abuse your demons.

It feels as if his ears have to strain to pick up his old friend’s soft-spoken tone over the slight howl of the wind outside their dark, cold cave; Mnervis feels on the edge of his metaphorical seat, on his toes, fingers clenched into fists and jaw set. Apprehensively, he waits, as if fully ready to lunge at him and tear the helmet off if his request – demand, really – goes unheeded.

He stares at him, cold eyes as round as the moon, fingers curled so tightly he can feel his fingers start to go numb underneath his gloves. What he expected, he doesn’t even know; Sarvoniks looks no different than what he had before. Still as young as ever, still the same burns, yet… No blood covering his mouth and his nose and his chest.. Different than the last time he saw him. The same, but different.

His fangs press down a little harder, and he can feel the blood in his mouth from digging into his gums, but he doesn’t care.

The question, whether question or reassurance, goes unanswered. It feels as if he spoke, his voice would shake.

Mnervis flinches then, suddenly, when Sarvoniks speaks, lifting one free hand almost protectively to the cloak wrapped tightly around his neck and under the pelt at his back. Something he almost forgot about, he wears it so often it barely leaves his person.

  “Oh…” His head tilts down then, as if ashamed, staring down at the worn and tattered cloak– it feels like the equivalent of a child never growing out of their blanket.. not a keepsake of a dead friend, now that Sarvoniks is here, standing in front of him. “I didn’t…”

It was the only thing he could keep. The only thing he could salvage from his dead friend. He rarely ever let it go– he doesn’t even remember if he ever washed it more than once in two decades. Mnervis turns his head away, no longer wanting to look at him. Maybe he cared too much.

   “…I didn’t want to let you go..”

  he didn’t mean it that way, but it may have boiled down to sarcastic or condescending, unable to move on from... him. it was more out of disbelief. eliksni weren’t quite known for caring about their fallen crewmates-- they lost every breathing moment. everything wanted them extinct. the sterile awoken called them insects, often, if not enough. usually they left their fallen people behind; let them rot in the vacuum of space, on the planet, for graves were not enough. too many bodies. even worse, it was not uncommon to see another looting them for their now useless belongings ( if they even had any ). but he also knew mnervis cared about him, if not too much.

  “oh no, no, i didn’t...” he couldn’t really take it back now, could he?

  “it’s thoughtful.” sarvoniks offered, but there was still some kind of guilt resonating. to some, it was a sign of weakness to act this way. that is why there’s such a ruthless reputation... but he didn’t follow those conventional ideals ( not anymore, in the least ). no one was around to be witness except him, though.

  “i just didn’t think you’d...” he swallowed thickly, palette dry. words were hard to come with comfort on his end. most, if not all the time, mnervis had such a stoic & cruel appearance around him---- so well rounded, the expectation of a killing machine. but times like this, where that facade faltered and he got to see live memories of their old self surface again, it felt oddly natural. natural & nostalgic. words weren’t cut for him in this situation.

At the moment, he could care less about the helmet. It could break, for all he cares.

With his face better exposed, he looks at Sarvoniks harder. Part of him wants to take his own helmet by each headpiece and rip it off him just so he can see his face again; he remembers it like yesterday, but seeing it with his eyes would be different. His fingers flex against his fists, even turning on his feet as if to take a step forward, though deciding against it. It would be too far.

  “You’d be surprised what they hire Light-Bearers to do and how many I’ve had come after me.” Too many, though he hadn’t fought them all. He’s fled so much, he’s surprised his legs haven’t fallen off. “They don’t care Skolas is dead. They hunt anyway. Clean up the scraps.”

  “We…” He mimics, voice quiet. “I don’t–… Sarvoniks…” Saying his name again sounds better than he could imagine, it fits so well on his tongue, in place of a longer word. “You’re going to stay with me?” He knows he shouldn’t be shocked, but he can’t help it. “I’m not anything like I used to be. I barely even look the same,” he gestures at the dulling of his skin. No longer as deep as it used to be, “but I don’t think anything I say is going to deter you..”

Mnervis steps forward, arms slack at his sides. “Let me see your face. I ne– I want to see it again.”

