thecapitol | I'm so heavy, heavy in your arms

Entry tags:

I'm so heavy, heavy in your arms

Who| Initiate, Signless, Disciple, and Terezi eventually
What| Breaking out.
Where| Around Captiol, then the jail, then ???
When| Jailbreak time
WARNINGS| Language. Torture/Mentions of torture. Police brutality. General violence. Allusions to bidding. Burns. Mentions of terrible societies and executions. Probably more things.

Pre-Jailbreak

His trips around the capitol stores are quick. Two bags each, filled with Capitol clothing, one female, one male, a hat put in for the latter.

Written directions inside each bag, to be opened far from the capitol tower, directing to put the things inside each bag on as soon as a good solid crowd passed by and to make sure not to be seen. Keep the horns hidden, the head down, and meet him as where directed.

And pretend they've just gone as to bid on him.

He orders a drink as he waits, nothing alchoholic of course, but he's almost starting to consider. He swigs the soda anxiously back like it is. Sinner's last supper, he thinks, and almost laughs. Sinner's last throwing the motherfuck up.

He's settled in the back of the restaurant, not quite out of sight but that's alright, that's what this noise be about; Painting faces and pretending like he's about to do some real romantic ass shit. It wouldn't give too much, but it could buy them more time penultimate, give some grace to those left behind, every little bit counted. He still hates everything.

Mituna, palest brother blessed, please forgive his ungracious self.

He waits in his booth, the makeup hidden under the table and ready, along with gifts in the form of shimmering locket necklaces but in all truthiness being security bypass, and two more notes inside, "love letters" detailing the next move and when to turn the wicked shit to go. Limited use, will self destruct, swallow every note.

Jailbreak Start

They follow the map to where as they got to. Running together, he doesn't let his thoughts go to putting wonder on who he's got with him and how they ain't a team of Subjugglators following his lead. He's not leading the hunt for a criminal, he's making to bust someone out.

This is the exact opposite of everything what all ever he's been as to train for. He knows full damn well this is all impossible and they are all going to motherfucking die, here and now.

But it doesn't quite hit until he's close.

There's a lull in the air, and in it his breath hangs and swings. He ducks down behind a crop of dried out bush. They're doing this. They're going in to break out Terezi Pyrope, stop an execution, and then they're running for their damn lives.

Go in, knock out who they can, search for keycards and do not stop. Hope to fuck they find her in that massive prison. Find out where she is and grab her. Avoid the turrets, avoid the peacekeepers, don't get shot.

He turns to look at the two with him, gripping the tree branch he ripped down in one hand, eyes showing how much this goes against everything he knew and he is well aware this is the end of something. But his voice is steady and steeled.

"We ready?"

Grabbing things at Stephen's place

There's a jitter in his bones brought on by reasons of all motherfucking sorts. They go Terezi. They actually motherfucking got Terezi. Broke into a prison and broke the fuck out they did and they're not dead yet, holy motherfuck. She's hurt. She's hurt real bad but she's alive and that's huge and he's relieved but he wishes so badly he had torn the throats out of everyone there and why he didn't-- well, he's not thinking about that part. Very pointedly not thinking about it.

The Mission's not over. He's got the three of them with him now as he leads them, running, all the way onward to Stephen's place. Finally, in the bush just close enough, he explains;

"YOU TWO! Signless, Disciple! YOU'RE GOING AND YOU'RE GETTING WHAT'S BEEN LEFT! There are camera's everywhere, make sure to look human. THEY'LL KNOW WHO YOU BE EVENTUAL BUT NOT JUST YET. You can get in without getting like to be noticed or bringing the wicked shit down upon brother Stephen, you dig? FIND THE GARAGE, GRAB SUPPLIES WHAT AS HAVE BEEN LEFT, AND GET THE FUCK OUT! I stay with Terezi here, since we can't make like to pass as human." Then adds in command, "NO DYING."

The Woods

Breaking past the city line feels like a gasp, coming out from under deep sea. He almost wants to weep because he can hardly believe they've made it as far as they have. This is what they should've done from the start. This is what he should've done from the start, before even coming to Panem, he should've gone with everyone, he should've ran, he should've tried for this impossible thing.

