Après l'hiver

The house is even more filled when everyone's - in theory - supposed to be inside it. Certainly, they're - in theory - asleep and not there to bother anyone, but they're  still there, taking up space and necessitating quiet. He's good at that. And yet - it pulls its stifling shroud around him.

Maybe it's just that everything feels a little sideways for him. Maybe it's no one's fault really, and he's just got - something...amiss. Sebastian wishes he could see the stars. They wouldn't be the ones he's looking for - the sideways feeling closing in. They're supposed to be his stars, the ones here. The ones he grew up with, the ones he's always been under. They're still not the ones he's looking for. But the ones he's looking for exist in a cloudless sky. The night is colder, there's less damp. That's not a home either, over there, but it's not here, and he doesn't feel like everything's gone sideways there. Those dry, chill places aren't ever familiar - never choose the same location twice - except perhaps in the way in which they've been chosen with purpose, experienced fully.

He doesn't know what's wrong. He doesn't know what he's looking for, standing in the garden of a place he's always called home, despite the actual realities of the  situation. Maybe there's nothing wrong. Or perhaps everything's wrong with the world, including his own place in it. Maybe it all shifted when he wasn't looking and no one told him. He ought to feel distressed, he thinks. Instead, it's just sideways, his mind rationalizing at a breakneck pace in order to avoid the pain of introspection. Maybe it's not even just introspection - he can take the world in, but he can't stop to actually think about it.

He smokes, because out here he can. No one will wake up, no one will tell him to do anything. No one needs him out here. It should be a contradiction, because without being needed, there is no Sebastian, not in the way that he's created himself to be. To be needed means he has a place in the universe, it means he's seen, that he exists. The night doesn't need him, not here, not there. It's not peace that he's sought out here. It's an escape, which he barely considers - it's a passing thought. To need to get out of somewhere implies that there is a situation to get out of. This, to him, is the absence of one. Only children are afraid of the dark. And he is, so clearly, not.

SEBASTIAN MORAN, yours is A KNIFE CALLED GRIEF. You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven't been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you'd do that for them.

BUCKY  BARNES, yours is CONSUMPTION OF A HEART UNLOVED. Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red  and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but  no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach  you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to  look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you  want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your  heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want  them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want  to be the one who ends their hunger.

TAGGED BY: @dcsperados​

The opposite was more likely. They both knew it, too. Even if they were valuable now, what the scientists were developing meant that one day the original prototypes might no longer have value. If Bucky had time to really think about it, he might have questioned if they had much value even now. And even then, it wasn’t like they were equal. Bucky didn’t try to kill scientists at the same rate that Bash did, which meant they took him out more. He liked being outside the cage, even if the other wolves didn’t like him. What saved him most of the time was that they followed orders to the letter. Not that it stopped some of the minor issues, but it meant he was still alive. Bash didn’t get that. They hadn’t tried more of his type. He could only assume they realized a pack was useful, as opposed to something more solitary. But still, Bash should be able to see the grass before he died.

He'd been just sitting up when she says it. Maybe she was waiting for his back to be turned - even slightly - to say the hardest part. Sebastian does the math in his head. He hadn't thought so much time had passed. He'd turned away and she'd spoken, but now there's no escaping his gaze when he turns back to her. It's not so bad as the chilly consideration he'd do if she'd just revealed a betrayal, but he's certainly no longer watching her with pleasure.

"Good behavior? Or is it that you're having second thoughts?" At whose feet can he lay the blame? Because this, as long as it has stretched, has not taken anywhere close to thirty years. He wonders - she is very often direct - if it is the former. He also wonders if she has gotten attached. Sebastian would never admit to such a thing, but he will miss this. "I'll clean out whatever I've left here, then, shall I? Leave you to explain that baby?"

This shouldn't come as a shock - beyond the shortened time frame, she’d told him this. If recently. And yet, when she'd told him that it was going to be three decades and not a single one of them would care about it at this point, he’d wanted to believe it. "He said you could, as long as you told him, but I assume you've got no desire for us to actually meet. Wasn’t that it?" Sebastian rather wants to meet him, stand face to face and let it sink in who Electra's been spending her time with, the man that Aidan himself allowed - if such a thing could be said for a man who was quite firmly in prison - to sleep with her. A detail he might not have always been aware of, but certainly one he could use to his advantage.

That's different. Usually there's a hook there, something that encourages Sebastian to do just the opposite, to stay and argue. Not this time. It feels far more final. He frowns, tries to think through anything he might have done, even though Sebastian is more than sure it's no worse than usual. Which means it's something external - he couldn't say what, but he could certainly guess.

"Is it your sister?" The one person that makes Aidan seem human. Not the only one - his family is a similar size to Sebastian's, but she's the closest and in the need of the most help. "Did something happen?" It's like - well, it's not exactly an automaton asking day-by-day questions, but Sebastian wonders if that's what it sounds like. He does actually care when it comes to Aidan, but given how they function, he wouldn't be surprised if it was taken the wrong way.

It's not the most she's said to him at all, but Sebastian is hard pressed to think of many similar events. He must admit he would like to smile at her and tell her - well, he is not entirely sure what. That she's won his game? That would not do at all, not in this moment. And yet, the temptation remains. Sebastian, for all that he does not enjoy some of her methods of defiance, prefers it when she's got a backbone. Perhaps the shadow of a smile shows on his face. She will not like that one bit. He does not mean to provoke her, but he allows himself less restraint when dealing with her.

