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The best thing about tonight is that we're not fighting - Seakit Roux. - 09-03-2020
IF MY LIFE IS GOING
TO MEAN ANYTHING,
I HAVE TO LIVE IT
MYSELF.
tiguar . young . he/him
demigod of the deep
demigod of the deep
//human AU
Tears, warm and sticky, rolled down Deniz as he sniffled into his arms, the fold out bed creaking underneath him. He kept his cries as quiet as he good, wishing to not disturb his roommate. She had her own issues to deal with, she wouldn't want his stacked atop her thinning shoulders. He knew what she thought, that he had moved in as a way of looking after. He kept with the story, hiding the reality of the situation. Was he worried for her? Sure, she was a dear friend of his. As foolish as it was, he would dub her his best, though he assumed the feeling wasn't mutual. She had the others for that, after all. He was the outlier, lingering at the edges of their friendship.
He didn't match them, he felt. They had all come from lands far away, independent. Meanwhile he had been born here, coddled by his mother and hard-pressed to leave her side. A momma's boy who still cried at the drop of the hat, despite having long left the age that was deemed acceptable. In truth, he didn't know why he was here, so far away from the hut he had grown up in. Some attempt at independence where, in reality, he had chosen someone new to latch onto.
A desperation for separation from the memories that haunted his every step, of holes that had been drilled into his chest by loss. The loving boy, who had once met every situation with a smile, had learned to face the world with a snarl, or else it rip away all that you love. Once a trio of three, with Elduin and Mariner, he had become the finale, an ending dim and unfinished. There had come another round, he prayed none of them met the same fate. A cruel thing it was, to lose sister, then brother, then mother. Like a round of bullets fired into his chest, knocking him from the tree he'd climb to be able to see the sky.
He craved for what had been lost, scraping for something to fill the loneliness that plauge his every breath, a stop to the tears that flowed ceaselessly. He was a fool, thinking he could find that here. What kind of fool was he, imposing himself upon a girl his own age with her own pain and strife. A fool to enter her home and ask for it to be his own, to think he had a place here. A fools errand for the lonely boy.
He gave a swift shake of his head, scrubbing at his already reddened face with tear-slicked palms. His eyes flickered upwards, to the wood that stretched over his head and held his roommate's bed. He wondered for a moment if she resided there, if he should check. Swiftly, he decided against it, and began to move quietly throughout the bottom half of their shared home. He hadn't many belongings, these days. Two feathers, one auburn and one green, pressed between the pages of a worn book and slipped into a leather satchel. Followed by two feathers, one in a deep orange and another stripped by a russet brown and white. Small moments, representing some of those he healed near and dear to his heart. With his few belongings packed, he snagged a paper and pen from his bag and made a simple note, folding it and propping it on the counter.
'Sorry for imposing'
Without sparring a glance to where Geo may potentially lay, he slipped from the treehouse and down to the ground, satchel thumping against his hip. The sound of twigs snapping underfoot and the distant crashing of waves surrounded him, white noise as his mind churned and screamed. It would be many minutes before he would come to a stop, the feeling of cold water slapping against his legs shocking him from his tumultuous thoughts. After a moment of glancing around, a harsh realization would slap him across the face, bringing further tears to the boys face.
There was a scattering of towels, abandoned and caught around the legs of forgotten tables. Footprints in the sand, walking beside a path dug by a boat pushed down the beach. The scene of a funeral, long over but never forgotten. The scene of his own mother's funeral, though she wasn't by blood. The boy, only 16, felt his shoulders tremble and he ripped his satchel off, securing it closed and tossing it further up the beach, away from thereach of the ocean's waves.
With that, the boy fell, sinking down to his knees as he curled in on himself, sobbing. On the beach where his late mother had been sent out to sea, he finally allowed himself to grieve.
Tears, warm and sticky, rolled down Deniz as he sniffled into his arms, the fold out bed creaking underneath him. He kept his cries as quiet as he good, wishing to not disturb his roommate. She had her own issues to deal with, she wouldn't want his stacked atop her thinning shoulders. He knew what she thought, that he had moved in as a way of looking after. He kept with the story, hiding the reality of the situation. Was he worried for her? Sure, she was a dear friend of his. As foolish as it was, he would dub her his best, though he assumed the feeling wasn't mutual. She had the others for that, after all. He was the outlier, lingering at the edges of their friendship.