His body will tire and slow, but not yet. He's still got it in him to run and so he does. The wilderness, free of trolls, of people, of anyone at all but the stars and Messiahs above. It's no shore but it feels like home.

They still have trackers in their blood. He's certain it got being said. Which meant staying on the move for the rest of time, until Capitol gave up or they found some salvation or other even greater than this right here. He hops over fallen trees, makes his way over the rocky path of the Capitol's mountains, always so distant before and now right before them. He checks back every other moment to see the three trolls with him have followed and no one else has.

Di and Initiate talk about Executions

It's not yet time for a shift change. He knows that and he know's it's why he hasn't been called up, why she sits there now still. He can see her shadow and her silhouette, horns like the meowbeast ears. He hasn't hardly been around them enough to know, but that seems fitting, somehow, both for the meowbeast and for her.

He doesn't sleep well at the best of times, but out here, where it feels like an arena but also feels like freedom and fear entwined, he finds himself sleepless. Terezi is curled close so it takes careful extrication to pull away without waking her. He rises up careful and quiet, noting that the signless too is asleep. He walks out slow, making noise only as he starts to reach her, so she can have warning that he's near. He gives a nod as he walks around her, and settles opposite to her, leaving a fair space between.

It may wake someone if their sleep is light, but he can't entirely end the urge to speak. He'll just have to find some way to manage the fluctuations just enough.

"HEY," He greets first, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle the volume, his own voice sounding strangled in the attempt to manage it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If she could be more nervous than she was right now, she had never been aware of it. Her stomach curls, the paper she'd eaten sitting heavy in her stomach. Her hair is ridiculous and the outfit makes her feel both out of place and not. She looks like the people around her, only grey, and it's disconcerting. Usually they change their outfits to suit her. Now she's changing to suit them.

Her hands curl in the fluffed up skirt around her waist and she glances at Signless. She's not good at acting any way but how she is. She tries to dredge up the pity she's felt for Initiate, tries to put on a good face. The place they're meeting is just around the corner, no time like the present.

"Ready love?" Her words are light and she's terrible at affecting the accent. God, she was not made for this sort of thing. Give her a fight any day.

He nods in response, gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It isn't the nerves keeping him from speaking, though his bloodpusher is certainly doing flips inside his chest. It's just that to look human he has to tuck his overbite back, and with the sheer amount of mouth contortion he has to do to get those big fangs hidden he doesn't trust himself to be able to speak. He's glad now more than ever that sharpened fangs don't appear to be part of his 'look' anymore, because they would make this a lot harder and probably more painful.

It's bolstering when no one gives them more than a cursory glance as they enter the restaurant. It's probably assumed that their gray skin is a sign of their favorite tributes rather than a sign of their species. For the first time, the Signless is truly glad that trolls are still a niche fad. He's also glad that no one with fake horns ever gets the color right, because it makes the real horns of the Initiate easy to spot.

The closer they get the more he wishes to flee. More than anything else, more than the idea of facing down a prison of who motherfucking knew how many, this right here has him wanting to turn around. Throwing up seems less and less like a joke.

Words like slut, whore, pale hire, drift through his mind. But no. No, it doesn't mean anything that he's doing this willingly, there's purpose here. And that is to save Terezi Pyrope.

Would it be better, easier, if it weren't these two? He doesn't know. He ain't all being sure. He tries to smile without having it be too fake. A little strained is fine, too much is bad. "BROTHER," He greets with a nod. "Sister." Best to avoid names. And he won't stand up, not with the make up ready in his lap, hidden by the table. Make this easy for me, he thinks as he gestures out to the curving seat, where they could feasibly be side by side without a table between. "COME."

He waits for them to settle, hurriedly coating the undersides of his fingertips with the color-- brown, because it was easier, would look neater, ultimately, over the grey. He tries for something sheepish. Shy and coy with a smile. And not just fearful or ill. "It is good to see you. MUCH HAS HAPPENED. And they did say. SO MANY DID MAKE AS TO SAY HUMANS AIN'T DO AS TROLLS CAN. They don't know how as to-" Say it, say it, get it out, "-pity. SO AS HE WAS TOLD."

