#condorcnc

She could summarize the past couple of hours as a complete nightmare , that in her head could make sense. Ashley had felt utterly hopeless ; between crazy cultists & the armour's that came alive with those damn parasites. She felt drained ... but she was pushing on , helping where she could.

" yes ... I got it ! "

with some effort the valve had moved & the metallic clank of the door unlocking ahead echoed through the maze like hallways. naturally the worry settled when she didn't hear Leon response along the lines of telling her to get back.

both of them had been infected & fighting off the effects of it , her pace picking up as she traversed back ; through the halls & to the left. avoiding any rooms not yet explored ; only sticking to the ones that had seemed clear.

cont'd from here! / @condorcnc

“  THE  SUN  SOUNDS  nice,  ”  Grace  agreed,  a  yearning  note  to  her  voice. 

She  wanted  somewhere  sunny,  bright,  free  of  anything  dark,  bloody  or  cold.  She  had  never  taken  a  real  vacation  before.  Working  at  the  FBI  kind  of  just  ended  up  being  like  that.  But  right  now,  she  was  pretty  sure  her  boss  wouldn't  tell  her  no  if  she  wanted  some  extra  time  off.  Not  after  everything  she  had  been  through,  especially  since  he  had  decided  to  send  her  of  all  people  to  investigate  when  that  was  so  far  from  her  jurisdiction  and  re-traumatizing  in  a  multitude  of  ways.

“  Y-You  definitely  need  more  than  a  few  days  after  all  t-this,  ”  she  agreed  again,  shaking  her  head  in  disbelief. 

If  this  was  the  stuff  he  dealt  with  on  a  regular  basis,  he  needed  a  pay  upgrade  and  a  month  long  vacation  at  the  very  least.

♡ ,      @condorcnc  .

I thought myself cruel. Perhaps, I was not. Just afraid, small and shaking inside an armor of thorned words. Fear makes sharp edges where there used to be soft places.

His quips are particularly barbed, sharpened with clever turns of phrase and tossed at anyone who lingers a little too long in their scrutiny of him. Saga can tell the specifics of this case have him dangling close to the edge, especially when certain names come into play.

❛ Do you need anything ? ❜ she inquires when his eyes cut across the table to settle on her. There’s something in his hand that he keeps fiddling with, and she wonders if he intends to place it in her hands so she can read whatever is attached to it. Saga waits patiently for him to bridge the gap and ask.

We shatter things in the grip of our hands, and the demise of those things cuts our palms into ribbons, like tiny shards of glass.

Hercules attempts to hold aloft a world far too heavy for him. Where is Atlas, in eternal torment, to take back the weight that only he was punished with? Freed, he roams the gardens to and fro, relieved to be unburdened. Leon has taken such burdens upon himself, one after another. Each labor is a daunting task, yet he does not complain. It is his penance for his failures.

You are not indestructible, little man, and how you must wish you were. That these things would roll from your back like the pelt of the Nemean Lion draped over your shoulders. Open those jaws wide. Roar as you might. Expect the spear to eviscerate your pride. They will always find the weakness you try so hard to hide.

As impressive as the man is, those softer places beneath the armored carapace bloom open to the violent nature of his work, leaving behind silvery memories, both new and old. She sometimes sees his eyes wander to places those hands never touch in public. He lives elsewhere with his demons at times, and she can almost count every one of them like old friends she has never known, simply by tracing the shape of his mind. The touch of him is lovely, bright like twinkling stars firing across a constellation. Leon is more than his body, more than his memory, more than those demons.

Weep, strong man, for we all fall at times. Your strength will not fail you, so cry your tears and gnash your teeth against the waves dashing upon the shore. Even a hero needs a break from his heroics.

Leon is flagging. Saga sees it in the slope of his shoulders, the way he breathes, the sound of his voice. He has lasted longer than he should have, but she is still fresh for the course. Saga is not made of iron, but stars blaze far longer than campfire embers in the night. ❛ I’ve got it, if that’s what you mean, Kennedy. I promise the place won’t go up in flames if you sit down for just a moment. And even if it were to⸻ ❜ She pauses, shuffling through a few of her notes.

❛ I am perfectly capable of putting them out myself with very little help. Go. ❜ Saga tilts her head toward the door. She has no idea what he plans to do, but she supports it either way if it gets him off his feet for a couple of minutes.

𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏 .

All of this is entirely her FAULT.

Guilt plagues her mind as she follows behind Leon silently while the two try to figure out how to get out of this literal dump. He's had to overexert himself to the point of falling unconscious in order to retrieve her from both Zeno and Dr. Gideon's grasp. Grace shakes her head slightly, scolding herself for even GOING with those strange men in the first place. Why can't she think clearly in time of crisis?! She's an FBI agent, for shit's sake! The blonde ought to be ashamed. That's how she views the current circumstances, anyhow.

Before she can drown in pure self-loathing, Grace reaches out to place a hand to the other's shoulder. The young woman stops walking as she stares a hole into her shoes, her brows furrowed as she tries to find the words to convey how she's feeling. Ultimately, she lands on the ONE thing she wants Leon to know most of all in case she doesn't make it out of this place ALIVE.