IT'S THE HEART OF A GUN / fire

[spacexual]

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE IT

BUT YOU CAN'T KNOW WHY    —    tags 

tldr at the end!

More than anything, Roy remembers just how loud it was. Even to their enclosed room underground. The shouts, bangs, running, and crackles ran through the cores of the earth.
And now he's seeing it all over again.

The noise. The violence.

"There's so much noise...could he be mad already?"

"No. It's too loud to be him."

"Then what else could it be?"

Footsteps grew closer, muttering of a voice they had never heard before.

The boys raise from their seated positions, shifting closer to each other in a defensive manner.

And there she was, through the thick glass walls.

They'd never seen another person before. They were short. Much shorter than the doctor. A bag swung around their shoulder and rested at their side. Blonde, messy long hair sat on their shoulders. Light blue eyes stared at them through large glasses, widened in a surprise. A hand is raised, clutched to their chest. Bewildered - that is how they appeared.

An exchange of questions and answers. He does not remember them so well anymore. A shaky sentence:
"O-Okay, um, w-we have to go. J-Just stay cl-close to me, okay?"
They have to go. "Where?" "Anyw-where but h-here. We have t-to r-run. I-It's bad outs-side." Outside. They were going outside.

The war had been lost. It had all been for nothing.

The group shuffled their ways towards the stairs. The last time the boys had seen them, there had been so much fire. Now the fire was above ground, having nothing to do with themselves. The outside was so close.
Did it really mean freedom?

It was never that easy.

But, running now. Running. Sprinting. Harsh footsteps clanking against the cold ground as a familiar face emerges from the bottom of the stairs, turning the corner to face the scene before him. The creations he had kept secret for twelve years had been found. The war was lost. He had failed. And now his apprentice is attempting to leave with them.

They could only all stare at each other for a few moments. Then, suddenly, voices raise, a shaky voice becomes strong-willed now, seemingly betrayed. A boy becomes enraged. An interruption. A burst of flames. A fury of fists. The clasps around a neck. Broken glasses across the ground.

And the other boy, now, does nothing to stop him. The woman...she is too afraid to do anything. Maybe they are both too afraid to do anything at all.

What if they made the wrong choice again?

Screams emerge from the boy, and the man, as they fight. The doctor is too weak now. Vision was practically gone. And, soon, he would not be able to breathe at all.

Was he making the wrong choice?

There was no time to ponder. The enemies would soon be upon them, and more flames would emerge, though protectively. Whatever would happen to that woman that'd let them free, they would not, and could not ever know. The boys run from the smoke-filled capital, overtaken by a war they could not have hoped to win in the first place.
The desperation is what had brought them forth. But even then, it wasn't enough. The boy had not seen his brother's wound. He had not realized they managed to get a gash upon him. They ran. And they ran. And they
ran.
Until
they couldn't.
He couldn't.
They escaped from the smoke and chaos.
And the sky had begun to clear.
But it was too late.
His brother falls. And he doesn't get back up.

The first night, he never got to see those stars they were so excited to see. Instead, the weapon stared down to the ground where that dead body remained motionless, stars shining above him with no audience to view them.

It had all been for nothing.

It was too late now, and in the silence, he decides he won't waste it. He won't waste any of it anymore.

You are supposed to bury the dead. Who else would do it for him?

He watched the sunrise with his best friend in the ground.
Only, his friend was not watching. He could not see it. He could not feel it. No smells. No crickets chirping, birds singing, nor gentle breeze. He could not sense it.
He never would.

He never even got the choice.

But he has the chance. Even then, though, it was taken away. Too soon, too violently; ripped from his hands.
What happened next...
It was hard to remember.
It had not taken them long to find him.
There was suffering. And sickness. And fire. Always fire. There was suffering. There was death.
The rest was a blur, until suddenly, he was here. A tiger, engulfed in flames.

This was our chance, how could you have stopped it?

Now neither of them got to truly be free.
This isn't their home. This isn't their world. This isn't even his real body.

Each night now, Roy stares to the sky.
His mind has pushed these memories far, far down. Locked away for no one to reach. Not even for himself. It was protecting itself from the overwhelming confusion. The guilt. That feeling that began in his stomach, like butterflies, before eating away at it, and spreading to his entire body, causing it to grow limp in a numbing panic. It felt nauseous. It felt life-ending. It felt like it was choking him from the inside out.

His body contained all of it, freezing before it could shout it out. If it were to do such a thing, it would be too loud. It would destroy the hearing of the world. It would be never-ending, travelling across the entire world.
But, the only way to do that, was to block it out. Block it all out. It was gone. The boy does not remember it. He cannot remember it.

