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mental link; goodnight sweet fuckboy

[ Nyx Ulric slipping from her grasp is like a sun blinking out, her skyline gone suddenly dark, her world gone suddenly cold. It knifes through her, and after a moment of shocked, numb, silence: she starts the vibrate. An earthquake of anger and pain, electricity crackling off of her as her thoughts explode outward.

To call the noise echoing out of her any kind of language would be a gross exaggeration, it is merely a series of ocean's deep lamentations, reverberating throughout the immensity of her. Up from the magma at her core, through the cavernous, lightless space that is her consciousness beyond the shell of She. ]

( Fucking--W͙͇͕̠͈̅ͭi̺̟̩̼͙̮̞̎ͮ̉ͪ̆ͨ͟ț̰̙͌͡h̢̯̹̃ͮ̈́o̩̼̟͚͍̾̔̃͆u͆̊ͤ̾̏t͕͎̞̳̙̙͔̓ͫ̒ ͔͋̐̿̓̊ͩ͛l̮̝̘̼ͩ́i͕̰̠ͦ̐͢g̘̬̺̜̓h̲͖͇̜͇͓͓̊̒͛t͈͉͈̹̫͖ͤ̔͒̍͊ ̠̤̫̄̈́ͯͣͦw͙̺̯̰̔͆̊͗̐̊̍i̻̽̋t͐̓̀̉̿ͮ͐ḧ̰̲̲̼́̒ͥͪ̋ͯ̈͜o̩ͮut̐ͦ̂ͭ̈͘ ̰̝̪̹̩͔̱̃͛͌͋̈́̀h̴̝ͯ̎ͥͯḛ̪̤̫͚ͅͅa̱̦̩͔̺̪ͪ͊̓͗̊ͅtͬ͛̓͌̇̓͜ Son of a cunt-fucking maggot-- S̲̜͈̜̲u̱f̨̥̥̳͍͖̝͈f̵͇̪̼̝͎e̡͕̫̯r҉͕̪͎̹͎ Don't you dare leave me with this, L͖͍̝̠̝͎̾͛ͤo͉̘̖͚͉̳͋̎̍̂ͅś̝ṥ̤̗̊ͤ͗̑͘ you worthless-- Fuck. C̢̩̝̳̫͖̗̆o̖̰͍̱ͨ̃͡m̴͍̫̤̰͓͓̠̋͂͊ͮ̑̆̚ë͖̟̩͙̻̦̬́̆̽ ̬̯̓̅ͮ̽͑b͖̣̒͌͂ͣ͘ả̶͖̮̂̔̂̓̍̒ͅc̝͍̼̩̻̒k̮̤̪̺̋̓̓̈́-- Don't come back, don't come-- A̴̪̯̭̯͓ͦ̾͋̍̔̾̚b̜͘s͗͋ͤͫ͊̀ơ̙̙͔͚̼̹ͦͨ̓̉r̸ͥ̐͛̿̌ͨb̻̥͇̝̊̀̈ͪͭ ̨̲̥́ͭͣͫt̙ͦͩ̏h͎ͬ̚ẽ̱͉͕̥̮̂ͅ ̇̉͗͗bͥ̅͋ͧ̎̂͟o͙ͤͥ̈ͤͣn̰̮͙͓̥͈̞ͩ̍̓͂͋̓e̶̻̋̀͛s̻͔̭̜̽ͨͅ. Fuck.
Fuck fuck-- )

[ Dripping colors and fury, a base shaken. ]

( Nyx. Ņ̘̩͖̙̪͓̔ͮ͋ͤͣͮy̶͎͑̾́ͪ̾x̦̹̳̱ͮ́̋̿̆̃̀͘. Nyx. )

[ ...It takes its time, but eventually her wounded presence slithers off, a poisonous trail of brack and blood in its wake. ]

[ Somewhere in the physical world, she shows little of her internal distress. Still as stone in her robes staring out into the distance, jaw grit, fists clenched. ]

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[ She stares, unblinking. Her mind is a sea of froth and colors and trying to navigate him right in front of her is difficult. Trying to manage the taste of his emotions in her mouth, turned bitter with her own helplessness. She can't bring Nyx back for him. She can't save his world, or even Noctis himself.

In the end, all things will return to this: empty shells, abandoned husks on the shores of her consciousness.

She can't comfort him. She can't comfort herself.

She oozes into his lap without saying anything, wrapping her arms around him like so many unwelcome tentacles. ]

[He doesn't retract from her, just like he doesn't move into her arms. His body feels simultaneously too tired and too unwilling to fight against it, despite his sorry show of annoyance just seconds before.

Her emotions are many, but he takes them in all the same. Lets her envelop him in them, the same way she drapes across him physically. Intermingled with his sorrow, his want to cry, and it becomes difficult to tell where the sinking feeling of loss ends and where it begins.]

