playing assassinās creed 2 on my decrepit switch and thinking about this au again š« š«
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it startles her sometimes. Beatrice's voice in her ear while she stands in the Sanctuary making very glancing contact with the cool statues of long-dead Assassins. Wrapped in the close-coiled strength of Ezioās body, his height so unlike her own when she stumbles back to consciousness, to achy pains in her legs from the Abstergo implants growing faultier by the day.
she told you there would be a cost. running away sounded so simple when you could still actually run.
āAva, can you step a bit to the left of the statue so I can screenshot the detail on the back. You never know where some symbol or makerās mark might be hiding, and understanding the provenance of-ā
Her voice, so captiving when itās Avaās body and its particular habits of response doing the listening, falls flat against her ears. She is too used to the silly Italian-accented English that the animus feeds her through its filter. Beatriceās accent, which ordinarily strikes her as charming, can only be jarring when it finds her in this broad-shouldered body.
Still, she steps obediently aside in Ezioās body, cloak caught in one hand to stop it from brushing the stone. Almost speaks just to hear the low hum of his voice, its mechanism of sound in her throat. She has been reading a little about what makes this body different from her own and this particular thing is thicker vocal cords. It feels like speaking through honey, bright-dashed on her tongue.
Not that Ava dislikes her own voice, but there is something intoxicating about inhabiting this body. Its sweat and sweetness.
Beatrice asked how much of a filter she wanted on the language right in the beginning, when Lilith still glowered and Avaās body felt strong in its own right. Abstergoās strings unraveled fast. By the second day her steps across the room were shaky. By the end of the third she couldnāt walk. Beatrice and Lilith had finished arguing, the latter running Abstergoās memory core through the strange red-upholstered animus, the HALO, as Lilith called it.
āLike the video game?ā
A black look not at all offset by the clearly thrifted shirt that hung off Lilithās frame and bared collarbone. Beatrice was out doing laundry and making tentative enquiries into how one might hack Abstergoās subscription-based leg implants so Ava could walk again.
āNot remotely like the video game.ā
Beatrice helped Ava into the animus and approached the issue of translation with an embarrassed frown.
āSo, ah, have you read any Chaucer?ā
āIs that the guy from A Knightās Tale? the blonde one?ā
Beatrice's expression of blank incomprehension and Lilithās death-rattle of a laugh in the background. Lilith who is biting and unfriendly at every opportunity and also very gentle with Ava when she pulls her from the animus late at night while the others are sleeping. āHere, let me put some gauze on the insertion point. and this gel,ā cool on the inside of her wrist which is raw and constantly bloody from the USB-like cable they use to keep her sedated and also hooked-up to the animus and, in turn, the memories in her blood.
āWhy does ours work like this, and not the one in Abstergo?ā
āThe difference⦠is about 5 billion US dollars. give or take a nonetheless functionally inconceivable amount of money.ā Lilith with her strange tempers, her eyes on Avaās wrist and her legs spread in concentration, "I wasn't lying when I said Abstergo had deeper pockets than us.ā
ājust understating.ā Ava, tired, didnāt try to keep the mingled pain and longing out of her voice. Not with Lilith to whom there seems no point in lying.
Ava doesnāt care if this particular girl judges her.
dark eyes flicking up, granted a strange flat effect by the monitors still gleaming like belligerent lighthouses in what Ava can only describe as a loft room turned⦠something else. āBeatrice described the bleeding effect to you.ā It's a statement. It is also a question.
āAre you trying to ask if I'm hallucinating?ā
āThey're not hallucinations, really. More like echoes.ā
It doesn't feel like a comforting distinction to Ava, but she looks around the dark space obediently.
just beatrice snoring lightly on her little floor-pallet made of blankets and cardboard and scattered books. No shadows, no play of light between real and not-real.
A slow shake of her head and Lilithās blunt sound of acknowledgment. A long pause between them.
āSince you wonāt ask, yes, I do hate it when you pull me out.ā
āThat doesnāt surprise me.ā Lilith is calm about terrible things. Not so much as an intake of breath at the sight of the scars on Avaās legs the first time she was the only one around when Ava needed to pee. A strange thing to do with someone she essentially dislikes and also wants to taste in a very vague way that feels distinct from the more honest crush she has on Beatrice.
