I hate my work but I'm in control, I'm fearless now but it cost my soul

[quiethumerus]

Who| Kurloz and Derek
What| Meulin is gone and it's time to do what Makaras do best
Where| D4 house
When| After the D8/D9 missions
Warnings/Notes| Makara Tantrums probably, stitching mentions, swearing

They're out to battle. He stays behind. That is the way of a stylist, everything he worked to become. He dresses them up for the Capitol audiences, he sees them off to battle, he waits, they come back and he dresses them for victory.

"Stay out of the ocean, kid. It's dangerous by them bits far out. Will suck you right under."

Even Meulin goes to battle now. Meulin, Anna, Chuck, Derek. The house gets so quiet. Familiar like a needle slipping through his lips. Comfortable like cool sand beneath.

"Kurloth, are you coming?" "Yeah, Tuna, I'll not be long. My Da's out there."

They go, he waits, they come back. He wears down the edge of his sleeves between his fingers. He makes the house creak as he starts to pace. He passes a mirror that doesn't reflect who he is. He lights another roll just to give himself something to hold.

"I know not where they motherfucking left to, my nephew. It is appearing not for our likes to know. So I'm all a sorts afraid is truth. Worry not, my son. We shall be up at to bide."

They come back.

"Kurloz? Wait- Kurloz!"

The door creaks and he's up from his seat, running to great those coming home. It ain't all at once and he doesn't expect it to be but...

Comments

[sociopathicwolf]

When the door first opens, Derek doesn't acknowledge Kurloz. But that's mostly because he's leaning heavily against Chuck to keep himself upright. Derek hadn't wanted to leave the battlefield without Meulin, and when they'd tried to make him he'd maybe gotten a little bit violent.

Which means there's a sedative coursing through his veins, and it's only with Chuck's help that he makes it back to their room, the door closing behind them.

It's a little while later that he's mostly back to himself, and then he slips back out to find Kurloz again. He doesn't want to be the one that tells Kurloz what happened - but Kurloz will find out, and Derek doesn't want him to find out from someone else.

"Wouldn't let me go after her."

[quiethumerus]

He watches Derek and Chuck go past, not saying a word, unable to say mother fuckin word. Derek leans on Chuck like a brother's being limp and Chuck shuts him out and there's a terrible moment where the loneliness collides sharp and fast with his fears. He'll be thrown out. He'll be... something will happen. Something is going to happen.

But he leaves them. He darts back to the door. He waits.

He waits...

When the door finally opens, he's sitting in a chair, his back facing Derek. He should rush to him like he had all that while ago, but the doubt and rationalizing have set in. All that's left is the thin bit of frayed rope, ready to snap with a breeze. His nails dig into chair arms. His back goes straight. He's still for a moment.

They wouldn't let Derek go after. Which means they let her go. They just... They didn't mother fuckin care. She was just a writer. She was just a Districter. No one. They didn't care. They just fuckin let her go and she's gone. He wasn't there. He didn't stop it. She's gone.

He tremors and shoots up. He moves fast, bolting across the room. He finds the first thing in reach and he smashes again the far wall. And the next thing, and the next. He sweeps it all off a table and onto the floor. Another piece flies. She's gone, she's gone. The Capitol let her go, the Capito-- He screams. It's muffled by lips stitched tight and a voice worn out and scarred, but he screams.

He reels on Derek, going to grasp the front of Derek's shirt with rage in his eyes.

[sociopathicwolf]

Derek isn't surprised when Kurloz jumps up and bolts across the room. He remembers that rage from when Kurloz went after Aang - but unlike last time, he doesn't try to stop Kurloz. He understands what fuels it, that sheer anger that leads to destruction.

It's what he wants to do. He'd be tempted to join him if the sedative had completely worn off - and if it weren't for the fact that he and Chuck had already curbed the worst of each other's anger. Instead he stands there, the slow curl of his lip in a silent snarl the only sign of any emotion as he watches what some people would call his best friend destroy their living room over the loss of his girlfriend, of Derek's other best friend.

When Kurloz turns on him, Derek still doesn't move. He doesn't know what to do - he isn't planning on holding Kurloz back from anything, so it doesn't occur to him to wrap his arms around Kurloz the way he had last time.

"They don't care. Never will."

It's something that Derek's known for a long time, and has only been reminded of that more after a head Peacekeeper took the side of a rebel over two Capitol soldiers, after they wouldn't let him look for her.

[quiethumerus]

He's not sure what he intended to do, if he was looking to hurt Derek or not just to feel someone hurt besides him. The thought might settle ill later, but right now all that's happening is his going weak at his words, grasping Derek's shirt like a lifeline instead, staring up in horror absolute.

How can they not care? How could the Capitol have just... not cared? That doesn't make sense. The Capitol was their center, it was everything. He knows they didn't, that part is of evident, but why? How? He doesn't understand. He jerks back away from Derek, feeling burned by the treason he speaks.

He made sure she was loyal. He made sure she was safe. Perhaps more than him, with his being so tied up in ill mannered things. There has to be an explanation. He must have done something wrong. He must have failed in some fundamental way.

His hands rise up to knot in his hair. He styled for the Capitol, he did everything to prove himself as a stylist until that Aang Tribute ruined their faith in him. He styled for their propaganda but it hadn't been enough. He needs to do more, be more, go above that which has been asked of him.

Muted and stitched, the first bout of hysterical laughter sounds like the beginning of a sob. It looks it took. Maybe it is, but that's not important. His fingers retract from his hair and he approaches Derek again, gripping the shirt again but this time to impress that an idea's been found. His wide and wild eyes are full with knowing.

I must join you, brother.