caughtinanetwork | 1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

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1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

[Wow, Darkleer is actually communicating with the network on a whole for once instead of being a miserable hermit. Must be a special occasion. Does anyone know his wiggling day?]

Now then. Have we all cleansed ourselves of the mess and done whatever strange death rituals foreign species feel the need to do?

[Okay, maybe it is just Darkleer being a coldhearted dick. Eh.]

I believe we should focus on the more important matter here. I have seen discussions scattered throughout the network, but it would be best to have all our thoughts and speculations focused in one place on both the destruction of those so-called faeries and on the recent appearance of that Carol individual.

For those of you who are oblivious and prone to missing the obvious, things are changing in this place. It would be best to be prepared.

[Don't be fooled, he's not doing this to be nice. He's doing what any troll knows to do: looking out for himself and the few he cares about. If that means even faintly working with others, well, he'll learn to deal.]

[Also, that's all the network is getting from him. Click goes the camera!]

[Filtered to Summoner]

[Darkleer hesitates before sending this one out, although his voice is just as stoic and stern as ever.]

Since your children in particular seem to be taking this badly, perhaps it would benefit you to know that those things which followed us were nothing more than mere robots. The technology may have been organic in nature, but it was still nothing truly living. No pain, no loss of life.

That's all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[... Heh.]

What kind was it?

...We are not going down this path of conversation.

[Another ear twitch.]

What path of conversation?

The inevitable one, apparently.

[All the ear twitching as he sighs.]

Just tell me that you weren't staring at certain lower portions of my body so that I can rest easy tonight.

Since when was the aim ever you getting an 'easy rest'?

Ah, of course.

[This is still a bit awkward, but the back and forth nature of the conversation is familiar, and Darkleer finds himself turning back.]

It is your goal in life to utterly tarnish the ears of any poor fool who stays in your company for too long, and I have the utter masochistic nature as to keep indulging you.

I already figured you for a masochist, Tink... [Grin.]

[With some of the things hinted, and what was told to him about a 'collar', he already made that assumption.]

[Also this conversation is making it easier to not focus on more serious and depressing things, so, all right then.]

[...Gah.]

I do not have the slightest inkling what you could be going on about now.

[But wow, that sure is a lot of blue going up to his ears and the back of his neck. Darkleer's voice at least remains calm- BECAUSE HE DOESN'T STUTTER LIKE SOME PEOPLE- and he seems to be taking a bit more interest than is really necessary in what he's doing.]

[A huh, like he can't tell, Darkleer, give him some credit.]

[And stutter, what stutter, no one here has a stutter.]

[He smiles, lips thin, wings sliding out behind him as he leans forward, still leaning forward.]

You don't? Hmm, well I suppose you aren't the one that filled me in. [A shrug.] A little birdy told me.

[...]

[Just.]

[Stunned silence.]

[Oh god.]

[Is his mouth hanging open? Whoops. Give him a minute, Summoner. Just.. going to raise a hand to his face and... cover it...]

I am going to erase that bird from existence.

[It's said very muffled.]

Heh heh, I could have just assumed she was joking around with me, but, your reaction kind of works like a confirmation.

[Grin wider, eyes slimming.]

A collar, Darkleer? Really now?

[That collar is one of the more tame things he's done.]

Shut up. Just... shut up and- darnit!

[Wow, sure did accidentally break the knife he was using there.]

[His face gets serious when he hears the metallic ring of the knife break and Summoner immediately tenses up, eyes going wide, face draining, the sound echoing in his mind.]

[The lack of comeback makes the sudden silence startling, and he turns around once more. His mind quickly takes stock of the situation, and he carefully abandons his task to sink down into a crouch.]

...Summoner?

[Lysunder quickly jerks back as Darkleer crouches down, hand yanking to his side, fingers curled, as if getting ready to remove his lance from his sylladex. The movement is so fast though, he doesn't even think when it happens, and when the Summoner realizes the position he's taking he stops. His jaw clenches, and he braces both his feet on the floor, knees bent up, and pushes himself away from the other with a sense of urgency.]

Lysunder.

[Darkleer says his name firmly but carefully. That same caution is in how he rises up, slow and steady.]

Deep breathes.

[Deep breathing is really hard when you're running, and flying, and dodging, and trying desperately to grab that man's hand as he reaches for you, before getting grabbed by a monstrous claw and dragged into the writhing body of other men and woman fighting. Deep breathing is really really hard when you are doing all these things, seeing them, the sounds of the knife breaking is a constant, over and over again and soon he crouches into himself smashing his hands over his ears to smooth them over the sides of his head, eyes closing.]

Shhh! Shush shush shhhh. I'm sorry, just shh, I'm sa-sa-sorry!

Edited 2012-01-24 03:08 (UTC)

[He is distracted, and Darkleer sees his chance.]

[His height affords him a long stride, a quick one, and he's before Lysunder in a heartbeat. Quickly, hoping to catch the other before he can react, he reaches forward with both hands, aiming to pull him into an embrace of iron.]