Oh Mirth. Oh Messiahs. Keep him still and let his hands be steady as he reaches out for a face to hold. As he makes curse on himself and his moirail missed.

"But that ain't being true of you two... right?" Let the desperate note in his voice sound like hope, and not like revulsion.

She meets his eyes, and maybe he can see his disgust, his fear, reflected. It's not that's him, perhaps, but the whole charade. She's seen humans trying on their romance like it was a style, a new thing. Laughing humans sporting matching spades and trading barbs--with no substance. Like wrigglers playacting at quadrants.

It's not a part she plays easily, and she gives Signless a desperate glance as she slides in beside them. She's too entrenched in her pity, her own quadrants, to fake this well and she hopes it comes off more like a human girl asking for reassurance, for a helping hand with this tall violent troll, and less like the troll woman asking for a way out.

"O-Of course. Of course we can pity." But she can't make her hands reach up to pap his cheeks, not yet, and the feeling of utter wrongness squirms in her gut. At least her nerves are understandable, for a person bidding on him.

Signless is okay with taking the lead here. It's far easier for a troll who barely follows quadrant as it is to step outside them and imitate that sort of affection in a platonic setting. In the grand scheme of various ways he might have been enlisted to help save Terezi Pyrope, this way actually plays to his strengths. He can be the over-eager human dragging his poor girlfriend on a date he doesn't even entirely understand. At the Disciple's glance he touches her cheek reassuringly, just the fingertips, not really a pap. It's close enough to be comforting and far away enough to read as a clumsy human imitation.

He settles into the booth perhaps too close to the Initiate for real comfort, but they'll need to be close if he's to paint both of them. It fits the role, anyway: when have Capitolites ever cared about personal boundaries? Since he can't speak, not without too much risk of giving them away, he instead takes advance of sitting reducing their height difference and reaches up to do the same not-quite-right fingertip touch to the Initiate's jaw. Of course he can pity, stupid alien.

The fear they catch is grace. Foolish, of course, it doesn't help anything, but at least they both know neither of them wants this more than the other.

"DON'T FEAR, SISTER," He says to the Disciple, even though she really should. "Don't fret. HE'LL SHOW. He'll make as to motherfucking guide."

When the Signless reaches out first, he tries his best not to flinch away. Don't hiss, don't snap, don't move. He leans into the contact, eyes closing for briefest moment. His pusher betrays him with sharp ache, wishing this was Mituna, knowing that once, so very long ago, he'd be just fine with it being the person in front of him now. It's not a real pap. Thank Mirth. He's not sure what all he'd do if this soon, he got to that.

He laughs, like he's all chiding and 'no silly human, like this'. It's the best he can force right then, and sees as fitting a response. His eyes open and he breathes deep to steady himself as he takes the Signless's face in his hands. His finger tips smooth out the skin over the cheek, slow, gently, and careful. The paint coated pad of his thumb goes out under his eye lid in a precise flare. He echoes the same movement on the other side, coating the Signless thick with paint. It's the best method of getting the paint on subtle right now. And it looks (he won't think about how it feels) painfully, terribly intimate.

He catches the way his own expression has fallen out with his guts and tries quickly to fix it. In that same instant, he smears his thumb over the Signless's lips. He wants to shut his eyes to this, but he can't. He drags paint marked knuckles over the Signless's nose and over the top eyelid, like he got wiping tear away or something all being as suchlike. His hands drop down to dip back into the paint, and all in the mean time he closes his eyes at last, though for it, he pushes his face into the Signless's gloved hands, pushing and turning into it like he's desperate for the touch. Like he needs the grounding and soothing of the shrieks run through his mind, he'd resort to this.