"It seems to be the case quite often that you do not wish to speak to me. All I hear, day in and day out is yes my lord, no my lord, and nothing else in between. What is there for you to reflect upon there? I do hope your mind is full of more stuff than just that, but I have no way of knowing." He'd had the pick of her and her sisters, and she had seemed the one with most substance. The forced wedding had still been forced, so perhaps she was simply the best of a bad bunch. That's a bit unfair, but not entirely when she became a mouse the moment she married him.

"James -"

Wasn't this it, though? Wasn't this the one time that Sebastian was supposed to roll over, let himself be killed? Wasn't this the time that Sebastian had always hoped would come? He'd always thought that he'd agree with it, when James said these words. Right now, he mostly feels fear and an unfortunately burning desire to live through this situation. Maybe it's because he doesn't understand why. Maybe it's because Sebastian knows he has more to give, more ways to stand at James' side as the man rules the world. It's not over, Sebastian's life. He's not an old dog to be put down yet. Maybe he's afraid because James is wrong.

"Why?" he manages. There's been no explanation for this. Maybe that's part of it too - he always thought it would be clear when James no longer had a need for him. This is sudden, no warning, no mistakes. Sebastian doesn't know what he's done to deserve this. He's pretty sure he doesn't, but he doesn't want to say - or admit to himself - that James can be wrong. "I didn't - I haven't done anything to harm you or hinder you or - can you just say why?" What happened. What did Sebastian do wrong? Surely he did something, because James doing this for no reason - he can't understand that, can't fit that into his worldview.

Maybe she should get a taser. Maybe Frank could teach her how to shoot a gun, and then she could get a gun. And then get arrested for shooting someone, probably. Vigilantism was pretty illegal, if Eun Yoo was remembering right. Self defense wasn’t, though. “That was pretty good shooting.” Probably. It had successfully stopped them from moving, and Eun Yoo was relatively sure he hadn’t fired a ton of misses, so she was confident she’d sound like she knew what she was talking about. “Have you ever thought about maybe teaching someone else how to shoot?” Maybe some poor defenseless young adult?

“Fuck that.” Doctor – with what fucking money? Yeah, no, she didn’t want to go broke just because she had a few cuts. She inched away from Frank when he offered to look at it, but then paused and took a confident step back towards him. “Sure. If you want.” Since he was so worried about it, might as well let him make sure. She still was also concerned one of the guys’ blood had made it in, there was no way those two weren’t riddled with diseases. “I’m not jumpy.” She bit out, which absolutely didn’t disprove her point, and crossed her arms. “Okay, good. Fine.” No stalking, then. Eun Yoo hands dropped slightly, to be resting on her elbows instead of choked up almost to her shoulders. “Maybe. Yeah. I still don’t want you to enter my apartment, though, so if you want to check the cut it’s gotta be somewhere else.”

A nod, quick smile. Yeah, he’s pretty good. Couldn’t avoid that with his current occupation or with his old one. Lift of a shoulder. “Might’ve been." It was, but Frank wasn’t gonna brag, not to some little girl. Maybe not so much of a little girl, if that’s what she was asking. Shooting a gun would grow her up pretty fast, but it seemed like the world wasn’t all that interested in keeping her safe. “I might.” Another calculating look at her. He could. She didn’t have anyone. “You gotta be sure about it. I’m not the easiest teacher.” Good at threats and warnings, not great at soft. But that’s how she’d learn. Better have her head on straight if she came to combat.

Well then. Bucky's proud of Leo for being able to say that, but he's not as happy about leaving Leo on his own with his thoughts, so he doesn't turn to go just yet. Flesh fingers tap at prosthetic wrist. "That's fine. Can I sit or do you want me gone even if I'm not talking?" Bucky must've pushed a little too far earlier. He never wants to upset Leo too much, but sometimes they have to do their little question and answer sessions to get through some of Leo's hangups. Which again, it's not like Bucky can blame him for them. Still, when the man can't admit when something's too much or when he wants to stop, it makes it a lot harder to not ask one question too many.

"What else is it supposed to come back to?" Her, he knows this. You aren't supposed to love anyone but your wife. He never learned that outright, though he’s clearly punished plenty who didn’t at this point. Punished isn’t perhaps the right word. Killed is. Sebastian doesn’t deal in metaphor more than he has to. No point in dressing it up. He’s killed husbands, wives, mistresses, the whole set of them, in whatever combination is asked for. He doesn’t love M, is the thing. He would tell that to anyone. Those around him might debate his ability to love at all, but that is not the question. It is simply that M has unerringly held his attention without pause for as many years as Sebastian has worked for him. That could be love, if examined under the right light. In turn, Sebastian has been unwaveringly loyal to the man. This too could be love with the right lens. “You know I could not possibly turn my back on him. Not even for you.” I’m sorry must be assumed in those four words.

But whatever love Sebastian has for M differs than what he has for Fiadh. Yes, the two are both under his protection - one from the other, but it will never come to that.

He would never -

- perhaps it is hard to unentangle the two.

(nat and bucky, moments that are....kind of happy, if you squint)