Ava scoffs. āDoes it disappoint you, at least?ā
āDo you want it to?ā
Lilith finishes applying the weird, ice-cold gel that discourages scar tissue but seals blood in the cut. lets Avaās silence wash over them both before looking up, darkly serious in her coldly beautiful way. Ava braces for a lecture, but Lilith just takes her in for a long moment.
āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā Lilith stands, offers her hands as she always does before she carries Ava anywhere. Like thereās a choice in the matter. She speaks only when Ava is pressed flush against her, the tensile strength of Lilithās arms evident in every step they take together toward the double bed, āJust be careful.ā
Ava thinks of how often sheās exploded into pain and pixels, slipping off rooftops in Ezioās body. Of the guard who opened her up from neck to navel with a huge axe. Of leaps of faith slightly misjudged.
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āYou think Iām a figment of your imagination, Evan?ā
God, the way he said his name did things to him. If sounds could be tattooed, heād spend anything to have it imprinted onto his brain forever. Maybe he should look into that.
āYes,ā Evan said, nodding as if it were the most obvious thing. āYouāre too perfect not to be.ā
āRight,ā Tommy laughed. āTrust me, Evan, Iām very real.ā He paused then, bringing their entwined hands to his chest. It was hot to the touch, the heat sneaking beneath his shirt into Evan's fingertips and crawling up his arms to his face, and it was firm. āFeel that? Thatās real.ā
And here's the snippet! I think this is around 1k, and this is only the intro š Stef is literally not even here yet and Danya is in his pre-challenger era
Also anyone telling me who Danya knew in his challenger and pre challenger days would be greatly appreciated since I kinda bullshitted that here
Lowk hoping this doesnt become a 10k monster by the time I'm done with this ngl but this little part's done!!! š
At his grandmother's house, there had been an old, out of tune piano in the corner. Nobody used it. And yet, it had stayed anyway. Daniil thinks his grandmother couldn't bear to let it go. She'd always looked at it with sadness in her eyes.
It remained in something of a limbo up until little six year old Daniil went there for the first time, and he spent almost all of his time there just looking at it. He still remembers it vividly. Black painted wood peeling away at the edges, a scratch from the cat on the left wheel, the chip on the highest key. The brass pedals were dull, and ill-taken care of.
He remembers grabbing a tiny paper towel, and trying to rub the dust and oxide away. It didn't work, but they almost looked happy, as much as a piece of metal could look happy. He pat it once, twice, with a smile on his face, and moved on to the keys. His parents had to practically tear him away from the instrument when it was time to go home.
Afterwards, he remembers innocently asking: "Can I have one too?" Although he doesn't remember their response, he does remember getting a little toy piano for Christmas the next month, and piano lessons the month after.
His dad puts him on tennis around the same time, and he meets Andrey there, and also Karen eventually. Andrey is loudspoken and extroverted and everything Daniil isn't. Daniil is the one who never seems to know what to say, the one who trails after the same person over and over and is always in a corner. A bit like a stray cat, he muses. For better or worse.
He continues with his piano classes until he's fifteen, and he has to give it up for tennis. He spends almost all of his free time on the practice courts, and whatever time he has left he uses to keep what he knows polished, sharp; ready. For what, Daniil doesn't know. A performance that will never come, perhaps. Maybe just because. All he knows is that he doesn't want to forget.
He has to say goodbye to his teacher, an old lady with a love for Greek statues and the best strawberry shortcake recipe he's ever had in his life. She looks at him with tears in her eyes, and says: "I know you will not stop playing simply because you have no time to sit in front of a piano, or because you no longer have a teacher. You will find a way, somehow, to keep that godawful Bach solo in your fingers and keep your rhythm separate between your hands."
She smiles. "But promise me this. Never stop playing. You might not be the most technically gifted, but you have passion many, many performers envy." It's high praise, especially since she once was a pianist for the Russian National Orchestra, and he has to blink a few tears away before he hugs her goodbye.
And she's right. Daniil does find ways to keep his muscle memory. If he closes his eyes, he can still see sheet music flitting left and right, flats and sharps dancing around tempo markings. He also never stops. Many, many times he's told off for playing on tables, and even more times he's replaying concertos he knows by heart by now, recognising familiar melodies in whispers of songs he overhears.
"Why do you keep doing that, anyway?" Andrey once asks him when he's sixteen, and they're having ice cream after practice. "I mean, we keep telling you off because it's kinda annoying, but at the same time nothing changes, so..."
He stops mid-arpeggio. "I'm playing piano. Liszt."
