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 Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 1:00 pm
He had abandoned the swivel chair that over the last few hours he had come to love.
It wasn’t important. Not after this.
No, rather than accept the comfort of the furniture, Ciro found himself huddled in the corner like a child, arms wrapped around his bent knees, head dropped onto those knees.
He still couldn’t cry, but his body trembled.
It bothered him.
He couldn’t even cry for the woman he loved?
Had his heart been that hardened?
Or maybe… did he not really love her?
No, he didn’t want to think that. He couldn’t think that… It was too painful a path to pursue.
Hunched into a ball, he did not move. There was nothing he could do. Not when the numbness of shock was finally beginning to wear off. His mind, at a slow crawl, had slowly begun to take in the information.
Echo had died.
She was wearing his armband.
It could have been his fault.
No, it was his fault. There was no reason to target the assistant of the score keeper. That would just be a lunatic move.
But she had become more than a neutral party-- Echo had chosen what Godling she would side with.
And so she was taken out.
And it was all his fault.
He said he would protect her.
But he failed.
Again.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 1:54 pm
He couldn't keep still, and his house was as clean and fixed as it could get. He needed to do something, to work off the thoughts and annoying hurts that bit at his mind. So, cleaning supplies in hand, he had set off for the building he and Ciro had officially conquered as their own base and headquarters for future activities.
Passing by his workplace, the frenetic rage flared up again, leaving him momentarily sidetracked. By the time he continued on his way, the painted and threatening mural was no more than scrubbed and smudged and blurred colors, lined with scratches and chips in the wall made by particularly furious jabs of a metal-handled brush.
And if some of the scratches and chips were made by his own two hands, who was to be any wiser?
The building was still untouched, he was pleased to see. They had done a good job of scaring others away from it (and Valeriu had been particularly enthused to find he could scare adults away now). Meandering through the first floor and down the stairs to the sub-levels, he contemplated all the things they'd have to do to get the place up and running.
First was cleaning, remodeling, painting and fix-ups. Then to get the electricity working, the heating and the water. Furniture, other resources, like food. A fridge would be nice. Vale had been adamant that this would be Ciro's new, healthier abode.
All he had to do was get the other godling to stop being so lazy. Vale wasn't the maid!
He ignored the cleaning supplies in his hand and the apron and rubber gloves he'd stuffed in his bag.
Not the maid.
But something was off. Halfway down the stairwell, he could sense something. They always said animals could somehow know when something was wrong with a person - a dog could predict a seizure, a cat would know when someone was close to death.
For some reason, Vale just knew something was wrong. He hurried down the steps, taking two at a time until he reached Ciro's "living room" floor. Eyes cutting easily through the darkness (although it had the strangest effects on how he viewed colors when he adjusted to the nightvision), he quickly located the source of his unease.
Setting the bag and supplies down near-silently on the floor, he took a cautious step towards the other man. Like approaching a wounded animal (and Vale knew, he was familiar with this, this was something he could handle), Ciro was never going to be more dangerous than when he was injured and backed into a corner. Vale had to tread carefully, lest he find himself on the receiving end of a particularly fiery fist.
"Ciro?" He kept his voice low, calm, and quiet, crouching down to be on an equal level. Too strongly, he was reminded of when this situation had been reversed, and he had been the injured and cornered one.
At least Ciro wasn't trapped by an actual jaguar. Although whatever Vale was, it certainly wasn't any better.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 2:38 pm
Footsteps. They were fast and light. In fact, had he not had to compensate with his other senses, Ciro wouldn’t have heard them at all.
“Hey…”
His voice was dryer, hoarser than normal, as he raised his head to address the boy. Bags had formed under his eye sockets; all in all, he looked ragged and broken-- as if years had been added.
“s**t happened.”
Straining to sound casual, he feigned at a smile.
Idiot. He should have known that a smile would only be another clue to his pain-- he never smiled.
“But it’s cool… You wanna get started…?”
Ciro did not want to get started. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and burn things. He wanted to go and rip the throat out of the beast that did that to her.
He wanted to go and get her. To go and see that nothing was wrong. She could live here, with them, where she’d be safe.
But that was a lie. He saw it himself, she was gone.
He couldn’t do it-- he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t affected. He couldn’t stand buy and joke with Vale like he had yesterday.
His head slumped back into his arms, and he let out a deep, coughing sigh.
He couldn’t even think strait.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 3:36 pm
He took a good, long look at Ciro, quiet for a moment.
The man looked like hell.
Silently, he stretched to stand again, wordlessly padding over to his dropped bag and digging through it. Procuring a water bottle (filled with tap, of course, he was far too mindful to actually buy bottled water), he returned, dropping down gracelessly to sit beside Ciro, clothed back scraping roughly against the wall.
Nudging the bottle into Ciro's hands, he leaned to sit back as comfortably as he could, legs bent against the ground.
"Here. Drink."
He refrained from saying that it would help, or offering petty apologies and half-hearted attempts to cheer the man up.
He knew it would do no good. Nothing could help right now, nothing to make him feel better. He knew the look on his ally's face.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 3:47 pm
He took the water silently, screwing the cap off with his other hand. Unceremoniously taking a swig, it was only after Ciro had swallowed and collected his thoughts for a moment before he spoke again.
“Thanks.”
His chest rose as his body inhaled a lungful of air. He held this for a moment, before expelling it in a large sigh.
“I didn’t… Get stronger at all.”
He couldn’t protect someone. Again he failed.
His head leaned back, horns now pressed against the brick walls of the basement. His arms lowered to his sides as his legs spread to a more comfortable position. He would have liked a smoke, but he felt far too dejected to move. And, even if he didn't… he knew that the nicotine couldn’t provide the kind of relief he needed.
What he needed… was to think.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 4:11 pm
Valeriu wasn't someone who knew how to offer comfort in situations like this. Instead, he dragged a heel against the uneven floor, hands resting against his knees thoughtfully and tail curled around and by his feet between them.
"I think you did," he decided quietly, glancing at the other man. When he'd first met Ciro, he'd looked up to him. He'd had something to protect, something to get stronger for.
It took strength to live through losing that. More strength than he would ever know, than Vale would ever have.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 4:58 pm
He shook his head, no. He had not gotten any stronger than he was before.
He was still a failure.
He couldn’t even dignify Vale’s comment with a response. He didn’t have the energy to argue. He didn’t have the energy to do much of anything, really.
But if he slept… Would those images come back to him?
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 5:19 pm
Sighing through his nose, he knew there was nothing more that could be done, that he could do. Ciro needed a friend, not an alliance partner, to help him through this.
And Valeriu wasn't up for any more friendships, whether it was possible or not. It didn't help his worry any, or his concern for the older man. The best he could do was to make sure Ciro had everything he needed to survive the next few days.
Pushing himself to his feet, he brusquely brushed his pants free of dirt and gravel and dust, pulling the bag over to place it in his stead.
"There ee's v'ater ee'n this. Food too." And an apron and gloves, but those were meant to stay here anyway.
Hoisting up his box of cleaning supplies, he gave Ciro another thoughtful look.
If the man really wanted to die, he wasn't about to stop him. But he hoped he wouldn't. Not only did Vale like having an ally (which, for his god, were undeniably rare to have in this Game), he liked Ciro as a person in general.
He left the man in peace, hopping back up the stairs to the upper floor. While the other godling took his time to think, Vale would be busy working.
Personally, he didn't like thinking much nowadays.
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