Incomplete
Who: Roxas, Axel, Zexion, and Lexaeus
When: Nnnow?
Where: the new Castle the old hotel
Rating: R
Warnings: possibly language and/or violence. and sap.
Summary: So apparently everyone went crazy while Roxas left.
The distance was longer than it should have been. He remembered, in that unreal period of time that was before the lab, that he'd dashed across this same space in what seemed like moments. This was taking fucking forever and still every muscle in his body protested when he tried to push for a little more energy. Lexaeus didn't say anything, but Roxas could feel his questions behind the silence.
He wanted to stab something. Badly. The dull feeling of pressure in his chest was driving him mad, and even if the unwanted links to Schuldig and Sora had been mercifully dimmed, the cold hunk of metal where his heart should have been was discomfort enough.
It was purely his imagination, he knew, but he thought if he listened close enough he could hear it ticking.
He didn't want to face the pack of them. Didn't want to answer their questions, didn't want to have to snarl at their insinuations about his own weakness in letting himself get captured. Yes, he'd nearly gotten away several times, until they learned to stop keeping him behind simple locks. Yes, he'd tried to kill the man. No, he hadn't succeeded, and his memories of his stay were ragged, useless things. He still didn't know who had taken him in the first place.
His hand drifted to press his chest again. He couldn't really feel its edge underneath the layers of recently split flesh, but the wound protested faintly, and he thought he heard it.
Ticking.
A piece of clockwork.
He hated it and hated himself for allowing it and hated the bone deep exhaustion that made his steps drag over the threshold of the hotel. Rest. He wanted Axel and rest and everything else in the world could please go away.
Home again. He halted, uncertain.
When: Nnnow?
Where: the new Castle the old hotel
Rating: R
Warnings: possibly language and/or violence. and sap.
Summary: So apparently everyone went crazy while Roxas left.
The distance was longer than it should have been. He remembered, in that unreal period of time that was before the lab, that he'd dashed across this same space in what seemed like moments. This was taking fucking forever and still every muscle in his body protested when he tried to push for a little more energy. Lexaeus didn't say anything, but Roxas could feel his questions behind the silence.
He wanted to stab something. Badly. The dull feeling of pressure in his chest was driving him mad, and even if the unwanted links to Schuldig and Sora had been mercifully dimmed, the cold hunk of metal where his heart should have been was discomfort enough.
It was purely his imagination, he knew, but he thought if he listened close enough he could hear it ticking.
He didn't want to face the pack of them. Didn't want to answer their questions, didn't want to have to snarl at their insinuations about his own weakness in letting himself get captured. Yes, he'd nearly gotten away several times, until they learned to stop keeping him behind simple locks. Yes, he'd tried to kill the man. No, he hadn't succeeded, and his memories of his stay were ragged, useless things. He still didn't know who had taken him in the first place.
His hand drifted to press his chest again. He couldn't really feel its edge underneath the layers of recently split flesh, but the wound protested faintly, and he thought he heard it.
Ticking.
A piece of clockwork.
He hated it and hated himself for allowing it and hated the bone deep exhaustion that made his steps drag over the threshold of the hotel. Rest. He wanted Axel and rest and everything else in the world could please go away.
Home again. He halted, uncertain.