FERAL TEEN.

         the pull he has only strengthens, enough to cause slight discomfort, but no pain. he isn’t the type to go out of his way to injure -- never has been, even in the days when he was more anger than boy. there’s no denying connor lassiter is a man now, but no man is above enjoying time with those he cares about. at lev’s quip, connor can only groan his disdain, ruffling the very locks he hates so much with his free hand.    ❛  no one wants to look like you, lev -- they want to live like you. can’t believe you’re reading your own slogans wrong. i think it’s the hair. getting in your eyes, messing with your vision. i hate it.  ❜    he’s honest, eyebrows raised, expression trained into what could be seen as helpful before his grin cracks and he lets levi go, releasing his hold and taking a step back, on playful guard.

         sitting back on his haunches, letting the last few drops of water roll from his nose and chin before he even bothers to turn and address the other kid, as if he was the intruder on connor’s territory. rising to his ( CONSIDERABLE ! ) height, oddly coloured eyes examine him from head to toe, unimpressed and expressionless.    ❛  if you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.  ❜    that’s a fabrication of the truth ( a LIE ! ), and his injuries are a direct result from an altercation with an over eager parts pirate -- while the latter was injured, connor came away worse for ware. he’s still just a kid, and getting into fistfights with adults are bound to set him bleeding and limping.    ❛  why do you care ? what are you, a runaway, an unwind, or a lowlife ?  ❜    he can’t help but feel dirty after using a juvie cop’s trick.

the   staff’s   own   announcement   that   they’ve   taken   down   the   akron   awol   does   not   deflate   the   spirits   of   the   unwinds   there.   instead,   it   takes   a   boy   who   was   only   a   rumour   and   turns   him   into   a   legend.

         he needs help. he needs an outside voice to battle the roaring crescendo in his own head -- the sound of silence only makes the berating voices louder, only reinforcing the things they say to him in his iron clad mind. while the hand that isn’t his throbs pathetically, there is some pleasure to the pain: the arm enjoyed the violence, enjoyed that it could now cause connor harm in any way that it wanted. knowing this only makes him more nervous -- the lack of control he now has is maddening. even before the unwind order, he had controlled his life with an iron fist. nothing could hurt him if he hurt himself first ( and that, it seems, is the strategy he is playing to here. make her leave you before she can make the decision herself ).    ❛    it’s his arm, reese. you understand that, don’t you ? it’s his. after all the things he’s done, after all that trouble, i get his damn arm. and i’m allowed -    ❜    there are alarm bells ringing in his mind, and he can already hear the tons of voices telling him to shut up, man up, get over it. connor has never been allowed to feel.    ❛    i’m allowed to be disgusted. it’s everything i’m against -- i’m allowed to hate that without being called brooding.  ❜    only now does he understand why his expressions are described as dangerous.

         ( riles. )    it’s so. exasperating to me that every time connor feels overwhelmed, or in need of a little help, or scared or shocked or basically just reflects on all the horrific things that have happened to him that EVERYONE ( lev, risa, the admiral, random fucks from the graveyard literally who are you, starkey ESPECIALLY ) just tells him to get over himself and focus on what he needs to do. he’s just a kid and he’s never given the chance to just stop and calm down and think his emotions through, if that makes sense ? there are opportunities where other characters rest and have some sort of comfort ( lev in the reserve, risa and the cam ordeal which i understand wasn’t relaxing but she still had food and a comfy place to stay ) but connor literally works non stop ? as a leader and a runaway and everything else and it gets to the point in the second book where he literally choreographs and fully intends to carry out a SUICIDE MISSION but even after that no one....... listens...... when he tries to talk about what he’s feeling......... he’s just dismissed as the brooding dark teen male leader........... fun

         he’s been battling his temper for weeks -- it’s almost liberating to see some sort of authority, someone he can pinpoint this white hot anger onto and release it from the hollow spot in his chest. slamming mismatched fists onto the desk before them, connor is careful to keep his tone just barely cordial, as level as he can make it with this fury building slowly between his teeth.    ❛    let’s see,    ❜    he begins, eyes burning into the other male’s.    ❛    a year or so ago, my mom and dad decided they didn’t want me anymore and signed me off to be unwound. i’ve been running for my wholeness ever since, and just recently, i lost my arm and my eye, and got unwind parts against my will. not only this, but i don’t know if my friends are alright. they could be dead or worse by now. so, in conclusion, i’m just peachy. cloud nine. you ?    ❜    

