thecapitol | What's mine is yours.

Entry tags:

What's mine is yours.

Who| Terezi, Initiate, Signless
What| Exchanging some jewelry with the quadrantmates, and starting ashen talks.
Where| Initiate's room, and Signless's room
When| A few days after Mindy's Crowning party
Warnings/Notes| None?

On Alternia, Terezi knows that it was sometimes typical to make bits of jewelry for your quadrantmates. No one ever took it too seriously, considering any sort of solid quadrant was still a long way off for most of them; but now that she's found herself in real-life serious quadrant, maybe that is something that she should consider.

Ultimately, it's the impromptu reaping during the Crowning that forces her hand. She thought that she had more time mull this over, but no. If she's going to do this, she wants to do it before they get whisked off to another arena. Signless could probably use the encouragement, and Fraysong... He could probably use something to hold onto. Until she comes back.

She already has an idea of what she wants, before she even sets out for any of the shops. Something simple, but elegant--and durable. Just three colored rings, woven together. There's nothing like it in the stores, not that she expected there to be. So she requests it to be made--emphasizing the importance that the colors be exact, haggles with the price, and then tosses her credit card at the shopkeeper. She doesn't want to know how much she's accumulated on that thing. Probably more than she could ever hope to pay off. It's a good thing that she doesn't plan to.

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It's a few days later when the necklaces are finally finished. She picks all three of them up and puts hers on, tucking it out of sight beneath her shirt. Then she goes to the Initiate's room first. Mostly because his is the first floor she reaches on the elevator, but also in part because she wants to talk to him first. It's about time she started getting to know more about this situation.

She makes her way to the Initiate's room, knocking on the door to get his attention. She just hopes he's actually in.

After her talk with Fraysong, Terezi takes the elevator up to the 12th floor. She finds Signless's room and knocks. Her thoughts are a little more preoccupied this time, but she's not about to forget the other half of this quadrant that she's managing. And she needs to talk to him, too.

Terezi is in luck, because it just so happens he is. He opens the door up, expecting Mituna or maybe someone else, but never her. Maybe he should. Well, he's not unhappy to see, in any case.

"Evening, sister," He greets. "WHAT ALL BRINGS HER ROUND THE WICKED BUSINESS UP IN THIS WHAT BE MINE?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Generally, that means visiting, unless you want to make it a public spectacle." Like someone recently did... She still hasn't quite forgotten about that, even if she's not going to bring it up directly.

"Can I come in for a while?"

How could he forget that? What a joy. But if she's not bringing it up, neither is he.

"Sure motherfucking thing," He says, and he invites her into his room, making sure to shut the door behind.

His room looks how all it always does. The bed is stripped bare for the pile on the floor, made too of all manner of things. He's got gifts from tributes (and cruentus), stones, shells, bones, feathers and various others things collected on a shelf. there are bowls and bottles of water scattered about for some unknown reason, and there are marks of color and blood and scratches all in this walls. Four tribbles trill away from somewhere in the room. He doesn't direct to sit in any particular place.

When she first enters, Terezi's not immediately sure how to go about this. Should she sit on the bed? On the pile? Would that be too forward? They're in a quadrant together, but that doesn't necessarily entitle her to pile rights. Ashen is one of the most confusing quadrants. She feels like she's feeling her way through this blind--more so than she already is.

She hesitates in the center of the room before moving to the bed and seating herself on the edge of it. Better safe than sorry.

"First, ah..." She fishes into her pocket and cups one of the necklaces into her hand. She pulls her hand back out, then holds it out to him, elbow straight. She opens her fist to reveal the little piece of jewelry. "I wanted to give you this. I had one made for each of us, so... You know. If you ever need a reminder of what we're trying to do here."

His breath catches and he doesn't move for long moment, just staring. It's simple, but its meaning is obvious, and in that he finds pause. His indigo interlocked with her teal... with the bright red right there. It winds him. He's in quandrant with Terezi, that alone is surreal. But he's in one with the Signless.

If you ever need a reminder of what we're trying to do here. Right. ...Fuck.

He takes the necklace carefully from her hand. The necklace is pretty, really, both in aesthetic and... the intent, a bit. He puts the necklace on and tries not to imagine the red piece weighing more than it does, or burning through his flesh. He breathes deep, in, then out.

