polariity | Prisonstuck IX

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Prisonstuck IX

[By this point, it's been a few weeks since he's been with Dualscar, and he's adjusted to it. The seadweller doesn't always stay at the hive, which is understandable. Someone of his caste is expected to stay busy. Each time he returns, the Psiioniic nearly clings to him, wanting to hear news- or even lack of it- concerning his three friends.]

[Besides that, on his own, the Psiioniic mostly sticks to the library. Occasionally he explores the large hive again, wondering if anything has changed. It's a calm routine. For someone like him, it nearly feels unnatural.]

[...Which is quite possibly one reason explaining why, one night, he manages to get a hold of yellow dye and interrupts a drone on laundry duty. The next night, and it's done.]

[A bored rebel psionic was a disaster just waiting.]

[By now, he's stayed in the kitchen, idly chattering at his drone as he watches the kitchen worker make breakfast. It's almost like he's entirely forgotten about his little prank.]

[Which he hasn't, but he needs something to do to pass the time until it's discovered.]

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[He hadn't even realized how tense he was until Dualscar begins to press against him, and the Psiioniic nearly falls apart. Thank god. His arms wrap around him, hands against his hair and back.]

I'm here. I'm thtill here. I didn't leave you. 22, god...

[Those arms around him break Dualscar down completely, and he leans heavily on the Psiioniic and just cries. Everything he's held back, everything he's pushed down for sweeps and sweeps... it comes out in a torrential flood, all over the Psiioniic's shoulder. He can't speak right now, not until he's under control again.]

I'm here. I'm here.

[He repeats those familiar words over and over like a lullaby, threading his fingers through that wavy hair and fingering those lightning bolt horns of his. He's never had to be the one relied on, always the one relying, but this.... this broken fool of a seatroll...]

[It takes awhile, but Dualscar eventually quietens down, his tears drying up and his out-of-control emotions settling. He doesn't move his head from the Psiioniic's shoulder, though.]

[He is broken... he's so completely and totally shattered, held together only by determination, hatred, and pure ill will, but the Psiioniic makes it so hard. It's so hard to keep himself cold and separate and aloof.]

I can't... I can't do this anymore...

[He tugs on his bonds, trying to pull his arms up so he can cling to the Psiioniic.]

[Gently, the bonds disperse, and the Psiioniic turns his head to the side, kissing along Dualscar's fin once again. He wants to reach into this troll and put together all his broken pieces.]

Then don't. Do thomething different.

[As soon as the bonds are gone, Dualscar reaches up and clutches the Psiioniic close against him.]

I don't... this is all I knoww...

[He rotates his fin towards the Psiioniic's kisses and, unknowingly, brings one hand up and starts rubbing the scars on his face, tracing them with his fingertips.]

Then learn more.

[It's hard to breath, being held so tightly like this, but he makes it through. His hand slides against Dualscar's back before slipping to return to the front, where the Psiioniic can gently lay his hand over Dualscar's.]

I'll teach you.

[Feeling the Psiioniic's hand over his, so close to his face and his scars, seems to snap Dualscar out of his depression. He lets go of the Psiioniic and steps away, out of reach, and almost has to force his hand away from his scars.]

You're too late.

[He looks away, and his hand rises, tracing the scars again, drawing attention to them, when normally he goes out of his way to pretend they don't exist.]

You're sixty-seven swweeps too late.

Don't.

[His hand snaps forward, tightening around Dualscar's cape. The Psiioniic's fangs are bared once again in his aggravation.]

If I'm too late, than why am I here? Why did I thtop being a prithoner, a filthy lowblood toy, and became thomeone you let touch you, thomeone allowed to thtrip you bare, thomeone you'll fucking rithk your life to thave?

I don't knoww!

[Dualscar snarls back in response, at the same time that he cringes away from the Psiioniic's grasping hand, almost subconsciously. He jerks on his cape, trying to pull it out of the other troll's grip.]

I don't knoww, I wwish you hadn't, I wwish they'd chosen someone else to break you, then everything wwould still make sense!

[His hands snaps to his face again, his claws digging into his skin.]

Do you knoww howw long I've been a joke, Psiioniic? Do you have any idea wwhat it's like to have everything you've ever done be nothing more than fucking repentance for something you can't let go?!

[The Psiioniic doesn't think; he just snaps out, smacking those hands away from Dualscar's face.]

If you want me to leave, if you want to go back to that meaningleth life where nothing mattered, then I'll leave!

But you could change.

[Stepping closer, he grabs at Dualscar's wrists.]

Even rocksth change, you idiot, they get beat and thaped and changed becauthe of water and earthquaketh and every other damned thing! The othean changeth!

Why can't you when you've already changed tho much anyway!?

[When you've already changed tho much anyway...]

[The words echo in Dualscar's head, and he suddenly gets very still, staring at the Psiioniic like he's never seen him before. Only his throat moves, working just a little, and he makes one of those soft, keening whale noises.]

[Then his fins twitch, saying I'm so sorry, before he looks away.]

Did I ever tell you howw I got the scars on my face?

[He knows the answer to that question is no; there isn't a troll alive who he has told this story.]

[Of course they both know that answer. So the Psiioniic just carefully lays his hands against Dualscar's shoulders. He won't let him run this time.]

You never tell me anything about yourthelf.

[Dualscar laughs once, bitterly.]

There's a reason for that.

[Then he turns his head, meeting the Psiioniic's mismatched eyes for just a moment, before looking down. He doesn't try to get away.]

You've seen the drawwing I did of my lusus. He wwas a wwhale, a type of wwhale that lives under the ice caps in the north. So wwhen I wwas a wwiggler, I lived there too... under the ice. He alwways wwarned me about going on land, about it being dangerous, so I never did.

