(no subject)
Hastur dewings Meta. Famine finds out. There is breakage. Um...yes. This log definitely comes with a ZOMGREADTHISANDSHATTERINTOPIECES label. You've been warned.
(Note: The actual dewinging isn't here, thank goodness. And there's allusions to wounds and a few iffy words, so...PG-13 warning?)
Metatron: *so yeah, on a table. bleeding profusely from the shoulderblades. and unconscious*
Famine: *goes down into the basement for...some purpose or another...and looks around* *sees Meta and doubletakes* *chokes, eyes going wide* Oh, -fuck-. *goes quickly over to the table and -stares-, in shock*
Metatron: *mumbles something about profanity under his breath, opening his eyes and squinting* ...Famine...? *smiles faintly and closes his eyes again* Hello.
Famine: *grips the side of the table, trembling* ...angel. *stares, still looking stunned* What...what -happened-?
Metatron: ...Happened? *coughs, wincing* Hastur happened, I suppose.
Famine: *still wide-eyed* ...Hastur? *comes out as a growl more than anything else* *quietly and deliberately and...looking incredibly murderous* What...did...he...do?
Metatron: *curls up on the table, wiping blood off of his mouth with the back of his hand* ...took my wings.
Famine: *stares, face draining of colour completely* ...he...-what-? *tightens his grip on the table, knuckles going white, and...wow, I thought it was impossible for him to look more murderous*
Metatron: *repeats himself patiently* Took my wings. Don't... be too angry, it's not -- really his fault.
Famine: *still staring, yes, can you blame him for being in shock here?* *shaking, manages to form the question* ...not...really...his fault?
Metatron: I... asked him to do it. *shrugs slightly, then flinches at the pain that doing so causes*
Famine: *expression goes from fury to shock, even more so than before* *murmurs absently in concern* Don't move your shoulders... *stares* ...angel, why...?
Metatron: Oh -- all right, I won't. *bites his lip* I... made a deal with him and... I'll be able to protect Nemesis, and -- and anyone else I need to keep safe.
Famine: *still staring* You...*keeps staring, then closes his eyes and shakes his head* *quietly, shakily, and with slight disbelief* ...You gave your wings to ensure the safety of my sister, and the others you care for.
Metatron: *nods, opening his eyes briefly* ...well, yes. I... yes. *closes his eyes again, letting out a shaky breath*
Famine: *lets out something that...could be a quiet snort of laughter, but is rather bitter and rueful and...rather breaks the typist* *shakes his head again* *even quieter* Angel...you're completely hopeless. *opens his eyes to look at Meta with emotional exhaustion and concern more than anything else*
Metatron: ...Hopeless? I'm -- I'm sorry. *lets out a quiet whimper of pain* I just... *takes a deep breath, trying not to start crying again*
Famine: *lets his breath out shakily* You're... *shakes his head again and bites his lip hard* *looks at Meta for a bit longer* ...is there anything I can do? To...help? *knows the answer will probably be no, but has to ask*
Metatron: I'm -- what? *shakes his head* I... unless you can -- do something about the -- my... it hurts... *presses his face into the crook of his elbow, shaking slightly*
Famine: *bites his lip harder, holding tightly onto the table and watching Meta shakily* *finds his voice again after a few seconds* I...I can try to...clean them...*gestures in the vague direction of the wingstumps*...if you want...
Metatron: *is silent for a moment with trying to hold back tears* Would -- would you mind...? *swallows* I... I'd appreciate it.
Famine: *murmurs* Of course not. I...hold on. *typist says there's a mini-plothole down here, so retrieves a cloth and a bowl of water* *goes back over to Meta, standing behind him and surveying the damage, biting his lip hard and still shaking a little*
Metatron: *sighs, rolling onto his stomach* Th-thank you. It... I... *trails off, wiping tears from his eyes absently* Just -- ...thank you.
Famine: *bites through his lip and closes his eyes for a second, shaking* *quietly* It's what friends are for, angel. *opens his eyes, trying to fight back tears and...sort of failing* *wets the cloth and slowly starts cleaning the wingstumps, trying to stop shaking*
Metatron: *hisses softly in pain, shaking harder as tears come faster* I -- I'm sorry... I just wanted... just -- it was the only thing I could think of to give him.
Famine: *lets out that bitter snort again, only it's slightly choked due to failure of holding back tears* *continues focusing on cleaning, also failing at keeping his hand steady* It...oh, angel, you...*bites through his lip again, hand faltering slightly as he gets to a particularly bad part of the wound* ...you didn't have to.
Metatron: I just -- after watching... watching him and Nemesis -- the deal they made, I... couldn't stand it. I had to -- had to do something. *makes a choked sound and bites the inside of his cheek against the pain*
Famine: *stops abruptly and frowns* ...deal? What deal?
Metatron: *...oops* The -- the deal they made. It was... Hastur would leave me alone for a week in exchange for -- Nemesis... doing whatever he wanted.