With hands finally coated and covered again, he opens his eyes and reaches out once more, practically moving onto the Signless's lap. His hands grip his face again, smoothing color over the sides of his head. Then, he leans forward, and as his fingers and thumbs spread color over his forehead, he makes like as he's going to kiss. Cover the motion, show a common practised pale gesture, a kiss to the pan to soothe the inside. His lips only press as what will show on the cameras like he's doing something, no more. He can feel the Disciple right there and he doesn't dare look at her. This time, he can't help but close his eyes, the pain of his own betrayal piercing through too much to allow anything else. His breath shudders and he pulls back. He pats the Signless here and there to fix the blotched paint until it looks just right. He swallows and makes a soft noise at the back of his throat, a faint, 'ssshhh'.

He wants his real moirail so bad.

He turns around to the Disciple with a wide fake smile that scrunches up his eyes. "SEE? Easy. MEANT TO SOOTHE. Come on, you try, sister." His voice don't crack. A miracle.

Edited 2014-08-13 01:23 (UTC)

Watching can't be worse than the feeling--but watching makes everything in her twist, harsh and wrong. It looks and feels wrong, but it has to be her. Just her, knowing better. Knowing everything it kills to pretend pale, everything all strange and turned on its head. The Initiate kisses his forehead--or something close enough for those watching.

She looks away.

Maybe she can pass for torn, uncertain, shy, when she forces herself to look back to him with a shaky smile. Nervous. Shy. Slightly out of her depth. She forces a long look at him, up-up-back down, then a little laugh. It sounds more forced than her smiles.

"I don't think I'll reach."

It takes all her willpower to reach up far too high and pat his cheek. It's too hard, on purpose, too rushed. She's papped and shooshed far too much to get those things wrong on accident, she has to force herself to be clumsy.

The whole thing feels deeply, intensely Wrong. He thought he could do this easily, thought playing at pale wouldn't bother him because of how much he adores pale affection normally, but he was wrong. In this context, with this troll, it just makes his stomach flip his throat tighten up. He wants so badly to pull away but he forces himself to be still, to translate his discomfort into what he hopes outwardly passes for nervous excitement.

At least when it's over it doesn't seem strange when he sits back, quiet. Hopefully it looks as though he's awed and dumbstruck by what he just experienced. In reality he's quietly and fiercely trying to pull himself back together. He can't dwell on this or how strange and painful it felt. He can't risk being thrown off for the rest of the day because of it. Get it together.

He makes sure to watch as the Initiate begins to paint the Disciple, even though he doesn't want to. This is something the person he's pretending to be would want to see.

He laughs and it does sound forced and low, but maybe it can pass for condescension. More 'silly human' and less 'I don't want to be here none either'. His hand reaches up to her misplaced hand, curling around it soft. Then somehow, without wincing, he forces it to a proper pap. Just for demonstration. He smiles soft, or tries to. 'See?' is what he hopes it says.

Mirth but his heart aches. It aches for Mituna. It aches all for the sake of this all. He can't say if its easier or harder the second time over. Please be almotherfuckingright, Terezi, he thinks in his head, reminding himself, as they do all this.

He brushes one the single loose strands of her pulled up hair back, like he's going to put it behind her ear, but he doesn't, just carefully out of the way. Something to start off the fake intimacy, not an exact echo of the Signless's go of this. He touches her face much the same way, the same mirror'd movements the same slow, careful intimacy. It's pale but he wonders; did his past self touch hers like this? All redder but the samelike. Were they this close but meaning it? He doesn't think too hard on that though. It makes him feel as though he's just a shadow of the motherfucker. It makes him think about how he'll be leaving his alternate behind more than he wishes to.

He's careful not to think what it must look like to the troll behind him. He's careful to ignore the intinct being like there shouldn't be a troll behind him, especially with him touching his quadrantmate like this giving all reason to be stabbed. He wouldn't, that's not a thing to think on right now. Fuck he hopes they ain't all going to come the fuck apart after this all. He's heard of forced quadrants-- shit got being fucked up. But you didn't hear it much with pale and there was reason for it. You couldn't fake this shit, the way of open wounds and trying to comfort. It just tears and tears and tears the whole way down like that. It would take some real impressive awful to get on faking that-- which, sickly, almost makes him laugh with how he's trying now.

