, nevermind their mutual tendency toward self loathing. Oscar wanted to snap something about Oz having more of a chance at romance than he did, but instead he held his metaphorical tongue.]
'It's obvious that you two like each other. Don't screw it up, and try to open up a little.
That's how friendships work, and it should work for this, too.'
[ Oscar may not mean to broadcast his simmering thoughts, but they come through regardless. "More of a chance at romance..." ]
'While I appreciate the effort to provide assistance on my behalf,' [ spoilers: he doesn't ] 'I suspect you're well-aware that 'opening up a little,' as you put it, has not served me well in the past. At the risk of understatement, it is not one of my greater strengths. And I do not see the need for it here, where we finally have a chance to put the mistakes of our pasts behind us.'
[ That's pure stubbornness, optimism at a stretch; he knows Deerington permits no such thing. ]
'In any case, it wouldn't do to sell yourself short, Oscar. If the possibility of a romantic partnership interests you, I see no reason not to pursue it. We are, as I've said, uniquely free of consequence under these circumstances.'
[ What he means is: your partner won't be killed horribly for the crime of association. Probably. ]
[Even in the interminable headspace defined only by the ticking of a clock, Oscar's voice squeaked in his embarrassed frustration. Unbidden he thought erratically of images and feelings-- dark hair, reddish clothes, the cool touch of finely polished custom steel-- and he struggled to maintain composure.]
I thought I told you not to just read my thoughts like that!
[He blurted out loud, unthinking. Then, in the headspace once more:]
'The people I like probably don't want someone who might not be themselves in a little while. Besides, they're taken... Or probably not even interested.'
[ There are no surprises in the impressions he receives. Ozpin radiates exasperation right back at him, but now there's a faint warm amusement shading up from somewhere deep. It gentles further as Oscar admits his reasons.
And it twists to something sweetly sad. ]
'People change, Oscar.'
[ They've discussed this. It's not a death, Ozpin has maintained.
He does not, after all, feel that he died with the merge. He still remembers being Ozpin. He still feels that's who he is.
Even if no one who'd known him as just Ozpin would recognize him now. ]
'It may work differently for you than for most, but at its core, that fact is natural. And much of what makes us different is suspended here: we have a little reprieve from the factors which normally make things... complicated. I would not think poorly of you for using it.'
[And yet Qrow's words to Ruby when Oscar had asked her a similar question still haunted at times: 'Don't lie to him.' Ironwood's warm, supportive voice with the utterance of 'Soon you won't be able to tell a difference' filled in the gaps in between the syllables, echoing as a backdrop to his daily thoughts and further fueling his uncertainty.]
'I really wanna find a way to stay,'
[Oscar admitted despite himself, a bittersweet edge to his tone. A wry chuckle punctuated it, buzzing with the fragments of emotions yet unspoken within the headspace.]
'I know we've gotta go back, but at least here... we can be ourselves.
[ He can hear— he can feel— how badly Oscar wants it. He understands. Ozpin wants it, too: he wants to continue being as he is now, he wants Oscar to be free, he wants this reprieve from the war. He wants, for the first time ever, to exist without her shadow hanging over him.
He wants to be just a man. ]
'... I don't know.'
[ It's said soft and honest. He almost does not say it— he almost reaches for some vague encouragement, the best he can offer— but it feels easier, in this moment. Murmured between their minds, he can confess this. ]
'Nothing about this has ever been seen before, Oscar. It is impossible for me to predict. That makes it all the more important that we enjoy what time we can while we are here.'
[The bitterness was palpable in the reply as the buckled foundations within Oscar's mind were revealed. As good as he had become at putting on a strong face-- that's all it was.
An act.]
'It's just hard when I feel so far behind everyone, and then the people we care about keep getting hurt. I'd like to find a person to be warm and soft with like you are with Mr. Ford, but that's not easy.'
[ Warm and soft. It's not an incorrect assessment by any means. He knows that longing. ]
'Oscar. For all that you may feel as though you are behind, I'd like you to consider just how far you've come since the day you left home. You have made great strides in a very short span of time. And I can continue to train you.'
[ It is something he's been considering since that disastrous stretch in October. Oscar needs a greater degree of self-sufficiency as a combatant, and if that is what he wants, too, well. They need only get started. ]
'It may be difficult to connect with people your own age. Given our situation, we have always felt... somewhat apart from it all. But that is no reason to give up hope. It only means that the close connections we do form are all the more valuable.'
[ He does not turn 'we' and 'our' upon Oscar too often or too readily. Not in this sense. But he has made promises here in Deerington about truthfulness, and sometimes this is the shape of it: they are not just Oscar and Ozpin but sometimes a broader, more expansive Oz. ]
[Even though he had momentarily grasped the sheer magnitude of power in the clouds around Atlas, he had yet to grasp it again-- it was almost as if something was blocking him.
Oscar was more than well aware it was likely his own fears.
Yet Ozpin's words struck a chord of truth amidst the interminable ticking of an unseen clock. He had made a great deal of progress, and yet in many ways he had felt he had progressed beyond the limits of a mere fourteen year old. He was a kid; he was simultaneously something ancient.