Quiet, now. Quiet. You're going to be okay.

[No, no, no, being grabbed, someone is grabbing him. His wings quickly unfold, beating the air hard, hands darting up infront of him to clench his claws into Darkleer's chest, his fangs bared. Lysunder freezes up like that quickly, his pupils small, eyes wide open. But soon, his hands start to shake and he sees what's actually happening, not what he thought he saw, what he felt, and his hands loosen.]

[He tries to swallow, but it catches in his throat, and he can't find the strength to push away, not that Darkleer's own strength would allow such a thing.]

I- eh, I...

[He starts, wings slowly lowering. His eye lids lower along with them, but he catches sight of where his claws has sunk into Darkleer's front and that alone is what makes him hitch, a small high pitched sound leaving his barely broken open lips.]

I'm so sorry, that I am here, that I, did that, that I am not whe-whe ...Where I should be, that cannot fufill w-what I'm supposed to be doing. That you, y-you are here like this, that I, I can't do this w-w-without-

[Darkleer's chest is warm when he presses his forehead to it, hands flat, palms down against the blue blood's front before they slowly curl into fists. Summoner can feel his face heat up, his ears are like fire. He does his best to keep his head tilted down as he feels orange leak from his eye sockets, freezing against the burning of his cheeks and neck. He doesn't want to be here, like this, here as in this house, this situation, with someone showing any signs of attachment or compassion, this forest, this huge stupid fucking bubble. He can't be here, he's not all here. His confidence, his will power to keep going is still on Alternia, in the hearts of the many he leads. All he is here is a shell, his insides echoing constantly with the slightest outside influence. Like a tuning fork, ready to hum the cries of the war he still has yet to see to the end.]

Quiet.

[Of course he wouldn't be able to leave. Not if Darkleer is determined he stay.]

[The only sign that he even feels those nails tearing through cloth is a miniscule tightening of his jaw, but Darkleer bears through it. This is hardly the worst pain he has felt. He's scratched himself on jagged metal worse. He can take anything the Cavalreaper can throw at him, and will, if that's what it comes down to.]

[So he holds him, and waits, because if there is anything he is good at, it is waiting. He waits through the stuttered words, the way the other presses against him. He waits through it all, and keeps him close.]

You don't need to speak. I understand. Just breathe, Lysunder. Breathe.

[A long whine leaves him, eyes squinting, which only prove to release more tears down either sides of his face. The General, in all his stubborn need to hide these emotions, thoughts, frustrations, realizes that he needed to just accept what was currently happening. And what that was, was that he didn't need to speak, he didn't need to point out his wrongs, or flaws, or bring attention to what just had run through his mind when the knife snapped. What he accepted in this moment was how obvious it was that those problems didn't matter to Darkleer, and that the blue blood was just choosing to accept whatever ills Summoner had in that moment.]

[It was that he was comfortable like this, that it was warm, and welcoming, and that he was for a moment, all right with crying like this.]

[It was that he wanted to-- and did-- just curl forward into the other, allowing himself to sob in the same fashion he had been doing alone every time a trigger had occurred, every time a voice echoed in his mind, or he woke up in a cold sweat after trying to just get some sleep for once.]

[Lysunder was thankful he didn't have to speak, and was thankful Darkleer was there, not trying to solve Summoner's problems, or help him solve them with some outside influence, but just accepting them as they were.]

[Lately, he seems to be doing a lot of holding scared trolls. Darkleer almost wishes he could understand it keeps happening.]

[Almost, because it is hardly of any importance at all. What matters now is simply staying still save for the soft movements of his fingers. They trace lightly against where they lay over Lysunder's sides, numbers and signs which have no meaning.]

[Darkleer stays quiet, head bowed and the tips of his hair brushing against the other troll in his arms.]

[He stays quiet for a while, the only sounds leaving him being random hiccups and gasps as he tries to calm down. Eventually he manages it, his eyes slowly opening and staring into the cloth of Darkleer's shirt. Hands are flat again, fingers kneading into the cloth slightly with the exception of his right hand playing with various strands of black hair.]

Heh... [A forced laugh, holding himself back from letting it become a sob.]

I really am a childish fool, aren't I?

Perhaps.

[The motions to his hair feel nice, and Darkleer barely notices the way he leans his head down slightly further.]

But even children know how to fight and get hurt. And as a fool... You're too open hearted. I've told you before how that is a flaw, haven't I?

[The head tilt only prompts him to continue, spiraling strands around his finger tips as he watches the black strings bend and curl.]

Heh... [A small smile, lifting his head enough to press his nose and mouth momentarily into Darkleer's chest, before moving it up so he can speak, chin now softly against the shirt fabric.]

I remember saying, in response, that y-you can never be too open hearted. I'll stick to that, I, I think, heh. And to be fair, it seems like y-you're following my lead- [he closes his eyes.]

With, with gestures like this...

Action;

Action;

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Action;

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Action;

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Action;

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Action;