But that... that wwas okay, because he wwas a good lusus.

[Dualscar looks up then, his purple eyes burning with conviction.]

He wwas the best lusus.

I bet he wath.

[No disagreement. The Psiioniic just begins to slowly stroke the side of Dualscar's face, meeting those brilliant eyes with his own. He waits for the other to keep going.]

[Dualscar stares at the Psiioniic for a moment more, until he's certain that the other troll won't try and disagree with his assessment of his lusus, then he looks away again. One of his fins rotates forward and brushes against the back of the Psiioniic's hand.]

I wwas... I wwas three swweeps wwhen he died. Wwhen he wwas murdered.

[Dualscar's breath gets ragged, harsh in his chest, and his gaze is far away, almost as though he's looking into the past.]

A slave ship, trying to get around the Imperial taxes, sailed through the northern seas. My lusus... he kneww wwhat it wwas, and tried to get me under the ice, wwhere it wwould be safe. But I... I wwanted to see it, I'd never seen another troll before, I wwas curious... and I wwouldn't go.

[Dualscar stops, and it's a long time before he speaks again.]

He died tryin' to push me back under the wwater.

[That explains some things. Not everything. But some things.]

[The Psiioniic feels his heart twist for this broken troll and leans against him, giving him everything he can right now. The tips of his fingers light up with a soft glow, alternating colors as he begins to run them down along Dualscar's back. The energy sinks into his skin, tries to warm and relax the muscles and bone that it finds.]

You didn't know better.

I should havve. I should havve listened to him.

[In his distress, Dualscar's accent is thickening. He twists a little when the Psiioniic starts working on his back, but then relaxes and lets him work his magic.]

He... he died... and I wwouldn't go back under the wwater, I wwouldn't let him go... and all the slavve drivver had to do wwas scoop me up in a net.

[Dualscar makes a choking noise in his throat, and scrubs the back of his arm over his face, aggressive and rough.]

Gettin' a purpleblood is a big deal for those filth, you knoww? Royals normally wwatch out for each other better than that, but because I wwas so far up north, there wweren't any other trolls around, and... and no one noticed I wwas gone.

No one cared.

[Another long pause.]

I wwas his favvorite. He wwouldn't... he wwouldn't sell me, wwouldn't evven let me off the ship wwhen wwe wwere in port, and... and he did this.

[He gestures to the scars on his face.]

Fuckin' carvved them right in, carvved his fuckin' sign on my face, so... so evveryone wwould knoww I belonged to him...

Yeah.

[One hand continues to work on Dualscar's back. The other slips up, lightly batting away each time the seatroll tries to touch the scars on his face.]

Yeah, I can imagine.

[He's seen it happen. Heard about it. More times than even he can count. Because that's the life lowbloods have to live everyday, against everyone and everything. There's nothing they can do about it, either. To fight back is to be culled, to be made an example of. 'Use one lowblood, you've used them all', isn't that what he's heard before?]

[None of them would be able to rise to this level, either, this level of being able to live with drones and have an enormous library and do what they like...]

[On one level, the Psiioniic doesn't think it's the same at all. On another, he can understand exactly why Dualscar would want to keep such a tight hold on his place.]

Tell me. [Cupping Dualscar's face, he gently tries to get them both on the ground, sitting.] Tell me what happened.

[When the Psiioniic starts trying to guide them towards the floor, Dualscar resists initially, but then collapses, all at once. He literally almost falls to the floor and gets his knees up, putting his hands over his ears and trying to tuck into a ball again.]

His lusus... it wwas a cat, some stinkin', enormous cat from up in the mountains... that piece a shit thing wwould hide and wwait for me, pounce from behind things, and pin me dowwn... it'd pin me, and it'd lick my fuckin' fins, and, and purr, and it hurt but I kneww not to cry, not to make a sound because if I did, he'd hear, and he'd come find us, and...

[Dualscar's voice tapers off; some things, even now, almost seventy sweeps later, are things he can't talk about, things he can't let himself remember. The Psiioniic has seen the scars on him, though... he's not stupid, he can put it all together.]

I hate cats.

[Dualscar falls silent again. He doesn't just hate cats, he's terrified of them, big or small. He goes out of his way to avoid them.]

Edited 2012-01-27 16:27 (UTC)

...Doeth it hurt when I do it?

[It is a legitimate concern. Yes, Dualscar has apparently not once protested when he has rubbed his fingers against his fins. When he first did it, back in the prison, it would have been more than easy enough to make him stop. But with this new information... He wants to be so careful with this delicate wreck.]

... no.

[The question surprises Dualscar enough that he looks up, into the Psiioniic's face.]

You're careful, you're not tryin' to hurt, so it's okay.

[One fin, previously curled tight and protective against the side of his head, fans forward shyly.]

Feels good wwhen you do it.

Good.

[Psionic energy softly slips up along his shoulder and neck, flitting lightly against his fin tips.]

I want you to feel good.

[The Psiioniic shifts closer, legs pressing against Dualscar's sides.]

I don't want you to be thcared anymore.

[Dualscar shudders as that energy moves along his fins, but he doesn't pull away. After a moment, he leans into the touch, sidling closer to the Psiioniic and resting his head on his shoulder.]

No one... no one has evver done it... wwhere they wweren't tryin' to cause pain.

[And there it is, plain and simple and admitted openly: Dualscar has no idea how to pail without hurting the other troll and expecting pain himself.]

[His hands slip up and squeeze tight on the shoulders of the Psiioniic's tunic.]

The retht of them can go rot, then, can't they?

[Poor little fool, distant and cut off from anything. The Psiioniic leans his head against Dualscar's, and their horns lightly catch against one another. The energy continues, spreading across more and more of his body.]

I won't hurt you. Not like thith.

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