He was more.]
'Even if I can't be with either of them, I'll be happy as long as they are.'
[Oscar said finally, a bittersweet weight in his chest that ached with the sudden exposure.]
'Even here, I can't ask them to live this kinda life. It's not fair to anyone, but it's not something they need to carry either. If I can get strong enough to just stand beside them...
[ The bittersweet ache echoes back at him from Oz. He has lived this feeling.
He wishes Oscar did not have to. ]
'I understand.'
[ That hangs a moment. ]
'And yet you've encouraged me to pursue a relationship with Stanford, when in many respects my situation is less viable than your own: I should not even have this body. The man known as Ozpin died with the Fall of Beacon, Oscar. I am now simply a part of you.
No relationship we have ever undertaken has been fair to our partners. Our lives are never untouched by tragedy: this is the burden we bear, and it falls upon all those we are close to, despite our every effort to lessen the weight. It is up to you to decide how to handle that responsibility. You may decide to hold yourself at a distance for their sakes, and do rest assured I have done the same many times over. It is a decision I greatly respect.
But, to echo some advice I have been given in recent months... it is important still to let ourselves love. It reminds us what we are fighting for.'
[ It is clear in Ozpin's tone: the grudging warmth of recognizing something is true even as he says it.
It has been a long time since he truly had a partner. The concept feels foreign and criminally unwise, more often than not. It is unquestionably selfish to impose all that he carries upon someone else. And yet he cannot help but think of that night spent arguing the raw truth with Qrow beneath Deerington's unearthly moon. He has, in many ways, felt more alive here since dying than he had in all Ozpin's decades of being alive— facing Qrow in a field of silver grass; speaking quietly with Oscar over two warm mugs of tea; smiling at Stanford under the stars.
It is difficult advice to give and to hear, but it has hard-learned merit. Perhaps there is something to Oscar's matchmaking. ]
[But Oscar cut himself off as the words sank in and his heart rose in his chest from the raw intensity he felt in those words. The truth was undeniable-- and yet...]
'This is a very lonely kind of life to lead, it's it?'
[Somehow, the terrible weight of those burdens felt as severe as a crown. A stolid, regal emblem though it was, by it's nature it held it's wearer apart from the others. The responsibility it carried demanded such measures, and yet...
[ It echoes simple and sad across the space between them. The weight of a hundred lifetimes hangs behind it. This is a fundamental truth of their existence, and about it, Ozpin cannot lie. ]
'But you do not have to be alone.
You can stand beside those you care about, and let them stand beside you. And, whenever you have need of me, I will be here.'
[ He made a promise, after all, and he is still intending to keep it.
[Oscar replied, catching that half formed thought in the green buzz between them. He said it with the confidence that only a young teenager could muster-- for, in many ways, that is what he still was.]
'I'll be here for you, too. Let's both stand beside the people we care about.... and let them stand beside us, too.'
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Self Loathing? A thing? No, not at all!
Oscar's own bristling annoyance could be felt through their connection as well, nevermind their mutual tendency toward self loathing. Oscar wanted to snap something about Oz having more of a chance at romance than he did, but instead he held his metaphorical tongue.]
'It's obvious that you two like each other. Don't screw it up, and try to open up a little.
That's how friendships work, and it should work for this, too.'
no subject
'While I appreciate the effort to provide assistance on my behalf,' [ spoilers: he doesn't ] 'I suspect you're well-aware that 'opening up a little,' as you put it, has not served me well in the past. At the risk of understatement, it is not one of my greater strengths. And I do not see the need for it here, where we finally have a chance to put the mistakes of our pasts behind us.'
[ That's pure stubbornness, optimism at a stretch; he knows Deerington permits no such thing. ]
'In any case, it wouldn't do to sell yourself short, Oscar. If the possibility of a romantic partnership interests you, I see no reason not to pursue it. We are, as I've said, uniquely free of consequence under these circumstances.'
[ What he means is: your partner won't be killed horribly for the crime of association. Probably. ]
no subject
[Even in the interminable headspace defined only by the ticking of a clock, Oscar's voice squeaked in his embarrassed frustration. Unbidden he thought erratically of images and feelings-- dark hair, reddish clothes, the cool touch of finely polished custom steel-- and he struggled to maintain composure.]
I thought I told you not to just read my thoughts like that!
[He blurted out loud, unthinking. Then, in the headspace once more:]
'The people I like probably don't want someone who might not be themselves in a little while. Besides, they're taken... Or probably not even interested.'
no subject
And it twists to something sweetly sad. ]
'People change, Oscar.'
[ They've discussed this. It's not a death, Ozpin has maintained.
He does not, after all, feel that he died with the merge. He still remembers being Ozpin. He still feels that's who he is.
Even if no one who'd known him as just Ozpin would recognize him now. ]
'It may work differently for you than for most, but at its core, that fact is natural. And much of what makes us different is suspended here: we have a little reprieve from the factors which normally make things... complicated. I would not think poorly of you for using it.'
no subject
'I really wanna find a way to stay,'
[Oscar admitted despite himself, a bittersweet edge to his tone. A wry chuckle punctuated it, buzzing with the fragments of emotions yet unspoken within the headspace.]