The tiger's days as an experiment were erased. No living being held knowledge, besides very basic, vague ideas, of such a time in his former life. The weapon has successfully freed himself, surely, now. The memories no longer plagued him. The fire was not a threat to him. The worry of hurting others, messing up so badly, being controlled, being threatened. It was all gone. He has a family. A father. And, still, he does not really know what that means. But he thinks he likes it. And, at this point, he cannot know much else.

That was, until he was once more forced to relive them. An experiment. A weapon out of its cage.
This time he ran. This time he didn't look back, try to save the one who commanded him. This time he decided: maybe it was better now - to run.
But maybe it wasn't.
It was cowardly.

But he's seeing it all over again.
He's hurt and hurt and hurt.
He has no idea what he is fighting for.

The desert was long gone by now. How he gets home, he is not so sure, but the boy should consider himself lucky: the marsh surrounds him and he feels the mud between his paws. He's ran far enough. But he's not sure he can stop. It never stops. Until, suddenly, his body breaks, falling.

Flames burst all around his body. The heat spreads upward in a spiral, pulsating closer and farther from him rapidly. Bright burning hues rip apart in a fury of emotion. Screams split through the air, sobs wracking through his breaths as he collapses further into the ground, the world seeming to shake all around him, twisting and turning and spinning all over.

This world
accepting and welcoming it and taking from it
it's so selfish.
He is so selfish.
He buried his brother.
He put his brother in the ground.
He's the one responsible for putting that boy in the ground.
And he was his brother.
It's undeniable. They were brothers. They were. But he was not good enough in the end. No good at all. He was freed. He was protected. He got the second chance.
He got the second chance!
Why did he get it? Why did he receive it at all? Why didn't they just go away forever, like they were supposed to? They were supposed to die! And that was supposed to be it! He died! He is supposed to be gone, forever! Just like his brother. And it was being wasted. He made the wrong choice! Again and again and again! Stop it! He ruined everything! He was not supposed to be anyone's son. He was supposed to be a weapon. He was supposed to die with the war's loss. He wasn't supposed to be freed. He wasn't supposed to be taken again. He wasn't supposed to continue the cycle of war. It keeps repeating itself. Over and over and over again. "Stop!" he pleads.

But it falls on deaf ears.

And it cannot stop. Not like that. Begging was all he had at this point.
But he doesn't get what he wants. He is not supposed to receive that. He knows this.
No matter how hard he tries.
It is always consistent.

We're gonna be free, I promise.
And you won't ever have to hurt anything ever again. And nobody can hurt us.

You shouldn't make promises you can't keep.

The heat spirals on, creating a whirl around his body as he curls further into a ball, unable to even attempt to control himself. Screams exit the boy's body, his sobbing face shoving further into the burning ground.
There is so much noise.

//tldr: roy has ran away from the pitt after the mass raid, fallen in the swamp and basically fuckin exploded whilst crying

[wormwood.]

In the past, whenever Wormwood had ended up attempting to ask Roy about it, Roy had always avoided talking about what happened before he had arrived in Tanglewood. He avoided revealing why he looked the way he did, why he had been up in flames when he had gotten there, and what he might've been even before any of that. At first Worm had been hurt by Roy's constant question dodging or uncomfortable silences, thinking that the tiger didn't trust him enough to tell him such things. However, as the two had grown closer and Worm had learned more and more about the younger male, he realized that it wasn't that big of a deal. After all, one's past didn't define everything about them, and God knew that Worm despised talking about his own childhood – the one full of equally false promises, parental abuse, an absolutely clueless brother, and a life that felt like he was never truly living. If Worm could consider that his life had never truly started until he had arrived in Tanglewood, then why couldn't Roy? So, after that realization, Wormwood had stopped it with the questions about the past, instead focusing on things that Roy liked to do, what he hadn't read yet, and everything in between to learn about the boy. That had eventually caused everything to progress to now, when Worm was Roy's adoptive father. He still didn't know that much about his son's shrouded past, but he had known what he wanted his future to look like, and he had been looking forward to it. Everything had been so utterly perfect, and finally coming together in the way he had always dreamed – and then the Pitt had wrenched Roy away from him, dragging him down into their depths and practically brainwashing him.