He didn't match them, he felt. They had all come from lands far away, independent. Meanwhile he had been born here, coddled by his mother and hard-pressed to leave her side. A momma's boy who still cried at the drop of the hat, despite having long left the age that was deemed acceptable. In truth, he didn't know why he was here, so far away from the hut he had grown up in. Some attempt at independence where, in reality, he had chosen someone new to latch onto.
A desperation for separation from the memories that haunted his every step, of holes that had been drilled into his chest by loss. The loving boy, who had once met every situation with a smile, had learned to face the world with a snarl, or else it rip away all that you love. Once a trio of three, with Elduin and Mariner, he had become the finale, an ending dim and unfinished. There had come another round, he prayed none of them met the same fate. A cruel thing it was, to lose sister, then brother, then mother. Like a round of bullets fired into his chest, knocking him from the tree he'd climb to be able to see the sky.
He craved for what had been lost, scraping for something to fill the loneliness that plauge his every breath, a stop to the tears that flowed ceaselessly. He was a fool, thinking he could find that here. What kind of fool was he, imposing himself upon a girl his own age with her own pain and strife. A fool to enter her home and ask for it to be his own, to think he had a place here. A fools errand for the lonely boy.
He gave a swift shake of his head, scrubbing at his already reddened face with tear-slicked palms. His eyes flickered upwards, to the wood that stretched over his head and held his roommate's bed. He wondered for a moment if she resided there, if he should check. Swiftly, he decided against it, and began to move quietly throughout the bottom half of their shared home. He hadn't many belongings, these days. Two feathers, one auburn and one green, pressed between the pages of a worn book and slipped into a leather satchel. Followed by two feathers, one in a deep orange and another stripped by a russet brown and white. Small moments, representing some of those he healed near and dear to his heart. With his few belongings packed, he snagged a paper and pen from his bag and made a simple note, folding it and propping it on the counter.
'Sorry for imposing'
Without sparring a glance to where Geo may potentially lay, he slipped from the treehouse and down to the ground, satchel thumping against his hip. The sound of twigs snapping underfoot and the distant crashing of waves surrounded him, white noise as his mind churned and screamed. It would be many minutes before he would come to a stop, the feeling of cold water slapping against his legs shocking him from his tumultuous thoughts. After a moment of glancing around, a harsh realization would slap him across the face, bringing further tears to the boys face.
There was a scattering of towels, abandoned and caught around the legs of forgotten tables. Footprints in the sand, walking beside a path dug by a boat pushed down the beach. The scene of a funeral, long over but never forgotten. The scene of his own mother's funeral, though she wasn't by blood. The boy, only 16, felt his shoulders tremble and he ripped his satchel off, securing it closed and tossing it further up the beach, away from thereach of the ocean's waves.
With that, the boy fell, sinking down to his knees as he curled in on himself, sobbing. On the beach where his late mother had been sent out to sea, he finally allowed himself to grieve.
Re: The best thing about tonight is that we're not fighting - GEORGIA. - 09-03-2020
Georgia grumbled a lot about Deniz moving in with her. She knew he didn't want to move with his mother and siblings, and that he was sticking around to keep an eye on her; to make sure she didn't jump out the window or something else stupid. And while it bothered an unknown part of her to have him breathing down her neck, she couldn't admit that it wasn't nice. He brought baubles and knick knacks into their dwelling, laying them on the counters and pinning them to what little wall space they had. It made the place feel...lived in. Welcoming. Of course, Georgia's upper half of the loft was still barren; she'd torn down her pictures and other things the day after her break down. She was almost positive she'd be in a worse place if he wasn't here to keep food in the house and her own mood just above the breaking point.
She was, in fact, in bed when Deniz stirred; she'd been listening to him cry quietly for a little while now. She'd been working up the means to go and comfort him, but decided in the end that she'd say something that made it worse. She could barely keep herself together at the moment - she needn't go and ruin someone else because she was losing it. However, when she heard the couch retract and heard him shuffle around, the girl rolled over, hand pushing her hair away from her eyes so she could see what he was doing. Picking things up - packing, she realized. Something like a stone dropped in her stomach.
