#bro;

              A quiet, creeping, feeling; one he doesn’t often experience. There’s little there, so little he knows-- perhaps he should silence his own abilities before they tore at him further. There’s no recognition, no reaction at all. He has to remind himself things are different. This isn’t even the same timeline but perhaps he felt too much too often sometimes. Maybe it was the blood in his eye, really. He’d put in the nearest coordinates after a scrap he hadn’t intended to get into and now he was facing a familiar and yet different face. What had his intentions for today been? Take care of the problem cropping up in the north sector with the creatures losing control and getting out of hand, get home and work on Sal’s chassis-- he blinks. 

It happens, he reminds himself. Sometimes the timeline reset works. Everyone goes back to their own respective lives with no recollection of the horrors they went through. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to go sometimes? He went through his memories of the various splintered lives he’d lived throughout the years. Yeah, how many times had they said they wish they could forget everything? (You wouldn’t now though.) He pauses, right, he should probably say something to the likely very confused troll in his path right now. “Sorry, y’ looked familiar, didn’ mean t’ spook y’-- but I gotta get by now if y’ don’ mind.” Right, just keep moving. Don’t think about the various ones still lost and don’t think about the various ways you could’ve saved them if you hadn’t died on that gods damned record. 

              He fucked up. He seriously fucked up. Two numbers, that’s all it took to send him careening to the ground. It’d been his mistake, putting in the coordinates wrong by just two digits and he found himself dropping fast with nothing to grab onto at first. If it weren’t for his reflexes to grab onto the nearest branch that came into view, he probably would’ve ended up with a broken spine and dying a very slow and painful death again. He was not up for that bullshit today. Either way he still ended up only slowing his descent so not to snap his shoulder out of the socket, landing with a harsh thud upon the ground and groaning oh so attractively as he grumbled about ‘bullshit coordinates’ and ‘we really need ‘ah better system.’ The man certainly had fucked up his fair share of jumps but to land out in a place he couldn’t identify like that was a whole new level of ‘I fucked up.’ Gathering his barrings, citrine hues noticed the lack of shade first and that was followed by yet another groan as he cursed durability this time around.

Luckily for him he carried an extra pair so he wasn’t too concerned about it for now as he retrieved them and pushed them onto his features. He combed gloved fingers through silver laced blond and chanced a look around. It wouldn’t do him any good to have the coordinates back if he couldn’t figure out where he was to calculate the distance. However, he’d venture to say seeing a guy falling from the sky was a good enough reason not to talk to him if anyone did  see the mishap. All the king could do was right himself and try to figure out his next move, which was grabbing his cigarettes from his sylladex and sticking one in his teeth to find some semblance of calm in this mass of bullshit. “Damn th’ fuck out’ah that bullshit number system. I gotta redesign this shit ‘fre it gets m’ killed again,” he was grumbling beneath his breath before he took note of another presence. He shifted his gaze, looking over the line of his shades to see the visage unfiltered before he decided whether or not it was wise to pipe up.

          How’d he end up in a church to begin with? You’d think a proverbial God would believe in one– but he only seems to trust in the ones he’s personally met besides himself. A quiet notion, but one that crept up his spine and wrenched his heart in its claws; pain. Enduring so much, one was bound to have moments of rage and listless fury that sought a place to banish it. So he’d walked into a church. An odd course of action to take, but one he took because he wanted solace and quiet. A place far removed from his personal bullshit that fought to strangle his already tattered lungs. Yellow filled his vision in rays accompanied by orange and red hues however and he found himself looking for the person they belonged to. Citrine eyes locked onto another one, a soul whom was vast and yet tranquil despite it’s constant blinding fury within his mind’s eye. 

His abilities never truly shut off. his godhood a misfortune and burden he would forever regret not using sooner in most cases. What could he have done even so? Destroying was all he was good for. His rage doesn’t die but the words given distract him for a moment, long enough for him to think a little clearer. “Well yeah, we’d all be thrown int’a th’ second ice age an’ die without it so I mean– fair point I guess? Dunno what prompted y’ t’ say it though.” A shrug, he doesn’t care really. It’s just a means to an end, a momentary pause in otherwise endless thoughts. The man was far older than he looked, if the silver strands accompanying a twenty something year old face had anything to say for it. “Jus’ came in ‘ere f’er s’me peace an’ quiet.” Granted, that was probably the last thing an over-thinking, overzealous, over-everything person needed. 

@anathematique | Meme;

          Dreaming, waking, dying, dreaming, dying– The world stops spinning for a singular moment in time. Sometimes it’s like this. A chaotic dive into the cacophony that spun thoughts like a spider’s web, driving him into a corner, pulling at him like a marionette and impaling him with endless remembrance. His voice calls him back, that display of orange and red hues across his mental imagery a distraction from the waves of distorted blends he couldn’t identify at the moment. He still hasn’t moved, citrine pools staring off into nothing in particular as he wonders about when and if he’d tell him. How could something so destructive bring light into someone’s life? (You protect him from so much, even yourself.) Oh how he loved him. How he loved him so deeply he would do anything to ensure he was happy and safe. It happened so softly, so slowly, he almost hadn’t realized it; the beginning of how he came to love him so dearly. 

To think it all began in the most ridiculous of ways, Dirk going over there to read an overly drunk David a children’s book and tuck him into bed. His heart flutters within the confides of his rib cage and scarred fingers slowly twine between the lithe ones in his palm. “Y’ have no idea how much y’ mean t’ m’, do y’?” David wasn’t someone he would die for, no matter how repeatedly he actually could. Rather, he was someone he wanted to live for. Someone who made him strive for every ounce of life he had. “There ain’t a time I can remember where I wasn’ thinkin’ ‘f y’. Y’ crawled int’a m’ entire bein’ an’ made y’erself at home.” Not that he minded that at all, truly.