How You Talk With Your Hands

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What have you done, old fool?

The movements were quick and fluid. They were imprecise, given he hadn't used it that much in recent years, but Stuart Pherson had never forgotten ASL. The old fool in question looked back in surprise. He hadn't expected to see sign language in this place, and he hadn't expected to be confronted for his actions so quickly.

But Hennessy remained, as ever, seemingly unflappable.

I did what I needed to do. Just like you. Stuart wasn't sure what to make of this response and made no indication he wished to reply, so Hennessy continued. I sincerely doubt you would've come to such a dangerous place of your own volition. Old friend.

That last idea gave Stuart pause. This was the same concept he'd used to guilt— rather, convince— Hennessy to help him get to Alagadda in the first place. Could he truly be angry at it being turned against him now?

Well obviously, I did, or I wouldn't be here.

That's not what it sounded like in your message.

[god theres so much i need to write but im skipping around to scenes i want to write to get a feel of their relationship]

Stuart, Hennessy now signed slow, deliberately. I know our relationship has been an odd one, and I know it has changed a lot over the years.

What of it?

I guess I just want to make sure I haven't misunderstood. Put too much weight on something that never truly existed.

Stuart's eyebrows narrowed. I'm not sure I understand.

Forgive me, Hennessy signed, his eyes wistful, I am an old man now, and I don't want to have any questions left unanswered, any theories untested. Any feelings left unstated. Hennessy paused, clearly trying to decide how to convey what he wanted to say. You meant a great deal to me in those early days, is what I mean. But I can hardly blame you if you didn't have quite the same feelings.

Something changed in Stuart's expression. If Hennessy had to guess, behind the mask Stuart looked hurt.

Of course I felt the same. I was completely infatuated with you, he signed, frantically, but I was so much younger than you and had so much left of this world to explore. I was so scared of being… He couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. It was a different time. People like us were being attacked by the government, by people, by ourselves. And I was scared. And by the time the world finally caught up, by the time I'd gotten to any place where I could've conceived of being with you, we'd grown too far apart, and I had much more pressing matters in mind.

Such as undermining everything the two of us worked for at the Foundation? For some piece of music?

This is so much bigger than a piece of music.

Then for Armageddon? You understand why that's worse, right?

If you know that, then why would you help me?

[more stuff ugh sorry im just trying to plot out the bits that make sense]

[basically Stuart stops and is like "i see saint alagadda" and h is like ????? theres nothing there]

This was the first time he had ever seen the Saint even represented, and seeing it like this, he understood why. It was all-encompassing, singular and inevitable, yet somehow fragmented and uncertain. It was carmine, ochre, charcoal, and chalk. It is light, shade, and all the fire in between.

"I am not worthy."

For the first time in his life, Stuart Pherson fully understood his insignificance in the scheme of everything.

Hennessy felt helpless, watching Stuart going mad at seemingly nothing. Whatever Stuart was seeing was being filtered out by his protective visor. When the man dropped to the ground, he rushed beside him quickly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I am not worthy," Stuart repeated.

Stuart didn't see his friend beside him frantically trying to help him. He didn't see Hennesy's frantic signs begging him to snap out of it, begging him to give him some clue as how to help. He only saw gold, platinum, onyx, and rust. He only saw Venus, Mars, the Moon, and the empty void of space surrounding it all.

He only saw the Saint; blood, bile, and phlegm. Divine but painfully, grotesquely human. All of these contradictions at once. So much bigger in scope than he ever could've imagined, ever could've even possibly imagined, too big to contextualize.

His eyes shut instinctually in the blinding light, and in that moment a shadow fell over them, shielding him from the Saint's vision. Cautiously, he opened his eyes again.

The only thing in front of him was an old man he called H, because that's what everyone called him. The Saint was no longer in his vision. Even behind H, whatever caused him to see and truly understand the Saint is gone. Only a blank wall the old man had no problem walking past.

The old man looked at Stuart, still trying to see if he was okay. The vision seemed to stop, but he had no way of knowing what his friend had seen in that time. Finally, the man spoke, and though he imagined the noise to be soft, he could read the words coming from his lips nonetheless.

"I think I get it now." Stuart paused for a second. "This was never my path. This was a path chosen for me by others." Hennessy was unsure how to reply, or even if he should. "I was just a pawn in someone else's game. A thief, not to be remembered for who he was or what he did, but how he died. I'm… not important." Stuart took some time to process this. The words he had just said rang in his mind, and he knew it to be correct.

That's not true.

It took a moment for Hennesy's signs to register, but Stuart finally looked him in the eye when they did.

You have been so important to so many people, for good and for ill. You have made a tangible impact on this world. Hennessy takes a moment to think about that statement. Well, not this world, but our world. Home. And you could continue to do so. The best part about realizing you're a pawn is that you can decide to not be that anymore.

[Stuart takes that statement a little too evilly.]

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