sanguisx

[sanguisx]

wraithofthewasteland:

Her skin goes cold in an instant, as an unnatural sort of silence fills the space between them. And she knows exactly what mistakes she’s made. “I didn’t… mean it like that.” She turns as he passes by her, following after him for a single, hesitant step before stopping where she stands. She didn’t mean to imply this his presence might be unnecessary now, would never dream of even thinking that it could be unappreciated. Only that… it seemed to her, based on a few passing sentences, that he was only here out of obligation. That he couldn’t leave as Helaine had, and that was something he resented. A prospect she certainly couldn’t stomach, and something she wouldn’t want him to feel bound to now, when she thought they might have been working toward something more genuine. “I wanted y- I want you to stay. Here. Just- if you could-”

Her lips part, and fall shut again, pressing into a thin line as she tries to find the right words. The reassurances, the pleas for him to stay, to understand. The explanations of just how much the companionship they’ve found in each other has meant to her, truly – something she hasn’t dared to express yet, for fear of chasing it all away. She lets her eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, hoping that such a reprieve could be enough to put this rush of thoughts and fears in order.

“…I can’t be mad at her for this.”

Despite how unexpected the confession is, there’s little surprise in her eyes when she opens them to finally, properly look at him. Only a tired sort of shame, uniquely unabashed. How could it be anything else? She’s very nearly looking at a reflection of her own hurt feelings, shared instead of repressed, practically begging to be soothed. And what had she done in the face of it all? “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” She scolded him, invalidated him, and all because he shared something that she finds all too intolerable in herself.

“I just can’t let say all that to me, because then it’s…” It’s, what? Real? Unavoidable? She’s sure she already knew, somewhere in that corner of her mind where she shoved this hurt aside, that there would be no stopping it. She just thought… she’d have more time. With the relief, with the happiness of the reunion, before she had no choice but to talk herself out of it. “She’s back now, and everything has to be okay, because I c- I can’t lose more people.”

Her mother, gone, and she’s always understood why. She doesn’t mourn it. She’s not so selfish. Her father, lost to her, and despite all his mistakes, that was entirely her doing in the end. The sting of his absence isn’t any easier to bear despite her still-too-recent revelation that she wasn’t wrong to leave him. And Derek, who was so much, so much more than anybody else knew, reduced to little more than an emptiness in her chest, a shadow in the back of her mind. Somebody she hardly remembers, somebody her own grief, her own selfishness, erased for her. While she just let it happen and wasted away.

And she was so worried she’d lost Helaine, as numbly resigned as she was hopeful most days, and the idea of feeling anything other than sheer relief at her return feels so unbelievably greedy, so vile, that she can nearly taste the sourness of it in her mouth. She can’t let herself lose that over any hurt feelings now, not when it would be so much easier to convince herself that it’s all petty and unnecessary and undeserved.

“I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m sorry. You can think those things and you can feel hurt over this and I won’t think any less of you, I promise, but I just- I can’t help you with it, I can’t fix it. I can’t listen to any of it. Not yet.” Regardless of how much she might want to. How badly she wishes she could lean into that impulse to fix, to make things easier on him. “Because it’s taking… everything I got right now, not to let myself feel that way, too.”

Leon stills at the sound of her voice, as he always did when she spoke, ever willing to listen, to pay attention, to give her words a home.

And he instantly wishes he hadn’t.

Perhaps it’s some form of poetic reminder that he was never made to share, that his feelings should always remain his own, locked away in a deep abyss, a demon of his own. To share the burden is a fool’s move and he wonders when it was he became such a thing again. He could blame the line he’d crossed with hope when he’d met her, when Jae had taught him what friends could be. But it’s his own fault in the end, as it always is, and he hears it in the hurt of her voice.

This could of, should of been a moment of joy, one filled with shared relief. Their friend had returned to them, albeit beaten and exhausted, but still whole, he hoped. They should of spoke of their next move, how Helaine would take his room so she’d remain comfortable in her recovery, how he’d line the walls from floor to ceiling to protect her whilst Violet played nurse and took care of the stubborn woman, listening to her stories and the answer to where she’d been. 

But he’d ruined it the moment he’d chosen to share his demons instead. Idiot.

