language of smoke ; kr v. cs / day five
Mar 20, 2021 21:16:15 GMT -5
Post by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris on Mar 20, 2021 21:16:15 GMT -5
kyler
petralia
Wickedness bleeds through.
Like a black ink stain on the world — like he's trying to come to peace with losing her, losing them, but his mind keeps coming back to the way Sutton fell to the ground. The bone crack. The empty space in his arms where he held Grim. And here's the worst part: he never found that beautiful place for her. But she still died, and his clothes are still covered in blood. He looks a fight.
He's terrified, actually.
"I care about you." It's like water running through a scar on the earth. The birth of a flood. Because he resents himself for never letting them know how much they meant to him. And now the time has passed, and the sky is getting dark. He feels tired, but like he's slept his whole life away. "Um. Shit, sorry. That was cooler in my head."
And then he tries to laugh, like he always does — but his lips are trembling, and the sound breaks in his throat. Of course it does. "Did you have another bad dream?" He doesn't mean to pry, and he knows it's ridiculous to ask a question he already knows the answer to, but the silence is getting to him. He wants to hear her voice. And more than anything, he wants her to be okay.
Because he's not.
But the clouds only grow darker — until they're trying to find their way out of their cage, going deeper inside of it. "Lore, are you seeing this?" He's been on edge since he saw the anthem playing out above him. Sutton, Grim, even Fitz. Fuck, he never learned how to use his cellphone. And now it's too late. The message went unanswered.
But the last face, a familiar stranger — the district six female, Lore's ally. "Are you okay? Reagan said you texted last night." There's only static, but he keeps pressing on. "What was it again? Who killed Syren?" He turns his attention to his ally, tripping over his own feet as she answers. "Fuck, I can't see shit. Wait—" and then he focuses back on the conversation, completes what Reagan had said in his mind.
"Si—"n? Lore's other ally.
Oh, fuck.
It all adds up. He flashes back to that first day, the conversation he had with his friend that has gone silent — the one where she told him she had doubts about the other boy from Twelve, the mysterious one. That he was dangerous. "I'm going to find you. Whatever's going on, just hold on for me." He hasn't learned his lesson yet. Poor, sweet Kyler. Thinking he can save anyone.
Things can always get worse, though. Sometimes people make assumptions — the wrong ones — and sometimes fate plays a cruel, twisted game. Like when two figures start to form on the horizon, black shapes growing ever closer. Until it's just the four of them, Kyler and his final warrior. A stranger and... the culprit. Shit. It takes him a minute to name the face, but once he does, he has his gun out. Trembling, as always.
"Where's Lore?" He swallows hard, trying to feel secure being the first to draw his weapon. His skin feels tight, and still somehow far away from him — but more than anything, he's scared. He's confused. Everything is falling apart around him, and he doesn't know how to get out. "You killed your other ally, so where's she? Answer me." 'Please.'
Silence hangs in the air, and a choice has to be made.
Not the right one, little does he know.
Like a black ink stain on the world — like he's trying to come to peace with losing her, losing them, but his mind keeps coming back to the way Sutton fell to the ground. The bone crack. The empty space in his arms where he held Grim. And here's the worst part: he never found that beautiful place for her. But she still died, and his clothes are still covered in blood. He looks a fight.
He's terrified, actually.
"I care about you." It's like water running through a scar on the earth. The birth of a flood. Because he resents himself for never letting them know how much they meant to him. And now the time has passed, and the sky is getting dark. He feels tired, but like he's slept his whole life away. "Um. Shit, sorry. That was cooler in my head."
And then he tries to laugh, like he always does — but his lips are trembling, and the sound breaks in his throat. Of course it does. "Did you have another bad dream?" He doesn't mean to pry, and he knows it's ridiculous to ask a question he already knows the answer to, but the silence is getting to him. He wants to hear her voice. And more than anything, he wants her to be okay.
Because he's not.
But the clouds only grow darker — until they're trying to find their way out of their cage, going deeper inside of it. "Lore, are you seeing this?" He's been on edge since he saw the anthem playing out above him. Sutton, Grim, even Fitz. Fuck, he never learned how to use his cellphone. And now it's too late. The message went unanswered.
But the last face, a familiar stranger — the district six female, Lore's ally. "Are you okay? Reagan said you texted last night." There's only static, but he keeps pressing on. "What was it again? Who killed Syren?" He turns his attention to his ally, tripping over his own feet as she answers. "Fuck, I can't see shit. Wait—" and then he focuses back on the conversation, completes what Reagan had said in his mind.
"Si—"n? Lore's other ally.
Oh, fuck.
It all adds up. He flashes back to that first day, the conversation he had with his friend that has gone silent — the one where she told him she had doubts about the other boy from Twelve, the mysterious one. That he was dangerous. "I'm going to find you. Whatever's going on, just hold on for me." He hasn't learned his lesson yet. Poor, sweet Kyler. Thinking he can save anyone.
Things can always get worse, though. Sometimes people make assumptions — the wrong ones — and sometimes fate plays a cruel, twisted game. Like when two figures start to form on the horizon, black shapes growing ever closer. Until it's just the four of them, Kyler and his final warrior. A stranger and... the culprit. Shit. It takes him a minute to name the face, but once he does, he has his gun out. Trembling, as always.
"Where's Lore?" He swallows hard, trying to feel secure being the first to draw his weapon. His skin feels tight, and still somehow far away from him — but more than anything, he's scared. He's confused. Everything is falling apart around him, and he doesn't know how to get out. "You killed your other ally, so where's she? Answer me." 'Please.'
Silence hangs in the air, and a choice has to be made.
Not the right one, little does he know.
But necessary all the same.
kyler attacks sin ; revolver #2 bullet 1/5
jNVu8axBTXthrowing knife
miss
accuracy | day five
throwing knife
miss
throwing knife·throwing knifejNVu8axBTXthrowing knife
accuracy | day five
throwing knife
miss