When Worm had arrived on the Pitt territory the first time, with determination in his eyes and in his heart, he had been so sure  that he would be able to sneak in, find Roy, and sneak the both of them out without any issues. Easy as pie, one might say. But then, Worm had finally reached the young tiger, and Roy had just looked up at him, without a hint of recognition or familial love in his eyes, and had attacked. It had been clear then and there that Roy wasn't the same as when  he had first been snatched seat from Tanglewood, and Worm had recoiled, terrified and hurt because the one person he thought he could trust, the one person he loved, had betrayed him. At least, that was what he had thought had first. In the hours following that encounter, Wormwood had gone to see Viera, turning to the woman who acted almost like a mother figure to him for comfort about what had happened. After a long conversation full of tears and pain, Worm had come to the realization that the tiger he had met within the Pitt territory had not been his son. That tiger had not been Roy, the young and cautious soul that liked books and was hesitant, but delighted to have a true father figure again. Rather, that tiger had been a totally brainwashed version of that child, manipulated into doing whatever the Pitt commanded and protecting that bastard Jervis. The realization had made his blood run hot and fierce, and had only made his delight when they were finally able to raid the place that much stronger. Worm had been so, so ready. So ready to dig his claws into Jervis's flesh, throw the fox from his throne of bone, and make it so that he had his son – and his happily ever after – back again. The moment Goldie had told them they were moving towards the camp had been pure euphoria, and Wormwood could already feel the flames engulfing him as they had charged towards the jungle.

However, unlike Roy, Wormwood actually had control of those flames. Sure, they were motivated by strong emotions, just as the other's were, but Worm was more easily able to manipulate the flames, making them dance around his body and engulf the parts he wanted them to when he lashed out at his enemies. Even when Worm had first met Roy, he had never considered his seemingly unending fire to be anything more than a minor nuisance. With his own flame elementals, Worm had been able to sit side to side with the tiger, enjoying his company and worth without the flames lashing out and searing his fur, burning down to his skin. Still, he had been delighted when Roy had finally been able to put his flames out, because it meant that his son was able to see more of the territory, and would be able to truly make friends, something that Worm knew Roy was hesitantly excited for. Still, at that point, it had seemed as though Roy had finally crossed a bridge in his life, and was finally able to operate without his flames ruining anything for him. Of course, the Pitt had then decided to go and fuck that up, as they did with so many other things in the boy's life. Because now, here Roy was, sobbing and wailing out a cacophony of noise that seemed to burn Wormwood's ears before he was even on the scene, filling his body with sorrow and dread. He knew that voice, he knew that light, and he knew the overwhelming smell of smoke that billowed through the air. He had been eager to find his son after the other had fled from the battle with the Pitt, but he had been hoping to find him in a better condition than this, at the very least. It made his rage grow hotter and more prominent inside, but he shoved that aside, reminding himself that the Pitt was being dealt with. Goldie could handle that. Right now, he needed to handle the sobbing and flaming tiger within the Tanglewood trees.

Without a single regard for his own safety, the guardsman plowed through the jungle towards the source of the noise and the smoke, ignoring the way that his body wailed in protest, sore from the battle that had taken place only hours before. His legs trembled with each step, his wings crooked and struggling as he glided briefly through the trees, but he was eventually able to make it to where Roy was, landing just a few feet away. His blue gaze immediately softened when he saw his son, curled up into a ball and sobbing so hard that it made Worm's head hurt just to think about. As the flames flicked and spiraled wildly around the tiger, Worm just flattened his ears, taking a deep breath before he plunged forward, ignoring the billowing storm of emotion, noises, and heat that bombarded him, the closer he got to Roy. Spreading out his wings above his head, Worm lowered himself down to the ground near Roy, his paws stretching out to wrap slowly around the other, offering him comfort and security. The flames attacked Worm's fur and feathers, eager to burn and sear whatever they could reach. Having already used his powers a lot during the battle against the Pitt, Worm could feel how exhausted his body was, his elementals curling the flames away from him as blood dripped from his nose down into the ground below. He was sure eventually his powers would fail, and he would end up with some pretty nasty burns to show from this, but he ignored that thought, just rumbling firmly above the roar of the fire. "Roy...? Roy, please, I want you to look at me. It's me, Wormwood. I'm here for you. I will always be here for you... I need you to do like we practiced. I need you to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and let it out, alright? I know you can control this." His words were so firm and confident that it seemed as if there was no doubt in his mind that Roy could conquer the fire, but inside his emotions were a messy storm of anxiety and sorrow, desperately hoping Roy would be okay.

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]

[spacexual]

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE IT [align=right]BUT YOU CAN'T KNOW WHY    —    tags 

It is all so loud, yet, somehow, through all that sound, he can make out one voice. It slices into his senses like a dagger, his breath catching. The words it is making out exactly, he is not so sure, but he does know, now, of the person it belongs to. Or, at least, of the power they hold over him. The power he trusts them with. One that had been overridden with fear and pain, only hours before. But the more time went on, the more he scratches at himself, his mind racing with various memories and beliefs. Instincts and thoughts at war, body confused and overwhelmed more than it has been since the moments leading to...
leading to his death.