Looking to his bandaged hand, Violet’s work neat despite the mess he’d made, Leon works to untie the knot keeping it all together, unwrapping his hand as fast as he could. He didn’t need... this. He couldn’t bear to be bound and contained, magic collared by comfort when he most certainly didn’t deserve it now, not when she stood behind him threatening to fall into pieces. And he can’t decide what’s worse; the fact he’d made her so or the fact he couldn’t stomach standing before her any more.

And yet, he doesn’t leave. No matter how much he wants to, now matter how loudly his head screams for him to continue walking away, he... can’t. Perhaps it’s a testament to her hold over him, or perhaps evidence to just how weak he’s become. 

Tossing the bandage aside, Leon flexes his fingers and slowly, he turns to face her, taking small steps towards her with his head bowed. He carries the silence with him like a well deserved weight for being so selfish and it’s not until he stands in front of her that he does anything, regret sinking deeply into the pit of his stomach.

Hesitantly, the witch reaches out, wrapping his arms around Violet’s shoulders. He pulls her into him, tucking her away beneath his chin as he once had when the world became a blur and water clouded her mind. In his own true fashion, he says nothing at first, simply standing there, holding her as close as she’d allow. 

“I’m... fine,” he whispers quietly, staring off into the distance, “I’m fine. You... needn’t worry yourself. It’s... it’s good that she’s back and... and in time, it will be okay. You won’t lose anyone else, Violet.”

Pulling away slowly, delicately, careful to steady himself and the wave of nausea swirling within, Leon offers her the smallest and briefest smile before, with some sheer force of will, he presses his lips against her forehead. “I... I need to work. Go back to my room out of the cold and stay with her for a while. Tell her she can stay there as long as she needs. I’ll remove my things, she needs the space more than I do.” Leon stands taller, straighter, swallows roughly at the lump forming in his throat. 

He looks to the floor as he walks past her in the opposite direction, back towards the space he’d found Helaine, to the gates and beyond. “I’ll... be around,” he calls back over his shoulder, and soon enough, he’s gone.

[sanguisx]

slowly, i am falling, oh falling. won’t you come around? somehow it ain’t real, yet it had to be real. still, you like me for nothing, let your eyes do the talking.

[sanguisx]

wraithofthewasteland:

Something in her jaw twitches, tenses, as he explains his mood, hard enough and suddenly enough that she tilts her head down to study the scuffed toe of her boot, the slightly frayed laces, the stitching along the edges. It’s a far easier sight to process than his expression, or his whispered tone. Or especially the explanation he offers, the honesty she knows she should accept with something closer to gratitude and understanding, and not this rotten need to reject, to correct, to cover her ears against it entirely.

There’s an ache deep in her chest, after all, reaching out for his words, for the hurt in his voice, and it’s all she can do to keep it under control. For the moment, it seems to be enough to override her more passive instincts, her habit of conceding to other people’s needs and opinions to maintain some semblance of peace. It’s the kind of stubbornness that’s rarely seen the light of day – something deeply private, a weapon she’s only used on private matters, one that she was sure she’d never turn on anybody else. She could never be so presumptuous.

She’s just… not sure what else she can do, when she’s so blatantly faced with everything she could have happily kept repressed, and so soon after leaving her mentor’s presence.

“I’d think you, of all people, would know-” Her voice is quiet, steady, the words feeling more like a hum of white noise as she struggles to keep things held in properly. “-that she deserves more than that.”

The benefit of the doubt is a concept she’ll live and die by, gladly so, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. It’s built too strongly into her foundation, a security blanket she found for herself at far too young an age, and even when she finds herself entirely at a loss, she knows she can always fall back on it to soothe the aches. People have their reasons, and regardless of her own feelings, or the effects their actions might have on her, she’s never entitled to know them. All she can do is modify her reactions appropriately.

“She’s not- she’s not… a bad person.” And still she can’t bring herself to properly look at him, all too aware of what she could see reflected in that expression. Her gaze only shifts from her own boots to his, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth for a moment to compose her thoughts. “And she wouldn’t do this without a good reason. You should know that.”

She knows that. She does.

