Dave absorbs it all with wide-eyed wonder (literal; why are Gallades' eyes so huge?), and what he picks up is more than just the final battle's play-by-play.
Nothing is stranger, more jarring, than seeing himself through Dirk's eyes, his own mouth an unreadable line in a face made impenetrable by his shades. That's Caledfwlch in his hand and it's weird, it looks like it belongs there, like it isn't a toolish too-wide shitty Welsh broadsword he had to break to get out of the stone because he's not a hero, he's--
(Dirk sees him as one, and it's such a turn Dave feels physically dizzy to realize it.)
He doesn't understand three fourths of what Dirk shares, and that's fine, he doesn't think he's ready to see whatever it is that Dirk is so conscientiously keeping from remembering, him with the sword and the cape and the way his grip shifts on the hilt right before Dirk closes his eyes--anyway, Dave doesn't follow everything, especially not from such a confusing perspective (so, so strange to look at those mostly-strangers and feel such fierce fondness for them, such profound care, and then to see his closest friends as almost unrecognizable, weirdly young but almost adult for all that, has John always been so tall, Rose so womanly?)--but the what isn't so important. It's the how. The adjectives and adverbs, not the noun. Laughing and smiling and joking and holding, hand to another's hand and fingers woven like Rose's knitting. Joyful and full of color and sound, and maybe that busy, over-saturated scenery is too much; maybe it's too like where he died, all three times, in bullets and explosions and battle, but Dave's own flashback-associations are minimal, pings of teeth and steel and fear without escape, and then John's dad turns up and Dave inhales sharply.
He barely really notices the creation of a new universe, even if it's projected right there in his head like his skull's a movie screen, surround sound and IMAX. Something about seeing John together with his dad again (Jane's dad? They're the same dude, practically), something about seeing that hug--it's right. It's. John is home. John made it home, and they're all...they're all home.]
Sorry. Sorry, I...Shit.
[Dave turns and paces a few steps away before stopping, little green hands fisted, trying to get shove down the tidal flood of--of emotion, too great to differentiate into relief, joy, longing, regret; it's bigger than anything he could name with a simple word. Not that he'd be able to, anyway, even if he weren't currently limited to the syllables of Wart's species. The lump in his throat is thicker than your mother's dick joke, and his eyes are blurry behind his shades.
It's over. They won.
He can stop fighting.
He breathes in again, as steadily as he can, and tries to run his hand back through hair he doesn't currently have. Tries to swallow the lump down.]
I. Uh. I don't have anything like that, to show you, but if there's, like...anything you want to know?
[Gratitude is winning out, now. Thank you, thank you, he needed to see this. He needed to know. It's over, he can rest. He can...he can stop waiting for the next scrape of steel behind his back.
He can't express it, but Dave is glad, heart-achingly glad, that Dirk is here.]
[ He thinks he might've overdid it at first. Because what Dave gives back is surprise and dizziness. Disorienting impressions. He isn't sure what Dave thinks of his opinion on Dave.
There's a strange feedback. Teeth and fear and caring. Dirk to Dave to Dirk again. John's the best friend but the person Dirk hardly knows all at the same time in a flash. Love and relief and sadness. It swirls and he has no idea what to make of it. What to do. He pulls Karkat's sleeves over his hands, picks at the edge of the fabric for a lack of anything else to do while he stands there like an idiot trying to decide what to do.
Should he hug him? Can he do that or...?
He lets out a breath when he realizes that Dave released a huge weight off of himself. He needed to know that. It was cathartic. He's okay.
Okay with him being there ]
You don't have to show me anything back, as interested as I am in your entire life. But I do have a question.
[Dave's feelings towards Dirk and the entirety of his life to this point are, of course, still disgustingly complicated, but they're not such an unwieldy, horrifying mess that he can't handle them anymore. He does the mental equivalent of haul them onto a shelf for later and tilts his head with an untroubled, gently lapping wave of curiosity.]
Sure. Shoot.
[A very faint, almost residual unease: He's leaving himself open to talking about Heavy Shit, and this whole psychic leak is already making him more vulnerable than he likes to be, ever. But it could be described as a willing discomfort. The first budding and tender growths of trust.]
[ Uncomfortable but on a level they can actively work with concerning their relationship. He's just so relieved he could actually help in some way. He considers that huge progress. Dave can relax ever so slightly and that's great.
Dave's leaving himself open for something and there's an uneasiness to it that Dirk would feel far too uncomfortable to ever take advantage of. They're already mind-linked. That's enough. He knows he could go way too far with this because he basically wants to know all of Dave's life.
And he knows how Dave feels about him - or that alternate him. Not exactly but he got enough of the rundown of it to understand leaving yourself ripe for questions regarding SERIOUS SHIT is taking a huge step here.
