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what could've been - Pierce - 06-29-2025
The world seemed to move on, even as he and the Family had begun to depart with their contributions. But Pierce has one thing to do before he’s ready to leave, which leads him to focusing on the Captain of the Marauder. The ship that had just departed the Oerwoud, cast out on the waves of the ocean again.
Pierce appears, within the cabin of Thalassa’s room, taking up the space like a large worn trunk full of all the things that nightmares were made of. The kind you kept hidden in the corner with the hope that nothing came crawling out of it, latched and locked twice. But he doesn’t toy with any of her things – none of the blades on the desk depart their location, the map remains precisely the same, but the man himself stands with his hip resting against the desk, arms behind him to rest on the edge, holding onto the lip of it as the ship sways with the waves beneath them, waiting for her to arrive.
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 06-29-2025
Finishing a sharp remark to a deckhand just outside, Thal shakes her head with a frustrated growl. Her mind is distracted by punishments and reprimanding comments when she enters her cabin, violence and cruelty chasing at her boots that clip against the wood. But the presence in her room drowns everything out.
Surprise is her first emotion, sharp and reeling. It slows her movements into a cautious stillness, her blue eyes falling to take in the hulking man whose other-worldly presence somehow fits within the confines of her room - and does so in all the ways that make her blood heat.
She moves first to close the door, stepping closer into the magnetism that is Pierce, tilting her head so that her dark wind-whipped curls fall around her face. [say]"What are you doing here?"[/say] Her tone can't decide what it wants to be. There's annoyance at having been caught off guard - 'How did you get in here?' - and a playfulness that begs to tease - 'You missed me that much?' - but there's concern fighting to overwhelm the words - 'What's wrong?' - and simultaneously, a measure of relief and awe capture her, the rising urgency feeling validated with the possibility of action and what role she'll play - 'What do you need me to do?'
A thousand questions and a million more reactions run through her, but Thal stands quietly, her eyes searching and her heart racing, an experienced captain assessing the morning air for what kind of weather the day might bring.
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 06-29-2025
He can feel the tension in the air, the murmurings, the chastising, the anger that thrums like a living beast throughout the emotionally charged ship. But all of it are things that Pierce decidedly does not care about. Not as he’s waiting for one person in particular. The very one that steps into the cabin like a storm made woman. His blue gaze tracks her, a soft smile on his face as her question reaches him, the uncertainty, the distaste, something he hadn’t anticipated on using on her before but…
Well, there’s no other reason not to these days.
He can read between the lines of her thoughts, too, the way that she isn’t sure how exactly to take his approach. It’s smart, but it’s also sad. And Pierce hasn’t really felt sadness before. Anger, yes. Righteousness? Absolutely. Sadness?
Since when did he have the time to actually feel such human emotions? Well, since here. Since her.
So he pushes off the desk and approaches her, reaching out with those muscled arms of his, collecting her in a hug that’s tight despite still being gentle. “[say]I’m leaving.[/say]” He says quietly, the word hanging on a sigh. “[say]I came to say goodbye.[/say]”
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 06-29-2025
The smile is soft, something she's never seen on his face before. Pierce is sharp, he's firm, he's strength personified. Pierce is not soft, and it catches her so off guard that she nearly stumbles - panic rising - because she knows something is wrong.
It doesn't stop her melting into his hug, clutching at him as if she might peel away the layers and find the source of the problem, find what might have broken in him - so she could fix it. Because his voice is gentle and her mind struggles to comprehend that this is the same man despite the pull that keeps her clinging to his grasp.
[say]"You -"[/say] she says the word like she might repeat his statement, confusion cutting her off as she starts. [say]"What?"[/say] Thal doesn't step out of his hold but pushes against his chest, fingers curling desperately around the fabric of his shirt as she looks at his eyes, certain that he must have misspoken - knowing in her heart that he hasn't.
Her thoughts are a frenzy, too fast to grasp and too hysterical to be natural. They'd only just gotten close. She'd only just asked Dygra for help. Things were only just starting to feel right. Where had she gone wrong? Where had she failed?
