apologies are my own offense. emerson&wolf; day 4.

apologies are my own offense. emerson&wolf; day 4. Dec 5, 2023 12:52:28 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Dec 5, 2023 12:52:28 GMT -5

Is it the heat, or is it the unbearable weight of loss?

He sits on his knees, in the dark silence, one palm pressed gently to Jack's chest. There's not enough time to give his friend a proper send off, and Emerson knows this. It digs into his heart, pulls at the sinews, makes the headache ringing between his temples expand. Jackson Reeves deserves more than this fate, he deserves a stage and a soft blanket of roses to pull himself under. Not the smell of blood, the cold ground, and the shivering hand of a crying kid being his only tether to this plane. "I'm sorry."

His voice is so quiet that he's not even sure Jack can hear him, but he can feel the slowing beat of his friend's heart beneath his own skin. If he could offer his own life, share his own years, he would. But come this time tomorrow, without his first protector, Emerson knows very well that he could be echoing this very same moment. Lying on the floor with blood between his teeth, Wolf's hand stroking his hair. The cruel fact is that only one of the tributes left standing has a future to gamble.

The rest of them, days at best. Or hours.

Leaning down, right before the inevitable cease of life, Emerson speaks directly into Jack's ear with a soft, gentle voice. "I will carry you with me." To the next world, or out of this arena, it is all the same. "Always." He does not allow himself to leave until he's certain that there is no vibration beneath his palm, no rise or fall of the older boy's chest. Even when Wolf places her hand on his shoulder, comforting and cautious in the way that she is, he doesn't turn to face her. Not until he can convince his brain to truly accept that his friend, his ally, his savior — he's gone.

This experience has been a series of watching his protectors die in his place.

He has to wonder if Wolf can see the bad omens. The ravens perching in the trees.

Siberite's harsh words still bite at his mind, sinking their nails into him. He has never wanted to hurt someone, to make them feel the way he feels, but drawing his blade across that bastard's neck had felt almost... good. He had wanted it to be a deep cut. Vengeance wrapped him in its warm, white hot embrace, and it holds him still. In a way that now has him feeling drained and tired, like the only emotion he can conjure is the sad look he gives Wolf when he glances back at her. This arena brings out the worst in people.

But he only got to see the best of Jack.

"Thank you for staying," he speaks softly, wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a few tears along with it. "But will you promise me something, Wolf?" He rises to his feet, closing the distance between himself and his final friend, pulling her into a hug before she can protest. He doesn't want to let go, but he knows that regardless of winning or losing, the endgame will remain the same. Something sacred will be severed. He pulls back, and he stares into her eyes with bright determination. He says his next words gently, but they are sharp on the edges. Absolute.

"Don't die for me." He knows that he cannot stop her from making the choice she plans to make, but he cannot allow himself to stand idly by watching as his allies step in the way of bullets to spare him the agony. He's already hurting, he will be traumatized for however many years or seconds he has left in this life, and he wants her to know that she is worth more than being his hero. Like Mac, like Jack, like all of the tributes trapped in this overheated building. She's worthy of saving, too.

"The world's better with you in it."

He offers her a fleeting smile, and then he steps into the darkness of the room and fades into the silence. At least for an hour or two. The both of them need to get used to feeling lonely.

^{{ fox }}

{ emerson searches the plants station }
x6BO0KJAUf1-17
{ stinging nettles (poison) }

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