“And she came back.” If her words were quiet before, it’s nothing compared to this, her usual soft-spoken tone hushed further by something close to exhaustion, something shaded in resignation. It’s enough to have her glancing toward him properly, only for a moment before she settles her gaze somewhere near his shoulder. “That’s what matters most. So you can sit here and feel sorry for yourself because she did something she had to do, or you could trust that she- that your oldest friend would never just leave you behind out of selfishness.”

Her words are nothing less than genuine, no bite to them, no real judgment against him. She understands his feelings too well to judge them. And her next words are quite the same. Genuine, simple, open. Tired. Disappointed. Hurt, quietly, and tempered to the best of her abilities.

“Or you could go. I guess. Now that she’s back. I’m sorry you felt stuck here with us.”

‘Or you could go.’

“I... see.” And so, perhaps the story ends here. An unhappy ending, as it always is for someone so monstrous. It’s written in every fairy tale, after all. The creature undeserving of feeling or the right to care inevitably does, breaking the one rule created with the intention of keeping them safe. And it’s beautiful for a while; truly, perhaps even peaceful. A new kind of silence that lacked scrutiny and hatred, one where, if one could ever be so lucky, may even hold some kind of solace that allowed them to heal.

But all light sees the dark for what it truly is in the end; wrong.

And right now, Leon couldn’t decide which part of him she saw. Perhaps the selfishness in wishing, as she put it, his oldest friend had found it within her to alert him of her departure, to allow him the chance to prepare, to place himself in a better position for caring for her people in his absence. Her people, not his. Or maybe it’s the way he expects so much of her, how he mistakenly believes she’ll understand and validate his feelings and the way his heart aches with more than just irritation and pain. So then, perhaps it’s wrong he feels betrayed at all.

As a silence falls between them, one that lacked the comfort and peace it so often brought, Leon allows the cigarette between his fingers to fall to the ground. He stomps it out with the toes of his boot slowly and, when it’s nothing more than small pieces against the concrete, Leon looks to the girl before him sadly.

“You should know, I haven’t wanted to leave for a long time. I was referring to the days after the raiders attacked the hotel and we found your friends, when I was sure my job here, the one Helaine asked that I do, was done. You, however, convinced me to stay. I stayed for you, because I thought that’s what you wanted. I had no intention of leaving any time soon... but I see now that I’m wrong about that, too.”

‘You could go.’

Leon’s gaze falls back to the housing and the room his things still lay in. He tucks his hands away into his pockets, his thumb pressing firm into his palm. A reminder that, it’s his own mistake for allowing his heart to lead instead of his head. His purpose in the last few years, after all, was to be nothing more than a weapon against the demons and the things haunting the night. A fool then, he supposes, for believing it’s time to move on from that.

“I never said she’s a bad person, I don’t believe as much either, but, as my oldest friend, I suppose it’s wrong to think she should of told me anything, to be given the chance to make my time here more efficient, or even aid her in some way, so that maybe I wouldn’t have to find her half dead in the snow instead. Forgive me... I shouldn’t expect so much.” Because God knows he isn’t deserving.

His words are quiet and so coated in pain that his voice trembles and shakes, uneasy and broken, filled with spaces where it simply hurt too much to continue speaking. And for all his struggles to look at those he finds himself in company with, it matters not now, for he can’t take his eyes away from Violet, certainly so as he continues speaking.

‘You could go, now that’s she’s back.’

“... As you wish, then.” Leon clears his throat and makes to move past her, his head bowed. “I’ll gather my things.”

[sanguisx]

wraithofthewasteland:

Silence is no stranger to her, and certainly not with him – they so often find it with each other, and so easily at that, perhaps sitting quietly in each other’s presence more often than they actually speak most days. It’s become… a break from it all, really, a sanctuary, an opportunity to simply breathe, and exist, and not be forgotten.

But right now, his silence only means uncertainty, in the face of a question that she thought could be answered simply enough. It leaves her hesitant for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her backpack as she adjusts its position over her shoulder. Uncertainty is dangerous. Dark clouds are dangerous. And when, finally, the only answer she gets is a shake of his head, she only feels more ill at ease. It’s not about her, it can’t be about her. She struggles to make herself believe it.