Famine: *...the silence you hear is the aural manifestation of the pwning of ellipses* ...they...she...he...*pauses, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath* *very quietly* ...fuck. *another pause, and...goes back to cleaning, shaking even more, lip bleeding and tears running down his cheeks*
Metatron: *nods quickly, failing to contain his sobs* ...exactly. And I -- I just... I h-had to do something. I couldn't... couldn't... *sets a random piece of furniture on fire*
Famine: *chews on his lip and nods, even though Meta can't see it* *low and slightly choked* I...I can't blame you...really...but...*breaks off, the words catching slightly* *barely audible* ...I wish you hadn't.
Metatron: *flinches, for once not from pain but from Famine's words* ...I -- I'm sorry. Why... why? *inhales slowly, then chokes on tears all over again, setting the insulation on fire*
Famine: *very much wants to just hug Meta and do what he can to help, but...can't because of the whole wingstump thing* *lets out a choked half-laugh half-sob* Why? Angel, you're in -pain-, and I can't do anything about it. It...*drops his voice again, tears starting up again* ...it hurts.
Metatron: *eyes widen* Famine... oh, please, don't -- don't cry, it -- it's all right, I asked him to. It... it was my choice. I'm sorry. *would really like a hug, damn the whole "that would cause excruciating pain" thing*
Famine: *closes his eyes and stops cleaning for a few seconds to just...cry* I know. I know. And...if it helps, then...thank you. For Nemesis, and...for anyone else. *slightly choked* But damn it, angel, this...it isn't -fair-.
Metatron: You... you're welcome. I -- I'm sorry. I am. *struggles in an attempt to sit up, with some notion of giving Famine a handkerchief* It -- it was... the best I could do. I hope -- I hope it's enough.
Famine: Don't be - *breaks off* *sharply* Don't do that. Don't...try to get up. *touches a spot on Meta's back that isn't bleeding, or is bleeding less badly than the rest, and gently pushes down* Just...rest. Until you're well. Please. *closes his eyes again and is still crying, gah* It'll...it'll be all right. Somehow.
Metatron: *pauses, then nods and collapses again* ...Right. I... right. *shivers, resting his chin on crossed arms* It will. At least... at least Hastur won't be a problem anymore.
Famine: *nods, finishing cleaning* *quietly* There. *touches Meta's shoulder again, lightly* Let me know if you need anything. I'm here. ...will you be all right?
Metatron: Thank you. *nods, looking solemn* I'll be fine. Honestly. Please... just... don't be sad. I'm... fine. *curls up on the table and promptly falls asleep*
Famine: *nods, then watches Meta, biting his lip* *finally leans down, kisses his forehead lightly, and leaves, still silently crying*
(Note: The actual dewinging isn't here, thank goodness. And there's allusions to wounds and a few iffy words, so...PG-13 warning?)
Metatron: *so yeah, on a table. bleeding profusely from the shoulderblades. and unconscious*
Famine: *goes down into the basement for...some purpose or another...and looks around* *sees Meta and doubletakes* *chokes, eyes going wide* Oh, -fuck-. *goes quickly over to the table and -stares-, in shock*
Metatron: *mumbles something about profanity under his breath, opening his eyes and squinting* ...Famine...? *smiles faintly and closes his eyes again* Hello.
Famine: *grips the side of the table, trembling* ...angel. *stares, still looking stunned* What...what -happened-?
Metatron: ...Happened? *coughs, wincing* Hastur happened, I suppose.
Famine: *still wide-eyed* ...Hastur? *comes out as a growl more than anything else* *quietly and deliberately and...looking incredibly murderous* What...did...he...do?
Metatron: *curls up on the table, wiping blood off of his mouth with the back of his hand* ...took my wings.
Famine: *stares, face draining of colour completely* ...he...-what-? *tightens his grip on the table, knuckles going white, and...wow, I thought it was impossible for him to look more murderous*
Metatron: *repeats himself patiently* Took my wings. Don't... be too angry, it's not -- really his fault.
Famine: *still staring, yes, can you blame him for being in shock here?* *shaking, manages to form the question* ...not...really...his fault?
Metatron: I... asked him to do it. *shrugs slightly, then flinches at the pain that doing so causes*
Famine: *expression goes from fury to shock, even more so than before* *murmurs absently in concern* Don't move your shoulders... *stares* ...angel, why...?
Metatron: Oh -- all right, I won't. *bites his lip* I... made a deal with him and... I'll be able to protect Nemesis, and -- and anyone else I need to keep safe.
Famine: *still staring* You...*keeps staring, then closes his eyes and shakes his head* *quietly, shakily, and with slight disbelief* ...You gave your wings to ensure the safety of my sister, and the others you care for.