Look at this slow back-up into the parking space that is trust. That's a shit metaphor. He hopes Dave didn't hear it. ]
[The first thing that comes through is surprise, then recognition, and then something not quite possible to describe, something warm and bright and charmed. Something like, this is what a smile feels like from the inside.]
Dude.
[The amusement is real, the sudden liking no less so.]
That's the best fucking question anybody ever asked.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No fucking kidding, dude.
Dave absorbs it all with wide-eyed wonder (literal; why are Gallades' eyes so huge?), and what he picks up is more than just the final battle's play-by-play.
Nothing is stranger, more jarring, than seeing himself through Dirk's eyes, his own mouth an unreadable line in a face made impenetrable by his shades. That's Caledfwlch in his hand and it's weird, it looks like it belongs there, like it isn't a toolish too-wide shitty Welsh broadsword he had to break to get out of the stone because he's not a hero, he's--
(Dirk sees him as one, and it's such a turn Dave feels physically dizzy to realize it.)
He doesn't understand three fourths of what Dirk shares, and that's fine, he doesn't think he's ready to see whatever it is that Dirk is so conscientiously keeping from remembering, him with the sword and the cape and the way his grip shifts on the hilt right before Dirk closes his eyes--anyway, Dave doesn't follow everything, especially not from such a confusing perspective (so, so strange to look at those mostly-strangers and feel such fierce fondness for them, such profound care, and then to see his closest friends as almost unrecognizable, weirdly young but almost adult for all that, has John always been so tall, Rose so womanly?)--but the what isn't so important. It's the how. The adjectives and adverbs, not the noun. Laughing and smiling and joking and holding, hand to another's hand and fingers woven like Rose's knitting. Joyful and full of color and sound, and maybe that busy, over-saturated scenery is too much; maybe it's too like where he died, all three times, in bullets and explosions and battle, but Dave's own flashback-associations are minimal, pings of teeth and steel and fear without escape, and then John's dad turns up and Dave inhales sharply.
He barely really notices the creation of a new universe, even if it's projected right there in his head like his skull's a movie screen, surround sound and IMAX. Something about seeing John together with his dad again (Jane's dad? They're the same dude, practically), something about seeing that hug--it's right. It's. John is home. John made it home, and they're all...they're all home.]
Sorry. Sorry, I...Shit.
[Dave turns and paces a few steps away before stopping, little green hands fisted, trying to get shove down the tidal flood of--of emotion, too great to differentiate into relief, joy, longing, regret; it's bigger than anything he could name with a simple word. Not that he'd be able to, anyway, even if he weren't currently limited to the syllables of Wart's species. The lump in his throat is thicker than your mother's dick joke, and his eyes are blurry behind his shades.
It's over. They won.
He can stop fighting.
He breathes in again, as steadily as he can, and tries to run his hand back through hair he doesn't currently have. Tries to swallow the lump down.]
I. Uh. I don't have anything like that, to show you, but if there's, like...anything you want to know?
[Gratitude is winning out, now. Thank you, thank you, he needed to see this. He needed to know. It's over, he can rest. He can...he can stop waiting for the next scrape of steel behind his back.
He can't express it, but Dave is glad, heart-achingly glad, that Dirk is here.]
Anything.
no subject
There's a strange feedback. Teeth and fear and caring. Dirk to Dave to Dirk again. John's the best friend but the person Dirk hardly knows all at the same time in a flash. Love and relief and sadness. It swirls and he has no idea what to make of it. What to do. He pulls Karkat's sleeves over his hands, picks at the edge of the fabric for a lack of anything else to do while he stands there like an idiot trying to decide what to do.
Should he hug him? Can he do that or...?
He lets out a breath when he realizes that Dave released a huge weight off of himself. He needed to know that. It was cathartic. He's okay.
Okay with him being there ]
You don't have to show me anything back, as interested as I am in your entire life. But I do have a question.
no subject
Sure. Shoot.
[A very faint, almost residual unease: He's leaving himself open to talking about Heavy Shit, and this whole psychic leak is already making him more vulnerable than he likes to be, ever. But it could be described as a willing discomfort. The first budding and tender growths of trust.]
no subject
Dave's leaving himself open for something and there's an uneasiness to it that Dirk would feel far too uncomfortable to ever take advantage of. They're already mind-linked. That's enough. He knows he could go way too far with this because he basically wants to know all of Dave's life.
And he knows how Dave feels about him - or that alternate him. Not exactly but he got enough of the rundown of it to understand leaving yourself ripe for questions regarding SERIOUS SHIT is taking a huge step here.
Look at this slow back-up into the parking space that is trust. That's a shit metaphor. He hopes Dave didn't hear it. ]
Why are we so fucking awesome?
no subject
Dude.
[The amusement is real, the sudden liking no less so.]
That's the best fucking question anybody ever asked.