He looks up at her. It ain't hard to guess what all this is gonna be about now. He goes to sit at her side, on the edge of the bed and tries to decide whether it helps that she's almost as terrified as he is.

"SO," He begins, lamely. "What all did you want at to talk on."

"I think you know what I want to talk on," she says, mimicking his speech a little, if only to ease some of the tense she's feeling. She inhales a deep breath and exhales it again, trying to expel some of the nervous energy she has building up in the pit of her stomach. It helps a little. She rests her hand over his, squeezing it lightly. That helps a little more.

"I want to start this with asking you about the Signless. I only have a vague idea of the problems that you have with each other, and most of my understanding is about the conflict between his rebellion and the Empire. Which might be part of the problem, but it doesn't feel like all of it. So, for now I just want to listen. No mediation. Just... everything that you want to say about him, I want to hear it."

His hands turns to hold hers and squeeze back. It does help. Even if he doesn't meet her eyes.

He mulls over her words, until finally he can only say, "I AIN'T EVEN KNOW WHERE AT TO START." And the truth is, he's still hesitant about telling her it all. In round-about he says, "I ain't never told no one nothing of... that."

He feels like he's staring down at a broken limb, trying to muster up for when he's going have to set it back.

He's not fighting her, and that's a relief in itself. At the same time, she doesn't want to demand something personal out of him if he's not ready to share it. She's not under the impression that this is the only time she's going to talk to him. It might take several tries to get the full scope of their issues.

"It's alright. You can start with the small stuff, if that helps. We don't have to jump into the deep end from the start. ...Tell me something recent, if you have to. We can go from there."

Recent. Starting small. Aight.

He rubs at his neck. "THE FACT ALL HE'S LAUDED AS SOME GODDAMN KNOWING FIGURE OF FAITH IS ANNOYING AS ALL MOTHERFUCK," He tries but it's clear this merely a petty annoyance, even as he makes a face for it. "They always took to him like such. LIKE HE AIN'T JUST A TROLL LIKE ALL THE REST. Always lifting higher than what all he is. IT JUST MOTHERFUCKING FIGURES."

Edited 2014-03-31 00:24 (UTC)

Ah...faith. Let's not start on something easy that she might be able to comprehend, she thinks ruefully. But no, she knows that's not fair of her. If this is a grievance for him, then it's something that she should try to understand.

"And you...resent that others think of him like that. As a religious figure," she says, repeating it back to make sure she has it right. "Even though you know it isn't true? And even though he says he doesn't think of himself like that?"

She remembers reading something like that the other day, while browsing through that forum of 'questions'. Something about how he didn't intend for it to be a religious movement.

"Does he not? I ALL GOT FOR DOUBTS," He huffs. "The motherfucker is liar. HE'D DO ANYTHING WHAT ALL TO MAKE HIMSELF LOOK ALL LIKE HE'S BETTER."

It's a jagged thing. There's too many reason to be angry. Trying to pinpoint the singular part is just far too difficult.

"It's what all he does. HE LIES. People believe him. HE CASTS MOTHERFUCKERS ASIDE WHEN ALL HE DON'T CARE FOR THEM NO MORE. You'd think at it'd be damn easy to pick the sinner out but--" He growls. It's not directed at her, but even still.

She listens, and she notes that she's heard this before. When she first told him about this idea, that she would quadrant the two of them. He had the same misgivings back then as well.

"Why do you think that he's a liar?" she asks, probing gently into the topic. She's careful to keep her tone neutral, as to avoid any hints of accusation. "Do you know of any lies he's told? Not just suspected, but actually told."

He lets go of her hand. If only because he's fairly certain if he hangs onto it now, he'll crush each and every little bone. He clenches his fists at his sides.

"OH YES," He snarls. "I know for them; EVERYONE BE EQUAL. Everyone deserves such and fucking such. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO ALL YOU ARE. You can trust me. I'M NOT GOING TO GET CAUGHT. You're different. IT'S OKAY. I'll come back. I PROMISE. Motherfucking hoofbeastshit!"

He stands up. He runs a hand through his hair. He paces. He almost forgets she's there.

Terezi lets go of his hand when he pulls it away. She's not oblivious to the way his mood is worsening, even before he gets to his feet and starts to pace. There's a couple themes that she can pick out of his rant just now, but she sets them aside in favor of catching his wrist when he paces in front of her.