'I know we've gotta go back, but at least here... we can be ourselves.
Do you really think it's possible?'
no subject
He wants to be just a man. ]
'... I don't know.'
[ It's said soft and honest. He almost does not say it— he almost reaches for some vague encouragement, the best he can offer— but it feels easier, in this moment. Murmured between their minds, he can confess this. ]
'Nothing about this has ever been seen before, Oscar. It is impossible for me to predict. That makes it all the more important that we enjoy what time we can while we are here.'
no subject
[The bitterness was palpable in the reply as the buckled foundations within Oscar's mind were revealed. As good as he had become at putting on a strong face-- that's all it was.
An act.]
'It's just hard when I feel so far behind everyone, and then the people we care about keep getting hurt. I'd like to find a person to be warm and soft with like you are with Mr. Ford, but that's not easy.'
no subject
'Oscar. For all that you may feel as though you are behind, I'd like you to consider just how far you've come since the day you left home. You have made great strides in a very short span of time. And I can continue to train you.'
[ It is something he's been considering since that disastrous stretch in October. Oscar needs a greater degree of self-sufficiency as a combatant, and if that is what he wants, too, well. They need only get started. ]
'It may be difficult to connect with people your own age. Given our situation, we have always felt... somewhat apart from it all. But that is no reason to give up hope. It only means that the close connections we do form are all the more valuable.'
[ He does not turn 'we' and 'our' upon Oscar too often or too readily. Not in this sense. But he has made promises here in Deerington about truthfulness, and sometimes this is the shape of it: they are not just Oscar and Ozpin but sometimes a broader, more expansive Oz. ]
no subject
[Even though he had momentarily grasped the sheer magnitude of power in the clouds around Atlas, he had yet to grasp it again-- it was almost as if something was blocking him.
Oscar was more than well aware it was likely his own fears.
Yet Ozpin's words struck a chord of truth amidst the interminable ticking of an unseen clock. He had made a great deal of progress, and yet in many ways he had felt he had progressed beyond the limits of a mere fourteen year old. He was a kid; he was simultaneously something ancient.
He was more.]
'Even if I can't be with either of them, I'll be happy as long as they are.'
[Oscar said finally, a bittersweet weight in his chest that ached with the sudden exposure.]
'Even here, I can't ask them to live this kinda life. It's not fair to anyone, but it's not something they need to carry either. If I can get strong enough to just stand beside them...
...That's enough.'
no subject
He wishes Oscar did not have to. ]
'I understand.'
[ That hangs a moment. ]
'And yet you've encouraged me to pursue a relationship with Stanford, when in many respects my situation is less viable than your own: I should not even have this body. The man known as Ozpin died with the Fall of Beacon, Oscar. I am now simply a part of you.
No relationship we have ever undertaken has been fair to our partners. Our lives are never untouched by tragedy: this is the burden we bear, and it falls upon all those we are close to, despite our every effort to lessen the weight. It is up to you to decide how to handle that responsibility. You may decide to hold yourself at a distance for their sakes, and do rest assured I have done the same many times over. It is a decision I greatly respect.
But, to echo some advice I have been given in recent months... it is important still to let ourselves love. It reminds us what we are fighting for.'
[ It is clear in Ozpin's tone: the grudging warmth of recognizing something is true even as he says it.
It has been a long time since he truly had a partner. The concept feels foreign and criminally unwise, more often than not. It is unquestionably selfish to impose all that he carries upon someone else. And yet he cannot help but think of that night spent arguing the raw truth with Qrow beneath Deerington's unearthly moon. He has, in many ways, felt more alive here since dying than he had in all Ozpin's decades of being alive— facing Qrow in a field of silver grass; speaking quietly with Oscar over two warm mugs of tea; smiling at Stanford under the stars.
It is difficult advice to give and to hear, but it has hard-learned merit. Perhaps there is something to Oscar's matchmaking. ]
no subject
[But Oscar cut himself off as the words sank in and his heart rose in his chest from the raw intensity he felt in those words. The truth was undeniable-- and yet...]
'This is a very lonely kind of life to lead, it's it?'
[Somehow, the terrible weight of those burdens felt as severe as a crown. A stolid, regal emblem though it was, by it's nature it held it's wearer apart from the others. The responsibility it carried demanded such measures, and yet...
They were still only human.]
no subject
[ It echoes simple and sad across the space between them. The weight of a hundred lifetimes hangs behind it. This is a fundamental truth of their existence, and about it, Ozpin cannot lie. ]
'But you do not have to be alone.
You can stand beside those you care about, and let them stand beside you. And, whenever you have need of me, I will be here.'
[ He made a promise, after all, and he is still intending to keep it.
No running away. ]
no subject
[Oscar replied, catching that half formed thought in the green buzz between them. He said it with the confidence that only a young teenager could muster-- for, in many ways, that is what he still was.]
'I'll be here for you, too. Let's both stand beside the people we care about.... and let them stand beside us, too.'