Who: Currently open to: Matt (
mightstealyrcar), Mello (
searedsuccessor), Jessica (
in_starvation), Ax (
bunzuh), Marco (
guerrilla_morph)
When: Week 18, day 5
Where: Yomisato, the House o' DN, Aliens, and Vampire
What: The household deals with the loss of one of its own.
Style: Prose, present tense
Status: Closed-ish. If you think your character might swing by, let us know! It's almost certainly fine. <3
Warnings:
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Comments 26
There's one thing he needs to know, and he props himself up again. "Marco, wait. That message. The hirac delest." The unfamiliar words come out sounding strange, but Matt's not unsure of them. He's not likely to forget them any time soon. "Why--"
He breaks off. Ask what you really need to know, he tells himself. Tiptoeing around it and hoping Marco will get what you mean will only make it worse. Matt needs, and is afraid of, the answer, and he chews on his lower lip for a moment before managing to ask. "Did. Did he do that because he thought he wasn't coming back?"
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Now Marco wish he hasn't come up with that nice, convenient little lie. Yes, he'll comfort Ax now as the guy who killed Elfangor is dead. But it'll be more than that - even though Elfangor may come back eventually, there is a large amount of pride left in Marco to not let this go. Ruthless is practically his middle name, and he doesn't do it by tip-toeing around peoples' grief. Marco can still feel the burn to go out and lay waste, just like all those years ago when Tom answered the phone and asked if Marco's dad can come to the Sharing. He can still remember the images he fantasized, the sick, violent, bone-smashing, blood-curling. All Marco wants is a name, and he can personally make sure that anyone associated with Elfangor's killer will suffer for it, innocent or not, and Marco knows how to do it too. This city is in the middle of a desert, after all. Venomous snakes abound, rabid dogs lurk in the alleys, that sort of thing ( ... )
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He could think straight enough to do that much, even buffeted by grief as he was. Fukui had something worth more than V right under his fucking nose, and he didn't even look, as far as Matt can tell. Too stupid, or too consumed, for anything but brute revenge.
Sound like someone we know? he thinks, unbidden, and wants to curl up again.
It's different, he argues with himself. Those bastards invaded their home, wanting profit or pain, doesn't matter which. They deserved what they had coming. Had no right to seek revenge for it. Not… Not like that. It's different.
Is it different enough?
Matt doesn't have an answer to that.
I open my mind in the ritual of death, he remembers. It's all there, jumbled because it wasn't meant for the Hitomi, but there.
It's such a tiny thread of hope. "You mean," he begins, slowly, thickly. He's part of me now, memories and secrets, but oh, he was part of me already. "You mean it was something he had to do. Ingrained. That he ( ... )
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Which is understandable. Everyone can't hang onto things the way Mello does. For him, it's fuel, it's a drive, but for someone else, he understands that it can just be a fucking burden.
Maybe he should just walk away, tell Matt that he'll be around if he needs anything. Because as much as there is nothing for Matt in the things that Mello wants to do, it also applies, vice-versa. There's nothing for him here, nothing that will serve to accomplish anything.
But beneath everything, there's a tugging guilt. He walked away from Matt once, already. Took off, did his own thing, became so engulfed in the world that it took a bomb to the fucking face to remind him that there was someone he should have called, a long time ago.
But.
"You want me to go?"
It's rare that Mello actually ever gives anyone a choice, when it comes to his own actions.
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