Night 59: Men's Bathrooms (M41-M80)

[deadlyjuliet]

[from here]

Exquisite. There was no other way to describe being in a hall one moment and then suddenly appearing in the restroom in less time than it took the rest of the Institute to take a breath. This place was dark as always and Grell grinned as he realized it didn't matter this time. A death god's eyes, nearsighted as they might be, were

Comments

[falseblack]

There was something like a beat between them, a break in the flow of time. Nigredo watched as the other went through a string of shifts, as countenance contorted to faces quite unlike Rubedo. While the killer in Nigredo understood he was caught in the grasp of another and urged himself to act in defense, the child looked on, unmoved. The sword in his (known or unknown) brother's hands whistled through the air, and suddenly, he couldn't tell if his heart or his mind had been ripped in two

[purpletaint]

[from here]He knew his twin’s heartbeat better than he knew his own

[damned_monsters]

Surprisingly enough, the child took the attack without any complaint, without even crying out. And yet the mimic could tell that he was in a different sort of anguish, something that it could feed on and grown strong from. Its stolen lips curled up into a sated smirk, but then --

Then the door opened and yet another one strolled in. The creature knew enough from the few memories it could borrow of this Rubedo to realize that this was the third and last brother. The one who could heal, the one who couldn't be predicted. The tables had suddenly been turned and it only had a split second to react.

And so it switched its attack from one brother to the other, from black to white, as it turned with the sword still in hand, just fast enough to block Albedo's onslaught with the blade. It was clear now that Albedo's arm was no longer just an arm, but that it had been transformed into something else through his own power. That wasn't something that the mimic could compete with, but it had a few tricks up its sleeve

[falseblack]

A smile would keep him there. Laughter would break him of stagnation.

Another's waveform all but shone in the dark interior--magenta and violet and a color he couldn't name. Nigredo started at the onslaught of emotion as the brother he had once intended to return to met hand to sword, as twins confronted in a nature far too familiar to call a first. He walked to the stall door in uneven footsteps, the effort forcing blood to pour forth from the hole in his chest. Shock ebbed and placed determination before him. There was no choice. He couldn't name a conscious decision. He needed only to reach out and pull them apart.

Since when did you decide you liked Nigredo more than me?

What did he have that I didn't?

Instead, to freeze. That was the way of it, was it not? In regards to him, it seemed. To place him as an excuse for brothers to wage war while he didn't. Wouldn't. And they would watch the ones they loved turn against each other

[purpletaint]

Blade met power and sparks fell in a multicolored shine. It seemed that this thing could at least move in defense to some skill. With Nigredo’s blade, he would add. But the weapons did not stop there, and issuing forth from Rubedo’s mouth came words Albedo never thought to hear. And once heard, something eased inside of him. Loosened the deadly grip of hate into something sharper, a languid ease. The creature laughed as if a duplicate of Albedo himself, and Albedo smiled almost fondly.

The hand that had attacked twisted to grip the blade wholly in a firm grasp. He yanked forward on it at the same time his power billowed outward with force to throw the creature further back. “Twin?” Albedo echoed, laughter in the tones. “As if that blood traitor ever called me that in such casual use. And caring where my affections lay?” Albedo giggled, then tsked at the creature. “Better do your homework. That was my role, not his.” As if Rubedo ever cared anything of Albedo. As if the time was spent at all on unearthing the mysteries of the white-

[damned_monsters]

The creature tensed when Albedo grabbed for the blade, but it didn't have the time to wrench it back away from the boy before a wave of power had been sent through it. The energy moved through the blade as a conduit and then blasted right into the mimic's adopted form, causing it to cry out (around sharpened teeth, and with its voice distorted) and stumble back against the wall.

It didn't matter if its facts were wrong now, of course. The cat was already out of the bag and while these two were giving off enough negative emotion to make it feel satiated for a day or so, it still had to fight its way out.

With its fangs revealed and Rubedo's face distorted by a mouth that was suddenly too large, the mimic was ready to fight. It tossed the sword to the side, across the room, and then lunged for Albedo, hands reaching out to grab the boy's shoulders so that it could dig its teeth into his neck.

[purpletaint]

It seemed the creature wasn’t in the mood for further banter. The sword went spinning off, and Albedo straightened slowly, knees bent on the chance quick movement was needed. He had half thought the thing would take off after that, and he would have to give chase. Instead it came at him, despite the differences that were present now. Albedo felt its hands on him, and still, still recognized those hands, and for half a beat, he thought to let it. Not for the reasons Nigredo had thought, but for his own. For the simple fact of it was okay, if it was Rubedo.

