#sodomas

Much like a child who’d broken a prized toy, it had taken Timothy nearly a week to seek out assistance when the gifted prosthetic had broken due to his own negligence. There were only so many tasks he could do around the HQ with just the one functional hand--and swallowing his pride to get it fixed meant he could continue his work and be left to his devices. 

The elevator ride up to Rhys’ office was quiet before he stepped out, steps slow and measured as a mismatched gaze looked around--finding the place extremely...Rhys-less. Empty. Not a sight nor sound of the man of the hour anywhere.  Not to say he should have expected it--Rhys was a busy man with a busy schedule. Not every CEO had to live in their office; not every CEO had to BE Handsome Jack. A fact that was still incredibly hard to shake. 

"It's...not a pretty sight, Pumpkin. Just a uh--a fair warning. I guess." His voice sounds so small as fingers play against the clasps near his eyebrows--debating. Weighing the options. Before he can gather what little courage he has and pry the mask from the abused skin. Freeing himself from Jack’s face for Rhys to see. 

The vault scar juts across the majority of his face; a mirror image of Jack’s own save for the coloration. Tim’s had remained the vicious red of seared flesh. Gnarled and disgusting--obvious signs of inadequate care in the early stages that may have reduced the mark. There are smaller scars; little nicks and cuts along the slopes of his face from his years of Vault Hunting and the like but they all pale in comparison to the main factor. 

GIVE ME RHYS AND TIM BEING SOFT AND RHYS SEEING THE SCAR PLS

angsty/suggestive sentence starters; accepting!!

There are good days and then there are very…very bad days. When the weight of the world seems to crush Timothy Lawrence to his very soul. When the branding on his face, nearly a decade old, aches so intensely like it’s just been done. When his very thoughts aren’t his own, coaxing him into returning to the man he used to be. Being Jack. The lines between the two such a blur. 

Days like these, he doesn’t like to be around anyone else. He doesn’t want Rhys or Zane seeing him like this. Doesn’t want prying eyes or soft touches–too afraid that he’ll end up lashing out or breaking down. Ruining everything he’s built up. Maybe that’s not healthy, but it’s better than the alternative. 

Atlas HQ is large and it isn’t hard to stow himself away from the CEO. Or at least, that had been his intention, until Rhys is there. Saying such words achingly soft. 

Mismatched eyes avoid his partner’s own and his prosthetic hand sets to worrying a stray thread of his jacket, fingers curling just so to pull. Fraying it from the fabric. Hoping he’ll get the hint. 

“Hey there.” The greeting is returned softly and Tim wastes no time in closing a document on his ECHO device and setting it aside in favor of divvying up attention to his partner. Flesh hand raises, gently catching a lock of brown hair--combing it back into the style the CEO so constantly fixes it in. 

@sodomas​ / ignis & cor.

“old people,” cor answers simply, but what a cop-out answer.  a hundred old men in power couldn’t even come close to anything noctis and his group have gone through already.  and still, their journey is still incomplete, still so far left to suffer.  like lambs led to slaughter and the world depends on it.

he sighs, dissatisfied, bearing his title, ‘cor the immortal’ like a curse.  he remembers his fiery youth, desperate to impress king regis with his prowess and skill.  and for what?  he has outlived his king and is easily on his way to outliving a second.  what good is experience?  it has done nothing but sentence him to life.  

Orange gaze fixates on Rhys as the question is presented, tongue held as he considers the best way of skirting around that topic. Legs maneuver, pacing back and forth inhabit despite the fact that it won’t provide any sort of stimulation. 

It wouldn’t help him think; it wouldn’t help him weigh said pros and cons as his new companion waits for an answer. Yet he doesn’t stop–just. Keeps going. Back and forth. Back and forth. Transparent pixels of orange left behind in a makeshift trail. 

“–It’s complicated, Kiddo. I guess. I mean. Technically–Yes. But no. But yes. But no. But actually yeah!” Super helpful Timothy! Really just! Absolutely on fire today.