What now...?

[A chin on her shoulder, because he can. He doesn't expect her to even answer.]

[ Her desire to not answer that question is so immense. She thinks about everything she'd love to do rather than deal with what comes next-- Drink, fuck, scream, fight, scream, fuck, drink-- It's all the same. Instead she just hangs there limp against his chest, breathing slowly, trying ignore her body and her mind and her self.

It'd be easier, with any of those distractions. ]

Dust off, keep going.

[ She mutters, voice low, empty of inflection. ]

What else. Same shit, different day.

[Dust off and keep going? Was that it? To just... move along with a hole in your chest, because there was nothing else to be done about it?

The throne room flickers in his vision again. Walk tall. Loss was going to be a prevalent, monstrous thing, but don't let it devour you, don't mourn for what you once had. Look towards the future; isn't that what he would've told his friends, back then? Isn't the idea the same?

But it feels worse, it feels raw. Blame the thing in his head, blame the fact that Nyx was the only one from home, but a moment passes and he can't stop it. He wraps his arms around her, holding tight, hoping that she won't slip away, and the tears begin to flow.]

Damn it...

[He presses his forehead against her shoulder now, unable to stop it. His shoulders shake.]

[ She inhales like he's hit her, tension sliding into her spine like all she wants to do is tear away from him. Forget about all of this and never look back. But she can't do that. He's not Therese. He can't run away from her to the other side of the world and be someone different, someone new. Just like she can't stand back and let him. Can't run away herself. She's stuck with him. Stuck with his crying and his starlight and the cool wash of water on her fevered brow.

There's something thick and inconsolable in her throat, and she closes her eyes tight, body tensing to withstand this total brutalization.

Spots bursting behind her eyelids, she yanks on the light of him. Pulls him in to her, or pushes herself into him. It doesn't matter. What matters is the suffering: everything they've lost, everything they can still lose after all that's gone, and Nyx. It's almost like what she and Nyx had done in the showers, dipping too deep, and maybe that's why she wants it. To fill up the empty space, or to give her prince a gift, let him feel where she still has some of Nyx's fire in her.

She doesn't know.

She just wants to be closer, even if it means bringing all of Noctis' raw wound in to her. ]

[Everything that he is is pulled into darkness again. The fabric of himself unravels and tangles inside of her, and Noctis loses sensation of his physical body. He becomes oversensitive of his physical body. He can't tell any longer. Maybe both.

He's too lost in grief to even care, he's too enclosed in Annie and whatever it is she keeps in her core, reflected in his own. Sorrow and death and all manner of things that weren't ever meant to live for very long, and Nyx, a flicker of his strength and light just in his periphery. Nyx, the memory and essence of him, and Noctis latches onto that. Lets the sorrow pierce through anything that remains of his own light, letting everything dissipate for this one final taste of familiarity. Of his broodmate, now lost to him.

Poor little king. Annie could tear apart every piece of his spirit and mind right now, and he'd not care. The strength of the Lucian King wanes in him, and it's easy to let the darkness blanket him fully, easy to just fall into that deep pool of grief and float and lay there.

Until it isn't.

Maybe it's his body that revolts first, casting out a safety net to pull his mind back in. But fingers clench against her back, and he hisses out a curse, trying to detach. A small fracture of himself crying foul against how easily he gives in to Annie filling every crevice of him.]

Annie... stop...

[ She tenses up stiffly against him, the sense of movement abating but the fullness remains. She's not sure she can stop so easily, and now she's holding very still, trying to make sure she doesn't do something irreparable. ]

( Noct. )

[ A despairing call. That she doesn't want to let him go, and that she needs his help if she's going to. ]

( Noctis. )

[ Maybe that she's sorry and shouldn't have done it. But she's not sorry, her desire for him is hot in the back of her mind, trying to push her back into motion. He'll forget all about his protests in a minute--

She pushes herself backward, landing on her ass at the far end of his legs. Breaking loose with a rip.

She shudders.]

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit shit--

[ Her eyes pinch shut again, so tight that she sees those spots again, and just trembles. ]

[He reels back, mentally at first. Something feels like it might tear and rip apart, and his own attempts to disconnect are feeble at best. But maybe it’s enough against the backdrop of hearing her hiss his name in his head, and Noctis grits his teeth, eyes slammed shut. He leans back, throwing his arms behind him just quickly enough to catch his weight on his palms; it’s like coming up for air too fast and he feels dizzy and disoriented and like he has to force himself to be Noctis again.]

Shit… [He echoes her sentiment, low and hot. A hand comes to his face, pressing against his forehead.]

What was… what…

[What was that, he wants to ask, but there’s no point. He needs a minute before he can even open his eyes. He can still feel the remnants of sorrow and want and everything, latched into him like so many little hooks, pulling at his skin.]