"It's okay," she says, almost immediately worrying that it was the wrong thing to say, when she realizes it was one of the lies that he just mentioned. She continues, nonetheless, holding tight her grip. "We're working through this. But you can't get upset like this. I need you to stay calm, so we can talk. Can you do that for me? Makara?"

She adds the last bit like a plea, but not quite as desperate. It's a bid for something more personal than just friends, something more intimate.

He stops, freezing, and he stares at her. Then slowly he starts to move his head until eventually he's nodding.

"FUCK, YEAH," He blurts out. He rubs at his eyes. He settles back down. He mutters, low, "...Sorry."

It's not her fault. She didn't do none of this. He doesn't know if he can keep calm. But he has to try.

He actually listens to her, and she smiles encouragingly, trying hard not to look surprised. "It's alright. No apologies needed." She moves her grip to his hand, squeezing it before letting go completely.

"Can we go back to what you were saying about the lies?" she asks, once she's sure that he's settled in again. "I wanted to ask about those, and how he ended up lying about them. Say... The one about everyone being equal. Did he treat you or someone else unequally?"

It sounds so stupid. Like it's just that motherfucking simple. He doesn't know how to say it in a way what ain't some sort of degrading.

"I WAS YOUNG. Younger than all I am," He says, like it's a good enough excuse for all the stupidity of it. His sins. "HE SAID THAT. And I... a motherfucker didn't fucking think. HE WENT ON ALL WITH THAT. But when it came the fuck down to it, he'd rather any other rust. HE'D RATHER ANY OTHER MOTHERFUCKER. He'd offer a hand to those what all he thought had palms clean as his, no less. I COULD FEEL IT, YOU GET ME? I could feel fear. I COULD TASTE THE DISGUST WHAT ALL WOUND IN THAT."

He shakes his head. He doesn't know if that's all good enough.

Edited 2014-03-31 02:44 (UTC)

"You actually met him before?" Terezi seems a little surprised by that, even though it makes a lot more sense than what she'd previously thought. "I mean, before coming here and finding out what happens..."

She hadn't thought that they had anything before all of this. That maybe most of it had occurred in Panem, exacerbated by events that they both knew would happen in the future. But apparently there's even more to this that she initially realized.

"Maybe it was just fear for his own safety?" She's not exactly sure on that. To be honest, she wouldn't put it past him to be a little hypocritical--it's hard for anyone to ignore the connotations that blood and caste have. But she doesn't want to go jumping into her own suspicions when she hasn't even talked to Signless yet.

Instead of pursuing that line of thought too far, she switches tracks. "You also mentioned that he said you were different. What about that?"

His eyes close.

"I knew him," He says. "HE WAS THE FIRST TROLL WHAT ALL SPOKE TO HE... WHAT HADN'T TRIED FOR CULL." He pauses, trying to regain his ground, his footing. "He didn't fear for his life. MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T KNOW HOW. His fear of such wasn't all enough to touch him. IT WEREN'T ENOUGH TO HAVE HIM ACT ON IT TO HIDE HIMSELF, LEAST NOT IN THE RIGHT WAYS. He'd forget in moments."

He thinks it all over. He pulls up the memories, those damned ghosts. He hates every one of them.

"HE DID SUCH, WHEN ALL WE MET," He goes on. His eyes open and he stares back into the memory. "He stood up in the market place. SAW SOME TROLLS GETTING A STRIFE UP AND ON AND COULDN'T SHUT HIS TRAP. I'd seen the color of him flash and followed him, saw for it all. HE SPOKE HERESY AFTER GODDAMN HERESY. He stood up on a couple of motherfucking crates all to be seen the fuck over everybody and he couldn't all have been that damn much older than me. YOU COULD JUST TELL HE WASN'T MADE FOR ALTERNIA, TOO SMALL, TOO SOFT, TOO BLUNT, HE HADN'T A SINGLE SAVING GRACE UP AT ALL. He said, everyone gets at all to deserving to be listened to. AND LIKE A FOOL, I FELL FOR IT THEN AND THERE."

Fell for the Milenko, the lies. Fell into sin. He laughs a soft but terrible laugh and there isn't the slightest bit of humor in it.