When he left the note, Georgia felt a pure bit of panic pierce her heart. The first thing that popped into her mind was suicide note, and she did everything in her power not to sprint down the ladder and snatch it up. She waited until he left before checking - and couldn't decide whether she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief or frown. She ended up doing neither, but folded up the note and tucked it into her hoodie pocket anyway. She walked to the window and watched him traipse down to the water's edge, dragging her hands through her hair in a frustrated manner.
Georgia would much rather eat sticks than admit to being wrong; especially when admitting to being wrong meant that she was confessing that she needed help. She also knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was likely being very selfish. Deniz had just experienced a death in his immediate family, and his siblings were nowhere to be found. The same little voice responded with too much ease that he hadn't just learned that he murdered his father, like her problems were somehow exponentially worse.
She found herself following him anyway, climbing down the ladder to join him on the beach. She picked up his satchel for a moment, brushing the sand off and making sure nothing had fallen out. This boy had accepted and done for her what no one else had managed to do yet, and it was only decent of her to return half of his favor. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't do something - and she could hardly live with herself as it was.
Setting his satchel down, Geo slowly made her way over to him, listening, wondering what she could possibly say. She watched him look towards the deep marks in the sand from Sam's funeral procession - something she hadn't attended. She had been too afraid she would snap. Now, she only felt guilty about it, biting her lip and wondering if Deniz would have attended her father's funeral had he known her at the time.
When he wasn't looking, she waved a hand, and a breeze shifted off the ocean to push sand over the markings, covering them from view. Some reminders of loved ones were nice; not all of them were enjoyable. From there, she fiddled with her hands, doing her very best to get over her hatred of the water and the ocean at the moment, telling herself that this was more important. It was frustrating, to say in the least, and Georgia stood there on the beach for a good five minutes before finally dismissing all thoughts from her brain as best she could.
She moved forwards, next to him, sitting close enough that her knee brushed against his leg. Georgia reached out with a hand, resting it on his shoulder, thumb gently moving against his skin. She said nothing, but slid her arm around him anyways, leaning in to rest her cheek against him, and slipped the note back into one of his pockets. He was grieving, and she wanted to be there. That was all she cared about. She couldn't take care of herself, but shit if she was going to let anybody else fall into the same hole.
She was, in fact, in bed when Deniz stirred; she'd been listening to him cry quietly for a little while now. She'd been working up the means to go and comfort him, but decided in the end that she'd say something that made it worse. She could barely keep herself together at the moment - she needn't go and ruin someone else because she was losing it. However, when she heard the couch retract and heard him shuffle around, the girl rolled over, hand pushing her hair away from her eyes so she could see what he was doing. Picking things up - packing, she realized. Something like a stone dropped in her stomach.
When he left the note, Georgia felt a pure bit of panic pierce her heart. The first thing that popped into her mind was suicide note, and she did everything in her power not to sprint down the ladder and snatch it up. She waited until he left before checking - and couldn't decide whether she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief or frown. She ended up doing neither, but folded up the note and tucked it into her hoodie pocket anyway. She walked to the window and watched him traipse down to the water's edge, dragging her hands through her hair in a frustrated manner.
Georgia would much rather eat sticks than admit to being wrong; especially when admitting to being wrong meant that she was confessing that she needed help. She also knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was likely being very selfish. Deniz had just experienced a death in his immediate family, and his siblings were nowhere to be found. The same little voice responded with too much ease that he hadn't just learned that he murdered his father, like her problems were somehow exponentially worse.
She found herself following him anyway, climbing down the ladder to join him on the beach. She picked up his satchel for a moment, brushing the sand off and making sure nothing had fallen out. This boy had accepted and done for her what no one else had managed to do yet, and it was only decent of her to return half of his favor. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't do something - and she could hardly live with herself as it was.
Setting his satchel down, Geo slowly made her way over to him, listening, wondering what she could possibly say. She watched him look towards the deep marks in the sand from Sam's funeral procession - something she hadn't attended. She had been too afraid she would snap. Now, she only felt guilty about it, biting her lip and wondering if Deniz would have attended her father's funeral had he known her at the time.
