SPACE STATIONS > The Libra

Metastasis [Goooooblin]

(1/3) > >>

nephero:
   Something flashed on the other side of their eyes, something orange-red and insistent. Short to follow was an insistent screech, a steady and unrepentant eh—eh-EH-EH as only a mechanical alarm could make. Nicodemo reached to the side, eyes still closed, and slapped their hand against the large, rubber-topped button for their alarm until that awful grating noise stopped.

   Slowly, they did an inventory. Stretched their legs and arms and burrowed their face into the soft, cool portion of their pillow. Blinked their eyes open and… tried not to think too hard on how somehow, even now, even so many years later, they still ended up on this side of the bed. Far to the right, like somehow there was need to make room, even though Nico knew if they dared to look they’d see the left side still as immaculately made as it had been last night.

   Nico shifted, took a deep breath, and eased themselves up into a sitting position. Took a pause to rub their face, before turning to set their feet down against the plush area rug beneath their bed. Curled their toes and rolled their shoulders and stretched their back to try and ease the dull throbbing pain between their shoulderblades. But it seemed that was just the flavor of the day, and so when the stiffness did not abate Nico simply elected to ignore it. They weren’t about to stop their entire day for this, not for empty beds or for aching muscles, not for anything short of their leg bones snapping the second they got out of bed.

   Which, of course, never happened. And so Nico stood up, legs unbroken, and winced as pinpricks of pain shot through their heels and along their ankles. It abated soon enough, of course, and they limped across the room to their dresser, pulling out their clothes for the day after deciding a morning shower was just… not in the cards today. Soft long sleeve shirt, a set of drawstring pants versus button, and of course…

   The weight of Reese’s necklace settled against their sternum, a heavy reminder that pulled down on their neck like a set of ghostly arms. But, that had been kind of the point, hadn’t it? To be there without being there, like they’d never be there again. Because that was just the way the world was, wasn’t it? Pain and aches and sharp reminders, and there was nothing to do about it but pull on their boots and carry on about their day.

   After all, Nico’s legs weren’t yet broken. They pulled down a cane from a rack of many, one of their favorites with a sleek wolf’s head topper. It just felt so good against their palm, the ears against their wrist and holding everything in place. A bit more mobile now, Nico limped out of their bedroom and through their apartment, out the front door and out into Libra station proper.

   It was early still, but that’s how Nico preferred it. Still relatively quiet, most folks still sleeping in for just a little while longer. They could take their time, take breaks if they needed without anyone stopping to ask if Nico was all right. Because they were fine. They’d always been fine. They’d always been able to carry on on their own, and they’d carry on a lot better if they were just left the hell alone.

   Still, about twenty minutes later the shooting pins and needles in their feet demanded they stop, luckily just outside a café they’d purposely included as a kind of ‘halfway point’ on their route. Bracing themselves just long enough to purchase a cup of tea and find a patio table, Nico settled into their seat with a soft sigh, cane resting across the table as they held the steaming cup between their hands, letting the warmth seep into the minute joints of their fingers and hands and easing some of the aches there.

   It was a minor allowance. Just a few moments to themself, just enough time to get their energy back and carry on the rest of the way and not end up so broken down they were bedridden for days. That was the limit; not because Nico feared the pain— more because they didn’t want to give their coworkers any type of excuse to continue pushing for their retirement.

   Unconsciously, Nico reached for the weight against their chest and ran their thumb against the flat surface of the pendant there. Felt the ridges, the pits and divots, all the familiar well worn scratches from years of bumps and bruises, years of being above a heartbeat that had never been Nico's own. They looked down, watching the light of the station move over the smooth metal surface of the necklace pendant, and forced themself to take a deep, steadying breath.

   They almost wished for broken legs, but that was a pathetic train of thought. Sitting and whining and pining when that never fixed anything. They let the pendant fall against their chest with a huff, and instead took up the cup of tea once more, taking deep gulps of the hot fluid and relishing the sensation of something warm in them.

GoblinFae:
The blades of the fan whirled over his head in a lazy circle that kept the air from getting stagnant but did little else to keep his quarters cool. Dashiell found that if he concentrated he could follow one of the blades around and around in a dizzying circuit before his vision would blur and he would have to look away again. In the living room he could hear the squawks and screeches of his feathered prisoners already making their demands for attention.