Andrey raises his eyebrows. "You play piano? Huh." He stays silent for a moment. "I didn't know."
Daniil blinks at him. "What? I never told you?" Surely, he must've mentioned it offhandedly sometime.
"Nope," Andrey says.
"How could you not know? I had classes every single week for years." Daniil squashes down the wistfulness threatening to rise up in his chest. "But I stopped."
Andrey takes a fucking bite out of his ice cream, which, ew, and then asks: "Why?" And oh, that little word reopens a wound he thought was long closed, scarred over and unfeeling.
"Tennis. You and I both know we could go professional. Plus, if I want to have classes, I need to practice. A lot. And that costs time I could also use for tennis." He tries to sound as objective as possible, to ignore the hurt he feels whenever he talks about this. He's not sure if he succeeds. If he could, he would have both tennis and music, but as it is, he only has so much time. If only he had more if it, if onlyā
"But you still haven't quit," Andrey says, breaking him out of his thoughts. Of course he noticed. He's always been very observant, maybe a little too observant, when it comes to Daniil.
"No." He looks away. "No, I haven't."
The conversation doesn't continue after that.
When it's time for the both of them to go home, Andrey hops off the fence they were sitting on and demands: "You better show me what you can do on a piano. I don't care when, but I want to know."
Daniil huffs out a laugh. "Okay. As long as you keep telling me about whatever's going on with Karen and Aslan."
my favorite thing about luke skywalker is how much of a brick shithouse he is in the force. like holy shit. he is absolutely crackling with untamed power. he is a hurricane. heās so powerful and he has so little training, and one wrong move, one second of broken concentration, and he snaps like a rubber band. and yet heās so gentle, heās so kind, so determined to love, but he canāt help it when it all comes to a head. heās just so fucking powerful. heās like the calm before the storm, like lightning in the distance. heās not well trained by any means, heās barely trained and you can tell heās barely keeping it together most of the time. he can barely hold back the raw power in his fingertips. but he tries so hard.
Notes: I wrote this for @firey-alexās birthday!! It was really cute and I know itās not exactly traditional flower shop/tattoo parlor au, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! (Yes, I know your birthday is in three days. No I will not wait to post this.)
Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casperās Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!
āVirgil!ā
āShut it, Royal Pain in my Ass! Iām still getting my binder on!ā
āYouāre taking thirty minutes to put on your binder?ā
Janus sighed quietly, watching as his boyfriend did his best to drape himself dramatically over the rail for the stairs while he whined for their third boyfriend to come down the stairs.
āItās been like⦠Ten minutes, Ro,ā Virgil said, finally making an appearance at the top of the stairs, rolling his eyes with a fond smile directed towards the pouting drama king.
āThat is still way too long to get dressed, UV Light of my life.ā
Well that was an interesting one. Janus gave Roman props for creativity instead of falling back on Black Knight again.
āDid you just call me a UV Light?ā Virgil asked, grabbing a plaid button up from a doorknob and shaking it out as he began to descend the stairs.
Roman and Virgil continued to bicker, but as soon as Virgil reached the halfway point, Janusā eyes zeroed in on his shoulder and it took him two seconds to recognize the flowers layered vibrantly under his skin.
āLove bite, whatās that?ā Janus asked, speaking up to interrupt Romanās next quip and draw everyoneās attention to Virgilās left shoulder where a poppy and a magnolia resided.
āVee!ā Roman gasped, though instead of putting his hand to his chest in mock offense like Janus had expected, he took a step up.
āRoman I swear to God if my railing breaks-ā Virgil started, though he was laughing as Roman attempted to manhandle him closer to get a closer look at the tattooed flowers.
āThis is not my work! Where did you get these done, Cauldron of love? Is this why you havenāt been changing your shirts in front of us the last month?ā
Virgil raised an eyebrow at Roman, and Janus cleared his throat in an attempt to cover up a laugh.
āRoman, sweetheart, did you just admit to wanting to see my abs?ā Virgil teased, his laughter flaring up again when Roman froze and then promptly let go of him to get his feet properly on the ground, instead of slotted between the railing to stand on one of the steps.
āI canāt help that your night hobby makes you eye candy, Virge,ā Roman mumbled.
Janus cleared his throat again, then pulled himself off of Virgilās couch so he could wrap his arms around Romanās waist and place his chin on his shoulder, guiding the shorter man until they were able to face Virgil while he was on the first floor of the house with them.