"A couple of blueblood ruffiannihilators walked the fuck in. THEY WOULD'VE CULLED HIS ASS SO FAST THE DEMONESS HERSELF WOULDN'T ALL HAVE HAD AT FOR TIME TO BLINK. They would've culled him and it'd have been nothing. I SHOULD'VE CULLED HIM RIGHT THEN AND THERE, THAT MOTHERFUCKING MOMENT, NONE WHAT ALL OF ANY OF THIS ALL WOULD ALL EVEN BE A THING. But I didn't. I DIDN'T UP AND USE THE PAN UP IN MY NUG. I took his hand, and I ran and fucking ran, until all I couldn't no more. I ASKED WHAT THE FUCK HE'D BEEN THINKING. I asked him all manner of motherfucking thing. HE SAID HE'D TELL ME, AND SO, HE DID. And I listened to every goddamn word he spoke that night. AND AFTER THAT. And after that. HE GOT MORE LISTENING AND HE ACTED EXCITED ALL FOR EACH. He didn't get so many highbloods. JUST THIS ONE SINGULAR FOOL FOR THAT LITTLE WHILE, AND HE'D WARN THEM BEFORE WHEN ALL THAT FOOL WAS TO COME, FOR HE WAS 'DIFFERENT'. And he said to him, 'they're starting to listen, just like you did.'"

There is acid on his tongue. He tried not to think on it but the red ring around his neck is burning too, branding him. His loathing has never been so clear, but it's not all just for Signless. Not even close. He is stiff like there are thing crawling all over his skin. His fingers clench and unclench like he's barely resisting clawing it all off.

He says, wryly, "ONLY A FOOL WOULD ALL GET A SURPRISE UP AND ON THAT THAT DIDN'T ALL LAST."

He talks, and she listens. It's a lot to take in, to be honest. And there are parts that she finds herself agreeing with--not Fraysong, but the Signless's. She does think he's different. He cares in ways that she hasn't really found in the cooler castes before. He mocks her hue sometimes, but he doesn't hold it against her, like others did. He doesn't expect things from her because of it, save for what she's already proven is true.

But she feels for him, even as he recounts the story. And she's surprised. Not only had they met, but--according him--he had saved the Signless's life. He listened to those same words, he walked with that same crowd. It's hard to imagine the people that the Signless had gathered with his words. Even harder to imagine Fraysong standing right there with them. If she didn't know any better... it sounds almost like they were friends.

She notices the way that his hands clench and unclench, the tension building up again. Gently, she lays a hand across his arm, thumb brushing back and forth against his skin.

"What happened?" she asks quietly. What could have possibly happened to ruin that?

Edited 2014-03-31 18:52 (UTC)

Her hand keeps him grounded. It reminds him where he is, with whom he's with. It helps. And so he speaks.

"I never followed him. HE CAME ROUND TO MARKET AT TIME SPECIFIC, WHEN ALL HE COULD BE MET ON OUTSIDE IT. I had my hive. I HAD TO WAIT. But he promised to come back." He counted the days on his walls. He always kept track of this, made sure.

"I FOUGHT ALL FOR THAT, I WASN'T GOING TO LET IT BE TAKEN FROM ME. I wasn't just going to be someone's forgotten fucking cull. FUCK THAT." He shakes his head. "...Every time all I showed up with blood what weren't to being my own, he'd get that look. LIKE THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME. Like it was wrong to survive. I COULD FEEL IT OFF HIM. And even all without it was written upon him." His words are growled. He spent for more time all than needed, wondering. But they were wrong. Everyone was wrong. He breathes deep and moves on.

"WE FOUGHT. we always got to arguing, how all could we not? THERE WERE THINGS WHAT ALL HE DIDN'T UP AND UNDERSTAND-- and never would. HE COULD GET TO WRAPPING HIS HEAD THE FUCK AROUND ALL SORTS OF SHIT WHAT AIN'T WEREN'T BEING NOTHING BUT TRUE ON ALTERNIA. But this was different from what all the rest were like to be. HE TOOK IT ALL BACK. Just another highblood, just another troll what all for him to sneer at. FUCK THAT ALL TOO! I was stronger for it."

He shrugs, falsely casual. "EITHER WAY, I DIDN'T THINK NOTHING ON IT ALL TO LATERWAYS. By the time the next came around, I'd up and motherfucking forgotten, nearlike. WAS GOING TO ASK... intended..." He snorts. "IT DON'T MATTER. He wasn't there. I LOOKED. I waited up until after sun rose. I LEFT BLOOD MARK, HE WOULD ALL HAVE KNOW AT I'D BEEN THERE. He never came back. I UNDERSTOOD IN TIME. He did what all any troll would've done. HE DID EXACTLY AS ALL SHOULD'VE BEEN GODDAMN EXPECTED. He just motherfucking left." And he thinks again, only fool would've been surprised.