Thal can tell that her pulse is racing, knows that the pitch of her voice is rising as she quickly asks, [say]"Why? When will you be back?"[/say] Because forever isn't an option. It can't be. And if there's someone to blame for this, she will kill them without mercy.
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 06-29-2025
She can try to peel his layers away, but she’ll find that he isn’t broken. Still the same, steadfast man she’d spent all that time with, the one they’d had all of the fun together. From the carnival to the stabby pool party, he’s still the same. Still dangerous, still deadly, but if Dahlia could fall from her rightful space? Well, so too could Pierce.
He lets her figure out her question before he tries to put words into her mouth, feeling her push against his chest not unlike how a newborn twig might brush against the ancient branch that’s been swaying for decades. “[say]I won’t be back.[/say]” He says quietly, his voice only above a whisper, meeting her fiery blues, expressing all of the sorrow he can manage for a man who’s never felt it before in his existence.
“[say]It’s not your fault, Thal. It’s… Here. This place. The people here.[/say]” He says, a touch stronger now as the distaste has his nose wrinkling, the frown on his face as he tries to smooth out the ruffles in her shirt caused by the earlier reprimands and the comfort that it’s his last touch. “[say]Dahlia’s been cured and we.. She needs to be back with us. Strong like she was. And the only way we can get her back is if we leave.[/say]” He pauses, head tilting slightly as he regards her, before he leans in to press his forehead to hers in a surprisingly soft touch compared to what he was used to.
And when he pulls away its with another soft breath, regarding her face. “[say]But.. Dorian said you could come with me, if you wanted to.[/say]” It would mean leaving everything here behind, to become one with the violet haze, but something in the Family infection that would otherwise push Thalassa into doing things he wanted, would find no root here. It’s baseline, giving her the choice without instigation or urges to lean one way or another.
It was up to her.
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 06-29-2025
'I won't be back.'
The words hit in her chest, final and crushing despite how delicately he says them. [say]"No."[/say] It's barely audible in the lull of the waves, a refusal, a command, a plea. She's too stunned to say more as he speaks, chewing at her cheek while her mind reels. Thal shakes her head, stubborn and determined. [say]"No. No. You can still come back. Once Dahlia's strong again, you can come back."[/say] To Caido - to her. Her voice cracks in its insistence, trying to find purchase and reason and solutions - but then there's Pierce.
His head tilts forward to rest against her, silencing the thoughts to a single one that splinters her heart: He's leaving.
Her eyes squeeze tight, blocking out everything but Pierce, like she might keep out the truth, like if she doesn't open her eyes it might not find her. It's a denial she momentarily allows herself, a luxury even as everything keels, her ship taking on dangerous amounts of water. Her jaw clenches against the pressure building in her chest, behind her eyes, in her head.
Then he pulls away, a silver lining breaking in the storm. [say]"I -"[/say] The purple hue that has become her compass - the guidance she's come to rely on - gives no indication, the needle limp and useless in her mind, spinning lazily like the world isn't falling apart around her. She wants to scream, to cry, to smash it to pieces until it tells her how to fix this, but no matter how much she shakes the compass, it remains stubbornly silent, leaving the choice to her.
She loathes the autonomy and the burden it places on her. She hates that it doesn't hide every memory that surfaces. She detests that it doesn't dampen the aches and regrets that make her hesitate. She despises that it doesn't disguise the sea salt written on her skin and the magic simmering in her blood. And she flinches when it fails to cover the words and names still carved deep into her heart - right next to Pierce's.
Her mouth opens, more than just her voice breaking. [say]"I -"[/say] can't. She can't say the words and she can't go with him.
Thal tightens her hold on Pierce, pain arcing through her, because that can be the only explanation for the tearing sensation in her lungs and the water lining her eyes, the screaming in her head and the way her body strains against the urge to collapse. As if he's the only remedy, she reaches up, pulling him to her in a desperate kiss. It's a wish and a plea on lips that tremble traitorously: Don't leave me.
