Post by carcinoGeneticist on Jul 21, 2009 23:57:13 GMT -5
Breath
Words: 2141
Characters: Pale, Rhiannon, Seth, mentions of others
Warnings: Some swearing
~~~
Being alive wasn't necessarily everything that Apocalypse had hoped it would be. That wasn't to say that he wasn't thrilled, no, only that there was a lot of bad that went with the good.
Breathing was difficult for him. As a weapon, he'd often made himself breathe when he needed to speak or felt it was required or fitting, to keep others from worrying or being otherwise disturbed by how alive he both was and wasn't. Now breathing was a requirement, and sometimes he needed a reminder. The way his head would begin to buzz - another new experience - was usually a good indicator that it was time to take a breath. It wasn't so effective when there was something else on his mind, unfortunately. There were a lot of things that had fallen out of place in the aftermath of his and Rhiannon's... swap, things that Apocalypse felt he was being unfairly blamed or given responsibility for. He'd just had an interaction with Kieran which hadn't gone smoothly at all, and when the boy'd finally burst into tears, Apocalypse had to leave. Rhiannon's sorrow pressed in on his mind like a wet blanket, clinging and making it impossible for him to think for himself. He'd just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere he couldn't be bothered, and try and clear his thoughts.
When Seth had cornered him as he tried to do exactly that, it was the man's singular wish that he could just vanish back to the bodiless plane he'd always been sent to before. He didn't have the time, the energy, or the patience to deal with any of them. Not now. Probably not ever.
"I just don't understand it,[/b]" the man said for what must have been the thirtieth time that day, staring at Apocalypse with an utterly ridiculous expression on his face. Was he stoned? Fucking hell, the man was dense. He felt his lip curling. "How could you just take over her life? I mean... she was - is - my daughter. She's got kids, a family. Hadrian's here to visit her now that she's back and he says you won't let him see her. What happens to the rest of us? Do we just fall by the wayside?[/b]"
That was almost too much, and Apocalypse gritted his teeth. "I don't know what happens to you. I'm not you. She's your daughter but I'm sure as hell not your son, and she's Hadrian's sister but I hate him." He stared the man down, feeling himself bristle, his hands balling into fists at his side. Really, he wanted to hit someone, anyone would do, but he knew that punching Seth would be a terrible idea. "If he's feeling so left out just tell him to go back to his own damn Court and get back to work. I'm sure they have more important things for him to do there than sit around and feel sorry for himself. Doesn't he have a child of his own to worry about?"
For a moment, the burly man looked as if he'd been slapped, and then he frowned. What could he say to a person who hated one child and claimed to love the other? "Least you could do is try to slip back where her life left off and be a part of the family. It'd help all of us adjust. Wouldn't it make her happy to know things were okay? I thought you loved her. Or something.[/b]"
That was when the room was suddenly too small and rage filled the ex-scythe. He shoved Seth aside and stalked away without giving him another glance, simply unable to deal with that. He hated Seth. He hated Heilyn. Heilyn. What in the nine hells had possessed him to actually talk about something so disgustingly personal with her? What had made him think that she wouldn't share it with the hair-beast she called a husband? Wasn't it enough that he'd offered himself up as Xiven's King, a replacement for Rhiannon? Wasn't it enough that he'd stayed behind when she'd left?
When he reached his room, he collapsed against the wall, shaking violently when he realized that he hadn't taken a single breath since he'd left Seth's side. With everything that had been going through his mind he'd just... forgotten, and the spinning of anger could be easily confused with the need for oxygen. He panted, gasping to fill his lungs, supporting himself against the wall until the feeling of weakness had passed.
He hated Rhiannon.
~~~
The rest of the day was slow and non-eventful. A closed door after an outburst like he'd already had today could easily keep Seth or anyone else who wanted to bother him at bay. He'd decided to summon Rhiannon and let her do whatever it was that she wanted. She'd left almost immediately to go play with her children, hoping that Xiven would be too busy to come in and see her while she did. She wasn't ready to meet with the woman who had been her Queen just yet. As much as he feared leaving her alone, he hoped that this way, he could just relax without worrying about someone else coming in and needing to talk to him in order to get ahold of her.