When he wasn't looking, she waved a hand, and a breeze shifted off the ocean to push sand over the markings, covering them from view. Some reminders of loved ones were nice; not all of them were enjoyable. From there, she fiddled with her hands, doing her very best to get over her hatred of the water and the ocean at the moment, telling herself that this was more important. It was frustrating, to say in the least, and Georgia stood there on the beach for a good five minutes before finally dismissing all thoughts from her brain as best she could.
She moved forwards, next to him, sitting close enough that her knee brushed against his leg. Georgia reached out with a hand, resting it on his shoulder, thumb gently moving against his skin. She said nothing, but slid her arm around him anyways, leaning in to rest her cheek against him, and slipped the note back into one of his pockets. He was grieving, and she wanted to be there. That was all she cared about. She couldn't take care of herself, but shit if she was going to let anybody else fall into the same hole.
© LEXASPERATED
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THE SEA WAVES ARE MY EVENING GOWN:
Re: The best thing about tonight is that we're not fighting - michael t. - 09-04-2020
Unlike Deniz or Georgia, Michael was not in a state of falling apart. Instead, he knew that his family would soon be growing, and he still had a loving husband to turn to if anything went wrong. Despite this, it was impossible not to feel the grief that lingered within the air of The Typhoon as of late. While he had never been close to Sam, the thief still mourned for her, and it was impossible not to feel agony over the fact that one of his nephews was now dead. Even if he and Jaime hadn't been close, the reaver had loved all of his nieces and nephews dearly, and truthfully, Michael wasn't sure if he had actually processed it yet. He doubted it, considering he had never been very good at processing his emotions, let alone any sort of grief or anger. He often just responded by lashing out, or trying to run away from his problems. Hell, he had even made an attempt to run from it all, only for Deniz and Roxie to stop him in his tracks, shutting down his usual bad habits. Part of him still wanted to run, especially with the thick emotion that was constantly lingering in the air, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't hurt Roxie like that, and he especially couldn't hurt Deniz, considering the boy had already gone through so much, and he couldn't pile onto that suffering.
He wasn't sure what exactly had driven him from his house that morning. Maybe he was just feeling restless, or maybe he could tell that something was wrong. Either way, the fugitive emerged from his little hut home with a sigh, wearing only shorts and a loose button up. His feet sank into the sand and grounded him, and he couldn't help but glance around, wondering if he could catch sight of Roxie, or maybe even Goldie. Instead, he caught sight of Deniz and Georgia, sitting at the edge of the shore. He could see the barest remains of Sam's funeral gathering laying along the sand, and he found himself wincing. He hadn't attended the event, feeling far too emotionally awkward to do so. He hadn't known Sam well, and he probably would've just stayed clinging to Roxie's side the entire time, so he had opted instead to stay inside of his home, hoping that no one would notice. He doubted it, considering he knew that most would be far too blinded by their grief to take count of who had decided to come.
After taking a deep breath to settle himself, the dark haired man made his way over, wincing when he heard Deniz's soft sobs. The kid didn't deserve any of this... none of them did, honestly. Michael wasn't sure if he would truly make a good dad, but he did know that he wanted to protect all the kids and teens that were already within the group. He wanted them to grow up without the trauma that he had gone through when he was slowly becoming an adult. Biting his lip, the reaver hesitated before he sat down with the both of them, his legs folded beneath himself. He didn't say anything, just watching as the waves crashed down against the sand, and trying to figure out how to provide some kind of comfort. Eventually he just opted to offer the other his hand, staying quiet. It was a silent reminder, as well as a silent promise. He would be here for Deniz, and he would stay, even if he had screwed up a lot in the past. He wanted to make things better, and this was really the only way that he knew how.
He wasn't sure what exactly had driven him from his house that morning. Maybe he was just feeling restless, or maybe he could tell that something was wrong. Either way, the fugitive emerged from his little hut home with a sigh, wearing only shorts and a loose button up. His feet sank into the sand and grounded him, and he couldn't help but glance around, wondering if he could catch sight of Roxie, or maybe even Goldie. Instead, he caught sight of Deniz and Georgia, sitting at the edge of the shore. He could see the barest remains of Sam's funeral gathering laying along the sand, and he found himself wincing. He hadn't attended the event, feeling far too emotionally awkward to do so. He hadn't known Sam well, and he probably would've just stayed clinging to Roxie's side the entire time, so he had opted instead to stay inside of his home, hoping that no one would notice. He doubted it, considering he knew that most would be far too blinded by their grief to take count of who had decided to come.