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 06-29-2025
Barely audible, and yet it’s loud in Pierce’s ears. The refusal, the stubborn determination that tells him that this has been the worst news she’s received in a long time. And he aches for her – for that attachment he’d had, for what it’s done to her, for how he could care less about literally every other breathing person in this godsforsaken world. But for her? He hurts. And it’s such a strange feeling for the brawler that Pierce’s arms tighten again. “[say]We can’t.[/say]” He says in quiet refusal – because they’d come to conquer, and when they left here they’d likely just move onto the next. And he'd be busy with that, taking over and being that tank he was always meant to be.
“I --” He doesn’t fill her voice with answers he wants, nor does he guide her with the purple haze that lingers in her so beautifully bright. Violent and charged, breaking like cracks forming seamlessly through ice, only found when too much weight holds. “I--” She says again and he knows her answer. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for the brawler to hear that she isn’t coming with him.
It's a shame, really. But she was made for here, as much as he can try to change and shift her into his Family’s light. And he wouldn’t feel right stealing her away from the world she’d known for his own selfish greed, especially when he wouldn’t be like this when they left – and who knows what she would be.
Beautiful, he’s sure. A tempest. A gorgeous chaos of tentacles and teeth that he wants to get cut on again and again.
She kisses him, desperately, and Pierce presses back into it with all the silent promises that he’d miss her, that he’d think of her when he’s eons away among the galaxies and nebulas of far away worlds. That she’d always have a piece of his thorny, onyx bound heart. His hands lift to cup her cheeks, to swipe his thumb away from the tears he’s sure will spill over, but he cannot promise her that he won’t leave her.
Because he has to. There’s no other way. And when he pulls away its with a gentle brush of his nose against hers, settled there forehead to forehead. “[say]You’re my favorite. In all the worlds we’ve been to. You are the only one that’s caught me.[/say]” Perhaps the bit of pride could satisfy her in his absence. Or perhaps it makes it worse, sticking fingers into wounds he’d not meant to create. “[say]I’ll miss you.[/say]”
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 06-29-2025
The kiss is like pressing into a sore muscle, the ache too sweet to stop despite the bruising that will come later. She can feel herself wincing subtly from the tenderness when his wordless response catches on the fearful knot that's formed in her stomach, releasing the final realization. He's leaving and she can't stop him, no matter what she says or does.
A small sound doesn't make it past her throat, something weak that she might have been embarrassed of if she was in her right mind, but nothing makes sense right now and his calloused fingers brush away the single tear that falls, the only one she lets past the floodgates like a quiet admission to the storm wreaking havoc within. She won't break fully - not yet - not while Pierce is here to see.
He pulls away and her eyes stay closed, finding it too painful to keep them open. The gentle brush has her drawing a deep breath, letting their mixed air sustain her as she feels the cracks of her heart open a little wider at his words. There's no pride there - not yet anyways - only the resigned knowledge that she'll never find this kind of connection again. Pierce isn't just anyone, and what they have isn't simple enough to define. It's a tangled mess of emotions and she can't seem to track any of the strings, the colors too dark and varied to show what's purple and what's not - what's her. The words I love you come to mind like an unexpected suggestion of what to say, how to show him what he's done to her and how he's branded and claimed part of her soul. But the words don't fit. They're hazy and too oddly shaped for her mouth, their origins unknown. Instead, she plants another salty kiss on his lips, achingly soft and all too brief before pressing her forehead to his again. [say]"I'll miss you more."[/say] A trembling whisper that isn't nearly enough.
She wants to ask him for something, but she doesn't know what. Words? Time? Physical comfort? A piece of his heart? It all seems like too much and too little, a tissue on a hemorrhaging wound. He doesn't know that she kept the sapphire ring from their first meeting, that it sits securely in a box she sometimes opens in a moment of weakness. Part of her wants to throw it into the ocean and watch it sink beneath the waves, hoping it would take these feelings with it. Thal doesn't know what to do with them - the ring, the feelings, herself. She only knows that it hurts and she can't escape it. All she can do is pull Pierce tighter, hoping time might slow or warp in a way that makes it easier to bear.
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 07-01-2025
He’ll be long gone by the time she lets herself break, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t think of her even when he’s shed this skin and returned back to the nebula in all the black hole wildness that he’s always been crafted from. But he lingers, in her space, scent the salt of her tears and the smoke that clings to her from the fire that always seems to thrum under her skin like lightning.