  “no.” of course not. there was an almost chuckle in his voice, but barely hearable under the softspoken tone. there was some traits still redeemable about mnervis---- not that he would notice himself.

  there was a touch of disbelief in his own eyes, glancing up at their face. it was a rather unorthodox request, coming from them. it was a need more than a want. “... alright.” after all, sarvoniks felt obliged to in a way, despite his own distaste without it on. hands raised up slowly, twisting the clasps and taking off the pieces.

  he felt more exposed, more vulnerable; but at the same time, his senses were much sharper. cold atmosphere tinged more of his face. the pieces were cradled between his secondary arms, pressed and hugged to his chest. “better?” it was more of a reassurance than a question. for once, they could see the captain in a more clearer view.

     “Maybe.” Years, but he’s only known him – again, anyway – for a month, at most. His tone is cold, frigid, and where once he would’ve apologized and calmed himself, he hardly even falters, eyes as narrow as they’d been a moment ago when Sarvoniks flinches away. He swallows hard in his throat when his hands lift, as if about to be struck.

  “It isn’t,” he confirms blandly, eyes sloping shut again. “I’m not. You stayed the same, but you were the one frozen in time.” How much does Sarvoniks even remember? Does he remember the raid on Amethyst, or anything at all related to his death? Anything?

His shoulders slump, and without much care, he lets his helmet drop to the ground, the clatter echoing in his ears.

   “For what? For me?” His tone is sharp and bitter, although he’s sure he isn’t surprising. “I already have bounties on my head. You have no idea what I’ve done. They won’t stop hunting me until they kill me.” The edge to his voice tapers off then, fading into a monotonous drawl. “I’m surprised they haven’t already– or at least surprised they haven’t captured me and thrown me in their damn prison.”

  instinctively, eyes flickered to the sound of any kind of loud noise-- in this case, the helmet. if he had the right direction, he would’ve scolded mnervis for being careless, but neither of them needed to hear that. part of him thinks mnervis is dwelling on the past again.

  rarely, sarvoniks took off his helmet... he wasn’t sure the last time mnervis would’ve ever seen him without it ( did he even recall how he looked? ). thinking about it, his maw felt some sort of uncomfortable burning where the nasty scar was. more than likely never, as far as the present goes.

  “i reckon they have better things to do than hunt mangy wolves; or what remains of them.” he softly growls, thinking on the awoken. signs that his intense hate did not seem to change for them much. “their ‘kell’ is dead.”

He hadn’t meant it in a particularly vicious sense, telling Sarvoniks he wasn’t supposed to be here, but if his friend knows him enough, he already knows that keeping his mouth shut was never something he excelled in. It was never his forte. (Sarvoniks remembers more than he does, he’s sure.)

“How do you know that?” He snaps at him suddenly, fingers curling into fists and hands wrenching away from his friend’s fingers. “You don’t know how the technology of those thingsworks. You could be here today and gone tomorrow, as dead as you’ve been for twenty years! You don’t know anything! Nobody does!”

Mnervis draws away, shoulders hiking upwards defensively, breath shallowing in his throat. He can’t go back to what they used to have, not after grieving for two decades, not after all his time alone, every bloody mission he’s been through, every potential mate he’s rejected. He bites his tongue again, eyes snapping shut; part of him wants to deny it and tell him he wasn’t, he was gone that entire time, but he doesn’t.

“You’re the same and I’m not.” And that’s the problem. “I…”

He lifts his helmet off suddenly, shifting it to his secondary set of hands, the larger pressing to his face.

“I missed you too, but I don’t know if I can give that to you anymore.”

  “i've been here for years, you’d think if the vex really wanted to undo skolas’ meddling, that those machines would have already erased me---” there was an audible flinch in his voice. in his eyes. the way they closed for a moment and he shifted in a way to avoid something, like a physical hit. the way mnervis’ tone reeled him back when he wrenched himself away. he couldn’t quite see past all the burning hate, anger, & grief. it was hard to. sarvoniks’ own hands were held in front of his face for some sort of self defense, barely ceasing even after the helm was clasped off.

  looking at them was like knowing but unable to decipher. he looked different... somehow, compared to a more youthful ( although plighted with war ) age. tired and angry at the same time, and he couldn’t blame mnervis. secondaries wrung on his lap as he pulled his hands away from his face. “you’re...” how could he put it? “you-- but it’s not quite the same.” isn’t it.

  imagine, all those years they could’ve spent... getting promoted just like they were to be. together. seeing the war end, leaving all of it behind. leaving the wolves behind. much of which was never to be; spent alone.

