( open ) words like violence break the silence

[kovach]

CHARACTERS: takeshi kovacs & you
LOCATION: various locations on the station
DATE: late april
CONTENT: post-mission recovery, sad old man being sad.
WARNINGS: flashback references to murder and eye violence

I. RED ( cw: flashback references to murder and eye violence )   teleportation platform

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[ when he comes back, his hands are still stained red, the blood long since dried. even when he rubs his thumbs over the crimson darkened in the creases of his fingers, it doesn't smear, and though he knows he can wash it off with water, it doesn't make it feel any less permanent.

the memory of vrizz's eyes lingers in his head as the crowd shifts around him, echoing a mix of relieved cheers and exhausted sighs following the end of the battle, but he doesn't hear any of it, distracted with the imagery of the blood slipping over the sharp end of his blade, trickling over his knuckles. the wet feel of it on his skin hadn't deterred him, and he continued to twist the knife mercilessly. the eyes that looked back at him were practically a mockery and the man's final chuckle repeats in his head.

You're only pretending to be one of the monsters, says quell's ghost from somewhere in his head, but as always, he doesn't believe her.

he's only distracted when he senses someone approaching, straightening himself to his full height, abandoning the far off look from his gaze. ] Made it back, huh?

II. BLUE   sunlight room

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[ since he's arrived back, he's been filling the pages of his journal, most of it already scribbled with tales of the life behind him — the missions done for the protectorate, the life he'd found alongside the envoys, the work that had brought him back more than two centuries later. it's not in any kind of chronological order, instead just filling up the pages like scrambled chapters, prioritizing what might be most important to keep, never sure what he might lose next.

he's seated upon the grass near one of the small rivers within the sunlight room, journal open on his lap when he hears the shuffle of footsteps coming in close along the dirt. without drawing attention to himself, he closes the journal and tucks it underneath the bend of his knees, opening a carton of cigarettes to pull one out as if it'd been his intent all along.

lighting a match to heat the stick he places between his lips, he doesn't say anything to his new guest, even if he gives a brief turn of his head to see who they are, like they might catch the hint that he'd preferred the solitude.

except, despite what rugged and tired features might suggest, he never actually does. and because he could really stop himself, eyes to the river, he mutters out loud, ]

You think you want to remember all of this?

III. YELLOW   anything and anywhere

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( feel free to discuss with me alternative options of the above prompts or something different altogether. if you'd like to discuss a closed starter for me to write, just hit me up on plurk at hepburns or send a pm. ♥ )

Comments

[kovach]

[ he's used to it, the assertiveness she develops when it comes to looking after him, the way she'd followed him so persistently in scorpion's bend just to make sure that he was eating right or always being timely when it came to changing bandages over his old wounds before he'd be likely to forget entirely about tending to them. what's most apparent is how absent it's all been in the past month and some, how empty the air had become when absent of all he'd once have called nagging.

now, he can see her stepping closer, see the trail of her gaze wandering over him, knowing the ticking of her mind is flowing with questions about where to trace any possible injuries, that the nursing instincts always kick in without a beat at the first sighting of blood.

but that isn't on his mind, almost like he's more concerned with her mere presence, noting from his own end that she doesn't seem to be sporting any injuries the way she had the last time they made their return. ]

No. [ his voice is almost distracted, like it's only partially giving attention to answering her question, ignoring her previous accusation entirely.

instead, his hand lifts, blood dry enough on his skin that it doesn't smear to hers when his fingers touch her cheek, knuckles moving her hair back so he can get a proper look at her.

his breath is faster, but it's little to do with being hurt. ]

You okay?

[naloxone]

[ his fingers brush against her cheek and she realizes it would only take two more steps to get to him. he looks at her like she's come to yearn for and she wonders why she ever stopped walking in the first place. ]

Yeah.

[ any scrapes she had are even less than minor. a distant thought not worth a glance.

she takes a step. two. ]

Better now.

[ she can't lie, but it doesn't often mean she always tells the truth. silence has helped her more often than not, but right now — after a month and a half not being able to speak to him, to know he's listening — she finds herself speaking without thinking. only feeling. ]

Don't do that again.

[ she knows it's not his fault. that it was as out of his hands as it was out of hers. but she says it anyway, like putting voice to it might somehow make it any closer to the reality.

she takes a hug without asking, somehow knowing he'll be okay with it. ]

Don't go where I can't follow.

[kovach]

[ he's so used to acting without thinking, to going wherever he feels he needs to go, without much of a thought of what might be left behind — possibly because he's so used to being the one that's left, that he doesn't always know what it means to have someone searching for him, someone waiting for him.

there's almost an apology on his lips, though he doesn't say it, in part because he knows it isn't an honest one, that this is so often how his life moves that he doesn't really have a choice, that being separated from her was possibly always inevitable, whether he had the option or not. and it's also in part towards feeling her close in, wanting to say nothing at all to instead simply remember what it is to have her near him.

he brings his arms around her, a gentle wrap along her back that gradually squeezes tighter as he hunches down slightly to meet her height. ]

I'm here.

[ he whispers it, quiet with a sigh, knowing he can't change what's been done, nor can he necessarily make a promise that it won't happen again. he can only assure her of right now, having no intent to go anywhere for the foreseeable future.

not while he has her again. at least for a little while. ]

It's you and me. Just you and me.