His heartbeat felt heavy within his chest as he dragged himself off the bedroom floor and shuffled off to the bathroom to square off in front of the toilet. He rolled his neck as he went about his morning ablutions and felt his body protest and realign. Spending the night on the floor because he had missed the bed in his drunken stupor was becoming more and more the norm than the exception these days.

Painkillers were popped into his mouth before water was cupped in his hands from the faucet to follow. Only then did he pause to look down at the cold steel band on his left hand. Most mornings he tried to forget it was there but so close to their anniversary, Dashiell couldn't bring himself to forget. His heart squeezed as tears welled in his already red eyes, both things he blamed on being hungover rather than recall how he had wept like a baby in Bhaziell's arms the night before.

Sighing, he balled his hand into a fist and moved to get dressed. The persistent shrieks from the next room only served to make him more irritated and bark out angrily in response. "Shut up you twats! I'll feed you in a minute!" A plain, black shirt was yanked down over his middle, burying the sight of melted flesh from view before he stormed out to glare at the pair of tiny birds that hopped about at the sight of him. "I don't know why they kept you fuckers. So fucking loud in the goddamn morning. Make such a fucking mess," he grumbled at them as their fluttering about the cage sent feathers and bedding every which way.

"There! Happy now?" Dashiell slammed the feeding door closed with a huff, his hand raking through his short hair in an effort to calm himself. The ring came into view again though and he pursed his lips before shaking his head in an unspoken apology to the ghost of a memory that would never see it again. How many times had he and Reese argued over their choice in pets? How many times had he joked about cooking them into pies or getting a cat the next time they got loose? Too many. It had all been for nothing too. Reese was gone and Dashiell was stuck with the infuriating creatures as one of the last reminders of their existence. His own bird had long since flown the coop to whirl somewhere between the stars.

Three years almost four and yet the missing them never got easier. The turning and expecting them to be standing there still happened almost daily. He had gotten better at hiding the disappointment though. Reese was never coming back, not in this lifetime at least. True to their letter, Dashiell hadn't tried to go searching for the rebirth of their soul either though he longed desperately to have them beside him again. Each day was harder than the next. What was the point of living if there was no one to share your life with anymore? He'd had his once in a lifetime. What did one do after that ended?

Dashiell sure as shit didn't know. A glance at the clock revealed he was wasting the day away. Time for a run. Like every morning before, he tried to convince himself that it was good and wholesome and would clear his head. In reality it would likely just wear him out enough for his broken mind to become louder than the angry hum it usually buzzed at. He trundled out his door, fingers pressing to his lips before touching the protective ward still on his door after all these years, before taking to hitting the ground with a vengeance. It was early enough still that most people would not be up and about enough to get in his way. Running the tracks became too repetitive for him though running the corridors really wasn't much different when one lived on a space station. Dashiell tried not to think too hard about that though.

He ran and ran allowing the beat of his feet to match that of his heart, going wherever they would take him. His mind was lightyears away though, lost in memories of a slender spitfire and the way they would always run ahead, daring him and taunting him to catch them if he could. He never did though.

A glint of metal caught his eye, causing the predator within to instantly perk to attention to find the source. Dashiell was ready to look away, assuming it would be nothing of importance when the shape of a metal pendant halted him right in his tracks. A double-take revealed a sight that had his heart screeching to a complete stop. Every hair on the back of his neck stood at attention as a genuine growl rumbled up in his chest.

His feet were moving and before he knew it he was towering over the man daring to wear his lover's necklace. He would recognize that worn chunk of metal anywhere. Hell it even still smelled faintly of Reese and that alone made his heart squeeze painfully. The stranger's scent overpowered it greatly though setting him even further on edge. "Where the fuck did you pinch that from you little thief," he hissed, his lips curled back as he bared his teeth menacingly and jabbed an angry finger at the man's chest. "Have you no self-respect stealing from the dead?"

nephero:
   It didn’t take much to put Nico on guard. A lingering stare, a close presence, a heavy step and Nico’s focus was entirely stolen, brought into full fight or flight mode as only years of military drilling could have put into them. So when a stranger suddenly changed direction from what had previously been a perfectly innocent jog to come right at them, Nico’s jaw tightened, their lips thinning in not-at-all subtle annoyance at the intrusion on their morning thoughts.

