[IC] Is this a radical phase? A problematical age?
The couch was a lonely, cold place. A place he's been banished to for the past several nights.
It was quiet. Even the assortment of pets had settled down to sleep. Khaavren was gone. Oriseus was silent, off in the bedroom.
In the darkness, twin points of emerald light flicker open as the rogue rolls onto his back and stares up at a ceiling he can't see. Crimson hair remains plastered to his cheek with dried blood, and he still can't quite feel the tip of his left ear. He feels dirty. They said to rest, but...
Sitting himself up, Kae pauses as the room spins with the rush of blood away from his head. He needed to eat.
Later.
Slowly, Kae eases himself up to his feet, swaying slightly before he shuffles off toward the bathroom. He pauses to stare at the closed bedroom door, but he doesn't dare step where he wasn't welcome. He was lucky to be allowed to remain in the house at all.
Moments later, the bathwater is running, and Kae works to slowly peel out of his leathers, dropping the bloodied armor in a pile in the corner. He'd deal with it later. Grasping the side of the tub, he slowly eases himself into the rising water, sinking down and closing his eyes. It was so tempting to just fall asleep again.
When the water hits his ears, he looks up at the ceiling again. I don't know where Kae stops anymore. Who am I? Why do I keep hurting what I love the most? Why am I driving them away?
Tilting his head back, he sucks in a deep breath and slips down beneath the water, watching the growing cloud of red swirl above him as the dried blood dissolves again in the warm liquid. One hand lifts up, feeling the heavy, dead weight as it lifts free of the support of the water, fingers spreading, droplets of water causing the surface to ripple.
Self-destructive. Fire consumes everything around it until it burns itself out. There's no self-preservation in the flames. There's no mercy for those foolish enough to embrace it. Intense, dazzling, seductive with its promise of warmth. Draw them in, use them, consume them. More fuel for the flame. Keep it going.
There's no life in rebirth. Just the beginning of another cycle of death. Another round of burning wild, destroying for the sake of its own survival until nothing more is within its reach.
Fire burns in his lungs as these thoughts wander in and out of his grasp. His hand balls into a fist, then his fingers stretch out once more, watching the motion through the blood-tinted distortion of the water. His arm was heavy, the motion of his hand like it belonged to someone else. He could just drop it. Just stay there, until the fire burned itself out so it couldn't hurt anything - anyone - else anymore.
He was out of fuel.
He keeps his arm up as long as he can before the edges of his vision darken and muscles refuse to respond. His arm falls, strikes the side of the bath, and suddenly his fingers latch on and pull.
Kae surges up out of the water with a half-drowned gasp, blindly striking toward the tap to turn it off before it overflows. He can't see much else but stars as he coughs and chokes on half-sobbed breaths, twisting to drape his arms heavily over the side of the tub, burying his face in them. He still can't hardly breathe through his tears as he sobs like the broken man he is, eerily silent but for the ragged sound of his breathing and the slowly calming flow of water around him.
Slowly, numbly, Kae sits back in the tub with a washcloth and begins to scrub at the blood. Get it out of his hair, off his skin, wash it down the drain. It's nearly an hour, the water long-cold and fingertips long-wrinkled, that Kae finally pulls himself out of the water and pulls the plug to let it drain. He pulls a towel around himself, another to slowly scrub at his hair until it's not dripping wet anymore.
Keeping a hand on the walls for support, Kae slowly makes his way to the kitchen. Not enough energy to make something, but a handful of raw veggies and he's heading back to the couch, pushing the bloody blanket to the floor as he sinks down and leans back to nibble at that 'meal', mind blessedly blank. Spare one question he could no longer answer.
Who am I?
It was quiet. Even the assortment of pets had settled down to sleep. Khaavren was gone. Oriseus was silent, off in the bedroom.
In the darkness, twin points of emerald light flicker open as the rogue rolls onto his back and stares up at a ceiling he can't see. Crimson hair remains plastered to his cheek with dried blood, and he still can't quite feel the tip of his left ear. He feels dirty. They said to rest, but...
Sitting himself up, Kae pauses as the room spins with the rush of blood away from his head. He needed to eat.
Later.
Slowly, Kae eases himself up to his feet, swaying slightly before he shuffles off toward the bathroom. He pauses to stare at the closed bedroom door, but he doesn't dare step where he wasn't welcome. He was lucky to be allowed to remain in the house at all.
Moments later, the bathwater is running, and Kae works to slowly peel out of his leathers, dropping the bloodied armor in a pile in the corner. He'd deal with it later. Grasping the side of the tub, he slowly eases himself into the rising water, sinking down and closing his eyes. It was so tempting to just fall asleep again.
When the water hits his ears, he looks up at the ceiling again. I don't know where Kae stops anymore. Who am I? Why do I keep hurting what I love the most? Why am I driving them away?
Tilting his head back, he sucks in a deep breath and slips down beneath the water, watching the growing cloud of red swirl above him as the dried blood dissolves again in the warm liquid. One hand lifts up, feeling the heavy, dead weight as it lifts free of the support of the water, fingers spreading, droplets of water causing the surface to ripple.
Self-destructive. Fire consumes everything around it until it burns itself out. There's no self-preservation in the flames. There's no mercy for those foolish enough to embrace it. Intense, dazzling, seductive with its promise of warmth. Draw them in, use them, consume them. More fuel for the flame. Keep it going.
There's no life in rebirth. Just the beginning of another cycle of death. Another round of burning wild, destroying for the sake of its own survival until nothing more is within its reach.
Fire burns in his lungs as these thoughts wander in and out of his grasp. His hand balls into a fist, then his fingers stretch out once more, watching the motion through the blood-tinted distortion of the water. His arm was heavy, the motion of his hand like it belonged to someone else. He could just drop it. Just stay there, until the fire burned itself out so it couldn't hurt anything - anyone - else anymore.
He was out of fuel.
He keeps his arm up as long as he can before the edges of his vision darken and muscles refuse to respond. His arm falls, strikes the side of the bath, and suddenly his fingers latch on and pull.
Kae surges up out of the water with a half-drowned gasp, blindly striking toward the tap to turn it off before it overflows. He can't see much else but stars as he coughs and chokes on half-sobbed breaths, twisting to drape his arms heavily over the side of the tub, burying his face in them. He still can't hardly breathe through his tears as he sobs like the broken man he is, eerily silent but for the ragged sound of his breathing and the slowly calming flow of water around him.
Slowly, numbly, Kae sits back in the tub with a washcloth and begins to scrub at the blood. Get it out of his hair, off his skin, wash it down the drain. It's nearly an hour, the water long-cold and fingertips long-wrinkled, that Kae finally pulls himself out of the water and pulls the plug to let it drain. He pulls a towel around himself, another to slowly scrub at his hair until it's not dripping wet anymore.
Keeping a hand on the walls for support, Kae slowly makes his way to the kitchen. Not enough energy to make something, but a handful of raw veggies and he's heading back to the couch, pushing the bloody blanket to the floor as he sinks down and leans back to nibble at that 'meal', mind blessedly blank. Spare one question he could no longer answer.
Who am I?