[ if you told me you were drowing, i wouldn't lend a hand ]
ficathon: write your darlings
fandom: prosa II canonverse
characters: alpha x novus
may or may not be continued. II prompt von tears_into_wine
don't worry about me, i'm not your tragedy.
You try to get under his skin. It would a lie to say you didn't - simply because it's too much fun to watch them suffer while they try to get you out of their veins, while they crack their bones open to pull whatever is left of you out of them, while they realize too late what they have done. You enjoy the moment of terror in their eyes when they comprehend that they succeed in what they wanted, but lost something else during the process. It's almost fun to you, how they struggle, but in the end the people who fall in love with an idea of you annoy you more than you find it funny. People annoy you almost as much as love annoys you.
But there are certain kinds of people you just don't seem to be able to resist - because they are interesting enough, charming enough, hot enough, or simply because you really want to see them stumble in their perfect believes. He's the last kind. He's the most annoying kind, and he's one of the most annoying persons of this kind you've ever met.
So when you end up with him pinning you against the wall of the room the inquisition has assigned to your group, you are tempted to ask a few questions, but you swallow them down instead, because apparently what you tried to do has worked, just not the way you wanted it to and it certainly took Novus a long time to realize it. He's so different from Axis in a way that is the most hilarious thing to you, even if their lives has been so alike. Troubled artist, troubled diplomat, but Novus is only good at pretending when he's calm. And right now, he isn't, his breath shaking and he looks like he's about to collapse onto you, and not in the good way.
Seeing him fail during the mission lowered your interest in him about a million percent, because he almost got all of you killed, and you're certainly not into that. And you're not into incompetent people either, and Novus happens to be the very definition of that. You also figure that he obviously doesn't want to sleep with you, there's a 0,6% chance he's actually attracted to men, you just did your job a little to well. Not the inquisition job, even if you were at least hundred percent more effective than he was, but you don't try to handle diplomatics when you can't actually handle them, and you wouldn't let anyone hit you with a grenade either.
Novus is just a person stuck in this world where he doesn't belong, and he certainly isn't fit for the inquisition. You know he's going to get himself killed eventually, but you won't be the one that kills him, and you won't be the one he gets to call his lover either. You don't want any part in his miserable story - it's bad enough you have to be his side character. You're not interested in anything else.
So you glare at him, let your glance shift over the hands next to your head.
“Not interested”, your voice is ice cold, but you just want to be over with this once and for all, and you don't want to risk anyone passing by or Lei coming back, assuming something that's not true - that your taste is that bad. Okay, he's handsome and you like the way he moves with this black coat of his, but that's about it. At some point, you thought differently - but now you decide on not remembering this night. You hate admitting that you misjudged him, because it's usually nothing that happens to you. But here you were, thinking that the inquisition only hires people who don't fuck up anymore, even if they fucked up at some point.
You would rather make out with Lei at this point, which you certainly wouldn't, because Lei's a freak after all, and there's no way you want to get involved with one of those freak-magicians anymore than you have to. It's about the dramatic point.
Novus looks like you stabbed him, instead of simply stating a fact. You don't think he knows how close you are to stabbing him, because that's always a good alternative to talking, and the way he towers over you disgusts you, like you own him anything, like he has power over you - and you've grown sick by people who think they can cage you a long, long time ago.
“Not interested?”, he repeats, and for his sake you're glad he lets his hands drop.
You shrug. “Not interested.”
“But you said -” “I don't remember saying anything”, you remind him, “I simply went along with what you wanted. That's it. Wanted to try out if you are fun, turns out you aren't.” He almost looks hurt, like a child, and it makes you want to laugh. You've grown old of this teenager bullshit, except it's not teenager bullshit anymore, because apparently everybody does it, this dumb look in their eyes that screams “I thought we could've been something, Alpha! I thought we were special!” and it makes you want to puke, but that would be to much of an honour for these kind of people. You don't get why you always have to be stuck with explaining that no, you didn't meant it that way, that you were just having a little fun, because apparently no one is capable of understanding that.
There's one exception in your life, and that certainly isn't Novus.
“Listen”, you place your hand on his chest, right above his heart, and shove him back. He doesn't resist, mostly because he still looks way too surprised, and you honestly don't have any idea anymore how this guy was supposed to be good at diplomatics at any point of this life. You never even pretended anything about love or attraction, and you're not that hard to read.
“Just be glad you're never going to get acquainted with me, Tybalt. I'm sure you get this, because you're really good at reading humans”, he looks hurt again, and you enjoy it, “but people like me usually aren't good news for a guy like you, who maybe wants to restore his reputation. Nobody likes you if you hang out with an assassin from down there, especially not the people above us. And we're talking about hanging out here, imagine anyone finds out you're tainted enough to fuck scum.”
Your smile is as sharp as a blade, and you can watch it tearing him apart, piece by piece, hitting all the lethal points. He may be good at reading dumb rich people, but you're far better at tearing people apart than he is.
“People like me - just kidding, there are no people like me, get other people killed. Especially seemingly nice guys like you.” He takes a step back, crossing his arms, like he doesn't know what to say. Maybe it's the first time in years someone has talked back to him and his honey-dripping tongue, but for you, honey tastes like ashes and shards of glass, like empty promises, honey reeks of people you want to forget and the worst time in your life. “But since I don't care about you at all - congratulations, I won't be the reason you get killed. You can go and worry about someone else. And don't imagine things. You're not important enough for me to be your fucking tragedy.”
That doesn't mean your life won't end in a tragedy, you don't say it aloud. Maybe it would've changed things if you did, but if you are completely honest, you don't think so - sacrifices need to be made, and in the end, it's his own fault. Maybe it's theirs, a little, for messing with the wrong people, maybe it's the job gone wrong that's going to get all of you killed.
He doesn't even manage to die in a heroic way. He just dies.