[ It comes out sharp, too loud. Too fucking loud. Ephemera rocks back on his heels, digging his nails into the flimsy, disposable coffee cup. He’s twitching. People are going to notice. ]
She killed me years ago, with all our people, and you weren’t fucking there!
[ He’s shaking. He drops the cup and doesn’t hear it spill. Doesn’t hear anything but his pulse pounding in his hears and the voice in his head that’s screaming at him to kill them all. Wreck the world, make them burn.
Ephemera screws his good eye closed. And then he does slam his head back. Just cracks it back into the wall like he’s going against an enemy.
The world goes white. And for a moment, there’s blissful fucking quiet. ]
felix has fielded this shit maybe once before from ephemera, immediately after he came at him with his helmet. violence turned inward, directed like a knife at his heart. he wasn't prepared for it the first time, brain muddied and fogged following ortez's betrayal and his crippling failure on chorus, but his reflexes are sharp now. he cuts the distance in a blink and latches onto his bicep, swinging ephemera's weight off the wall toward the ground.
he crouches over him, knee hooked into his side. his hand slides under his skull, pulls away wet and shiny with blood. fucking ephemera. on the street next to them, a passerby stops. felix doesn't hear anything she says. he smoothly draws his sidearm with his free hand, angled toward the trajectory of her voice with an icy keep walking, bitch. )
Stop it. ( his knee moves to ephemera's chest, weighing him down on the concrete. he wasn't there. he knows. ) I know. Terrence. I left you. It's fucked up, and I left you. It wasn't fair. I know.
( ephemera didn't know that gates was long gone before he actually left, mourning a ghost of a person who felix strangled and buried with his own fucking hands. how could he know that? none of them knew. they just saw what gates wanted them to see except in the moments when he slipped, when that vile ugliness peeked through the curtain. overflow. he couldn't hold it all in, burning down a wick to an explosion that would've eviscerated everything in the surrounding area.
a mercy, he thought at the time. i'm doing you a favor, rookie.
he exhales slowly, loosely circling his bloodied hand around ephemera's throat. his thumb presses into his pulse. )
[ What does that matter? Ephemera wants to ask, staring up at Felix as the world blurs around them. What’s that fucking matter with all we’ve lost? They weren’t all orphans like Ephemera but most of them were, most of them knew what it felt like to lose family or never had it in the first place. Water under the bridge, he’d thought, because we’ve got each other now and what’s it matter what came before when we’ve got this now?
It didn’t last. Sometimes he thinks that’s karma for all the evil shit they did in the war. Sometimes he thinks about that and sketches out their corpses until he screams. Felix doesn’t know about that. Ephemera’s been careful. He’s been so careful not to let that piece slip away from him.
He stares back at Felix and the sky above and feels blood ticking through his hair. Soaking into the ground. He thinks about glassing and what it smells like after a planet dies. And he thinks about their people, armor sundered, buried in pieces, and he thinks he’d scream if he could catch his breath. But Felix knocked the wind out of him and maybe the fight too, and this -
It twists. It’s too much. And Felix’s voice is too goddamn calm and Ephemera grabs weakly at his wrist, uncoordinated and slow. For a moment, he wonders if Felix is going to snap his neck. A stranger would. And aren’t they strangers to each other? ]
felix stays steady over him, unmoving even as ephemera latches onto his wrist, asks him permission in a voice close to begging. like he's a kid again. gates was twenty-one when they met for the first time. ephemera was bigger than him even then, but he was still the baby, the youngest, took his punches and rolled with every single one thrown at him regardless of the odds. and he survived. out of everyone. little open book ephemera, the rookie, the kid gates used to sneak whiskey before he was old enough to drink. he made it to the end.
to his own detriment. the freelancers tore into him. felix has his scars, but despite the years spread between them, he's mostly physically unchanged, left intact, a mirror image of the man that left ephemera behind so long ago. fantastic genetics, he thinks again, dully. maybe it would've been better if he was unrecognizable. made the pain less raw. maybe ephemera wouldn't see gates as he stares up at felix now.
he shifts his weight over him, turning his wrist in his hand. his gun clatters to the concrete as his fingers twine with ephemera's. he guides ephemera's hand over his own throat, to feel felix's pulse, then leans down and presses their foreheads together. that's unfair, too. beyond cruel. felix isn't gates, but he'll pretend. )
No. ( softly. request denied. he strokes his thumb into his throat. no. he won't. not like this, not when he knows how that story ends, and ephemera can hate him for it. that's fine. he knows what to do with hatred. he can hate him more later when felix rips open the freelancers himself. )
[ Ephemera makes a strangled noise and screws his good eye closed even as Felix guides his hand to his throat. Thumb over his pulse. Proof of life. And then he presses their foreheads together and it's like the old days, something instinctive. Something coded deep. Felix's hand on his throat, Ephemera's hand on his. Mirrored. They could hurt each other.
Could. Probably will, by the end. Ephemera tried to beat him to death once. That wasn't so long ago. And even now, he can't say why he stopped. It just happened and then there was a moment in the middle where the ground shifted. And then it was over.
