Prompt Post: ROUND EIGHT
ROUND EIGHT IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND SEVEN | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND NINE >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get starshipbadass' modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
ii.
"What part of no don't you understand, Charles? Is it the part where it says 'this is not advisable, as my friend please desist' or are you just too arrogant to see how such a word would apply to you?"
Charles leans back in his chair, stares at him through calculating eyes. He hardly reacts to any of Erik's words, even when he's spitting them in the smaller man's face. It is truly maddening. Erik cannot pretend to understand how one can still be breathing without also being infuriated by the accusations he is throwing around the room. And to a proper Englishman, no less. The expletives, in all their vulgarity, do little to faze Charles no matter how hard he presses the issue.
Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think, the voice whispers.
No, perhaps not.
It is with this thought that the anger deflates from him like air rushing out of a balloon, tugging him every which way as it disappears into the fade. He attempts to connect with Charles on a different level, one where rage has no place in their interactions. Erik bends down in front of Charles, hands resting lightly on the armrest of the chair the telepath had collapsed into the moment Erik cornered him in the laboratory and told him, in a few curt words, that he was to follow him on pain of death.
Charles tilts his body downwards to meet Erik's eyes and it is with a rush of triumph that he realises the calculating look on the other man's face has been replaced by confusion. Erik lifts his hands from their place on either side of Charles and sets them down, ever so softly, on the other man's knees.
"My friend," he pleads, using the endearment Charles himself loves so much. "Don't do this."
All he receives in response is a sharp intake of breath, as well as the most puzzling expression to flit across the other man's face. Erik realises it instantly, though he has not felt it himself for some time. It is guilt.
Fear uncoils in his stomach to join the dread pooling deeper in his gut. Together they mutate into one, into an emotion that almost consumes him with its weight.
Sadness rises to his throat, threatens to choke him where he stands.
He looks up, terrified, into Charles' eyes, just as the other man delivers the killing blow.
Charles looks devastated. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I am afraid it is far too late for that."
He pulls back the lapels on his coat where they have covered his body for most of the evening. Erik sees the inhibitor, wrapped delicately around Charles' neck. Despite himself, despite what this means for him, for Charles and for their species, Erik cannot help but react to the gentle pulse he receives from the metal; metal that he must have known was there ever since he began to carry on to Charles, but which he ignored in favor of his anger.
He has ignored a lot in favor of his anger.
He will not ignore this. Not when Charles' life (when all their lives) hang in the balance.
Expressing his opinion both loudly and quietly has done nothing to sway Charles from his promise to the CIA. Erik assumes that this will not change, no matter how long he curses, babbles and cries. He will have far better luck throwing a tantrum at a brick wall.
This is not the way Erik will convince Charles.
But there is a way, and he will find it.
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