( ephemera slaps him over the ears, and it's like standing near a frag as it goes off, disorienting, shrill ringing through his head that drowns out the sound of his heartbeat and ragged breath. time turns on a slow dial, stretching unnaturally. the primal part of him that he has no control over, that reacts purely on instinct, realizes that ephemera is going for his eyes next. he gropes blindly over his collar, finding the base of his throat with his fingertips and curling his hand into a fist.
he juts his fist into his throat hard, then hooks ephemera's arm under his elbow and twists into another roll. it puts ephemera back on top of him, and felix's throat slopes into an arch, wrenching ephemera by the forearm and slotting his heavy palm around his exposed neck.
not good enough is right. it never is with ephemera. he's always left wanting more. )
Let me fucking help you, then. ( his voice is a distant, faraway echo. he can't think clearly, all his nerves firing off at rapid speed, overwhelming him. he deliriously thinks of price and his cool, detached recounting of agent maine's fate. his rig was his coffin. he drowned. felix has never drowned before, but this kind of feels like drowning. ) You want it to stop, Ephemera? Make me fucking stop.
( how many fucking times does he have to tell him how easy it is. how many fucking mercies is he going to spare him. how long until felix loses his goddamn mind like ortez, like ephemera, like every drifting ghost that came back from the war wrong.
no. remember that you've always been wrong. that's the only irrefutable truth in the universe. he just always was. an anomaly. an act of god. a terrible mistake.
he knuckles ephemera's hair at his nape and jerks him down, knocking their foreheads together, slick with blood and oil. )
I'll ruin your life. You stupid motherfucker. I'll burn that shit to the ground.
( everything he's built since his arrival to duplicity, every shred of normalcy he's painstakingly dragged from a cold and frozen ground and made his. he'll light it up. he'll swallow it down. he'll devour him like he was going to devour chorus, gorge himself to the brim, and it still won't fill him or make him whole because what's inside him isn't hollowness but a sprawling, hungry black hole. nothing escapes the singularity.
felix hiccups on a slow, shuddering breath, damp lashes fluttering closed as he rolls his forehead against ephemera. ) Stop being such a goddamn disappointment.
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he juts his fist into his throat hard, then hooks ephemera's arm under his elbow and twists into another roll. it puts ephemera back on top of him, and felix's throat slopes into an arch, wrenching ephemera by the forearm and slotting his heavy palm around his exposed neck.
not good enough is right. it never is with ephemera. he's always left wanting more. )
Let me fucking help you, then. ( his voice is a distant, faraway echo. he can't think clearly, all his nerves firing off at rapid speed, overwhelming him. he deliriously thinks of price and his cool, detached recounting of agent maine's fate. his rig was his coffin. he drowned. felix has never drowned before, but this kind of feels like drowning. ) You want it to stop, Ephemera? Make me fucking stop.
( how many fucking times does he have to tell him how easy it is. how many fucking mercies is he going to spare him. how long until felix loses his goddamn mind like ortez, like ephemera, like every drifting ghost that came back from the war wrong.
no. remember that you've always been wrong. that's the only irrefutable truth in the universe. he just always was. an anomaly. an act of god. a terrible mistake.
he knuckles ephemera's hair at his nape and jerks him down, knocking their foreheads together, slick with blood and oil. )
I'll ruin your life. You stupid motherfucker. I'll burn that shit to the ground.
( everything he's built since his arrival to duplicity, every shred of normalcy he's painstakingly dragged from a cold and frozen ground and made his. he'll light it up. he'll swallow it down. he'll devour him like he was going to devour chorus, gorge himself to the brim, and it still won't fill him or make him whole because what's inside him isn't hollowness but a sprawling, hungry black hole. nothing escapes the singularity.
felix hiccups on a slow, shuddering breath, damp lashes fluttering closed as he rolls his forehead against ephemera. ) Stop being such a goddamn disappointment.