Metatron: *nods, opening his eyes briefly* ...well, yes. I... yes. *closes his eyes again, letting out a shaky breath*
Famine: *lets out something that...could be a quiet snort of laughter, but is rather bitter and rueful and...rather breaks the typist* *shakes his head again* *even quieter* Angel...you're completely hopeless. *opens his eyes to look at Meta with emotional exhaustion and concern more than anything else*
Metatron: ...Hopeless? I'm -- I'm sorry. *lets out a quiet whimper of pain* I just... *takes a deep breath, trying not to start crying again*
Famine: *lets his breath out shakily* You're... *shakes his head again and bites his lip hard* *looks at Meta for a bit longer* ...is there anything I can do? To...help? *knows the answer will probably be no, but has to ask*
Metatron: I'm -- what? *shakes his head* I... unless you can -- do something about the -- my... it hurts... *presses his face into the crook of his elbow, shaking slightly*
Famine: *bites his lip harder, holding tightly onto the table and watching Meta shakily* *finds his voice again after a few seconds* I...I can try to...clean them...*gestures in the vague direction of the wingstumps*...if you want...
Metatron: *is silent for a moment with trying to hold back tears* Would -- would you mind...? *swallows* I... I'd appreciate it.
Famine: *murmurs* Of course not. I...hold on. *typist says there's a mini-plothole down here, so retrieves a cloth and a bowl of water* *goes back over to Meta, standing behind him and surveying the damage, biting his lip hard and still shaking a little*
Metatron: *sighs, rolling onto his stomach* Th-thank you. It... I... *trails off, wiping tears from his eyes absently* Just -- ...thank you.
Famine: *bites through his lip and closes his eyes for a second, shaking* *quietly* It's what friends are for, angel. *opens his eyes, trying to fight back tears and...sort of failing* *wets the cloth and slowly starts cleaning the wingstumps, trying to stop shaking*
Metatron: *hisses softly in pain, shaking harder as tears come faster* I -- I'm sorry... I just wanted... just -- it was the only thing I could think of to give him.
Famine: *lets out that bitter snort again, only it's slightly choked due to failure of holding back tears* *continues focusing on cleaning, also failing at keeping his hand steady* It...oh, angel, you...*bites through his lip again, hand faltering slightly as he gets to a particularly bad part of the wound* ...you didn't have to.
Metatron: I just -- after watching... watching him and Nemesis -- the deal they made, I... couldn't stand it. I had to -- had to do something. *makes a choked sound and bites the inside of his cheek against the pain*
Famine: *stops abruptly and frowns* ...deal? What deal?
Metatron: *...oops* The -- the deal they made. It was... Hastur would leave me alone for a week in exchange for -- Nemesis... doing whatever he wanted.
Famine: *...the silence you hear is the aural manifestation of the pwning of ellipses* ...they...she...he...*pauses, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath* *very quietly* ...fuck. *another pause, and...goes back to cleaning, shaking even more, lip bleeding and tears running down his cheeks*
Metatron: *nods quickly, failing to contain his sobs* ...exactly. And I -- I just... I h-had to do something. I couldn't... couldn't... *sets a random piece of furniture on fire*
Famine: *chews on his lip and nods, even though Meta can't see it* *low and slightly choked* I...I can't blame you...really...but...*breaks off, the words catching slightly* *barely audible* ...I wish you hadn't.
Metatron: *flinches, for once not from pain but from Famine's words* ...I -- I'm sorry. Why... why? *inhales slowly, then chokes on tears all over again, setting the insulation on fire*
Famine: *very much wants to just hug Meta and do what he can to help, but...can't because of the whole wingstump thing* *lets out a choked half-laugh half-sob* Why? Angel, you're in -pain-, and I can't do anything about it. It...*drops his voice again, tears starting up again* ...it hurts.
Metatron: *eyes widen* Famine... oh, please, don't -- don't cry, it -- it's all right, I asked him to. It... it was my choice. I'm sorry. *would really like a hug, damn the whole "that would cause excruciating pain" thing*
Famine: *closes his eyes and stops cleaning for a few seconds to just...cry* I know. I know. And...if it helps, then...thank you. For Nemesis, and...for anyone else. *slightly choked* But damn it, angel, this...it isn't -fair-.
Metatron: You... you're welcome. I -- I'm sorry. I am. *struggles in an attempt to sit up, with some notion of giving Famine a handkerchief* It -- it was... the best I could do. I hope -- I hope it's enough.
Famine: Don't be - *breaks off* *sharply* Don't do that. Don't...try to get up. *touches a spot on Meta's back that isn't bleeding, or is bleeding less badly than the rest, and gently pushes down* Just...rest. Until you're well. Please. *closes his eyes again and is still crying, gah* It'll...it'll be all right. Somehow.
Metatron: *pauses, then nods and collapses again* ...Right. I... right. *shivers, resting his chin on crossed arms* It will. At least... at least Hastur won't be a problem anymore.
Famine: *nods, finishing cleaning* *quietly* There. *touches Meta's shoulder again, lightly* Let me know if you need anything. I'm here. ...will you be all right?
Metatron: Thank you. *nods, looking solemn* I'll be fine. Honestly. Please... just... don't be sad. I'm... fine. *curls up on the table and promptly falls asleep*
Famine: *nods, then watches Meta, biting his lip* *finally leans down, kisses his forehead lightly, and leaves, still silently crying*