This was, after all, the first time he'd ever found that not sleeping could make him feel so crappy.
Even though he knew that she could still hear his thoughts and feel his emotions as if they were her own, he felt more protected when she wasn't in the room. Apocalypse was at a total loss of what he should do. Even now, when Rhiannon wasn't in complete control of him, she was still dictating his every movement. He was still acting in her stead, a replacement, cushioning the blow for all the people she'd hurt with her selfish decision. And every night, when she curled up against him, he'd do everything she asked of him, as if he was still her weapon. He put his head in his hands, pressing his face against them and brushing his hair back, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He didn't like the situation. But what was there for him to do about it? After all, she was the one who had given him life - twice.
The second his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed and he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
~~~
Her legs were shaking when Rhiannon made her way back to the room that had been hers and was now her Pale one's. She'd spent the last several hours with her children, watching them, playing with them, marvelling over how handsome and beautiful they'd become. She'd been patient and loving, calm even when Othello seemed pathologically determined to steal Xander's bindings right off his body. She'd found Kieran and talked to him about what he'd talked with Apocalypse about before, soothing his upset and curling up around him. When she'd left, she'd kissed his forehead and smoothed his mane, felt nothing when her heart would have clenched before - he reminded her so deeply of the good in his father.
It was wrong. Everything was so wrong. She'd lost almost everything she'd had before, something that she knew would have been the result of her actions either way. This way was almost worse, however, with her ability to ghost around in the life she'd had before, just without truely living.
Rhiannon paused outside her old door, sliding her hands over the wood and resting her cheek against it.
She felt lost. She needed something to grab her, bring her down, stabilize her mind and soul. He'd always been the one to do it before, long before she ever even knew what he was. Slowly, quietly, Rhiannon eased the door open and slipped into the room like a shadow, already eagerly anticipating the warmth she'd find in his arms, the comfort she'd feel knowing that someone still loved her. He always would, after all.
She crossed the room, silent and swift, then slowly crawled up into the bed. His still form stirred, turned to face her, expression crinkled and confused. "Rhi?" he asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. In some ways, it was amazing to her, seeing him like this. It was as if she'd woken Xiven or Lior from sleep, not her Pale one. In some way, that was a dissapointment, but he was all she had right now. She crawled atop him, straddling his body, cupping his smooth face (though was that a prickling of stubble she felt under her fingers? the man needed to shave) in her hands and pulling him close.
"Hello, Apocalypse,[/b]" she whispered, feeling the heat of his breaths on her lips, finding herself smiling despite herself as he stirred beneath her. One of his hands crawled across her body, settling on the curve of her hip, his fingers working unthinkingly across the surface of her skin.
"'ello, Rhi." the man replied, drowsiness in his words for all that he was making an attempt to get up. "Something you need?"
Rhiannon leaned in and kissed him, her lips brushing softly over his own. "Just you,[/b]" she whispered, one hand in his hair. She really wanted the body beneath hers to be Xiven's, or worse, Lior's, but she thought nothing of the lie. It always had been, so why would she feel differently now? That was just the way they were, the two of them, and he knew it. She kissed him again, lips meeting lips more firmly than before.
She wasn't expecting for him to not kiss her back, nor was she expecting a strong hand to grip her by the hair and then pull her away rather than closer. She stared at him, yellow eyes dull with confusion, her lips parted just slightly. Apocalypse was looking at her, and he could feel the hurt and the desire and the pain that was all wrapped up into one confusing package. But what really frightened her was what he said.
"No, Rhi. Get off of me."