[ She feels drunk, high, swimming in colors and sensation and-- It snaps in to her what she was doing. Trying to be anyone other than herself, as usual, using something else to disrupt her mind and take her away from herself. It's all the same, isn't it. Sensation seeking. Mind altering.

The junkie psychobitch strikes again. Hadn't she warned him?

Her head reels, the throbbing dissonance between her mounting self-disgust and the lingering, bittersweet taste of Noctis is smothering. She'll just eat anything that gets close to her, won't she.

Her tongue is thick in her mouth, her pain numb and distant through the euphoria of being so so close. She continues to shiver. She wants to finish what she started. She wants to run out of this tent and never look back. She wants to claw off her skin, claw out his eyes.

She mumbles something entirely incomprehensible, utter incoherent gibberish. Apologies or excuses or accusations. She doesn't know, it doesn't matter, the words escape her. Even her thoughts are formless, nothing but liquid and strobing lights. Finally, all she really whittles it down to is a low, piteous, ]

Fuck.

[Noctis just feels likes half of his soul has been drained out of his body, borrowed by Annie. Seeping and winding its way back into himself now, making him whole again -- hoping to the gods that he's put back together the same way he was taken apart. It feels like a minute, it feels like hours, but eventually he can open his eyes and look his broodmate. Equal parts shock, confusion, and concern mix on his features, and he tries to meet her muddied look.]

S-sorry.

[That's all he can hiss out. Sorry that he tempted her, sorry that he latched onto her and it allowed it for longer than he should have. Sorry that she feels this way now, sorry that they both had lost Nyx and made them a shivering mess in a tent together. Just sorry.

He tries to form words, and by some way of miracle they actually come together to make a sentence.]

I shouldn't have... cried.

[A laughable statement, but for some reason he feels that was the crux. That was the tipping point, where everything cracked beneath their feet and they both fell through to the bottom.

Noctis tries to push himself up to his feet, slowly. It starts with a crouch first, and he'll stay like that for a second or two to get his bearings before he becomes more ambitious. He thinks that maybe if he steps away, it'll help.]

[ She's moving, swaying to her feet, apologizing-- No. That's him. He's apologizing to her. And all she wants to do is cry. Or is that him. She clutches her head, swimming. She needs to say something to him. But he's trying to get away from her, slip backwards away from her reach. Her fingers curl in her hair for a moment, before she outright shrieks, ]

Fuck!

[ What the fuck did she do. What the fuck did she do. She scrabbles to her feet so much more quickly than he did, the room swaying around her, but fuck if she isn't the most functional drunk you've ever met. She hisses at him, furious, ]

Don't you fucking dare. Don't fucking apologize to me. I warned you. I told you that I couldn't be fucking trusted. But you-- you-- you-- had to fucking insist that it would be fine.

[ It's not fine. She's going to blow this whole fucking mission spiraling out of control. She feels out of her mind with anxiety that's bordering on claustrophobia. ]

You. Fuck. Sit down and just fucking stay here.

[ Because she's the one who's going to leave, create that space so they can breathe again. ]

Edited (such fucking typos) 2017-10-01 20:56 (UTC)

[He doesn't know how to deal with the words she's throwing at him, hot with frustration and bilious drunkenness. Already his head is full of too much, struggling to get to his feet, and her chastising is the same as throwing knives at him when he hasn't the hands to catch them. They cut and sting, then fall by the wayside, because what else is he supposed to do?

It's a piteous attempt at a reply, what he says next. Swaying on his own feet, as if he were trying to balance on water.]

It's a two-way street, Annie. I should've... known better.

[Known better than to have given into this blasted sorrow so easily, to have been the trigger for something that Annie didn't need to deal with. He's made it worse and he feels awful about it, and that's before he feels the swirling of her presence still caught in his own mind.]

No, I'm- I'm leaving.

[Watch as he makes a sorry attempt to grasp at his own hood, discarded on the floor nearby, so he can get some night air. How he's going to manage to even put it on properly is a mystery, but he'll figure it out, one painfully long second at a time. Stubborn as always.]

[ She makes a strangled, angry noise at him, ducking down and snatching up someone's pillow before chucking it at Noctis. His tears are on her face now, dark brown eyes wet, face flushed. ]

Fine! Whatever. Get the fuck out. Eat shit, I don't care.

[The pillow hits his arm, bouncing off uselessly and landing at his feet. Fingers fumbling with his hood, trying to remember how to get the blasted thing on. Trying to scrounge up remnants of his focus feels like an impossible task, but he manages. Somehow. It obscures his face when he slides it on, and that's all that matters, it'll do, and he just needs to leave.

The night, the moon, the space afforded by the outdoors, it'll clear his head. Calm them both down, maybe. He'll have to check on her later, but all he wants to do is just leave, like she tells him to.

So he does, wordlessly. Exiting the tent, met with the dark again.]

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