After taking a deep breath to settle himself, the dark haired man made his way over, wincing when he heard Deniz's soft sobs. The kid didn't deserve any of this... none of them did, honestly. Michael wasn't sure if he would truly make a good dad, but he did know that he wanted to protect all the kids and teens that were already within the group. He wanted them to grow up without the trauma that he had gone through when he was slowly becoming an adult. Biting his lip, the reaver hesitated before he sat down with the both of them, his legs folded beneath himself. He didn't say anything, just watching as the waves crashed down against the sand, and trying to figure out how to provide some kind of comfort. Eventually he just opted to offer the other his hand, staying quiet. It was a silent reminder, as well as a silent promise. He would be here for Deniz, and he would stay, even if he had screwed up a lot in the past. He wanted to make things better, and this was really the only way that he knew how.
MICHAEL TOWNLEY-PHILLIPS - THE TYPHOON - REAVER
[sup]template made by tikki[/sup]Re: The best thing about tonight is that we're not fighting - Seakit Roux. - 09-10-2020
IF MY LIFE IS GOING
TO MEAN ANYTHING,
I HAVE TO LIVE IT
MYSELF.
tiguar . young . he/him
demigod of the deep
demigod of the deep
He'd heard mentions over the years of numbness being a response to loss, though he had never understood before Sam. With Elduin, he had felt anger at how easily his brother had abandoned them, slipping away without a word. For the many others that had slipped from his reach, he had felt sadness, so deep that he thought it would drag him down. Numbness though, it felt not like how he expected. He'd expected to feel nothing but, instead, it was suffocating. He felt the pressure pushing him down and no urge to fight it.
Despite the resurgance of emotions, the numbness lingered, stealing away his senses. THat was why he hadn't noticed his roommate's approach until he felt the gentle touch of a hand against his shoulder. He jerked away at first, startled by the sudden touch. It took him only a moment to settle, taking in the girls face. Grief and guilt filled Deniz's odd colored eyes as he looked away, eye's focusing once again on the waves. Despite this, he would lean into the touch, resting his head against hers. He wouldn't say it now but, he would be forever thankful for her presence that day, for the comfort she supplied despite the grief that weighed down her own shoulders.
Withdrawn from his numbness, the beta was more acutely aware of his surroundings and heard the approach of the soon-to-be father. Tears slowing, he looked to the man without lifting his head from where it rested. Attempting a half-smile, he would sniffle. As Michael sat, a leg would extend, reaching out to press against the other's. Greatful, he slipped his hand into the man's. The pain slowly began to subside in his chest, though it still throbbed dully.
A realization has manifested in his mind, one he so desperately needed. No matter how many he lost, he would never truly be alone. He would still have those there to support him, even in the most dire of moments. A quiet whisper escaped Deniz as his eyes returned to the shore, something in the back of his mind reminding him of Geo's most likely discomfort. "Thank you..."
Despite the resurgance of emotions, the numbness lingered, stealing away his senses. THat was why he hadn't noticed his roommate's approach until he felt the gentle touch of a hand against his shoulder. He jerked away at first, startled by the sudden touch. It took him only a moment to settle, taking in the girls face. Grief and guilt filled Deniz's odd colored eyes as he looked away, eye's focusing once again on the waves. Despite this, he would lean into the touch, resting his head against hers. He wouldn't say it now but, he would be forever thankful for her presence that day, for the comfort she supplied despite the grief that weighed down her own shoulders.
Withdrawn from his numbness, the beta was more acutely aware of his surroundings and heard the approach of the soon-to-be father. Tears slowing, he looked to the man without lifting his head from where it rested. Attempting a half-smile, he would sniffle. As Michael sat, a leg would extend, reaching out to press against the other's. Greatful, he slipped his hand into the man's. The pain slowly began to subside in his chest, though it still throbbed dully.
A realization has manifested in his mind, one he so desperately needed. No matter how many he lost, he would never truly be alone. He would still have those there to support him, even in the most dire of moments. A quiet whisper escaped Deniz as his eyes returned to the shore, something in the back of his mind reminding him of Geo's most likely discomfort. "Thank you..."