Her trembling whisper is met with the slant of a small, sad smile. A nod. “[say]I know.[/say]” Because Pierce would get swept up once again in conquest, in taking over other lands that deserved to be blessed by the void. He’s just happy to know that he can leave her here with a piece of him still, even if he doesn’t realize she’d kept the ring he’d found and given to her when they’d first met.
He leans in to press another kiss to her forehead, exhaling a slow sound as he reaches into a pocket, withdrawing a small and sleek box. Not another ring, not this time, but something else. A necklace, set in cool silver, a pendant that’s glittering sapphires and amethyst. Rugged, enough to make it look like her, but glittery enough to say that he’d thought about her even when they weren’t in each other’s immediate orbit.
“[say]Here. A keepsake.[/say]” The necklace won’t do anything other than be the reminder, but the silver chains spill over his fingers as he holds it up for her to see, hoping she might let him put it on her before he has to leave. "[say]To remind you of us.[/say]" And if she's keen -- which he knows she is -- she'll find the matching one glittering against his neck.
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 07-01-2025
She wilts under the kiss, feeling the soft exhale against her hairline as he moves, wondering if he's about to do it - if he's about to leave. Her eyes don't open, squeezed tight as she braces for it like she would a cresting wave, but when he doesn't pull away, when his shirt is still firmly between her fingers, when his voice still carries that aching softness, Thal finally gives a slow blink, glancing up to see what he holds.
Her breath catches, the various elements of the necklace portraying a perfect harmony of them. Her eyes scan the piece, their blue depths pained and tender at its sharp edges and dark beauty even before she notices its twin resting against the flat of his chest.
The gesture leaves her breathless, the pressure becoming almost too much to bear as she's flooded with the proof of their bond, that she hadn't been the only one whose thoughts had strayed. They may not have had time, but they'd had connection, and they both know she doesn't need a reminder of that. Even once he's gone and the purple stain on her heart has been removed, the echo will remain, the memories, the feelings. She couldn't forget them if she tried - not that she wants to.
But this...
This is something tangible, more than the assumptions or thoughts and more than the weak archives of her memories. This wouldn't fade. This wouldn't leave her.
Thal nods her head, unable to say all the words and how it could never replace him. Instead, she slowly inches away only enough to turn in his grasp, pulling the curtain of her dark waves aside to reveal the soft skin of her neck as she looks hesitantly over her shoulder, like he might vanish if she blinks too long.
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 07-01-2025
He doesn’t vanish, not yet. Not before he’s got everything in order, even if the present was nothing more than full of sad wrapping paper, torn at the edges. He can hear the way her breath stutters, the way she’s breathless and unable to answer him, and he tracks the moment she registers that he’s wearing the same. When he leaves and is no longer bound by this body it would only fuse with him, that way he’d take a portion with him of her and their time everywhere he went. Long after she was gone.
So the least he could do is leave her with this. And he’s careful as she turns in his grip, as she slips her hair over her milk white neck, leaving him and his brawn and bulk of arms to shroud her with the necklace to drape it over, to clasp it into place so it falls gently just beneath the hollow of her throat. High enough to be seen if she left her collars undone (as she often did), low enough to be hidden should she decide to.
He doesn’t say anything else, just leans in to press another warm kiss to her cheek, his hands smoothing down her shoulders to her arms, embracing her in a warm and all encompassing hug from behind as he takes a few self indulgent moments, before he starts to pull away.
“[say]It’s time, Thal.[/say]” He admits sadly after a few extra long moments of indulging himself in granting those reminders of her.
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 07-01-2025
The pendant sits warm against her sternum, heavier on the heart that lies just beneath. Her hand raises to brush against the gems, the jagged edges feeling eerily similar to the wounds in her chest. At first the touch is gentle - cautious - to caress the memories and the man it represents, nervous it might break under her fingertips, shattering the moment.
But then the feelings press up again, the pain and desperation and the imminent departure that has her gripping it hard against her palm, squeezing her eyes shut when the sharp edges dig into her skin. She doesn't release it, letting it be the reason the tears well in her eyes when he places that bittersweet kiss on her cheek, the reason her breath stutters again as his arms wrap longingly around her, the reason she winces when the words finally come.
