patheticvillain | forty-eight ➢ spam + private + video

spam } open

[Cassel starts the new year off hungover. He rises late after karaoke, but he does rise, his limbs feeling heavy and leaden as he heads to the gym.]

[It's weird; he's got the craziest feeling that time is pressing down on him, that if he doesn't start off this year right he'll be letting everybody down. That everyone he passes is looking at him, too. Paranoia left over from seeing his family, probably, but it feels real. He smiles at everyone who comes in as he's cleaning and tidying, doing the work he didn't do over the past few days, but he feels hemmed in, overwhelmed, pushed against by anything and everything.]

[Those who know him well might notice he's frowning more and smiling wider when he smiles at all. His masks aren't as good as they should be. He complains loudly and with good cheer about the food at lunch in the dining hall, sits down with near-strangers, touches the people he loves on the back as he passes their tables.]

private } chris

Hey, so. What the hell is Mickey's deal anyway?

private } wichita

You and me, we've got a date. You ready?

filter } inmates

Yo, so anybody who uses the gym on a regular basis might have noticed it's kind of trashed at the moment. That's my bad, I'm sorry about it. I haven't figured out how to clone myself, so for the time being it's just me working in there.

I need a magician's assistant. Anybody interested? Perks include me liking you, your theoretical warden getting off your ass a little bit, not being bored to death, and karma points.

( ooc; cassel is still emotion-worked! as detailed in these posts. pp for more details if desired! )

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You're probably quite right. I don't really know you at all. The fact that I still noticed speaks to how vivid the change in you has been.

[The angry hiss is almost comforting. It is the sharpest edge of Cassel's rage towards him, but at least it feels something like Cassel's.]

And I am saying this, because-- because it is important. You went back to your home with people who you care about, and a grave ill has befallen you there.

It matters that you know. It matters that you can understand yourself.

[He stares. Just stares for a long moment, as one tear tracks down his cheek. Even as he begins to cry he feels disjointed, like his body is no longer his, controlled by someone else. As though he's a doll, and someone else is moving his arms around.]

[But it can't be. It absolutely can't. He keeps repeating to himself, He doesn't know. It's all that's keeping him sane in a moment when he expects himself to fracture at any second.]

[After a few more too-loud beats of his heart, he turns away again, wipes his eyes, and runs out of the dining hall.]

[This is somewhat less than ideal. Horatio is not exactly in the perfect state to run after, but all the same, he rises awkwardly, and limps after the young warden as quickly as he's able.

Perhaps he goes a little too fast, or steps a little too heavy, because by the time he catches up to Cassel, the nerves in his leg are tender and aching where it meets the rough prosthetic he wears.

His stomach feels tight with anxiety. He is sure that he was correct in telling Cassel his suspicions, but he should have been kinder in expressing it. Should have been more tactful. Should have told him better, somehow.

He doesn't speak at first, waiting to see if Cassel will keep running, ready to pursue again if needed.]

[He's backed up against the wall; consciously or unconsciously, he's run himself into a situation he can't escape from. Turning to look at Horatio, he gives a wretched look, then a sneer, then just grins. It's as though he can't decide how to react, as though he's being picked apart from the inside out.]

I still don't believe you.

So what are you gonna do about it?

[Horatio is cautious in answer, he doesn't advance on Cassel, but he doesn't pull away either.]

Perhaps you are right not to believe me. I may very well be mistaken yet, Cassel. But do think on it, please. Try to remember if you wore an amulet when you returned home? If your mother touched you. Set aside your emotions and search your memories Cassel.

And there is nothing I can do about it, Sir. The knowledge is your own, to do with what you will.

An amulet. . . .

[He hadn't worn one. Because if his mother saw it, she'd be angry. Better to be safer by not being safe. It had made sense at the time.]

[His expression goes distant as he considers.]

She touched me. But she was wearing gloves.

[Even though he knows, he knows that isn't the be-all, end-all of working. It can still happen. Easily, even. There are so many little tricks . . .]

Of course she wore gloves.

[It comes out a little too quick, and a little too sharp for Horatio's liking. He feels, in that moment, as he did in the breach. As if they are both from the same world, and Cassel is a much closer friend than he actually is, and as if they both know how little it means for a worker, a proper professional worker, to be wearing gloves.

He forces his voice to soften. It's inappropriate for him to take that tone.]

Just... consider it. There are people here who you do, truly trust. Who I think you would trust even if you were under no outside influences. Please consider asking them for help, or just asking them if you seem different, if nothing else.

[He gives Horatio a wobbly, unsteady look.]

I'll consider it.

[But they both know he won't. Cassel knows it because it's impossible, what he's suggesting. The amount of love he feels for his mother cannot possibly coexist with a universe in which she would do such a thing. And Horatio knows it because he knows what work is.]

[They're both lying to themselves if they say anything different.]

forty-eight ➢ spam + private + video

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