The woman-scythe didn't move, simply stared down at him and tried to touch him again. He batted her hand away with a grunt, screwing up his face and rubbing at his eyes. He was exhausted, she could see. That must have been it, though she could quite clearly sense something else. Rhiannon had always been good at ignoring whatever was right in front of her face. She leaned in again, trying to kiss him one more time, but he twisted so that she couldn't find his lips and instead found herself awkwardly pressing her lips against his hair. "Oh, Pale, just give me a few minutes... You'll sleep even better after.[/b]"
When Apocalypse froze beneath her and stared at her, it was impossible for her to ignore it. "No, Rhi, I could sleep just fine without your help. I just want you to... Stop. Stop using me. I'm not your fucking toy anymore." The moment he said it, his mouth felt dry, his stomach twisted. The expression on her face was almost too much to bear, and he wanted to take his words back and soothe it. He just couldn't. "I just... I want you to stop pretending you have room for me, too. We both know you don't, so just stop trying. Goodnight, Rhiannon."
The man rolled over, pushing her off of him and pulling his blankets up and over his face without another word. Rhiannon stared at his sleeping form for a long time, not knowing what to say or do, reaching out as if to touch him and then hesitating. She couldn't. What he'd said... It had been final, and worse, it had been true. Rhiannon didn't have room for anyone else in her heart, but she'd still let her weapon foster such strong emotions for her. She'd always known that she'd never be able to return them. Rhiannon began to shake, filled with the knowledge that this was something she could never fix.
~~~
When the light of morning reached his eyes, Apocalypse stirred once more. He was still exhausted, but the effects of his rest made him feel at least a little bit better. He sat up slowly, stretching out as he did, yawning widely and running his tongue over his lips. Only one cut from biting them this morning, an improvement. Dimly, he found himself wondering where Rhiannon was. He remembered their conversation vividly, knew he'd hurt her for the sake of his own self preservation. But he'd had to. When he turned and saw the scythe resting against the wall he knew beyond a doubt that she'd understood and he'd never need to bring the subject up again.
When he finally remembered to breathe, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since he'd been alive, he found himself able to breathe easy.
Words: 2141
Characters: Pale, Rhiannon, Seth, mentions of others
Warnings: Some swearing
~~~
Being alive wasn't necessarily everything that Apocalypse had hoped it would be. That wasn't to say that he wasn't thrilled, no, only that there was a lot of bad that went with the good.
Breathing was difficult for him. As a weapon, he'd often made himself breathe when he needed to speak or felt it was required or fitting, to keep others from worrying or being otherwise disturbed by how alive he both was and wasn't. Now breathing was a requirement, and sometimes he needed a reminder. The way his head would begin to buzz - another new experience - was usually a good indicator that it was time to take a breath. It wasn't so effective when there was something else on his mind, unfortunately. There were a lot of things that had fallen out of place in the aftermath of his and Rhiannon's... swap, things that Apocalypse felt he was being unfairly blamed or given responsibility for. He'd just had an interaction with Kieran which hadn't gone smoothly at all, and when the boy'd finally burst into tears, Apocalypse had to leave. Rhiannon's sorrow pressed in on his mind like a wet blanket, clinging and making it impossible for him to think for himself. He'd just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere he couldn't be bothered, and try and clear his thoughts.
When Seth had cornered him as he tried to do exactly that, it was the man's singular wish that he could just vanish back to the bodiless plane he'd always been sent to before. He didn't have the time, the energy, or the patience to deal with any of them. Not now. Probably not ever.
"I just don't understand it,[/b]" the man said for what must have been the thirtieth time that day, staring at Apocalypse with an utterly ridiculous expression on his face. Was he stoned? Fucking hell, the man was dense. He felt his lip curling. "How could you just take over her life? I mean... she was - is - my daughter. She's got kids, a family. Hadrian's here to visit her now that she's back and he says you won't let him see her. What happens to the rest of us? Do we just fall by the wayside?[/b]"
That was almost too much, and Apocalypse gritted his teeth. "I don't know what happens to you. I'm not you. She's your daughter but I'm sure as hell not your son, and she's Hadrian's sister but I hate him." He stared the man down, feeling himself bristle, his hands balling into fists at his side. Really, he wanted to hit someone, anyone would do, but he knew that punching Seth would be a terrible idea. "If he's feeling so left out just tell him to go back to his own damn Court and get back to work. I'm sure they have more important things for him to do there than sit around and feel sorry for himself. Doesn't he have a child of his own to worry about?"
