HARPER
If he could read her thoughts he would surely agree. Neither of them are the type to leave themselves and their hearts unguarded. Already this is the most intimate thing he has done since his previous beloved had died, and while part of him is soaking up every moment like a touch-starved fool, another part of him is fearful of just how well they can see into one another.
There is so much empathy in her glacial gaze, and his own closes as his brows lower in a rictus of emotional pain that has faded with time but will never truly subside. Her touch helps ease it away and he leans into the gentle touch, breathing a little shakily as he focuses on the warmth, the callouses on every individual digit to try and chase away the images still plastered in his brain. It's unfair that after everything, that night remains crystal clear.
He manages to give a pained smile as he opens his eyes to find her. "It was a long time ago," he says softly, feeling like he needs to comfort her as well as himself. But he sighs softly and nods tentatively against her palm, wondering what she will think of him even after the conversation they'd had upon first meeting. "Yes. For five years. We were beaten for any kind of disobedience or questioning to make us unflinchingly loyal. Subjected to torture as often as they could justify to teach us pain tolerance. Kept on a training regime to have us become as strong, fast, and silent as they could make us. Brainwashed twice daily into believing we should be proud to be their tools, that their cause was just and we should be honored to be useful to them." Voice flat as he recounts all of this, remembering those hellish first months. "I fought them for so long. Years. They forced me to kill so many times, sometimes other trainees to 'cull the weak'. Until I fooled them enough to trust me on solo missions, to have lowered surveillance. I became their ultimate weapon, beating out all of my competitors in death matches the higher we climbed in the ranks." His hand twitches spasmodically against her back, and he grips tight to her shirt to try and hide the way it shakes. Remembering those young, young faces going slack in death as he held them in his arms. Knowing it was him or them, but wishing he hadn't valued his life over theirs every time. "And then when the time was right, I ran. As far and as fast as I could, hiding in the gutters of society so they could never find me again. I was only...fifteen I think? The years got so blurry..." Still far too many to have lost to them, years he will never get back.
There is so much empathy in her glacial gaze, and his own closes as his brows lower in a rictus of emotional pain that has faded with time but will never truly subside. Her touch helps ease it away and he leans into the gentle touch, breathing a little shakily as he focuses on the warmth, the callouses on every individual digit to try and chase away the images still plastered in his brain. It's unfair that after everything, that night remains crystal clear.
He manages to give a pained smile as he opens his eyes to find her. "It was a long time ago," he says softly, feeling like he needs to comfort her as well as himself. But he sighs softly and nods tentatively against her palm, wondering what she will think of him even after the conversation they'd had upon first meeting. "Yes. For five years. We were beaten for any kind of disobedience or questioning to make us unflinchingly loyal. Subjected to torture as often as they could justify to teach us pain tolerance. Kept on a training regime to have us become as strong, fast, and silent as they could make us. Brainwashed twice daily into believing we should be proud to be their tools, that their cause was just and we should be honored to be useful to them." Voice flat as he recounts all of this, remembering those hellish first months. "I fought them for so long. Years. They forced me to kill so many times, sometimes other trainees to 'cull the weak'. Until I fooled them enough to trust me on solo missions, to have lowered surveillance. I became their ultimate weapon, beating out all of my competitors in death matches the higher we climbed in the ranks." His hand twitches spasmodically against her back, and he grips tight to her shirt to try and hide the way it shakes. Remembering those young, young faces going slack in death as he held them in his arms. Knowing it was him or them, but wishing he hadn't valued his life over theirs every time. "And then when the time was right, I ran. As far and as fast as I could, hiding in the gutters of society so they could never find me again. I was only...fifteen I think? The years got so blurry..." Still far too many to have lost to them, years he will never get back.
this is your ocean, an ocean of night
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