Her nod feels like a death knell, a gavel cracking down on her spine, confirmation of the end.
Turning to face him in their last moments, Thal feels herself drawn closer in the orbit of his gravity, the universe she'll never get to see with him. Her hand reaches forward, an indulgence of her own as she memorizes the curve of his jaw, the curl of his hair, the depth in his eyes. [say]"Just - "[/say] - don't leave me like this? - don't forget me? - don't let anyone else take my place? They're selfish, pathetic thoughts that she can't bring herself to say.
She swallows, trying to grasp at whatever fire and strength is banked beneath the flood of emotions, trying to give him one last glimpse of Thal, a memory less tainted by sorrow. It's impossible to rally more than a small spark, a simmering beneath the tearful expression; her tone doesn't sear through the flooding emotions and her eyes don't blaze through the building rainstorm, but she manages the fiery words that whisper like a smoky breeze, the ghost of fire on her pursed lips. [say]"Don't do anything I wouldn't."[/say]
RE: what could've been - Pierce - 07-02-2025
He stills the second her hand lifts to his jaw, letting her take the few moments of time it takes for her to memorize the shape of his jaw and the warmth of this body he’d manifested upon his and his family’s arrival. And even though she starts with a word that harbors so much more behind it (so much more he can see even if she doesn’t verbalize it), there’s a knowing glint in his gaze that she might pick up on that would assure her that she is the only one he has and likely ever will latch onto.
“[say]I’ll think of you every time.[/say]” He murmurs softly, offering her a smile back that’s lacking in its fire, muted the same as hers are, but as much as they could be their old selves right this second. He takes the moment to memorize the way her eyes gleam, the way she holds herself, the way the fire — however muted it is right now — still thrives under her skin with such an unpredictable but beautiful way that he couldn’t imagine anything else coming close to perfection for him as she had.
He reaches up to clasp the gem necklace that matches her own, mirroring the movement, offering her a slightly smaller smile before he nods, exhales…
And vanishes before her eyes - back to the stars, to galaxies, to worlds to conquer.
RE: what could've been - Thalassa - 07-02-2025
It's a small solace, something she'll hold as close as the pendant clutched in her fingers; but she doesn't relax, her eyes devouring every movement and micro expression in hopes of anticipating that final moment. However inpatient she's always been, Thal doesn't want this to end, doesn't want to find another, doesn't want -
And then he's gone.
Pierce is gone.
The purple bond in her chest beats for a final moment, a death beat that echoes in her ears before falling silent - so silent.
She's not sure whether she's breathing, uncertain if her own pulse is still beating or if the quiet chill is suggestive of a fatal wound she can't feel - because she can't feel anything. There's a disconnection, an emptiness that leaves her thoughts unable to form. It's quieter than the eye of a storm, the winds stilled despite knowing the chaos that's barely a thought away.
She doesn't know when she fell to her knees or whether the wood had attacked when she wasn't looking - because she's not really looking at anything anymore - but she wishes the ship would swallow her. Maybe she'd sink to the bottom of the ocean and drift in the currents, listless and numb. Maybe it would take her somewhere where the pain couldn't reach her; because slowly, like a frozen dagger tip splitting her open from the crown of her head to the pit of her stomach then twisting deeply, cruelly up into her heart, there's no escaping the pain that bleeds from her soul and the piece that's been ripped out.
The roots have been torn from beneath the thorny purple vines coiling in her and now they've become dull, nothing to feed or fuel them, nothing to direct or stabilize them, nothing to give them life - a barbed cage of death and emptiness that shreds deeper into her with each shaking breath.
It's then that she feels the wetness that drips down her face, her tears mixing with the blood that pools in the grains of wood. She subconsciously knows it's from the death grip she holds on the necklace, the gems slicing into her palm, but it might as well be from the deep wounds that butcher her dark heart and she curls her body around it, helplessly trying to staunch the bleed but only opening the jagged wounds wider. A small, aching sob leaves her chest as she tries to pull the pieces together, unable to find purchase or reason, unable to think beyond the pain as she rocks in the sea of despair without a compass to guide her.
[FIN]