He leans forward to her like he's whispering something in her ear, as he paints over her forehead, near done smoothing gentle over everything else. And then he pulls back and on the other side, he fakes to kiss the side of her head, much like he had the Signless. He holds her eyes for a few moments-- feeling a strange churn in him at how human they both look when they're like this-- as he pulls away, because that's what you do. In that he hopes to communicate... he doesn't know what. That he's sorry? That this isn't something he'd do otherwise. That it's near over. It is near over

He pulls all the way aways from her, settle between them both. He reaches for the necklaces he stashed by them and he says, "GOT GIFTS." He lifts them up, shimmering lockets of silver, all heart shaped because humans were depraved. Inside both is a note. He reaches gentle for the Signless's hand, placing one in his, then to the Disciple's, one for her. He pulls one up around his own neck and demonstrates, "It opens up, see? MEMORY CAN MAKE TO BE KEPT WITHIN" Though his is empty. He already knows what he needs to. Hopefully they'll get the hint. "So you ain't forget him when you go, aight?"

He'll meet up with you laterways, do exactly as is being on them instructions.

"Ready."

The truth is, he isn't sure if he's ready or not. All the time leading up to this, from the moment they first decided to do it, he's felt nervous and jittery despite how well he's kept it down. He's never done something like this before. This is not the kind of protest he advocated for or took part in on Alternia, even though he knows trolls did similar things in the name of his ideas.

Mostly he just doesn't want to be the one whose fault it is if they fail, and he knows that if it's going to be anyone, he's the weakest link. It's not a comforting thought.

"Do we know exactly where she's being kept?" Because this is going to take a lot longer, and be a lot more dangerous, if they have to search through every leg of that big spidery building.

"Ready."

She takes a breath, hands curled in loose fists by her side. She'd convinced them that she was interested in those fake nails and she has a shiny set of metallic claws for her troubles. It makes things like fists slightly dangerous but its the best replacement for her claws on sort notice.

"We can try to get information out of them. Something like that? Initiate, that means, question first okay?"

She's right. They'll have to get interrogation on first like. But a huff of a growl passes through his teeth anyway, first because the idea that he's a naive wriggler what ain't never questioned no one before cull ever. And second because those fuckers don't deserve nothing but pain.

Now ain't the time to argue though. He's got the heavy branch in one hand-- ripped down from a part tree in lacking a proper club-- and a dagger stolen from the training center and slipped into his clothes.

"AIGHT, REMEMBER WHAT HE SAID THEN, SEARCH EVERY BODY WHAT COMES. Don't get caught, don't get shot. THEY KEEP FILE ON GODDAMN EVERYTHING. How I got know of what I did beforeways. THERE'LL BE SOMETHING. Let's go!"

He leaps up and starts to run. And the Turrets catch the movement and fire. He misses a shot over his shoulder, blasting the ground he'd run over seconds before.

"GET AS TO SCATTERING!" He shouts back without stopping.

He runs and runs and picks up speed, evaluating the door and deciding the best thing now is to just burst the fuck through. He's a highblood. It'd only hurt a little.

He doesn't fight out here like he does in the arenas. In the arenas it's a game, a whole different sort of scenario got done. Here, is business. He bursts through the door and reels on the first person he sees, gripping there had and slamming them to the wall to knock them cold. The second peacekeeper raises their gun and you smash it out of hand with the branch, bring it back to smash against the peacekeeper, then reaches out with his free hand to haul the fucker off their feet by the neck.

He glances back to see if they're alive, those two what he came with, and commands, "Search 'em!"

Shit. Shit. This is really happening, gun turrets and all. The Signless thanks every sunrise avoiding daywalkers and every night when highblood patrols got too close to camp and every stray angry musclebeast that he can't fight but he at least can run. By some miracle he manages to avoid being shot. By the time he makes it through the busted doorway his bloodpusher is going a mile a minute and he feels... well, he feels exhilarated. They made it this far. They just have to keep making it this far, by increments, until it's over. It feels almost doable now that they've had just a little success.

He doesn't hesitate when the Initiate gives orders to search, dropping down next to the unconscious peacekeeper and rifling through his clothes for anything that looks like it might be even a little important. He only glances up to be sure the Disciple made it in with them.