         it should be clear to see that he doesn’t trust this kid. the fact that he’s bound to a tree should be proof enough that connor sees him as a liability -- he could run off and rat them out of they weren’t careful, no matter how much he insists they’ve ‘saved’ him. he’d done his fair share or lying in the past: forgive him for being jaded and somewhat cynical in his approach. the fact that lev genuinely sees him as some feral, wild, dangerous monster should bother him -- but it doesn’t. he sees some sort of irony in it. that’s what they all wanted, isn’t it ? unwinds to be feared just as criminals are.    ❛    nah, you’re right. anyone less selfish than me would’ve just let you get tithed. unreal, right ? to just ship you off like that.    ❜    it’s all he can do to keep the smirk off of his face -- pushing buttons was his business, and business was always good.

         covered in blood ( not all of it his own ), connor doesn’t even bother to pause. weary legs take him down to the waterside and he splashes himself a few times, a valiant yet unsuccessful effort to clean up his worn face. an awol always looks either too dirty or too clean - he has to find the balance, or he ends up in bits. keeping an eye on the unsteady kid, he sits himself down and rests his feet, mouth set in a thin line to convey his disdain. there’s a still-bleeding cut on the bridge of his nose, leaking slowly down his cheek, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a tear as he searches for the right response. with an exhausted breath, he smirks, very slightly.    ❛    nice socks.    ❜    his own arrogance outweighs any fear -- ooooh, teeth enhancements. now i’m terrified.

         now they are on the move, he seems to let go of some pent up tension - though his shoulders are still taught, expression set in stone. connor finds it best to let her talk. the more he listens, the more convinced he is that she’s some form of low cortical. if that is the case, he can drop her off at a safehouse and continue on his way with the knowledge that she was safe from parts pirates and desperate awols.    ❛    ri-iiight. did you find out what he was late for ?    ❜    he’s trying in vain to keep his thoughts from his own little brother, lest his heart ache any more than usual.

         the laugh he barks is not malicious - only an expression of his disdain. there’s too much. connor has to sort through a rolodex of emotion to pick an acceptable reaction that he would not come to regret later. he’s never been good at maintaining anything wholesome; figurines turned to shattered glass in his hands, biological or not, and he seemed to poison with only a glance. teeth gritted, fingers pressed to his temples, connor tries to breathe.    ❛    where did i go, reese ? to the graveyard, to keep an eye on all these kids ? or did you lose me in the happy jack chop shop like i lost my arm ? i’m sorry you feel like that, alright ? but you can’t tell me you loved me like it’s a goodbye after everything we -    ❜    cutting himself off, he raises his eyes, full of emotion, as they usually are.    ❛      what do you need me to say ?    ❜  

         almost sympathetic in a way, he can only nod, still glancing over his shoulder reflexively. connor is never really relaxed - it’s amazing to him that she can wander as she is. parts pirates weren’t fussy on who they’d pick up these days - he may just have to arrive home with an extra body.    ❛    alright. if you’re really on your own, you should come with. tell me about these adventures, the up-down-round-and-round.    ❜    he isn’t good with younger children. going through the same motions when his brother was younger. despite this, impulsive mind is made up; if she has no one to look after her, he will fill the role.

         hood pulled up and low over his face, harsh jaw angled away from the light, connor had tried to ignore the sorry scene, walk past without guilt and save himself as he had done in the old days - unfortunately, he is a changed man, and such things don’t come as easily anymore. he tries to smile reassuringly, crouching from his considerable height to take a look at the injured woman more closely.    ❛    that would imply i have somewhere to be. don’t look down like that - you’re going to want to treat it like a nosebleed, get it up so the bleeding stops. then you can worry about dressing it.    ❜    as he talks, he brings left hand to run quietly over right - the latter’s knuckles are larger and slightly misshapen, a darker skin tone than the rest of him. connor knows his way around cuts and bruises.