But he is alive now.
And he's hurting others. He's hurting those he cares for. He has been making the wrong choices.

The tiger's head shoots upward, hot tears falling from his glowing eyes, blending into the spirals of flames licking at his sides. "I-" his voice is weak, choking back from the mixture of mucus and smoke. He needs help. But he doesn't deserve it. He didn't work for it. He can't ask for it.

He trembles, staring towards his father with an agonized, helpless expression. He was given a second chance, and he cannot even use it correctly. His gaze is locked upon the lion above, body curling further into itself. The flames only grow larger. He is terrified of himself.

And he is so useless for it.

He is so tired of being useless, destructive. A weapon...he didn't want it. He didn't want to be it at all. He didn't want to hurt. But all he kept doing was hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and he didn't know how to change anymore. He didn't know how to control it. It kept coming back. "I'm-" he's trying to say something, and he is not even so sure what it is. His body cannot figure it out.

He inhales sharply, focusing upon the familiar figure above him. Oh, he is so tired. He is hurting him again, and again. "Please..." he is whispering to himself now. Make it stop. His eyes close tight now, teeth baring as his head hits the ground, and suddenly, he feels the earth around him tremble. He feels it shift and now the burning plants around him shoot outward and upward, piercing through the flames, vines curling around the heat quickly and violently until, within moments, it all stops. The flames are seemingly crushed away, only burning ashes remaining, and the now overgrown foliage collapses upon itself, too, leaves and twigs landing over the boy.

The noise, too, disappears. And now, all of a sudden, it is just him, and his father, and the rest of his newfound home.

The boy's head remains in the ground, body shaking uncontrollably. "I-I'm...n-not supposed to be hh-here." His body lets out, with seemingly no warning, or even context. It would be several moments before he spoke again. "I died." He whispers this, eyes opening once more, staring to his side as if in shock at his own revelation. "...a long time ago."

[wormwood.]

Despite what Roy might have thought, Worm did not care how much his son lashed out, accidentally hurt him, or made mistakes. No matter what Roy did, he would always be Worm's son, and as such, the tiger would always be forgiven by the guardsman, simply by virtue of being his beloved family. Even Roy lashing out at him back in the Pitt hadn't been enough to stop Worm from his mission to bring the buy home. Sure, it had hurt like hell and he had been fearful and upset afterwards, but he had eventually calmed down, his passion for breaking the control over the tiger reinvigorated. Now, his thoughts were focused solely upon the tiger in front of him, knowing that the male needed his help. He didn't care if Roy didn't think he deserved his father's help – Wormwood was in control of his own actions, and he didn't care how hurt he ended up in the end... all that mattered now was Roy. All that mattered was his son. Worm couldn't bear the thought of losing another person that he cared so much for, and he felt his hold tighten around the tiger as he began to sputter out weak fragments of words, the starts of sentences with no endings. The flames in between the two of them grew larger and more powerful, and Worm could feel more blood rushing forth from his nose, forming a small pool on the ground beneath them. His powers screeching and waned, with the flames licking through and scorching his fur. He gritted his teeth, the burning pain nearly unbearable, but he steadfastly ignored it. He began to open his muzzle, desperate to get out some sort of reassurances before he was forced to collapse from the explosion of pain spreading throughout his chest and his head. However, the words were bluntly cut off when the earth rose up around them, plants wrenching from the ground and slamming down upon both him and Roy.

Wormwood had closed his eyes when the plants came down upon them, assuming he was about to be inflicted with some swift and awful death. However, the death never came, with the flames being snuffed out before the plants collapsed in on themselves, falling and curling around and on top of them. With the flames finally gone, Worm let his head fall upon the earth beneath him, desperate gasps for air leaving him as the overwhelming scent of blood and smoke lingered before him. He closed his eyes for a moment, just taking in the pain that had been inflicted upon him. Truly, if there was one thing that had thoroughly injured him the most thus far, it had been being Roy's father – yet still, Worm fought against all odds to help the boy. His eyes finally reopened again.when Roy spoke, his voice trembling and his entire body shaking so violently it made Worm's shake as well. Worm blinked slowly at the tiger, trying to wrap his mind around what his son had said before attempting to respond. It took a long moment for the words to finally spike through the fuzziness in his mind, making him jolt. He swallowed thickly, wincing as he felt blood running down the back of his throat from his power exertion. He wheezed for a moment before he spoke, his voice rough and gripped with exhaustion despite the relieved smile that graced his face, "You... you died? Th-That doesn't mean you're not supposed to be here. In fact, that means that you've been given another chance. It means that you definitely belong here. In Tanglewood. That's why you aren't dead anymore." He tried to get up again, to try and embrace his son, but his legs trembled violently beneath him for a moment before he collapsed again, letting out a pained grunt. He then said, sighing heavily before looking back towards Roy, a soft cough leaving him, "I'm so glad you're back, Roy... you're here because you belong here. No past life is going to change that. Every part of his body was screaming in pain, begging him to just close his eyes and drift off to sate his exhaustion, but he ignored it, stubbornly keeping himself awake.

