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 Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 6:21 pm
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"The ones you gave them," he said, but he didn't ask about the runic collars, or what that might imply. His only reaction was the vague ghost of a thought that he should ask America if she'd--and then to realize he shouldn't.
This time the silence was much, much longer. The answer, when it came, wasn't venomous or angry. It was tired and it sounded like he was reading it off a page behind his eyelids, a recitation rather than a condemnation.
"Bashmet was working for--revenge, I guess, is the safe way to say it. I gave him a chance to tell me himself--I made it pretty obvious that if he had information I could use it to stay safe. He was the one that initially trained the... the... like the thing you took care of in the basement. He was cooperating with them. He didn't take that chance, when I gave it to him. When I told him I knew, his only concern was that I should be aware that he'd already told Caelius--for whatever ******** good that did anyone dealing with the fallout. I told you what they were doing--hurting, killing civilians. They had to uproot my family and move them to keep them safe, I don't know what happened to them but it had to ******** ruined their lives. One of the--the things was trying..."
And here he hesitated.
"I have a daughter," he said finally. "Six years old. Her name is Tuesday. And Bashmet knew that too, when he was working with them." |
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 2:48 pm
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"Oh," she said softly. Maybe she could get him the runic ones, it could be a surprise for when he came back. Just something simple and sweet to make him smile. Maybe.
Her head dipped again in that long silence, eyes sliding off the bed to count the tiles on the floor as she continued to play with his hand. All light, comforting touches across the knuckles or palms. It had been so long since she'd held his hands. It was a comfort, even as everything else around her was falling apart at the seams.
When he started speaking again she looked up, giving him her undivided attention, as she always had. But this was no hard nugget of truth. No language lessons for new vocabulary. No lewd jokes through wolfish smiles. This was far worse than anything she could have expected. Pale eyes widened as he mentioned Bashmet training the clones, her entire body responding to that news as if she'd physically been struck. It came as no surprise they'd had to relocate Taym's family to keep them safe, that it probably had a detrimental effect on their lives. It was all awful, and she got an inkling, now, as to just how much weight he'd been shouldering all this time.
She'd known, she just hadn't known.
The admission, too, was a shock. Not because he had a daughter, but because he'd never trusted her with the information until now. That hurt, just a little. A slight sting in storm of other s**t that was so much more important than her own silly feelings.
"I thought..." She started, then frowned. "I thought you and he were friends at one point. Not for a while, but to turn around and do something like this..." The sentence was left to hang.
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 3:06 pm
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"We were." Another pause. His hands were eerily still under her attentions, neither trembling nor reacting--certainly not flinching or cringing. She might as well have been a continuation of the sheets for all the notice he gave it.
"I think," he said, with difficulty, "that for a while Bashmet was under the impression that I no longer considered him a friend because I was jealous of America's attention. And I'm not--not going to pretend I wasn't--jealous, I mean--of course I ******** was--but..."
And here he had to gather himself again, as if he'd physically run out of breath; watching him was exhausting.
"America came back from Russia, and when she came to she said something that made it sound like she'd--done things. Like, her. Under her own steam. And that wasn't--it wasn't what it sounded like--I found that out--but Bashmet leaned over while she was saying this and he just patted her hand and he said it doesn't matter what you did." He closed his eyes. "Of course it matters; it matters more than anything. I couldn't love her, if she did the s**t Rep does--couldn't love you; couldn't love anyone--but he could. Except he couldn't, I guess--he'd told me once, that he didn't feel anything, didn't love anything, just wanted orders to follow, and I took that to mean--noble ones. Good ones. And I'd already started to feel shaky on that when he transferred to Death but I don't ******** know, Peyton, I like deluding myself. And I should have... interpreted all that s**t as red flags, but I didn't." A pause, and then: "America didn't know. Of course. God, of course she didn't know. But she knows now." |
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Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2015 9:48 am
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She moved a little closer, placing herself as close as she could without crowding his legs. When he hadn't flinched away from her touch at first it had been a relief, that he made no reaction to it now was unsettling, but she carried on anyways. Just in case it did bring some measure of comfort of condolence to her friend.
He talked, and she let him without interruption, just her earnest attention as he shared things with her that were obviously not easily shared for one reason or another.
For a long moment after he was done speaking she didn't say anything, merely sat there thinking about it all. When she did speak it was soft, thoughtful. "Is he has bad as Lawrence?" It wasn't exactly what she meant to ask, but she was having trouble phrasing it. "You said he doesn't feel, or he said it. Is he a sociopath as well?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2015 6:41 pm
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Beejoux oh god i could have sworn i tagged this before my vacation, i'm so sorry! crying I WROTE IT OUT IN MY HEART
A long, unmoving, exhausted silence.
"I don't know what's up with either of them but for me, personally, for whatever the ******** that's worth--yeah, I think they are. They're in the same box. They're just--malice walking around pretending like they're more. Bashmet's different, I don't know--he doesn't put on the big circus that Lawrence does and maybe that's how he got away with it for so long; he's smarter than Lawrence and less arrogant, less prone to theatrics. Hiding in plain sight, I guess. ******** if I know what goes on in either of their heads and <********>," he added, with just a bit of vehemence, the first he'd managed, "if I care. Confirmed traitors, both; one probably caused his daughter's death and the other tried to kill mine; they can both go crying that they're changed if they decide to--I doubt they will--but I'll never ******** forgive either of them.
"He hates Lawrence, you know--I thought it was for the obvious reason anyone hates Lawrence but now I think it was just--just possessive material jealousy, and like hating like, too. Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll kill each other one day." |
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Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2015 12:25 pm
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Peyton gave a small nod as he confirmed it for her, and her lips rolled together as she considered the implications of it. She'd known Konstantian didn't think or feel the same way most people, but she couldn't have imagined him in the same light as Lawrence. The idea that there were two of them on the island was an uneasy one.
Another moment, and she shook her head, "Maybe. It would wrap things up nicely." Some things, at least. But damage had already been done, and there was no reversing it. She thought of America, and how quiet she'd been, how...lifeless.
And she thought of Taym, now, with his still hands and his exhausted words. Too much had been done, and the people she loved weren't the same as they once were, and she was beginning to believe there would be no bouncing back from it this time.
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