For a moment, the burly man looked as if he'd been slapped, and then he frowned. What could he say to a person who hated one child and claimed to love the other? "Least you could do is try to slip back where her life left off and be a part of the family. It'd help all of us adjust. Wouldn't it make her happy to know things were okay? I thought you loved her. Or something.[/b]"
That was when the room was suddenly too small and rage filled the ex-scythe. He shoved Seth aside and stalked away without giving him another glance, simply unable to deal with that. He hated Seth. He hated Heilyn. Heilyn. What in the nine hells had possessed him to actually talk about something so disgustingly personal with her? What had made him think that she wouldn't share it with the hair-beast she called a husband? Wasn't it enough that he'd offered himself up as Xiven's King, a replacement for Rhiannon? Wasn't it enough that he'd stayed behind when she'd left?
When he reached his room, he collapsed against the wall, shaking violently when he realized that he hadn't taken a single breath since he'd left Seth's side. With everything that had been going through his mind he'd just... forgotten, and the spinning of anger could be easily confused with the need for oxygen. He panted, gasping to fill his lungs, supporting himself against the wall until the feeling of weakness had passed.
He hated Rhiannon.
~~~
The rest of the day was slow and non-eventful. A closed door after an outburst like he'd already had today could easily keep Seth or anyone else who wanted to bother him at bay. He'd decided to summon Rhiannon and let her do whatever it was that she wanted. She'd left almost immediately to go play with her children, hoping that Xiven would be too busy to come in and see her while she did. She wasn't ready to meet with the woman who had been her Queen just yet. As much as he feared leaving her alone, he hoped that this way, he could just relax without worrying about someone else coming in and needing to talk to him in order to get ahold of her.
This was, after all, the first time he'd ever found that not sleeping could make him feel so crappy.
Even though he knew that she could still hear his thoughts and feel his emotions as if they were her own, he felt more protected when she wasn't in the room. Apocalypse was at a total loss of what he should do. Even now, when Rhiannon wasn't in complete control of him, she was still dictating his every movement. He was still acting in her stead, a replacement, cushioning the blow for all the people she'd hurt with her selfish decision. And every night, when she curled up against him, he'd do everything she asked of him, as if he was still her weapon. He put his head in his hands, pressing his face against them and brushing his hair back, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He didn't like the situation. But what was there for him to do about it? After all, she was the one who had given him life - twice.
The second his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed and he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
~~~
Her legs were shaking when Rhiannon made her way back to the room that had been hers and was now her Pale one's. She'd spent the last several hours with her children, watching them, playing with them, marvelling over how handsome and beautiful they'd become. She'd been patient and loving, calm even when Othello seemed pathologically determined to steal Xander's bindings right off his body. She'd found Kieran and talked to him about what he'd talked with Apocalypse about before, soothing his upset and curling up around him. When she'd left, she'd kissed his forehead and smoothed his mane, felt nothing when her heart would have clenched before - he reminded her so deeply of the good in his father.
It was wrong. Everything was so wrong. She'd lost almost everything she'd had before, something that she knew would have been the result of her actions either way. This way was almost worse, however, with her ability to ghost around in the life she'd had before, just without truely living.
Rhiannon paused outside her old door, sliding her hands over the wood and resting her cheek against it.
She felt lost. She needed something to grab her, bring her down, stabilize her mind and soul. He'd always been the one to do it before, long before she ever even knew what he was. Slowly, quietly, Rhiannon eased the door open and slipped into the room like a shadow, already eagerly anticipating the warmth she'd find in his arms, the comfort she'd feel knowing that someone still loved her. He always would, after all.