“She’s… good, I’m good. All- all good, all around.” At least, she thinks so. It’s an odd thing to settle into, far more than the last reunion, and still she feels that too much is… incomplete. Unfinished. A feeling that will pass in time, she’s sure. She can cling to the relief for now, and that will be enough. And she can, maybe, clear this uncertainty. “What’s wrong, Leon?”

“Good,” Leon nods. He believes her, as awkward as she is, as he is. Of all the care he could of found for Helaine, Violet, in his mind, is the best kind. Still, it doesn’t ease him in anyway which in itself is strange enough. The witch brings his thumb and forefinger to his temples, massaging at the growing headache that thumps away within.

‘What’s wrong, Leon?’

He looks to her between his fingers, wondering if she expected a different kind of reaction from him. Maybe she thought he’d be relieved and perhaps even happy for Helaine’s return. And admittedly, he is. But... 

“I’m...” Angry? Disappointed? Neither one fit the bill and it takes a moment of silence for Leon to find the right word, to acknowledge what’s truly eating away at him from within all the frustration. 

Hurt.

“Violet, I’m not good at this,” Leon finally whispers, his voice the definition of frustration. “I’m don’t-- She left. She left when we needed her, when I needed her. She didn’t tell me.”

“She should of told me. If she needed help, if there was something she needed me to do-- She should of told me and she didn’t. She asked me to stay with you, Violet, with this group. I would be back in New York right now if it wasn’t for her but she left. She got to leave when I couldn’t.” Leon’s hand falls from his face and points back towards the housing, towards the window where his room lay within.

“People have walked away from me every day of my life, and I’ve accepted it without complaint. But I thought we were different. Especially now, especially after-- She should of told me.”

[sanguisx]

pvttycake:

Though she’d grown up in New York and was used to the seasons, Patty had never liked the cold. Of course, who really did, but Patty had her own reasons. This much clothing was a nightmare for her. It wasn’t about showing off but she just couldn’t relax if she had to spend more than a few hours suited up, thighs and shoulders swaddled in cotton. She’d much rather have them bare, even now, though she thinks that would only make it harder for Leon to talk to her.

He had no idea what to do with her. Always dropping his eyes at what felt like every reminder that she had limbs and skin; a body, right in front of him. Teasing wasn’t even necessary. She just had to be herself and he was flinching, looking down, as if to give her privacy she hadn’t asked for. Patty slowly lowered her leg to the table, knee still bent, and tucked her foot underneath the opposite leg, fingers gently knocking on the table surface between them as she continued looking at him.

“Who’re they?” She asked, finally reaching up to remove his cigarette from her lips to exhale what she’d inhaled from it, then turn the lit end to face her before popping it back in normally. “…weird brand.”

“They’re... a group from the 1930′s and 1940′s,” he mumbles, fidgeting where he sat. He could feel her eyes on him and if it doesn’t make the colour in his cheeks flourish further, the glance to her face does, his cigarette finding her mouth again. 

And it’s odd, how the first thing he thinks about is how she’s smoking it without much complaint, how she doesn’t care that’d been in his mouth first. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t share things like this, most looking his way presuming he’s sick and the like. Leon feels his face burning, sure the colour is sharp compared to the pale of his skin.

“It’s all I could find. Most of the good brands are gone now, unfortunately.”

“Are... you alright?”

[sanguisx]

wraithofthewasteland:

It doesn’t catch her entirely off-guard, seeing his sour, shadowed expression. She’s grown accustomed to it well enough, after all, the quiet seriousness of him – it fits nicely enough beside her own. What she finds a touch closer to surprising, though, is the way it seems to… linger, even after her arrival. It’s not something she’s come to take for granted, nothing she particularly expects from him, of course. She’s simply become accustomed to it. The way his expression so often shifts when she joins him.

So she can’t help the flash of worry when she reaches him, and he only offers a curt word. Maybe… she shouldn’t have left him so quickly. Maybe she should have stayed with him a moment longer, at the very least let him finish his sentence before she rushed to Helaine’s side. She certainly could have spared even a single word of gratitude.

Only a flash, though, before she’s reasoning herself away from such fears. There’s no reason to think any of this has anything to do with her, she couldn’t possibly be so self-involved. Helaine is his oldest friend. Her absence can’t have been easy on him.