   “It wasn’t fair.” Mnervis says suddenly, feeling much smaller, a higher pitch to his tone under-laced with hatred. Those two decades suddenly feel like a century. How did he even survive this long? He had never realized how much he relied on Sarvoniks until he was gone– not entirely in a physical sense, but emotionally. Maybe that’s why he was told he was as cold as he was, as cliche as it is.

Eliksni should be used to loss, used to grieving, and yet here he is. Still grieving because in his heart, he knows Sarvoniks isn’t truly supposed to be here. He doesn’t want to get close again for fear he’ll simply fizzle out of time one day, and leave him just as alone as he’d been in the first place.

   “Horrid.” His armored fingers drag along his wrists; as composed as he’d like to be, he never really was around Sarvoniks. Old habits die hard, he supposes; there’s too much he remembers that he thought he’d forgotten. “When we were younger, we took every step together. And then I took them alone– it felt wrong.” He reaches up, pinching the space between his eyes as if trying to soothe a headache. “I recall my mother, when I was a child, telling me not to become too close to anybody lest I feel the exact way I did when you were gone. I could practically hear her telling me she told me so in her grave.”

His eyes open again and narrow; he makes a short hand gesture to him. “And for you– it only felt like… A moment. Twenty years of what I went through was nothing to you. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

  “i recall.” i recall everything. fingers curled, instinctively one of them met mnervis’ aching ones, to remind him he was still here despite everything... even if he was not meant to be. a hard toll on himself, at least--- but no harder than what his friend has suffered through. telling him, though, the he didn’t belong was some sort of a cautionary backhand to the face. if he was alone for so long & wished for him back, why did he say he wasn’t meant to be here? anything was better than... nothing, so to speak. a ghost or a grave. sarvoniks was both.

  “but i’m not going anywhere. mnervis. i still care about you, even if this isn’t quite what any of us was expecting.”

  vex technology.

  “i was and still am with you. every step of the way now, you hear? i’m still the same one, every fiber of me that you remember. not apart of skolas’ successfully revived army or a vex simulation. i’m your friend.” to confirm this, the truth, he squeezed their hand gently like he would do within past times. “... i missed you. the old you. the one i want to talk to; not what everyone else hears.”

eyezooms

In the moment, he suddenly feels too scrutinized for his own good; it’s unnerving, but he can’t tell if he’s unnerved or if he’s just paranoid. Maybe once I could have, he wants to say, but it’s thought against. It’s difficult telling himself that it wasn’t Sarvoniks’ fault, no matter how surreal it feels now to think back on it.

He hunches over, the frown evident even through his mask via the creases under his eyes alone.

  “I wasn’t supposed to end up this way alone.” There’s a click again, sharp fangs pressing together and lips curling back. “You weren’t supposed to die like a dreg.”

  in the sense, the vandal bit their bottom lip with some discomfort ( to being told how he died wasn’t too surprising, but sarvoniks resisted the urge to simply inquire how ). an old habit when he needed it, though they sometimes left the chapped skin’s surface burning from the rows of teeth.

  “you weren’t.” he reiterated, painfully so. how he died was something he couldn’t understand; even if it was like picking a ghost apart & chipping away at its memory core or fragments. he only felt it secondhand.

  “Curiosity, I suppose.” His teeth press into his tongue. No, it wasn’t his fault, but still… “Yes, I know, I was just–” Mnervis snaps his jaw shut then, head shaking. “–Right… Some things never change.”

  there was clean cut silence for a moment. short that it wouldn’t interrupt too much of the topic, but long enough to be another pause. he scans mnervis for any sign of continuation, before shoulders tense up. only slightly. “just what?” beyond that some things never really did change.

To that, Mnervis scowls at him.

  “Twenty years was twenty years to me. I hadn’t time to notice the gradual change.” There’s a small, thoughtful pause before he leans backwards. “Well, not entirely.”

  his face twisted into a sharp expression; a returned one, but not as intended.

when u see your buddy since 20 years he’s died and he’s supposed to be dead so you decide to drag him around in that cool golden age shit kids had.