closed | may/june catch-all

[faithfall]

Who: adrian & ??
Where: various
When: may/june
What: catch-all for june & migrated TDM threads

Warnings: N/A for now?

Comments

ehehe

[faithfall]

[ He can't help it: he thinks of Fern watching him raise a corpse with a look of visceral disgust, demanding a promise that he would never do that to her. It's the same sudden intensity, the same revulsion lurking underneath.

Adrian swallows. For a foolish moment, he had let himself forget what he had become. Even his healing must look nightmarish to someone unfamiliar with it, the way it leaves a mark they can't refuse.

A part of him knows that this can't be just the healing, but even so... ]

I can't. [ He says, quietly. He looks up at Jason, meeting his gaze. ] My healing abilities have limits.

[ He doesn't think he needs to go into the details right at this moment. Despite the overt threat of violence, violence is something he's well accustomed to. He doesn't think that Jason would kill him, not the man who had just fought so hard to save his life, and anything short of death isn't worth worrying about. It isn't fear that needles at him, but his own shame and guilt.

He reaches for Jason's hand with both of his own — slowly, so as not to make things worse — and attempts to move it away from where it's come perilously close to touching his face. ]

I'm sorry that I didn't explain before proceeding.

[ But not sorry that he's done it, even so. Should they come to a crossroads where it's the only choice, Adrian will use his magic to heal Jason again without a second thought, but he doesn't like hurting people — physically or otherwise. It's just that it seems to be one of the few things he excels at. ] Is it all magic, or only that?

[tirejacked]

[It's really a shame, because Adrian was only really trying to help. Some people just don't want to be. (Can't be. Won't let themselves be. Somewhere in between.) No accounting for gratitude in the space future.

Even when he was much smaller and much less dangerous, his instinct for defense has always been offense. His reaction to feeling cornered has been to bite back. So his posture has squared up in undeniable threat as he clamps back down on the fuzzy feeling of flashback. All raw nerves and grit teeth. The ghost of some awful taste in his mouth, light buzzing behind his eyes. This time, when Adrian moves, he's ready for it.]

Don't.

[He wrests his hand roughly away and stalks off to where he'd left his jacket. (You don't get to just ask that. You don't get to pull that crap and apologize it away. Not right now.)

It's too small and too dark inside the shitty little convenience store, and he's suddenly feeling too exposed to care to deal with it. The rain is still pounding down outside, but it's suddenly a lot more inviting than sticking around in here.

He's already crossing the room as he pulls his jacket back on. He very clearly intends to just fuck off out the door.]

[faithfall]

[ Adrian lowers his empty hands with a barely audible sigh. He can only guess at what set Jason off, but he can tell that he's lost the man already, and crowding into his space any further won't do him much good. That look in his eyes is entirely too familiar. He's seen it in the eyes of other men, in other places.

Adrian watches him grab for his jacket and make for the door, but he doesn't try to stop him even as he leaves. He follows far enough to stop in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself again to ward off the damp cold. ]

You needn't feel obligated to stay. I can look after myself. [ Adrian calls after him, despite evidence to the contrary. He can call Fern to pick him up. ] Just — go somewhere safe, if you must?

[tirejacked]

[The dissonant little jingle of the bells above the door grates as he pushes through and out into the rain again, pulling his jacket back on as he does.

He stops, back turned and jaw locked when it registers that the door hasn’t closed. That Adrian has followed him far enough to tell him what he needn’t do.

His hands have pulled into fists at his sides of their own volition. Tight enough that his blunt nails are digging into his plans. He could almost feel his bones creaking. There’s a pressing need to spin back around to tell him to go to hell. That he’ll go where he damn likes even if it's right back to that stupid haunted facility. But it's competing with that fact that he also kind of wants to go find a quiet corner to empty his guts, so instead, he snatches up his helmet. (Red, whiteout eyes. An oddly complicated mechanism holding it together.) Digs for his keys. And starts his bike with a roar.

Good talk, bud.]