08-06-2018, 10:04 PM
6. Jealousy
jealousy + what’s the worst thing y/c do to somebody they care about?
Dagon felt jealousy. That was a part of him. When he was young, when it was just the two of them, he had been jealous of Dimitri. Because Dagon had to bear his pain and his suffering, but at what cost? No thank you? Dagon’s purpose being simplified to a trauma holder like- like- AGH! The tom found himself knocking over his whiskey and breathing heavily.
He fought with Dimitri when they were little. Fought over control and who had the right to be the core. The first personality. The main. Maybe some part of Dagon, deep down, had wanted it to be him. He wanted to be the main personality. It gave him validation and justification that he was real. He had just as much a right to the body as Dimitri.
When he was young, he knew his belief that he was the main personality was a lie after he had looked in a mirror. Dimitri didn’t look like him- they weren’t the same. He had been stuck wondering if he was real and at that time…. they couldn’t talk to eachother about their problems. Dagon was alone in Dimitri’s small city, isolated by tall buildings and with no one to talk to.
Maybe that was why Dakota was second. Dakota came to give them company and keep them in balance. The old tom had given them company. He’d known his name, and quickly took up the father role.
Dagon wondered certain things. If Heaven was real. Would they all die together and be separate souls? Would he go to hell or were they all tied to each other? Would they only be free of Dimitri’s body in death?
He stared at his whiskey and found a sigh leaving him. He was Dimitri’s persecutor. Sort of. His job was to knock Dimitri down so the others could build him back up again. But they were all stuck in the same body, so if he was destroying them, then what was the point? Control? Being self-destructive for fun?
Dagon moved to the whiskey and started shifting his arms, to pour some- no. He pounded the floor boards with his fists. No. Why couldn’t it have been me? Why did he have bear Dimitri’s burdens? He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to be made! He didn’t- he didn’t- he broke his glass.
Dagon wheezed and grabbed the bottle, forcing it open and turning the rest of his legs into monkey legs, and hoisting up the bottle to swallow it down.
He was jealous of Dimitri. He hated that he got to be in charge, he got to make the rules. They shared trauma but Dimitri got to dictate who had a turn to use the body. He got to decide everything. And he? Dagon? Dagon never got so much as a thank you. He never got a thank you because it was his
He grabbed the table and tipped it over, releasing a scream from his body. He wanted what Dimitri had. He wanted to be in charge.
jealousy + what’s the worst thing y/c do to somebody they care about?
Dagon felt jealousy. That was a part of him. When he was young, when it was just the two of them, he had been jealous of Dimitri. Because Dagon had to bear his pain and his suffering, but at what cost? No thank you? Dagon’s purpose being simplified to a trauma holder like- like- AGH! The tom found himself knocking over his whiskey and breathing heavily.
He fought with Dimitri when they were little. Fought over control and who had the right to be the core. The first personality. The main. Maybe some part of Dagon, deep down, had wanted it to be him. He wanted to be the main personality. It gave him validation and justification that he was real. He had just as much a right to the body as Dimitri.
When he was young, he knew his belief that he was the main personality was a lie after he had looked in a mirror. Dimitri didn’t look like him- they weren’t the same. He had been stuck wondering if he was real and at that time…. they couldn’t talk to eachother about their problems. Dagon was alone in Dimitri’s small city, isolated by tall buildings and with no one to talk to.
Maybe that was why Dakota was second. Dakota came to give them company and keep them in balance. The old tom had given them company. He’d known his name, and quickly took up the father role.
Dagon wondered certain things. If Heaven was real. Would they all die together and be separate souls? Would he go to hell or were they all tied to each other? Would they only be free of Dimitri’s body in death?
He stared at his whiskey and found a sigh leaving him. He was Dimitri’s persecutor. Sort of. His job was to knock Dimitri down so the others could build him back up again. But they were all stuck in the same body, so if he was destroying them, then what was the point? Control? Being self-destructive for fun?
Dagon moved to the whiskey and started shifting his arms, to pour some- no. He pounded the floor boards with his fists. No. Why couldn’t it have been me? Why did he have bear Dimitri’s burdens? He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to be made! He didn’t- he didn’t- he broke his glass.
Dagon wheezed and grabbed the bottle, forcing it open and turning the rest of his legs into monkey legs, and hoisting up the bottle to swallow it down.
He was jealous of Dimitri. He hated that he got to be in charge, he got to make the rules. They shared trauma but Dimitri got to dictate who had a turn to use the body. He got to decide everything. And he? Dagon? Dagon never got so much as a thank you. He never got a thank you because it was his
He grabbed the table and tipped it over, releasing a scream from his body. He wanted what Dimitri had. He wanted to be in charge.