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]

[spacexual]

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE IT [align=right]BUT YOU CAN'T KNOW WHY    —    tags 

The boy's gaze turns towards Wormwood once more, watching as blood drips from his face, the red causing the boy to freeze. Blood...he is not so sure he wants to get it on himself. But, he has caused this. The trembling tiger drags himself towards the male, tears still falling fast down his face as he approaches his side. His body still has more to say. It still doesn't make sense. "I-I buried m-my brother." The boy cries out weakly, his face stuffing into his father's mane. "H-He w-wanted to see the st-stars, b-but..." his voice trails off, breath catching itself again. Why was it him? Why did he get the second chance?

He hurt his father. He put his brother in the ground. He doesn't deserve this family. This dedication. He should have died instead. Bo...would have never done this. He would have never hurt so much, unless he had to, and he wouldn't lose control, and he wouldn't hurt his dad. "Don't wanna hh-hurt...anybody...but I hurt ev-everybody." He seems to be calming himself down now, though the cries are still clear. A weapon wants to defy its purpose, so badly. He craves it so desperately. But, it is so hard. Why do they let him stay?

Even now, he is being selfish. To bring upon all of this to his father, to continue to seek his aid, when he knows he does not deserve it. To make him continue to listen to him, despite hurting him, and exhausting him. If he was not careful, he would kill him. And he didn't know how to be careful anymore, other than to simply run away. But his legs are shaking so much, he is not so sure he even can do that. And it hurts him, too, and he's no one to blame but himself.

[wormwood.]

In many ways, Roy reminded the guardsman so starkly of himself when he was younger. When Worm had been just a cub, he had been berated and mistreated, isolated from those that might have in another universe been in his friends. And even before then, in his days as an angel, he had been subjected to all of the suffering in the world, a heavy weight upon his nonexistent shoulders as he carried burdens reserved only for the most senior of archangels. Through all of the hardships he had been through, he had been like Roy – unable or unwilling to see that he was worthy of anything. Any love, any respect, any trust, or any other positive thing that was directed towards him was either turned away or treated as a mistake on the part of the one giving it. Hell, when he had first arrived in Tanglewood, he had approached making friends with an air of cautiousness and muted respect, only in the group because of his own brother. However, as time had gone on, he had gradually come to feel more and more comfortable in his own skin, feeling less like the useless monster he had been led to believe he was, and more like the strong and confident tangler he now liked to think he represented. Now that he was presented with a journey much like his own, he only hoped that he could be the same sort of force in Roy's life that other tanglers had been in his own – the one that made him realize that he was so much more than everything he had been led to believe. He wasn't just a monster, or a weapon, or a slave. He was Wormwood's son, and he was just a damn good kid in general.

He noticed the pained and cautious look that came over Roy's face when the tiger took in his father's injured form, and the blood running down his front, but Worm just offered him the most sincere smile he could manage, opening his muzzle to speak. However, he was cut off when Roy pressed into his side, the boy's face disappearing within his halo of a mane. He heard Roy's muffled and frantic words, and his gaze softened further, one of his large wings settling over his son to pull him closer. He waited until Roy was done before he rumbled soothingly, pressing his nose against the child's head affectionately as he spoke, "Roy... son. I know you're hurting right now. I can't imagine how much pain you must be in, but I know that whatever happened to your brother? It wasn't your fault. And I'm sure that now, he's somewhere out there, up among those stars, watching you. And he's so damn proud of how far you've come." It hurt, speaking so candidly about Roy's brother and how proud the other would be, no doubt delighted with the fact that, even in another form, Roy was alive, and he had true family. It hurt because Wormwood knew he would probably never have a similar relationship with his own brother ever again, after what Poet had done to him... but still, Wormwood would ignore the pain, if it meant reassuring Roy, "And I promise you, you don't hurt everybody. Even if it seems like you do... you don't. And even if you do hurt people, you know what you do? You learn from it and get better, and you keep moving on, even when things go wrong. And I know you can do that for me, Roy. I know how strong you are."

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]