…Faulty thoughts, that. And not wholly allowed in Albedo’s present state. His mind shifted and surged, for Albedo knew, knew well, what was required of Rubedo if they were to meet, one enlightened against one born a perfect weapon. Dragon versus near god, and if they were to come to terms, it would be through blood and burning, rage and hate, and Albedo knew that, had it pressed into him until he sobbed from the force. Yes, he knew

[falseblack]

What passed through awareness revealed little--a facet of conversation and a flutter in the air. Nothing of answers and deficiency in all else, and Nigredo was fading. There was murderous intent, but the child couldn't place the origin. Whether a want for death came hand-in-hand with protection or a sentiment on its own, he did not know. Could not say.

The child watched very carefully, but the images refused to stay. They danced to a offbeat rhythm as they pulled away from comprehension, falling to the wayside. There was an outcry, a play at war, and Rubedo's mouth shaped to suit that of a monster. Funny. In consideration of the implication, it seemed comedic for this brother. To act much like the label he had once despised with such a poignant display was contrary. So much so that it felt unreal

[purpletaint]

At the briefest stutter, Albedo's head whipped to the side to view Nigredo. And as the other started to fall forward, Albedo jolted and dove to reach him first, a hand slipping around his brother's waist as he cushioned him with his knees. There was blood soaking through already, and he lightly moved the material to view the wound. No, not fatal. It had not even broken ribs or exposed bone, but it was on thin skin and would bleed fiercely. He knew this in the way that he knew the lines from before--not of experience but of exposure.

In that self-same way, he angled his arm to mimic the wound and pressed firmly, then stared at Nigredo, eyes bright and unreadable. "Nigredo." A question. A command. A complete focus in this moment.

[falseblack]

There was a question here. A name called. A label considered to be unnecessary to a tool such as he, but to him, it was his name. Nigredo. Nigredo. It was perhaps the only thing that was truly his, and thus, the form that fled moved to accept.

The lids of his eyes trembled, and the boy looked as though he was trying to remember being awake. Someone was touching him, keeping the fire in his chest from pouring out its contents, even as he thought that someone should let it. He had lost something. He didn't think he could ever get it back.

So they should end it here, should they not?

Nigredo whimpered but did not move to open his eyes.

[purpletaint]

Attention was refined to a single point and he caught the fluttering lashes against cheeks, heard with a sharp clarity the quiet whimper. Albedo inhaled sharply, something denied with that sound. A portion of him wanted to shove his brother away and curl in a corner alone, but that was overwhelmed with force, beaten into pavement and left a mess there

[falseblack]

Yes, loss. Consuming and belligerent, the cause and the form of decay his soul had given to. How long had Nigredo been in this state? Thirteen days should not feel like years. The blood pooling at their feet need only be his own. What complaint did he have of loss? When there was always one who could claim to it more fiercely than he, what use did he have of lacking? He had moved in his own way, forcing his brothers at a distance as to not feel it

[purpletaint]

The reach in waveform was grasped in turn, and Albedo did not think to pull away, even now. It'd be too simple, really. At this point in time. To reach a bit further, rend what was soft and sweet, and tear Nigredo's psyche to shreds. Here, still, he felt that. Here, still, he also how easy that would be. Nigredo was already breaking--Albedo could ruin him with the smallest effort, a move and design and it would be over. It would be done

[falseblack]

One might have tried. Tugged and pulled at waveform and found it utterly immutable. Ingrained past awareness lay an infinite constant, immortal as another, living in spite of annihilation. The rot was his own. Any change to his soul was what he permitted, and he would have permitted this one's (or the other's) designs. One might had tried

jsdhf the slide into gay.........

[purpletaint]

Nigredo only watched him, and Albedo felt the pressure of that gaze. Not of the weight but of the allowance. Nigredo had said it, but in other ways. Even now, hadn't he? The transition of words said and unsaid came to this alone: Nigredo would not live but for Albedo's will

[falseblack]

It wasn't quite apathy. It was a step or two below indifference. The reaction he carried graced closer to resignation, and yet, Nigredo knew the unspoken understanding was wrong. Wanting death was never the correct method; he understood this better than anyone. It was simply unavoidable when it came to him. Nigredo was far from one who wished for cessation, the end of existence. This was a byproduct of who he was