patheticvillain | eleven ➢ private + spam

Entry tags:

eleven ➢ private + spam

private/video | chris

[Cassel is looking just - crazy excited right now. For him, anyway; he's grinning wide, one of his legs jogging as he speaks.]

Hey, Skywalker. [Guess who got out early. And guess who's caught up with what you've been doing.]

Point one, hi, but I said that. Point two, you totally are a weapon of mass destruction, I don't know why you never used that line on me before. Point three, I have a billion things to tell you, starting with - Star Wars?

spam 1 {mid-afternoon 5/13; deck}

[The first thing Cassel does when he gets out of Zero - besides calling Chris, which always comes first - is he takes Patches up on deck. It's kind of stupid, but he's missed this dog like crazy, and he's more than happy to spend an hour or two in the fresh air throwing a ball for him.]

[For those who know him, he looks weirdly content, like a weight's been lifted; for those who don't, he looks a hell of a lot more like a normal kid than he's ever looked before.]

spam 2 {mid-afternoon thru evening 5/13; gym}

[When Kon suggested he start working in the gym for real, it had seemed like a weird idea at first, but the more he thinks about it the more it seems like - maybe it wouldn't be so bad. So he says he'll try it out, at least, and if he's going to try he's going to start right away. No point waiting.]

[He's still learning the ropes beyond just cleaning tonight, but he's around, keeping things as organized as he can on Kon's direction.]

private/video | doyle

[The camera's on to prove a point: that he's genuine about this, because he is, extremely. Discomfort shows on his face, because he's not used to apologizing, and he can't look at the camera for more than a couple seconds at a time, but he goes for it anyway.]

Hi. Um.

I'd like to talk to you, if that's cool. Here or in person. Or I can just text if you'd rather do that, I - you know. Whatever you want.

private/voice | steph

Do you still wanna skip the apology? Because I have one. Up to you.

private/voice, later | zane

[It's tempting to yell at Zane, or to ask if he's okay, or to say nothing at all, or to go find him in person now that he can. None of these sound particularly right, though, especially after everything he's ~~stalked~~ read over the last hour or so, so he reverts to sarcasm. Decently affectionate sarcasm, but sarcasm nonetheless.]

You're such an idiot. I feel like you should win a prize for being as much of an idiot as you are.

private/text | barron

pizza?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You weren't a tool! I told you.

Yeah, but then you used me anyway.

What's my use now, Zane? After I told Charles? I know you're angry. Am I a tool now, or an enemy, or what?

I don't know why you want to make him change me.

You stupid piece of shit, I don't want you to die!

What's next? What do I have to change, after this?

I'm not your warden, I just for some inexplicable reason don't want you dead, okay?

The pewter would have done that!

Not forever!

Who are you to say that I shouldn't be dead?

[flatly:] Somebody who likes you.

So, what, am I being selfish again?

It was the trade I made. Poison, for a few extra years. Without it, I would have died five, six times over already.

[ He is shaking again. Fists clenched tight. ]

So adapt.

Haven't I adapted enough?

[ His breathing is unsteady. Little hitches in it.

He's breaking apart. ]

I don't know.

Here, it's like - it's this vise, I don't know, I just - keep thinking I'm okay and going to be fine and then I ruin something. And all of a sudden there are a bunch of things that if I ruin them, I'll lose it. So I have to keep all of them going but there's this choice that's looming over me. There's always choices.

You're making choices, you chose not to kill me. You chose not to kill her, either. And I'm glad you didn't, but - part of me's not. Part of me thinks I shouldn't have trusted you, part of me -

[A beat.]

You show me things that I think are important. So I don't want you to die. I want you to adapt. I want you to stay. But that's - I'm not good at knowing what's right.

[Dean said: you just know. Right now, he doesn't.]

If I made the wrong choice, telling Charles - I'm sorry. But I don't think I did.

[His third apology today.]

Edited 2013-05-14 04:29 (UTC)

[ The last time Zane cried, it was tears of pain. It was involuntary, because he was dying. A body crushing him, bleeding into his wounds, and he thrashed, and cried, and survived.

There's nothing hurting him, now. Not like that. His arm aches; there are deep scratches on his abdomen. Neither are troublesome. He doesn't have metals, besides tin and copper, but he's been in worse positions. He is whole. And he's the most broken he's ever been.

He sets the communication device down. Doesn't deactivate it, which he should, and he's not sure why he doesn't.

He deserves this. He took Vin, and he twisted her, and he tried to kill her, and he deserves every inch of this. He deserves more: he deserves to be dead. And he isn't, because of some damned Admiral, isn't dying because of some decision he made out of pragmatism and weakness. He hates it and he resents it, and he can't think through the thick, grinding fog in his mind, and he can't take this anymore.

The last time he cried, it was from pain. This time, it isn't pain. He's just too weak. ]

Zane?

[Panic. Pure panic, because crying, that's weakness, and Chris cried, too, and he's tired of making people weak, tired of making them hurt, and all of a sudden he feels like all of this is his fault. Because he messes with Zane, he knows he does, because they're the same in some ways, and the ways they're not - he wants to know how, and why.]