Terezi is just about as amazed as he is that they actually managed to get her out. It was nothing but sheer terror at first, that they would even dream of doing something like this, but once they were out of the building an heading through the Capitol, she stopped imagining all the horrific ways that they would be caught and murdered in the street... Well, she stopped imagining them as much.

She's still terrified, and it probably shows in the way that her hands find Fraysong's shirt when Meulin passes her over, her fingers digging into the fabric. She tries not to tremble at least, but that means burying her face against his shoulder, carefully minding the poorly healed brand on her cheek, and trying to pretend she's somewhere else. It's not easy, and she doesn't get very far into that mode of denial before deciding to try something else.

"Why are we here?" she asks, her voice barely audible. Maybe if she can understand what their plan is, she'll at least be able to calm down. Maybe even enough to help. "Who's Stephen?"

The moment she's in his arms and he's got no more to do but wait, the act of trying to lead slips away and he clutches her tight. The only reason making it so it's not too tight being that he ain't want to actually crush her-- which still holds sick memory leaving him yellow coated. The moment the other two go he's pressing his face to her hair.

She's alive. Messiahs it'd been so close, he almost lost her, but she's alive. For a minute he just breathes her in, the relief being so strong it's painful.

He says quick and clipped, "Stephen is as to be the escort of district six. CAPITOLITE BUT ONE OF FAVORABLE MOTHERFUCKING INCLINATION. He offered place of stay when motherfuckers got being ill. AN INJURY YOURS WILL BE NEEDING OF TENDING PROPER AND A LITTLE SUPPLY AIN'T HURT NONE ANYWAY. A little help ain't being ignored. TOO MANY CAMERAS UP IN TO STAY BUT A HELP ACCEPTED UP ANYWAYS."

She's still not used to so many people touching her. She keeps half-expecting the pain to follow each time, but it never does. So when Fraysong buries hiis face against her hair, her breath catches for a moment before finally exhaling. If she just lets her mind relax, if she just tells herself over and over that she's safe now, the presence of the people around her starts to feel more like a comfort than a danger.

But when Fraysong responds, it's not the answer that she expected. An escort. Her mind goes to other escorts first... Sybille, Effie, any number of others. Most of them seem...wrapped up in themselves, and firmly of the Capitol mindset. He can probably feel the way her grip tightens. Maybe he even anticipates it.

But he continues, and Terezi finds herself uncertain. He offered to hide them? Or at the very least to give them supplies to help them on their way. Her mind supplies that he could just be setting them up... But that's a round-about way of getting them into trouble. Why go through the hassle when it would be easier to have reported them to the Peacekeepers before they even broke her out?

"Can we trust him?" She doesn't think that Fraysong would allow this if they couldn't, but she wants to hear it for herself.

He doesn't answer immediately. He's not good at this sort of thing, pretending he ain't run through the same doubts and wonders of betrayal. But answer he does.

"Of a fair motherfucking trust am I. OF TRUST ASSURED SO AS TO BE DOING THIS NOW," He says. "...You know I ain't trust easy," He adds quiet. "OF REBELLION NOW. He's ready for the fall to come to capitol."

He nuzzles the side of her head with his own, letting her hold him tight.

He doesn't trust easy, he says. Ha. She knows that better than anyone. So if he's trusting Stephen, then either he knows that the Capitolite won't betray them... or they really have no other options. Either way, she doesn't much have a say in the matter. But she's grateful that someone out there sees the wrongness of this. That someone out there is willing to help them.

She makes a small noise when the Initiate nuzzles the side of her head. Halfway between a whimper and a sigh, but not a noise of fear. The affection is still strange, especially coming from him. If it were any other situation, she might question it... But not right now. She knows how scared he must have been. It's the same sort of fear that she had, when she thought that she might be forced to break her promise and leave him for good.

She turns her head into his, pressing her forehead against his briefly.

"Where are we going now?" They're not staying her, which means that he must have some other place that he intends to go. At least, she hopes he does.

