dorian did many things wrong (
flashystyle) wrote2017-10-27 04:09 am
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[EL NYSA] IC INBOX
●●○○○ THESA | ![]() ![]() |
I WAS A: Incredibly privileged know-it-all with a family complex. I got better.
I'M SKILLED IN: Talking about myself excessively. Calling everyone names. Also, some magic and archiving.
I'M LOOKING FOR: A way to stop feeling so helpless in the absence of home.
ALSO, I'M: Very tired. All the time.
I'M SKILLED IN: Talking about myself excessively. Calling everyone names. Also, some magic and archiving.
I'M LOOKING FOR: A way to stop feeling so helpless in the absence of home.
ALSO, I'M: Very tired. All the time.
sad but true
His hand drops, sudden, fingertips walking up the seam of Dorian's ribs to where his own palm rests, catching loosely over the top.] Oh but there's worse. When the things hatch? They attach to your face and they won't let go. By the time someone carved one of those off you you'd never want a mirror again.
[Macabre, maybe, to be playing at this when he's seen people carved into by some flesh peeling induced sickness but it's almost a relief to play at horror and know it's not real. He pushes onto an elbow, enough to examine that well-sculpted silhouette Dorian's so proud of, and leans in close.]
Wait. I think I see something now. Hold still. [Still enough not to duck as Prior presses a kiss just to the corner of his mouth, drawing back with the slightest of satisfied smiles before starting to settle down again.] Who told you about Alien? I thought it was all mummers and folk dancing where you come from.
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He doesn't find them right away (for once), opting to feign his shock with a soft gasp and fanning his poor, would-be marred face. Eventually he drops his head and turns his attention back to Prior, smiling despite himself, but only after he's certain there's no tell-tale color left in his face.]
My dear Prior, first, it is not all folk dancing. I did not live in the barbarous south—we had class, with our dancers in silk in the streets. Secondly, Richie told me the creatures slipped in with smooth jazz. I still haven't figured out what that means.
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[He's smiling as he lays back, but the smile and the sentiment's a thin veneer and fades faster than he'd intended. Maybe it's the spent adrenaline dying in his system that gives way to a low-level dread, but there's a point where he can't lay in silence with it anymore.]
All this, and I don't think I can sleep.
who the fuck IS jim
But the reason he's here—the reason they're both still on the station—still hangs in the air and makes it feel like the thing's trying to suffocate him. It's nearly on the level of discomfort of first arriving, being suspended in a moment that shouldn't be real but doesn't change when you shut your eyes and wait for things to go back to normal.]
Of course. Why would you sleep, when the man of your dreams is right here? [He starts, unable to resist a reflex to avoiding broaching anything else.] ... We'll make this work, somehow. It's what we do.
Damn my true identity revealed
[He hides his face against Dorian's shoulder, nudging out a small dark hollow where there's room to breathe.]
I've upset people. With this.
first catgate... now this... my heart can't handle it...
I can imagine so. All those people who spoke to you care about you. But they won't be angry forever.
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[It's far easier to spill this wrapped in the heat and scent and company of Dorian, but without looking him in the eye.]
I don't want to go back and be told I should have stayed still all along. Like I don't hear that from her every time I close my eyes.
[The her in question has yet to be introduced, at least directly. But she's tangled up in Prior all the time.]
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So instead, gently:]
There is a difference between parading off nobly after working out your intentions, and being a shit. I went off to save the world once, but it worried my father so terribly that he came down from his ivory tower to come see me since I hadn't explained myself. [Ahem.] ... It was out of nowhere. Prior. They can't understand if you slap them in the face with it and wander off. I saw the state of Byerly during it all, he... they're all still fragile.
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[Somewhat flat. Not that he has illusions of it being a noble quest (not coming from a world where such things are commonplace). But the number of people who seem to think he went into it for kicks is beginning to become wearying. It was hardly out of nowhere, the source at least must have been clear. People process trauma in different ways. Some sink low, Prior looks for a way to climb out. 'They're all still fragile' includes him too and he couldn't bear it without doing something.
He twitches a little, half decided on just leaving now, but then Dorian opens the door on a question that's been itching under his skin for days.]
You brought him out, didn't you? What had they done to him?
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I don't think you were being a shit, Prior, I just meant it comes off that way easily when they don't know any better. [He says first, to try and reign himself in. His voice is far too brittle for his liking.] They kept them awake for days. They cut, burned, broke them in all the ways they could, and when they finally were able to sleep it was the same thing all over again by some creature in the dark.
And we couldn't protect them from it, there. We couldn't wake them from the inside. [When he thinks the expression Byerly wore, his hands clench into fists. He didn't do enough to make sure they knew hell.] He... I've never seen him look like that. I never want to see him look like that again, it's not fair.
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It had wings. The creature. Wings and claws and it moved like a hawk in the dark. [He'd caught glimpses not just from Byerly but others in the sanctuary who found the thing waiting again in sleep when they should have been safe. At first he'd taken it for another visitation of his own: wingbeats and screeching in the dark.] I woke him. Well, both of us really. It was either that or get stuck there too. So I woke him, but I don't know if I chased it off.
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[He trails off, his eyes unfocused as he stares out toward the ceiling.] I don't know what I would have done, if he'd remained there. You... You saved Byerly better than any of us did.
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[Prior surfaces, his chin on Dorian's shoulder probably a little sharp to be comfortable. He's reddened his eyes with rubbing at them, but that's all.]
He'll wake up, too. The boy who - they told me they'll all wake up. Like it's a compensation clause: one free vehicle if the old one's beyond repair.
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[He doesn't intend to raise his voice quite so loud, so suddenly, or be so hoarse with Prior right there, but he can't help it. Regret, mourning, anger, all tied into a knot that he can't even begin to fathom unraveling just resurfaces all at once. He thought he could keep shoving it under, but time has proven it never holds for long.]
When the world ended the first time, I promised someone I would protect them. The world's ended again, and I've done fuck all. Could our ever so gracious hosts have stepped in, done something with ease? Yes, but I should thought ahead. We all should have. We know better.
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[It's a pointless argument. He looks at Prior he stews on it, until his voice has lowered and his shoulders have sunk.]
You want to blame the gods for not being found sooner, but it was us. It was us, and we should have acted sooner, because it's what you deserve.
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He doesn't press his lips to the corner of Dorian's mouth again. As far as it's a kiss and not just an instruction to shut up, it's brief but entirely deliberate.]
I vastly prefer your inflated sense of self-importance when you're not using it to self-flagellate. Prepare all you want, but know that while you're looking one way there will always be something coming from the other and it can still knock you on your ass.
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... That's why we need each other. To look all directions.
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It's not possible. I've watched the worlds end a thousand different ways, you'd never be ready for all of them. This was not your fault.
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[He slowly smiles in turned, albeit tired.]
I wish I'd met you under less dire circumstances, Prior.
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You've brought me flowers and bought me drinks. Not to tarnish your image of me but I may have put out for less, in the past. [Less like a wink and a nod toward the bathrooms.] Do you get the book of fire puns when you develop the talent, or does part of the training involve working on your act?
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It was something I picked up myself, to charm men. Or rather, charm men more than I do by simply existing. [He can't really make the effort to look scandalized - god knows he didn't have any standards.] Just in the past?
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ignore me giving access
cant believe you took back your gift
you don't deserve it, JIM
need a new secret identity brb
i can't wait for it
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