patheticvillain | fifty-five ➢ spam & voice

private } mickey

Hey. You busy?

private } beyond

Got something for you.

spam

[Recovering from being disemboweled physically took about forty-five seconds. Recovering psychologically is taking a little bit longer. Cassel takes comfort in simple tasks and routines in the meantime, trying not to think about what happened with Creed or what happened in the Enclosure or what's going to happen next. There's this feeling like the other shoe is going to drop - not uncommon on the Barge, but not something he wants to deal with, either.]

[During the day, when he's not in the gym, he spends time in his room or in the common rooms with yarn in his lap, curled up in an armchair, knitting and purling on autopilot. He has no idea what he's making, which is usually how he goes about things. Eventually he casts off and picks it up, examining it in the light. It appears to be a tiny sweater with at least three arms.]

[He never said he was good at this.]

[At night, a lithe black cat roams the halls. To Cassel's credit, this time he's wearing a little blue collar with a name tag. On the other hand, it took him this long to come up with that, so maybe he's not so smart after all. He curls up on the backs of couches, winds between people's legs, and wanders into cabins behind their occupants, purring loudly and very insistently.]

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[He hesitates, rocks back on the back legs of his chair before responding. It's another way of hurting himself, Cassel thinks, another way of self-inflicting pain. But sometimes that's what's necessary.]

[If there's one thing he can do, it is take at least half of the trip with Beyond, and the only way he knows how to do that is this: instead of lighting a new one, he wordlessly holds out his cigarette instead, remembering the way he and Mickey share, a family thing. It's too early to accept Beyond as part of his family, and he knows it wouldn't be accepted if he offered, but that sense of sharing, of intimacy, is important to him all the same.]

[beyond shuffles closer, accepts the cigarette from cassel, grasping it delicately between two fingers and thumb. he knows what to expect this time; the smell of flame and ash doesn't trigger the memories as he brings the slim paper cylinder to his lips and inhales. he still coughs, completely artless in this simple act, but this time he relishes the slow burn that makes its spreading way through his chest.

he hands the cigarette back to cassel and wordlessly sits in the chair next to him.]

Edited 2015-06-30 01:23 (UTC)

[With him closer, Cassel feels, not happier, but more content. As though, despite all of the things he's done wrong today, he hasn't ruined everything. More than that, there's a fierce sense of protectiveness in him now, a harsh and overwhelming desire to keep safe the parts of Beyond that remind him of himself and the parts that are utterly new and confusing to him. All the things that make him him, an utterly new and confusing sort of person.]

[He would be bowled over by his own strength of feeling if he didn't understand by now that he is unpredictable, that his own capacity for love is dangerous. As it is, he takes the cigarette back and flicks ash off the end reflexively, then looks out across the eerily empty landscape.]

Did that help?

[Does hurting help?]

I think so.

[beyond nods, bringing his fingers up to the underside of his nose, slowly inhaling the ashen scent that lingers on his skin. he finds it somehow familiar, calming.]

Yes. Thank you, Cassel.

[This is one of the saddest things he's ever heard. But not unexpected. He bows his head for a brief moment, then smiles, because the alternative is to let pity cross his face, and that's never a good option.]

Good. You're welcome.

[He holds out the pack for Beyond, almost full. He can get more later.]

Edited 2015-06-30 01:47 (UTC)

[beyond gives cassel a nod of thanks as he accepts the cigarettes.]

Not as bad, this time.

[it's a pain he could get used to.]

fifty-five ➢ spam & voice

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