"TREE GIRL, AIN'T YOU SISTER?" He says, trying to sound light. Reasurring. It's a little off on the right notes but maybe she won't notice or care. "We're going close as home as us all can be at to get. AIN'T NONE OF US OF HIVESTEMS AND HIVECLUSTERS. We're going up into them woods and mountains and we ain't looking back."

He hopes she'll accept this as a decent enough plan like he hopes. They really aren't trolls of cityscapes like that of capitol. They all survived well, if not straight up better, away from it all.

"WE HAVE TO KEEP A MOTHERFUCKING RUN ON. He's being certain they got track on us. BUT WE AIN'T ALL MAKING TO BLEED IT OUT NONE. Just have to outrun long the fuck enough they give in."

Tree girl, isn't she? Terezi isn't sure if she's relieved at that or not. Truthfully, she feels safer out in the woods, but the fact that he doesn't have a plan beyond "run and hope they don't catch up" is a little worrying. She doesn't know what she'll do if they're caught again. The thought is too horrifying to entertain.

"I'm sorry," she says it quietly, almost forced out for all the pain in those few words. "I'm going to slow you down. I can't run. And I can't climb." And she doesn't think she'll be able to any time soon.

He doesn't like those words. He doesn't want to hear them from her. Especially not sounding like that. He gives her shoulder a light squeeze.

"SHUT UP," He says, firm, but not cold. He shakes his head. "Don't be about geting such noise as what's being up in your pan. YOU AIN'T SLOWING SHIT. We ain't got no intents to make you run. AIN'T GOT AS FOR SINGULAR PLAN TO MAKE A WICKED SISTER CLIMB. You ain't a burden on us and ours. WE CAME ALL AT TO YOU FOR YOU," He says. "Ain't wouldn't be no point of nothing without so don't you be about that, sister."

Came to her, for her. He says it like it isn't anything. Like it was the natural course of action, instead of the huge risk that it actually was. She feels sick to her stomach with dread that this might all come crashing down around them at any moment... But for now... For now, she's safe, and they're running, and they don't have any choice but to keep going.

"Okay," she answers in quiet tone. "...Thank you."

That's a big step for her, and he knows it. To say thank you for her saving, whether or not she even means it, is huge. It means for something great it up and does.

"GIVE THANKS WHEN AS WE'RE BEING TRUE FREE, AIGHT," He says. Again he buries his face against her hair. "He's so fucking glad you're..." He trails, because they're not safe yet. And she's not okay. But... "I GOT SEE FOR YOU AGAIN. Ain't prayed so hard in sweeps."

Would it be wrong to say he wasn't sure she'd be alive? That he near assumed her executed? He's not sure. But it can't be far from her mind.

Even if he doesn't say it, she knows what he means. She knows because the thought had crossed her own mind, as well. That she might die in there, that she might never see her friends or the people she cared about again. She had been to the point of expecting her execution any day--almost hoping for it just to make the torture stop.

She had already given up hope that anyone would come for her. Or that anyone should.

She understands, when he says that he's glad to see her again. But at the same time, she's still scared. "I'm... glad, too. Even as... terrifying and futile as this feels. I'm glad I'm still here."

He makes a noise what may be a guffaw as easily as a noise of pain.

"LOW MOTHERFUCKING BLOW, SISTER," He says in a whine. "All calling on futilities when we ain't hardly even go nowheres yet. A MOTHERFUCKER'S FIRST BREAKOUT AND SHE'S TEARING HIM DOWN." His teasing is only really half that. He really does hope this ain't futile. At least if they're brought done, they'll be brought the fuck down togetherlike. He can bear that, maybe, if they have to die. Dying together wouldn't be so bad.

But he'd still rather she live, and the whole of them too. He doesn't want their stories to end here. It doesn't feel as like they should.

She tries to smile at his whining, but it comes out more as a grimace. She didn't mean to shoot down his hopes. She honestly wants them to succeed. No one in their right mind would want to fail now, not with so many lives on the line that she cares about.

"Sorry," she mumbles as she turns her face to press against his shoulder. "I won't tear you down. I'm just... scared. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Any of you."

His face softens. She's scared. Of course she is. He doesn't need voodoo, to be able to feel her fear, to tell that. He'd be surprised if as she wasn't. "I know," He says, quiet.

