tolaywaste | 29. » spam + text

spam } barge, day 1

[He died. He was alone. He was in the dark. There was not much air because the heat of his passage strangled it out, and then there was nothing, because his head was cut off by . . . something. Some monster.]

[Some man.]

[Marsh.]

[He remembers the way his body tried to keep breathing, even though it absolutely couldn't. And he remembers waking up, as alone in life-after-death as he was in death. More alone. Erik is gone. Charles is gone.]

[He trembles when no one is around, feeling hemmed in by the airless levels and the close quarters. But when people are nearby, he acts bigger than he is, a cornered animal reminding other animals that he is still more dangerous than them. Look at him sideways, stand too close to him, and he'll lash out with his fists or his powers. There's madness in his eyes and a scar on his neck, and he is alone, alone, alone.]

text } end day 1

Fuck loyalty. Nobody's loyal.

spam } port, remainder

[Now it's too open. He is practically agoraphobic after the close quarters of the broken-down Barge; it's too bright out here, and the people look at him with suspicion as he looks at them with fear and aggression.]

[It won't be long before he tries to pick a fight with someone he shouldn't on the ground, but before that his fear will get the best of him. He'll stick close to the few people he still knows and trusts. Everyone else will be attacked, no questions asked - maybe a couple answered.]

( ooc; text refers to this; alex's backstory here. encounter him anywhere, let me know how much damage you're cool with your character incurring. return tags coming from

letslip. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The only time Ben knows sadness, now, is when his friends know sadness; Alex's heart breaks and, because he is not required here and now to look away from that, Ben's heart breaks with him. It touches his eyes, a flash of sun across water, but does not settle.

He shifts his hand without moving his fingertips from Alex's jaw so he can use the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears first on one side, then the other. His voice is low between them, smooth, private.]

You are good, Alex.

You are so good.

[A thousand people could move past them in this moment and Alex wouldn't notice. It feels like the greatest gift he could get, being told that he's good.]

[It can't possibly be true. But the way Ben says it, Alex knows he believes it. That's the hell of it. Ben believes in so many impossible things, but he believes them so hard and Alex loves him so much, he can't not believe in them, too.]

[He stills, lets Ben wipe away his tears. Smiles soft, unsure, and puts his open palm on Ben's chest so they are mirror images of each other. He can feel his heart beating, both of their hearts beating, and it makes him not so small.]

You mean it?

I don't lie. If I did, I wouldn't. Not about this.

[Ben believes everything he says, with the kind of conviction that sometimes others can believe if not the words themselves, too. This, though, this is easy to believe. This is like asking him to inhale, easy to know and easy to do.

Ben loves Alex. He believes in him, and his heart breaks because his friend cannot believe in himself the way Ben does. Cannot see the things in himself that Ben can without even having to search. He is grounded by Alex's hand on his chest and he doesn't try to move, doesn't try to look away, hoping he can somehow anchor his friend in return.]

I see it in every part of you, in everything you do.

[It works. Not for long, but for now, it works. He anchors himself in Ben's eyes and Ben's faith and for the next five, ten minutes, he'll be able to breathe.]

[He exhales, his chest rising and falling, cooling, and he smiles again, sweet as an innocent, even if he's anything but that. Part of him still doubts that Ben will stay with him, but he'll put that part away for now, pretend it isn't around so that Ben will keep looking at him like that.]

[His fingers curl, tightening in his friend's shirt, his eyes sharp and insistent.]

I'll be a good soldier. I'll do what needs to be done.

[Look how good I can be, he wants to shout, but makes himself stand still at attention, dusting his fingerprints over the collar of Ben's shirt.]

I know.

[For once - not here, but other places - there is a softness about Ben that meets the desperation in Alex without relenting or persisting. He can be still, solid and secure, and he will be here until he is not. Alex doubts him, he knows, but Ben is unwavering in his faith. He will be here until the Admiral no longer wishes him to be.

He will be perfect, so that does not come to pass. He will be loyal, he will be true, strong enough and good enough. His fingers press for a moment more firmly against Alex's chest, a five-point constellation of affection and approval, and then he steps back but not away.

He steps back carefully, so Alex's grip in his shirt will draw him along with him.]

We have made port. We should do reconnaissance, and gather supplies. Will you come with me, Alex?

[And Alex does follow, his steps in perfect sync, his approach as flawless in form as Ben's retreat. His movements are a mirror of his friend's, and that, he thinks, is as it should be. He stays close enough that he can watch the tiny, sharp movements of Ben's eyes, the twitches of his lips.]

I'll come with you.

[He is very close, his eyes very wide, mouth twisted in the beginnings of a sharp laugh. He is unstable, but all of a sudden so happy, so thrilled.]

[Ben did this. Ben made him this way. He ought to believe.]

[Maybe someday.]

I'll come with you and do what needs to be done. In this place, with these people. With you.

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