[Too much too far too fast, fuck, he's such an asshole. And his second thought is if Barron finds him like this - ]

I'm sorry -

[But that's not good enough.]

[Instead he pushes the fear off his face and switches to video, just his side - knows, even though he doesn't cry, hasn't cried since his father died, that nobody wants to be seen crying.]

[He presses his hand to the screen.]

[It's all he has left, and all he knows how to do.]

[ He glances, and something about it makes him angry, or just makes him want to be angry. One hit of his hand, a slam of his palm, and the link is cut. ]

[Cassel speaks in talismans. He always has, and he always will. Symbols are easier than words.]

[So he takes the coin - the coins, or whatever they are now - and holds them in his hand. Then he takes another coin, a plain one, and removes his glove, places it in his palm.]

[It doesn't hurt him anymore. Kon figured out a way. And he trusts Kon, now, even though a voice that sounds like family says he shouldn't.]

[In a few moments there is another set of coins fused together in his palm. He's tired, but not weak, not in pain.]

[There are certain stones in his side drawer. They've been there since he got here. He's never used one. Now he does. Pushes his power into it, and makes an amulet.]

[He doesn't know if Zane is in his cabin or not, and it doesn't really matter. He scrawls a quick note and takes the talisman and the amulet with him; once he gets there, he pushes all three under the door.]

[He waits for a minute, hovering, not sure if he wants to be there when Zane reads the note. Then he turns, hesitantly, to go.]

The stone works one time against transformation work. Sorry. Not a tool. Don't forget.

Cassel

Edited 2013-05-14 05:19 (UTC)

[ How he's burning tin (he's burning it too much, too often, and he shouldn't be) means he hears the slide under the door immediately. And he's on his feet and moving immediately, too, because he'll seize any excuse not to be still and empty and pathetic.

The note has a glance, and the coins - is that the same? - and the stone, and then Zane opens the door.

He's not afraid, not shy. It isn't that he minds being seen like this. He has no need to be secretive, here, and he's never really wanted to go unnoticed anyway.

His eyes are red, and it's not subtle, what he's feeling. Not subtle, except to him - he needs a deafening roar, inside his mind, to understand the half of what his emotions do. ]

Cassel.

[ It sounds almost exasperated, and he doesn't have the faintest clue why that would be. ]

[There's a flinch, but he's turned away. If Zane sees it, it'll be in his shoulders, which he hasn't quite caught on to as a tell yet, a new one.]

[After a moment, he turns to look at him, his expression guarded, but laced with concern. He doesn't know this. There's a lot about himself that he doesn't know right now.]

Yes?

[The undercurrent is have I done something wrong? He assumes he has, is still trying to figure out if it was the right thing to do to tell Charles. It feels right, but it also feels wrong. And then he made Zane cry.]

[His lips twitch silently, trying to form words even though he doesn't have any. Then:]

You're upset.

[Not a question.]

[ Of course he's upset. What kind of world is it where he can't overcome his own insanity? Where betrayal is the right thing, and dying for your crimes isn't? Where it's someone's job to care without getting something from Zane in return?

He breathes out. ]

Come in or go.

[ He's not doing this in public, but he does shift slightly aside, enough room for Cassel to get past him and into his room. ]

[He hesitates, but only for a second - and then he goes inside.]

[Every time he comes in here he leaves broken somehow, he thinks. One way or another. He doesn't want to do that anymore. Doesn't want to disappoint Kon anymore. And Zane is not his friend, but - if he was, he would be a friend who needs him right now.]

[Strange concept.]

[He sits down on the floor, by the wall. Watches Zane for cues.]

[ Zane takes the spot next to him, only a few inches away. There's no reason for him to sit there besides being near Cassel, and he wonders how obvious he is, how loud he's begging for the kind of closeness he's seen here but not understood.

His stare is hard, as though accusing the wall opposite him of some dreadful crime. ]

[Not that obvious. It's Cassel, after all; he's not used to this kind of request from anyone. Touch has, in the past, conveyed threat. It's one of the strangest things he's experienced here, the idea that it might not.]

[But even Zane - there was threat, once, but it wasn't touch. It was the kind of thing that ripped him apart on the inside but left him intact for everyone to see. Other than that, the control has been Cassel's.]

[Zane looks fine. But he's not.]

[Cassel is ill-equipped to give this kind of comfort, and he knows it. But he's the one who sees, and he's the one who's here. He made Zane upset, or at least contributed. So it's his responsibility.]

[He looks at him, questioning and confused, only for a second, and then closes the gap: scoots sideways and lets his head rest lightly on Zane's shoulder.]

[ He breathes out, and tension leaches out of him, too. He is spent, drained, like finally burning through the last of his metal reserves. ]

Do you - should I find gloves?

[ Not for any particular reason. Just, accidental contact. Zane's hands are twitchy and restless, but he's not bringing them anywhere near Cassel. ]

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private/voice; cw: thoughts of suicide

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