#sensehurt

❝ ———— COLE, ❞ there is a severity to his voice that isn’t often present, an anger that reverberates through it and him, a peculiar undercurrent of DESPERATION that causes a tremor. In his hands / his heart / his soul. The perfect mastery of anger is something that eludes him and will elude him forevermore and while there are few who can push him quite so far ——— few who know the precise traps to trip to ensnare him in such a state ——— few who are able to get quite so close : Cole is one of them.

It’s the nature of his EXISTENCE, this ability to pinpoint what hurts. To unerringly find the weaknesses which riddle each and every living creature / and to thus sink his clever daggers into them / and to watch with rapt attention as you BLEED OUT before him. No mercy. No humanity.

Cruel ——— this and that and the other. Which is to say : Cole’s actions are cruel / as is Dorian.

Yet there is something tender bleeding inside of his chest and his lungs are filling with blood and he is drowning beneath the weight of his SORROW and there is no room left for COMPASSION inside of him. He is hemorrhaging. He is hurting / and for all that logic dictates that Cole simply wants to help ———

He knows. He knows.

❝ Unless you wish for me to banish you to the Fade, get out of my sight. Immediately, ❞ the Veil thrums around them and HE KNOWS. Dorian is no fool / he isn’t deluded / that Cole doesn’t know better is something that a great deal are aware of and he knows. He knows. He knows.

But logic cannot overcome the vivid irrationality of EMOTION at all times and it’s a losing battle and he is tremulous with it. Cole wishes to help / Dorian has always been poor at accepting help. And cruelty ——— it is a deep seated instinct to lash out with words / a feeble defense against the onslaught against his weakest points.

Pathetic, really.

So tumultuous his fury is that the expression on Cole’s face ( half hidden by his hat / by the way he ducks his head / by the way that he tries to make himself smaller and that’s infuriating, as well, for some unnameable and unknowable reason ) hardly dampens it / a mere drop of water on a wildfire / and he breathes and / breathes and / he knows.

That twisted expression and those large eyes and the softness replaced by desolation and the slope of his shoulders and the Veil sings a jagged and horrible song and it’s cruel. How he doesn’t know. How he doesn’t understand. ( and there’s that damnable empathy that flutters in his chest / curling around his sternum with the reminder that COLE SIMPLY WANTS TO HELP. )

❝ ———— I know you don’t understand, Cole, ❞ his voice remains tight and his jaw set and his shoulders hard and he RADIATES his anger / a blazing sort of thing / uncontrollable in the here and now. ❝ And I know you want to help, but you’re hurting me right now. Do you understand? ❞

He makes an aborted sort of motion ——— something that Dorian doesn’t understand and doesn’t care to try to understand as he struggles to breathe beneath his SELF-FLAGELLATING MISERY as it crushes his sternum. What remains of his heart. His lungs. ❝ I’m sorry, for what I said. But I don’t wish to see you, right now. For a short while, I think. ❞

And in the space of a blink ——— he’s gone. And Dorian continues to drown.

meme | accepting /miscellaneous angst

       >> 🔥 <<     NOTHING HE COULD’VE DONE   ??   THAT’S BULLSHIT AND HE KNOWS IT INSIDE HIMSELF THAT IT IS.    the cambion’s hand clenched as he swallowed hard,  a ferocious anger welling up inside him as he brushed off blood from his face.  he doesn’t care that tears are welling,  how his teeth grow a little sharper as he grit them.  he’s angry and feeling more alone than he ever had before.  

behind his anger and misery is a haunted boy.  a boy who’s lost his brother   again   and doesn’t know what to do about it.

❝            bullshit.    could’a done more by just   CATCHING   him.  i  . .   i’ve grabbed his stupid sword tons’ve times before.  i . .  there’s a   NUMBER OF THINGS   i coulda’ done t’stop that asshole from leavin’ me here alone.  if he wasn’t so  . .   so fuckin’ obsessed with power ‘n jumping down a pit so fast i  . .  i was   fast enough   to stop him.  i shoulda’ stopped him an’ its my fault.              ❞   he breathes,  fists clenched tight as he presses them rough against his forehead.  

There’s something strange about the way her body shifts at his words —— about the way her ribs at once tighten and her hands go loose.  She thinks of how her memories of Rem have gone hazy; how she can no longer quite remember her voice or the slope of her shoulders, how she lost her the same she lost most of what occupied her heart for fifteen years.  BUT THE DAY!  The sight of sun glinting off upturned swords on human armor.  The sound of a blade in a body and the sensation of her heart dropping into her gut.  Those memories are crystal - sharp.  Apt to cut when the images bang against the inside of her skull.

She thinks of him, and his softness and his kindness and his accidental cruelty.  Thinks of his own heart, constantly reacting to the suffering of others and, true to her nature, worries more over his scars than her own.

“faring well then, cole?” sidri doesn’t know how to quite describe it, much less COLE himself, but talking to him always maker her feel more...peaceful, somehow. she always walked away confused, decidedly puzzled, but he has an odd sort of CONFIDENCE in her that she finds more compelling than anyone else. perhaps he does not see her so much as a HERALD, much less an inquisitor, but someone else who cares to HELP.

“i’ve heard there’s an ABUNDANCE of spiderwebs about now,” she states softly, offering a small SMILE. “i wanted to say thank you, on behalf of the healers, and, well-, myself.” 

      " A spirit of compassion, then? " The rumors that circulated about Haven were intriguing to say the least. A boy capable of vanishing in thin air? Making others forget of their presence. This age did not hold any mages impressive enough to do as such, naturally. None able to tap into magics that Arlathan once bore. " You did not come through as the others -- you do not seem twisted. " A brow raised, before a half smile came to his lps. " Amelan, and what do they call you? "

Nor has he ever promised to be a good man.

Nonetheless, for all that he remains curious about him, there is something unwise and far too loud within the hollow of his bones that aches with the bitter familiarity of concern. He supposes that the constant threat ( and therefore, constant presence ) of INVASION OF PRIVACY chips away at a wall or two or three —— which leaves him with tentative care for this boy / man / spirit / oddity given flesh that acts out of something so simply complicated as CONCERN. ❝ You have this look about you today. Rather like a kicked puppy, in fact. ❞ Well, Cole always looks a bit like that, actually, but it’s somewhat exacerbated at the moment.

it’s a delicate conversation and for that, sidri isn’t exactly sure how to go about it. cole isn’t exactly one for normal conversations, or at least what most people might consider normal, even if she does think conversations with him tend to immensely more interesting. after a day or two spent in consideration, she decides it’s best to just ask outright. 

“you’re very good at hearing what people are saying, what they’re feeling, cole,” sidri states delicately, the tavern below alive with laughter and chatter. “if you can hear what...well,” a pause, tongue swiping over her lower lip, “some of the mages about are nervous about you, cole. if it bothers you, what they say, you need only let me know.” she nods firmly. “you’re a part of the inquisition, you know that, right? you’re welcome here, no matter what anyone else may say. “