But he doesn't stop there. He continues, "BUT I LEARNED. Let it not be said I didn't all learn. GOT TO REALISING TOO THERE AIN'T WEREN'T NO POINT WAITING FOR SOME OLD GOAT." He touches his throat. "Got my voice got stuck how all it be. AND THEN I FINALLY WENT TO CHURCH. Got my ass enlisted up in the subjugglators. GOT A GOOD SCHOOLFEEDING I ALL DID. Most thought i was too damn young, cullbait, but the one what got deciding thought it to be a funny joke. I HAD FULL MOTHERFUCKING INTENT TO SHOW THEM ALL." And goddamn, he'd been so close. Just barely out of reach. He could've tasted, touched. It had been meant to be, fated for he to become Highblood. And now it was gone. A good joke. A joke well motherfucking played.

"And I learned more of his kind. I SAW THE BIGGER FUCKING PICTURES. I saw the truth and it all made sense," He says, and he pauses in his tale.

Edited 2014-03-31 19:44 (UTC)

"You were friends..."

She says it quietly, like a thought just realized. Friends, and then he had left. Disappeared into the ether like he had never been there, and he hadn't heard a word from him until the rumors surfaced. There's a pattern in here, that she's starting to uncover. A pattern that makes her chest ache for him. She squeezes his arm, where her hand grips him. There's sympathy in her expression.

"Did he say that all that? The last time you saw him, did he really take back what he had said?" It would be horrible if he did, but she has to make sure. It's not like Fraysong hasn't accused her of things before, things that she had never meant...

Even so, there's still more that weighs on her mind. A sentence he had started, but had neglected to finish.

"...What were to going to ask him? If you had caught up with him then?"

His breath sucks in sharp through his teeth, face twisting at her words. Like she's stuck a blade through his back. Friends. He could laugh at that. He can practically feel her sympathy as she looks at him but he doesn't feel nothing but that sick slow churn. He can't look at her.

What were you going to ask him? He doesn't know. He doesn't think he knew then. He sure as shit don't know now. He shakes his head, roughly. To stay safe? To come to his hive? To let him follow? "SOMETHING MOTHERFUCKING STUPID. Something..." He turns to her. "YOU CAN'T TELL HIM. You can't tell anyone you understand? IF YOU TELL THEM, I'LL--" He doesn't finish his threat. He could do all manner of things. Nothing would stop him then. Breathing hard, he bites into the flesh of his palm, until all it bleeds. There's multiple purpose there and he takes short salvation in the blood spill and clearing mind, as all on his clean hand he writes; S. T. A. Y. He writes it so the camera's couldn't find it if all they tried, so only she could have it. And then he smears it with his bleeding hand, before it can truly be absorbed, making nothing but purple smears on each palm. "No one, you motherfucking ken?" His eyes are wide, almost feverish. His hands shake.

His ears ring with her words. Because you stayed.

"IT WAS A MISTAKE. I fell to temptation. STUPID, NAIVE. The Messiahs are there, they are always enough. I LET MYSELF BE FOOLED. I knew he was a mutant. I KNEW HE WAS A SINNER. It was a test and I failed. BUT I COULD DO BETTER. I could do right by the holy two. I COULD DO RIGHT ALL BY MY EMPIRE."

He's turned away from her, he's forced himself to breathe steadier, for her. He didn't speak until he could (but even then, his locked together hands quaked and his eyes remained wide).

"I saw him on Alternia in a different market one last motherfucking time after that, out on mission. HE WAS SPEAKING UNTO HIS PEOPLE, AND I MADE SURE HE SAW FOR ME, NOTHING MORE. I didn't think at I'd see him again until I got to coming here, didn't expect him none even when all there he was like to be. SPOKE NAME IN SPITE. Said how all given chance to kill him over and fucking over I'd be oh so happy. AS IF HE KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT ME! He got all built what to dare. BUT I LEARNED OF HIM. I learned for motherfucking plenty and I learned from his kind," He says. He can't stop there. He's trying to think all how to defend himself, when all his armor has been cut through already.