"BUT WE MADE IT THUS FAR, YEAH? Further than what all other motherfucking things samelike get to go. WE GOT YOU BACK. Any other hurts what could come... he can't think as we'll mind so harsh." Or, he won't. He can't imagine nothing worse than if he lost her, even dramatics done aside. He can't think they'll regret it.

"I will. I'll mind." There's no hesitation in her response, but there is when she thinks on trying to explain. He's so concerned with her living, she's not sure how to tell him that just living isn't enough. That living with the guilt of their deaths on her head would be worse than not living at all.

"I don't want you hurt for my sake. I can't live with that. Living with that on my shoulders... It wouldn't be a good kind of life."

"IT AIN'T ON YOUR SHOULDERS," He says. "I know you ain't apt to seeing it simple as such, but it is what as he says." He doubts she'll get that, even with his saying. That's the worst part of it all. But he'll try to make her understand.

"TO KILL US WOULD BE CAPITOL'S CHOICE. To come for you was ours. WE NEED YOU, PYROPE. I need you. COULDN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU NO MORE THAN OTHER WAYS DONE. So if... if we got at to go down... I'm at to be going down with a sister. WON'T BE SO BAD THEN. He'll make sure. I WON'T LOSE YOU. I won't be all letting you lose me. AIGHT?"

The hesitance is still clear on her face when he offers his solution. She can't say that it's a better situation to know that if she dies then he follows. It feels like a rope tied around her middle, leading from her to him and dragging him down with her. Her head shakes, but she doesn't say anything against the idea. What more can she ask? That he go on without her? She already know how futile it would be to ask him to do that.

"How about we just don't die. Either of us. Any of us."

He smiles slow. It's tight and tired, but genuine. He likes that idea. That's being the idea he's been going with.

"Sounds like as to be a plan motherfucking legit." He gives her one more squeeze.

She heard him before he starts making noise. Maybe it's the quiet or the strain, but she feels like she can hear for miles. Snapped sticks and the rustle of leaves off in the distance bring her watchful eyes this way and that, darting around her. It'd be enough to panic her if she wasn't used to being both the hunter and the hunted. A noise more close to home almost makes her stand. But it's just him.

She lets him settle, all the while wondering why he's not staying with Terezi.

"No sleep out here, hmn?"

He chuckles, letting his hand fall away for the moment. He shakes his head. "Never got being good at sleeping well no ways ever," He confesses.

He lets the silence fall for a moment, just feeling the air. He wishes he really did have his voodoo, just so he could sense better. Being away from the Capitol makes all else seem more like Alternia, and by such, like he should've still have that lost sense. Just have to feel some other means.

"NO. He... he wanted..." His mouth presses to a line. He breathes deep. "WONDERED... if you could tell him. THAT NOW." He struggles to speak without too much fluctuation. It grinds out like it's painful. He isn't sure he's gotten across well as it is. "Just such a call close with her and I..." I need to know. I don't want to but I need to.

The smile at her lips, the ready admission that sleep wouldn't come easy for any of them, all falter, fade into silence when he asks. Her hands curl in her lap and she glances at Terezi, Signless. Now is a better time than any isn't it, when she has them both there to curl between afterwards. The adrenaline in her veins has quieted. They will likely die if they're caught.

There is never a good time, but there there will never be one better.

"...Where do you want me to start? With our capture or with the execution itself?"

She's painfully aware of Signless there, mere feet away. Would he hear her, speaking of it.

He sees the way she stiffens up. The way it gets its hurt on immediate. It ain't the first time he's hurt her. But maybe it could be the last, he actually fuckin dares to let himself think.

He takes in her question. Thinking it over, unhappily. He asked for execution secular but... no, the whole thing was being important. He should have that too.

"C-CAPTURE," He chokes out, shoulders hiking some. His eyes dart down.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm so heavy, heavy in your arms

Pre-Jailbreak

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Jailbreak Start

Jailbreak Start

Re: Jailbreak Start

no subject

Stephen's place

Re: Stephen's place

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Execution Talk

Re: Execution Talk

Execution Talk

Execution Talk