Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 15:12:47 GMT -5
Ezra. Why was that name familiar? River winced as his headache grew blinding. Then his entire bearing changed, the slight defensive forward tilt of his shoulders thrown back, the arch of his spine suddenly threatening. His jaw tensed, brow wrinkled, and hazel eyes darkened until they were nearly black.
"I'm not Ezra!" The fury in his voice was something River never could have managed. The voice itself was different, gravelly where River's trembled sometimes with nerves, more than assured, the way Destiel had been, but aggression personified. A scraped hand shot out and knocked the small table flying, crashing onto the broken shards of the lamp. Then he lurched as though about to move forward.
Don't do it!
He f~ing deserves it!
Don't!
Everything melted into River again, eyes lightening, and he winced. Before he had a chance to breathe he changed, then changed again. Here was the social butterfly from the day before, eyes a bright green, face smoothed of worry, and only just kissed by concern.
"I'm so sorry, there's a lot of stress lately, starting uni and all the bad stuff that's happened..." A creased brow and a sense of toughness, of assurance that the right would win out. "We won't let him hurt you, what?"
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 15:39:29 GMT -5
Sean jumped all over again at the unexpected aggression and stood, forgetting the cover of the blanket as he sought out the other side of the bed. "What? What's going...you know, if this is a joke, it's horrible one," he said. Where was his wand? He'd feel much safer with his wand, and some clothes, but the wand was more important.
He eyed the guy across the room warily. For now, it seemed safer to keep his eyes on him rather than hunt for a wand that could be under the mattress for all he knew. "Can I just go?" He'd been beaten up before and didn't care to experience it again.
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Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 15:48:33 GMT -5
"I really like you, I'm so sorry we scared you." There was a pause, as though listening to an inner voice, and the friendly voice went on. "We don't think River knows. At least, we think it's River. He doesn't talk to us."
Send River out!
It was more a matter of pulling back and letting River move to the front, but River wasn't coming.
"I'm sorry, yes, you can go if you want." A slight breeze came in, and those scraped hands suddenly caught at the opening of the jacket, pulling it closed. There was a visible blush, and bare feet moved carefully around the glass to leave a path to the door.
Then there was that sly smile again, and a brown ring formed around green eyes. "Hey, I had a good time, sorry it all went to hell," Destiel's voice said. It always does, doesn't it?
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 15:56:23 GMT -5
Sean paused for a moment before reaching for what clothes were nearest to start dressing. Briefly, he spotted his wand, but he kept as much attention as he could on...he wasn't even sure who it was. "I don't understand. This what you do to get off or something?" Why the we and the us? It was just one person, but he wasn't about to point that out and risk getting something thrown at him. He felt like he was walking a thin enough line already. He didn't spare the time to button his jeans before pulling on his shirt.
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Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 17:28:09 GMT -5
He looked away, ashamed, horrified at himself, and there was yet another change. Posture slumped, and movement grew lethargic, utterly hopeless. He slid to the floor and lay his forehead against his thighs, then wrapped his arms around them. He deserved that, he deserved all of this. He'd have punished himself right then, but the glass was too far to reach and he couldn't bear to be seen like this. He couldn't bear to be seen. He shuddered as the first quiet sobs began.
"Just leave me alone," a quiet voice whispered.
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 17:33:56 GMT -5
Sean wasn't sure what to do then. What he should do was run, dart for his wand and leave and never look back except to make sure nothing was getting thrown at him. He made his way slowly to his wand, and the feel of the cool wood beneath his fingertips calmed him. "You alright? Seriously, man, I think you need to get some help." Maybe the guy was insane, but then maybe a lot of people thought Sean was insane, too.
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Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 17:44:13 GMT -5
"I don't deserve help," the voice whispered, what little sound there was drenched in pain. "Just go." There was no anger, just a wall of self-loathing filled with things that haunted, things that cut. Cut. Cut. He deserved worse than this pain, didn't deserve understanding, only hate for all the wrongs he'd done, for being what he was. He bit his lip, then bit it harder, letting blood trickle from between his teeth, against his jeans, and with a soft splatter, to the hard wood floor.
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 17:53:26 GMT -5
Sean headed slowly toward the door, but still couldn't muster up the courage to simply leave. "Help...helps, and everyone can get it. I was miserable and didn't think it'd be worth it. I grew a pair and I went," in a sense, "and now I'm better. Stopped being angry, you know. And other stuff." Since calming, it was easier to understand that something was wrong, even if Sean didn't know exactly what it was.
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 18:03:09 GMT -5
"I'm crazy, aren't I?" It was River again, River who picked up his head so tentatively, completely unaware of the blood that dribbled down his chin. The hazel eyes were back, the unsure voice. "What's happening?" There were voices, and it wasn't that he hadn't ever heard them before, but he'd been able to ignore it or convince himself that it was his imagination. But he didn't know how he'd gotten here, didn't know how he'd gotten the scrapes on his hands, how the room had gotten to be such a mess. He finally admitted to himself that he didn't know where most of his tattoos came from.
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 18:07:46 GMT -5
Yes. Sean wanted to slap himself for the immediate gut reaction. "Crazy's relative, I think," he said. "You've got..." He wiped his thumb against his own chin, but said no more on that just now. "You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't get help. Therapy's kind of scary, but it's worth it. I still go sometimes." There were times when he still felt crazy and needed the help. It was probably better not to say anything about the guy potentially hurting someone else.
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 18:20:20 GMT -5
Hurt yourself.
No, he'd gotten those marks by accident, he just didn't remember when. He blacked out and probably fell. Into a cigarette? It took him a moment to mirror Sean's motion, the thumb against his chin, and when he pulled it away, sticky and damp, the sight of it was enough to shut him down.
"Eff... oh... ex...," a child's voice said. He curled up and looked at the man with wide eyes. "I sorry, I be good! No more hit!" Then spied the mess on the floor and scrambled to his knees. He scooted away as though to hide behind the bed, a small child awkward in a man's body.
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 18:32:03 GMT -5
Well, that was a change Sean hadn't expected and it stopped him in his tracks, whatever his current tracks were. He repaired the lamp and set everything back to the way it had been the best he could as he thought. "Do...do I need to get someone? I've got a therapist but she's a...she's specialized." It felt immature and stupid to continue to avoid talking about exactly what kind of therapy he'd been in, but he would really not open that can of worms. "I could get a professor, or a healer?"
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Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 18:38:24 GMT -5
"Bad, bad, bad," the child's voice chanted from its hiding spot, and then, after a moment's thought, "You said doo-doo!" He'd seen the blood, and he'd seen the broken furniture, but no one was hurting him and he forgot to be afraid a moment for how funny that had been. Most of what the tattoo man was saying didn't make sense, but he'd understood that much.
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Post by Sean Sullivan on Jan 21, 2014 18:43:09 GMT -5
A nervous chuckle escaped, mostly because Sean really had no idea what to do. It felt wrong to just leave the guy, whose name he wasn't even sure of now. He was going to need a trip to the therapist's chair after this. "Why don't you come with me? We'll go back to the school." Then he could find someone to help, and maybe he could get some kind of explanation. Then he could decide if it was a good idea to run the next time he saw this guy.
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Destiel
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Post by River Savage on Jan 21, 2014 18:52:54 GMT -5
He raised his head just enough to see over the bed, as though judging whether the other man was telling the truth, and it seemed like he was. Finally he crawled out, eyes a russet brown now, and face lax, the tension of the years missing from his face. He didn't look at the glass on the floor, but made a long trip around it, then held out his hand. "I been to school afore, but I got in trouble," he said. "Am I in trouble?"
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