"THEY PREACHED OF PEACE AND YET I SAW THEM LIKE ANY OTHER TROLL, ATTACKING, INCITING REBELLION THEIR DANGEROUS MESSAGE AND ACTIONS, SYSTEMS TORN AND TROLLS CULLED FOR IT. They preached of unity and yet I saw them cast out those what weren't of low hue, what didn't fit the fuck to lofty ideal, what all they just didn't up and like. THEY PREACHED OF A FALSE MOTHERFUCKING PARADISE, ONE WHAT COULD NEVER BE, AND THEY LURED THE UNMOTHERFUCKING SPUSPECTING UP INTO THEIR LOT WHEN ALL IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN CLEAR THAT THEY COULD NEVER HAVE SUCCEEDED WHETHER THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WANTED IT OR MOTHERFUCKING NOT, AND THAT BY DOING ALL SUCH, THEY WERE AS MUCH DAMNING THEIR OWN KIND AS ANY OTHER. They preached their figurehead up to be a goddamn false god, a fucking saint most motherfucking pure, when all the truth was all to be that he was just a troll just like all the rest of their lot. AND NOT ONE OF THEM COULD MAKE TO ADMIT IT." That was why they'd been dangerous. To cull and betray? It was nothing. It meant nothing to a troll. But they took it too far; to challenging the empire, trying to take it apart, undo it all, when there was no way any rebellion could make to persist and survive on that world. Trolls fell for the lies. They believed them. And that was why it was too dangerous.

This all conflicts and wars with the new knowledge in his mind, but he doesn't focus on that now, when he's had it buzzing at the back of his mind for the weeks since he woke from death, and he continues, "I said at to myself back then, I would kill him. I WOULD KILL EVERY FOOLED FOLLOWER SO THAT THEIR POISON WOULD NOT PERSIST. I would kill the old goat. AND I WOULD KILL EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKER WHAT ALL EVER TRIED TO LIE TO ME AGAIN. And on Alternia, he couldn't hurt me. NO ONE COULD HURT ME. They had no motherfucking way nor means... until I came here." And the why is obvious. They why is simple and easy. "I MET MITUNA. He became friend. HE NEVER LIED TO ME, HE MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. And I let him suffer. HE HADN'T UP AND DESERVED THAT. I can't take it back, we both know that. BUT HE DIDN'T CARE. He loves me. AND UP AT THE START OF ALL THIS, HE AND THE MESSIAHS WAS ALL WHAT I HAD. My diamond, beloved. AND I THOUGHT, THAT JUST THAT ONE MOTHERFUCKING WHAT ALL WAS OF THE SIGNLESS-- that he wouldn't kill, at least so he could think himself better for it-- I THOUGHT THAT ONE SINGLE THING WOULD BE TRUE. But I was wrong again."

He feels it. That border between who all he is and what all he was going to be. It's right motherfucking there all in reach, and the things-- the people-- what keep him anchored and tethered, seem so small in the face of that all of a sudden. And a very big part of him still wants it. "I CAN'T KILL HIM. And I can't hurt him... not with losing you. EVERY TIME, EVERY FUCKING TIME I THINK I'M OUT, I'M FREE, HE AIN'T GONNA BE HAUNTING ME, HE COMES BACK, EVERY MOTHERFUCKING TIME. Got thinking I'd never see him again but of course, of course, he shows up here when all they bring me. I FIND SOMEONE REAL, SOMEONE WHAT MEANS WHAT THEY SAY TO ME, AND HE WAS LIKE TO BE THE SIGNLESS'S MOIRAIL ALL UP IN THIS TIME BEGINNING. Then, I think it safe, he kills my moirail. I THINK IT DONE, THEY BRING IN A NEW ONE. It was my price, you see. MY PRICE FOR THE SIN OF LETTING HIM LIVE ALL THOSE MOTHERFUCKING SWEEPS AGO. I should've culled him in the very first moment. I WISH HE'D UP AND DISAPPEAR. I don't want to hear his voice. I DON'T WANT TO SEE EVEN THE FAINTEST REMINDER. I want him gone. I WANT HIM ERASED FROM ME! ...But he'll never be..." His last words are helpless, hopeless. He folds, forehead touching to his knees. His head is spinning too fast. His body is shaking too hard, with a million barely contained urges-- to rip, tear, cull, scream. He needs just this moment to simply be.

Edited 2014-04-01 16:03 (UTC)

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