āRoman is right, Love bite. You are very-ā he punctuated the word with a quick once over of his boyfriend and a smirk, āpleasing to the eye.ā
With Virgilās face now red, the man huffed and turned away while he returned to putting on his usual purple plaid button up.
To avoid looking at them while he calmed down his own flusteredness no doubt.
āOkay, water bottles are in the fridge, you assholes, Iām not dealing with your thirstiness today,ā Virgil said, swinging the shirt around his shoulders so he could slip his arms through the sleeve.
Janus and Roman watched him for a moment, watching the way the fabric hid well toned arms and the new tattoo of the flowers.
āDarling of the knight, did you pick those flowers for the colors or the meanings?ā Roman asked, leaning back against Janus, who tightened his grip on the shorter manās waist.
Virgil hummed, flipping the collar to lay flat and starting to roll up his sleeves while he thought, glancing at the two of them after a moment.
āMore colors than meanings honestly, didnāt really feel like digging through flower meaning websites for something decent and no way was I gonna ask Janus when it was supposed to be a surprise.ā
Janus couldnāt help the smile that spread along his face. He didnāt necessarily need to know flower meanings to own his flower shop. Flower arranging was more what looked pretty and worked well together, but he tended to familiarize himself anyway.
āAh, and thatās why you risked another artistās work. I suppose I can forgive you then, and you got lucky in this sense anyway, theyāre very well done- wait.ā
Virgil froze, looking at Roman who was scrutinizing him.
Janus wondered if their prince noticed the smile Virgil was fighting back or not.
āYou did not!ā Roman protested, pulling at Janusā arms to try and get out of his grasp.
There was a pause, Virgilās grin broke free in a silent admission of the ātreacheryā that was going to Remusā own tattoo parlor, and Janus held tighter for just a moment.
āI suggest running love, I donāt think heāll stop until he āpunishesā you with kisses,ā he warned, earning a blown kiss from Virgil before he bolted towards the front door and Roman finally got free.
Janus sighed, feeling his heart swell as he thought back on how when theyād met Virgil the man was facepainting a small child and make jokes to keep her smiling while he wouldnāt give them the time of day.
Oh how far theyāve come. Janus hoped āhow farā would stretch into the rest of their lives. It would certainly make living worthwhile.
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Summary:Ā Patton wants to introduce Virgil to his friends, and Virgil wonders how the hell one man can contain that much cuteness when he does.
God he wants to kiss him (not Patton).
Listen. I saw that adorable bouncy laugh Remus did in the bloopers and knew I was doomed to write something for it. This is also for Max because they're amazing and deserve gay panicking Virgil. And feral Patton. God I love little shit/feral Patton so much, and platonic intruality is Good Shit.
āPatton I get youāre excited about me finally agreeing to meet your friends but if you pull any harder on my arm youāre going to dislocate my shoulder,ā Virgil said, clearly amused by his friendās enthusiasm.
Slowing to a stop, Patton looked back at Virgil with a sheepish grin.
āSorry kiddo! Remus and Roman just get impatient sometimes and they tend to destroy whatever area theyāre in when that happens and since theyāre in Deeās house this time Iād really like you to meet them before they die.ā
Virgil let out a snort at that, glancing at the houses lining the street then at the pale yellow one Patton had been clearly dragging him towards.
āI can get that, Pat, but Iād really like to keep my shoulder in its socket,ā he says, trying not to laugh as they start walking, slower this time and with Virgilās wrist freed from Pattonās grip.
āGosh I canāt wait for you to meet the twins! Dee isnāt there right now, theyāre at work, but they promised to bring food when they get off, so you should definitely stick around to meet them!ā
Virgil nodded at Pattonās rambling, stepping inside the house when he opened the door and pausing to see two very obvious twins standing in front of the tv.
One had a mustache and a strip of white in his hair, and heād just turned to the twin with swept back hair and wearing a red and white varsity jacket with a grin and a bounce as he laughed.
And Virgil had to stop in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes and a red face because that was the cutest fucking bounce heād ever seen and he was decked out in green and black and was very attractive wearing it.
Virgil didnāt believe in love at first sight but fuck man he wouldnāt mind love at first kiss maybe? Heād really like to kiss that cute smile like right fucking now.
āKiddo?ā Patton called, halfway to where the twins were and thus drawing everyoneās attention to Virgil who was still hovering in the doorway.