She crossed the room, silent and swift, then slowly crawled up into the bed. His still form stirred, turned to face her, expression crinkled and confused. "Rhi?" he asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. In some ways, it was amazing to her, seeing him like this. It was as if she'd woken Xiven or Lior from sleep, not her Pale one. In some way, that was a dissapointment, but he was all she had right now. She crawled atop him, straddling his body, cupping his smooth face (though was that a prickling of stubble she felt under her fingers? the man needed to shave) in her hands and pulling him close.
"Hello, Apocalypse,[/b]" she whispered, feeling the heat of his breaths on her lips, finding herself smiling despite herself as he stirred beneath her. One of his hands crawled across her body, settling on the curve of her hip, his fingers working unthinkingly across the surface of her skin.
"'ello, Rhi." the man replied, drowsiness in his words for all that he was making an attempt to get up. "Something you need?"
Rhiannon leaned in and kissed him, her lips brushing softly over his own. "Just you,[/b]" she whispered, one hand in his hair. She really wanted the body beneath hers to be Xiven's, or worse, Lior's, but she thought nothing of the lie. It always had been, so why would she feel differently now? That was just the way they were, the two of them, and he knew it. She kissed him again, lips meeting lips more firmly than before.
She wasn't expecting for him to not kiss her back, nor was she expecting a strong hand to grip her by the hair and then pull her away rather than closer. She stared at him, yellow eyes dull with confusion, her lips parted just slightly. Apocalypse was looking at her, and he could feel the hurt and the desire and the pain that was all wrapped up into one confusing package. But what really frightened her was what he said.
"No, Rhi. Get off of me."
The woman-scythe didn't move, simply stared down at him and tried to touch him again. He batted her hand away with a grunt, screwing up his face and rubbing at his eyes. He was exhausted, she could see. That must have been it, though she could quite clearly sense something else. Rhiannon had always been good at ignoring whatever was right in front of her face. She leaned in again, trying to kiss him one more time, but he twisted so that she couldn't find his lips and instead found herself awkwardly pressing her lips against his hair. "Oh, Pale, just give me a few minutes... You'll sleep even better after.[/b]"
When Apocalypse froze beneath her and stared at her, it was impossible for her to ignore it. "No, Rhi, I could sleep just fine without your help. I just want you to... Stop. Stop using me. I'm not your fucking toy anymore." The moment he said it, his mouth felt dry, his stomach twisted. The expression on her face was almost too much to bear, and he wanted to take his words back and soothe it. He just couldn't. "I just... I want you to stop pretending you have room for me, too. We both know you don't, so just stop trying. Goodnight, Rhiannon."
The man rolled over, pushing her off of him and pulling his blankets up and over his face without another word. Rhiannon stared at his sleeping form for a long time, not knowing what to say or do, reaching out as if to touch him and then hesitating. She couldn't. What he'd said... It had been final, and worse, it had been true. Rhiannon didn't have room for anyone else in her heart, but she'd still let her weapon foster such strong emotions for her. She'd always known that she'd never be able to return them. Rhiannon began to shake, filled with the knowledge that this was something she could never fix.
~~~
When the light of morning reached his eyes, Apocalypse stirred once more. He was still exhausted, but the effects of his rest made him feel at least a little bit better. He sat up slowly, stretching out as he did, yawning widely and running his tongue over his lips. Only one cut from biting them this morning, an improvement. Dimly, he found himself wondering where Rhiannon was. He remembered their conversation vividly, knew he'd hurt her for the sake of his own self preservation. But he'd had to. When he turned and saw the scythe resting against the wall he knew beyond a doubt that she'd understood and he'd never need to bring the subject up again.
When he finally remembered to breathe, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since he'd been alive, he found himself able to breathe easy.
My heart was aching for...well, both of them, really. *nods*