   Not that their thoughts had been anything great, of course. If left to their own devices, Nico probably would have tried to find anything else to think on. Used their phone to find a new book to read, checked up on the latest news reports, avoided the comments section because that was nothing but a one way trip into asinine.

   Like right now was any better. Because not only was this stranger— badly burnt and looking like he was made of fire in more ways than one— interrupting their morning routine with… what the fuck were they saying?

   The necklace. He was pointing at the necklace. And like that, liquid fury surged through Nico’s veins, superseding all the aches and pains and pricks that made up their entire existence and leaving nothing but hate in their wake.

   “Firstly. Don’t you ever fucking touch me.” Nico snarled right back, eyes narrowed and fingers clasped tight around their cup, such that even against the tan of their skin their knuckles were white.

   “Secondly, I didn’t steal shit, and if you accuse me of that again, you’re not going to like my fucking answer. Now get out of my sight.” And like that, Nico rose from their seat, taking up their cane and setting it to the ground with the full intention of leaving.

   After all, they’d meant to finish up here and get going, anyway.

GoblinFae:
Dashiell wasn't going to back down. Not even the starstrider's words of warning against fighting or Bhaziell's barking reminders were going to make him stop now that his mind was set. The stranger in front of him could bark like a seal and call the sky green for all he cared. He was obviously a liar and a thief. The wolfman was not about to suffer him either now that he felt he knew the truth.

When the dark-eyed man stood, Dashiell remained firmly in place, refusing to step aside so that he could pass. Instead he leaned further in towards them, the growl still rumbling loudly in his chest as he did so. "Firstly, go fuck yourself because I'll do whatever the hell I want. And secondly you're going to tell me where the hell you got that necklace and I'm not going anywhere until you do." Forcefully, he used the metal of his forearm to shove the stranger back as if to make him sit back down again. Dashiell wasn't done with him yet. They had a conversation to finished whether the stranger liked it or not.

nephero:
And there it was. The second touch even after Nico had warned this bastard to keep his hands to himself. In different circumstances, Nico might have found this stranger intriguing. Severe burns had warped his skin long past the point of recognizability, but that had never bothered Nico any. In fact, they preferred such things. Scars were marks of strife, a visible reminder of catastrophic events, and someone who had been as hurt as this stranger was was usually the type of person Nico could tolerate best.

Usually.

Not now.

Because right now, the stranger has his hand on them, was daring to try and push them back down, was daring to keep them pinned and was daring to insinuate that they had stolen their necklace-- Reese’s necklace. The one glimmer of hope in Nico's life that Reese had actually loved them. The one reminder Nico had of them outside of the slowly fading memories. The one thing that hadn't been left to that… that fucker. That fucker who'd won Reese's heart without so much as breaking a sweat, had captivated them so thoroughly that Nico simply could never compare.

Dash had taken absolutely everything from Nico. Everything. Those sweet good morning kisses, the sound of them singing in the shower, the smell of their cologne and how they looked amidst a tangle of sheets and hair and breathlessness. Nico had lost everything, and then lost it all over again without so much as a warning, left cut adrift in an ocean of nothingness clutching a letter and some passive condolences from some nameless peon in a law firm.

All they had left was this. The metal against their heartbeat, the only thing that hadn't been stolen from them. And now here was this nobody, this pissant, calling Nico the thief!

Nico's breath hitched. Their pupils turned to tiny furious pinpricks, and their lips curled back in a snarl as their grip tightened on their cane.

Everything after came swiftly. Nico raised the cane in a rapid blur, striking hard at the stranger’s offending arm and knocking it the hell away from them. Because if this asshole wasn't going to let them go, Nico would damn well make them.

Another strike caught the stranger against the side of his knee, just enough to stagger so Nico could shove their way past him.

“I'll tell you nothing and you'll like it. Get the fuck out of my way.”

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page