Oh God, the cute one was staring at him now. How does function? Fuck. Virgilās heart seemed to stop in his chest and his face was growing redder, oh shit, was this what gay panic felt like? Probably.
āUhā¦ā Virgil said, very eloquently, as he moved his eyes to Patton who was wearing a very smug grin as he seemed to realize what was going on.
āIs he broken already?ā Cute Twin asked, clearly amused by Virgilās frozen state.
Patton crossed his arms, his grin growing wide as he watched Virgil.
Oh God, Patton donāt.
āHeās just going through some very intense gay panic right now, Remus. I wonder which twin itās over?ā
Virgil is going to murder a man today.
Varsity twinās (who Virgil was pretty sure was Roman, if Cute Twin is Remus) smirk grew as Virgil finally took a few steps forward to close the door behind him, though he was still very much gay panicking over Cute Twin.
āOh, Iām sure itās me, Iāve yet to meet a cute guy who hasnāt swooned over my good looks,ā he said, striding forward.
When Roman reached forward to grab Virgilās hand, Virgil sidestepped and moved his hand very clearly away from him.
Confused, Roman looked at Virgilās face.
āDonāt touch me? Like who just goes to touch a stranger without asking?ā Virgil asked, briefly snapped out of his gay panic because seriously rude much?
Remus barked out a laugh, Virgilās eyes snapping back to him as he bounced again, clapping his hands together in his amusement.
Oh fuck heās so cute.
Roman blinked, looking at Virgil and then at Remus before finally settling on Patton, who was barely holding together his own laughter.
āHeās gay panicking over Remus?ā
Patton started cackling then, bending over as he clutched his stomach.
Meanwhile Remus had startled out of his laughter, staring at Virgil mystified.
āMe? Literally itās always Roman, what?ā
Roman seemed to agree with Remusā confusion, crossing his arms over his chest in a pout.
āI know! What on Earth do you see in him, Virgil? Look at him! Heās a trash rat.ā
Remus snorted at Romanās description as Virgil tried to figure out how to respond through his gay.
āUh⦠heās cute? Like the⦠the bouncy laugh. It was⦠adorable?ā he tried, his face growing hotter as he spoke.
Roman paused at Virgilās answer, giving him a weird look.
āI have literally never heard anyone describe my brother as cute before, but okay?ā
Virgil shrugged, looking at Roman for a second before his eyes went back to Remus.
Remusā face was red, and his eyes were wide as he stared at Virgil.
āIām keeping him,ā he said after a moment, nodding to himself as Patton let out a snort from the floor where he had collapsed a few moments earlier.
āI donāt think thatās how you ask someone out, Remus, but okay.ā
Remus shrugged, beckoning for Virgil to enter the living room with a wide grin.
āCome here Gay Panic at the Disco, let me get a good look at your cute face,ā he said, Virgil squeaking a little at the cute comment.
āPatton, youāre a dead man, but I will let you live until your other friend gets here,ā Virgil said, finally moving away from the door, Roman moving behind him and sitting on the couch as he continued to pout.
āAw, kiddo! Iād like to see you try,ā was Pattonās response, earning a sharp glare from Virgil.
āIām smaller than you, and quieter. And I have access to poisons.ā
āOh my God, youāre perfect,ā Remus breathed, grin wide as Virgil looked at him with his blush renewed.
āWhat?ā
āI am going to woo the fuck out of you.ā
Virgil made a flustered sound of confusion, wondering what the hell he said to gain Remusā interest.
Not that he was complaining, he still very much wanted to kiss him.