He shudders, good eye still closed. The world feels too fucking loud. Screaming at him. And he shifts his grip to cup the back of Felix's neck instead. Shield the implant. ]
Please. I can't - Isaac, I can't.
[ A mistake. That isn't his name. This isn't who they are anymore. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Cw for self harm
[ It comes out sharp, too loud. Too fucking loud. Ephemera rocks back on his heels, digging his nails into the flimsy, disposable coffee cup. He’s twitching. People are going to notice. ]
She killed me years ago, with all our people, and you weren’t fucking there!
[ He’s shaking. He drops the cup and doesn’t hear it spill. Doesn’t hear anything but his pulse pounding in his hears and the voice in his head that’s screaming at him to kill them all. Wreck the world, make them burn.
Ephemera screws his good eye closed. And then he does slam his head back. Just cracks it back into the wall like he’s going against an enemy.
The world goes white. And for a moment, there’s blissful fucking quiet. ]
no subject
felix has fielded this shit maybe once before from ephemera, immediately after he came at him with his helmet. violence turned inward, directed like a knife at his heart. he wasn't prepared for it the first time, brain muddied and fogged following ortez's betrayal and his crippling failure on chorus, but his reflexes are sharp now. he cuts the distance in a blink and latches onto his bicep, swinging ephemera's weight off the wall toward the ground.
he crouches over him, knee hooked into his side. his hand slides under his skull, pulls away wet and shiny with blood. fucking ephemera. on the street next to them, a passerby stops. felix doesn't hear anything she says. he smoothly draws his sidearm with his free hand, angled toward the trajectory of her voice with an icy keep walking, bitch. )
Stop it. ( his knee moves to ephemera's chest, weighing him down on the concrete. he wasn't there. he knows. ) I know. Terrence. I left you. It's fucked up, and I left you. It wasn't fair. I know.
( ephemera didn't know that gates was long gone before he actually left, mourning a ghost of a person who felix strangled and buried with his own fucking hands. how could he know that? none of them knew. they just saw what gates wanted them to see except in the moments when he slipped, when that vile ugliness peeked through the curtain. overflow. he couldn't hold it all in, burning down a wick to an explosion that would've eviscerated everything in the surrounding area.
a mercy, he thought at the time. i'm doing you a favor, rookie.
he exhales slowly, loosely circling his bloodied hand around ephemera's throat. his thumb presses into his pulse. )
But I'm here now.
no subject
It didn’t last. Sometimes he thinks that’s karma for all the evil shit they did in the war. Sometimes he thinks about that and sketches out their corpses until he screams. Felix doesn’t know about that. Ephemera’s been careful. He’s been so careful not to let that piece slip away from him.
He stares back at Felix and the sky above and feels blood ticking through his hair. Soaking into the ground. He thinks about glassing and what it smells like after a planet dies. And he thinks about their people, armor sundered, buried in pieces, and he thinks he’d scream if he could catch his breath. But Felix knocked the wind out of him and maybe the fight too, and this -
It twists. It’s too much. And Felix’s voice is too goddamn calm and Ephemera grabs weakly at his wrist, uncoordinated and slow. For a moment, he wonders if Felix is going to snap his neck. A stranger would. And aren’t they strangers to each other? ]
Let me finish it. Just let me finish the mission.
no subject
felix stays steady over him, unmoving even as ephemera latches onto his wrist, asks him permission in a voice close to begging. like he's a kid again. gates was twenty-one when they met for the first time. ephemera was bigger than him even then, but he was still the baby, the youngest, took his punches and rolled with every single one thrown at him regardless of the odds. and he survived. out of everyone. little open book ephemera, the rookie, the kid gates used to sneak whiskey before he was old enough to drink. he made it to the end.
to his own detriment. the freelancers tore into him. felix has his scars, but despite the years spread between them, he's mostly physically unchanged, left intact, a mirror image of the man that left ephemera behind so long ago. fantastic genetics, he thinks again, dully. maybe it would've been better if he was unrecognizable. made the pain less raw. maybe ephemera wouldn't see gates as he stares up at felix now.
he shifts his weight over him, turning his wrist in his hand. his gun clatters to the concrete as his fingers twine with ephemera's. he guides ephemera's hand over his own throat, to feel felix's pulse, then leans down and presses their foreheads together. that's unfair, too. beyond cruel. felix isn't gates, but he'll pretend. )
No. ( softly. request denied. he strokes his thumb into his throat. no. he won't. not like this, not when he knows how that story ends, and ephemera can hate him for it. that's fine. he knows what to do with hatred. he can hate him more later when felix rips open the freelancers himself. )
no subject
Could. Probably will, by the end. Ephemera tried to beat him to death once. That wasn't so long ago. And even now, he can't say why he stopped. It just happened and then there was a moment in the middle where the ground shifted. And then it was over.
He shudders, good eye still closed. The world feels too fucking loud. Screaming at him. And he shifts his grip to cup the back of Felix's neck instead. Shield the implant. ]
Please. I can't - Isaac, I can't.
[ A mistake. That isn't his name. This isn't who they are anymore. ]