“Grumpy,” she chides, though her tone is soft as can be, more concerned than accusatory. And she doesn’t hesitate to add an even gentler, “Thank you,” accepting the backpack he’s been keeping an eye on for her. Distantly, as she slips it over her shoulder, she might be content to realize her assumption was correct, that her belongings were safe with him. But she’s more occupied with this dark cloud of his, and what she might be able to do to fix it.

“Everything good?”

Leon’s cigarette seemingly takes his attentions priority, taking it between his fingers to watch the embers burn away at the end. He exhales smoke through his nose silently, allowing Violet to adjust to her backpack in peace, though he can’t help but keep a watchful eye on her in his peripheral just in case she should need him. 

He’s not quick to answer, and perhaps it isn’t uncommon for him to take his time with his words, especially around Violet, always seeking the right ones. But this was... different, as if announcing his obvious frustrations were more sin than a potential discussion between two people. His burden to carry, his grudge to defeat.

So at first, the cigarette gets his answer, a small shake of the head as it slips between his lips again, his teeth abusing the filter if only to put his frustration somewhere else. He knows how silly he’s being, is aware of how, in a world like today, holding such a terrible feeling over someone isn’t the best way to use whatever little time they have left.

But he can’t help it, for he’s never been good at managing emotions in a rational manner, certainly not when they’re his own, not like this.

“Are you alright?” he decides to ask, and then, perhaps with slight reluctance, “... is she alright?”

[sanguisx]

@wraithofthewasteland

She’d left him instantly, which, as unsurprising as it was, left the witch momentarily far more sulkier than he had been when he’d arrived to share the... good news. Helaine’s return summoned quite the internal conflict, a mixture of relief in seeing her still among those of the living, a little worse for wear but nothing rest couldn’t fix and the complete frustration she’d left in the first place.

It does enough to continue curdling his mood, how he stands coldly with a smoke between his fingers, looking out towards the building he’d left the other witch in, where Violet presumably worked hard in now. Her backpack, left behind in the rush to see Helaine, sat snug upon his back, both straps over his shoulders, ready to fight off anyone or anything that may try to take it.

And it’s in this spot that he waits for what feels like the entire afternoon, protecting Violet’s things, smoking away as he tries to figure out his own feelings, allowing what he’s sure is a happy little reunion to go on for as long as it needs to. He almost feels guilty he’s not in there too, asking questions whilst trying to understand. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to, not yet. He’s not a stranger to people walking away, so used to it he hardly expects anything less any more. 

But Helaine... she’s the last person he’d ever believe would abandon them.

And Violet’s return isn’t greeted with a smile or a wonder to how it went. Leon simply takes her bag from his shoulders and holds it out for her, still sour and unhappy as he had been when she’d left him, his fifth cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Here.”

[sanguisx]

‘Constantine’ (2005). //  “John smokes” gifset 14-A of ?

[sanguisx]

If I went to hell would I care, would it really be different from heaven? No I don’t know what I’m saying; these aren’t my answers. I don’t care about being alive—

— Alice Notley, from “Fill Out Questionnaire For Good,” Culture of One

[sanguisx]

A monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.

Ocean Vuong, from “A Letter To My Mother That She Will Never Read”, published in The New Yorker (via mythaelogy)

[sanguisx]

if violet rejected you, would you get with patty?

     “I don’t think I even understand this question or what it’s supposed to mean.”

[sanguisx]

how does patty make you feel?

     “Too many different things.”

[sanguisx]

do you think you've gotten better with touching people lately?

     “I... think I can bear it for a little bit longer now, depending on who it is.”

[sanguisx]

how does it feel to have helaine back?

     “... Ask me another time.”

[sanguisx]

do you think you and bryce could ever be friends?

     “.... I think Bryce has a particular type of person he considers good      enough to be a friend and I don’t think I’ll ever fall into that category,     even if I worked hard to try. We’ll be whatever he decides we are.     Acquaintances, friends, pointless enemies -- I’m fine either way.” 

[sanguisx]

why do you refuse the help from others? why do you always lie and tell them you're fine?

     “Because it’s true. I don’t need help.”

[sanguisx]

is there anybody in the group you WOULDN'T protect?

     “No.”