The drabble thing, number 17, and Gay Shard Hell/Leratium
Oh you are asking me for some angst here, my dude. Well, Iām not gonna turn away from it.Ā
17.Ā āI thought I could trust you.āĀ
When Leras had come to Ati, heād finally looked like himself again. Of course, in some way they always retained a bit of their original appearanceāa bit of the people, the men they once were, instead of whatever they had becomeābut Leras looked human, eyes full of love and not fathomless knowledge, and when heād pulled Ati down into a kiss, the shifting mist contained within his skin had been almost completely still and silent. It made Atiāthe part of him that was still aware, and he was never sure how much of himself that wasāself-conscious, aware of how his own barbs must be cutting into the other manās skin, but Leras hadnāt complained, pulling Ati back when the man tried to pull away for a moment.Ā
āWhatās this about?ā Ati asked, voice light. Affection like this had beenārare, since their transformation. Part of that was just that, if they touched too much, if they got too close, it felt like they were walking on the edge of a knife, inches from slipping and cutting themselvesāor, even worse, the other person. Lerasās smile in return was melancholy, and he looked away for a second.Ā āLeras?āĀ
āI was justā¦Iām sorry, about that last fight,ā he admitted, voice quieter than it usually was.Ā āWe shouldnāt fightāwe donāt know how long we have, after all.ā As always when he made some reference to thatāto the fact that, bit by bit, the forces theyād subsumed were subsuming them, their personalitiesāAti frowned, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead.Ā
āHey, donāt say that. Itās just change, Lerāthat doesnāt mean itās bad. I still love you, after all, donāt I?ā And, although they could be alarming, these changesātheyād let the pair of them build a new world, a beautiful one. Lerasā Shard was just making it hard for him to see that, was all. That was what the fight had been, after allāa volcanic eruption, beautiful and primal, had finally erupted, spreading new ground across the landāand, unfortunately, destroying the existing landscape and a town or two. But it was so beautiful.Ā
Leras couldnāt see that, but that was alright.Ā
Leras did look up at Ati, smiling, and Ati was struckāas he had been years agoāby the fact that LerasāLeras was beautiful. Like a sunset, light on turbulent water, that volcanic eruption, the collision of tectonic plates, the artwork of Hemalurgyāsome part of Ati wondered when this had become beauty to him, the rest of him didnāt worryāLeras was gorgeous, breathtaking in the best way. And, unlike most of the other things, he didnāt get mad now when Ati pointed it out.Ā
āI know,ā Leras said, smiling and wrapping his arms around Ati, a solid warmth against the taller man.Ā āI love you too.ā He leaned up, kissing Ati again, and for a moment they could have been mortalāthey could have just been two ordinary people in a world that hadnāt gone to hell yet, falling in love. Something deep in Atiās heart ached at the thought.Ā
Leras pulled away for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice had taken on the slight shift that meant Preservation was more present.Ā āThatās why Iām so sorry.āĀ
Ati didnāt have time to process the words before Lerasās arms locked around him like a vice, the other manās form vanishing into silver mist that was as solid as chains.Ā
āWhatāLeras? Leras?ā Ati could hear his own voice break, and he shoved against the bonds, feeling the dark spines unfurl from within his skin, the earth of Scadrial shuddering as he pulled against the bonds.Ā āLeras, what are you doing? Let me goāāĀ
āIām sorry,ā Lerasās voice, without a clear source, repeated. It was just Leras again, and Ati could tell the other man was on the verge of tears.Ā āIām so sorry, AtiāāĀ
Ati felt the brush of lips against his own, one final time, and then there was only silence and the horrifying claustrophobia of realizing that, regardless of his power, he was trapped, held in one place by his loverās silver mist.Ā
āLeras!ā He yelled, rage starting to take the place of surprise.Ā āLeras! Let me out!ā There was no response, and Ati could feel himself starting to shake, his skin unravelling and losing its composition, the dark energy of Ruin bursting out of him in jagged lines as he understood what happened.Ā
Our deal. Our dealāheās going back on it, heās trying to stop meā
āI loved you,ā Ati whispered as he continued to unravel, voice breaking as his bones liquefied, turning to a droplets of dark metal.Ā āI thought I could trust you.āĀ
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was Ruin.Ā
Want another drabble? Drop a number in my askbox with a pairing!Ā http://wingedscribe.tumblr.com/post/166918901713/send-a-number-and-a-pair-for-a-drabble
āI hate you!ā He yelled, his voice echoing off of existence itself and he took a heavy breath in āI hate you!ā
He was tired, his body heavy and his voice strained as his whole being began to break into pieces āI am in control! I am, only me!ā His voice threatened to crack with each word that he screamed, with each time his being fell out of alignment. He had more power than ever, he was more solid than ever, he was even his own person! Yet here he was, screaming into nothigness, angry at the one who gave him life. Vengeful, filled with remorse. He had needed coaxing, he needed someone to do it for him, he needed someone to help him into who he is now and by God he hated it.
He hated it so much.
āIām-ā he shouted, voice breaking and he gave a heavy sigh, his form closing in on itself, slouching and holding his arms. Suddenly he was small, smaller than heād ever like to admit.
He was exhausted, suddenly finding he didnāt want to say any more. The anger evaporated.