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(no subject)

Who: Coil
Broadcast: Anonymous text, open to anyone
Action: SS Red Fish cargo hold, open to crewmates or visitors
When: Sometime after this little exchange

(OOC: warning for self-destructive and suicidal content.)

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[he's made sure to keep this message anonymous, but that might be the only thought he puts solidly forward before he begins typing. after that, it's like the words are appearing on the screen on their own accord--fast and clumsy--and he's only watching.]

what hapepns at home if we die here will they even know oe maybe it will be like we never existed maybe we go back

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[Coil wouldn't still be on the ship if he'd been able to help it. but the Red Fish is in orbit, and he still refuses to set foot in the shuttles. so, he's stuck in this little metal box, holed up in a dark corner of the cargo hold because he can't stand the sight of his own room. there, tucked amongst the alcove-shapes of big, empty containers, it's quiet and familiar. he'd had an important argument there, once. it's right where the previous captain liked to sit or sleep when he couldn't stand the confines of his own room either.

like an abandoned dog, Coil is lingering at the last spot that had made sense--as if staying there long enough might make something change, and the life he remembers best will inexplicably come right back. maybe something will happen there, and he will be taken away.

aside from quiet, stressed breathing, he's not making any noise. he's deep inside his own head, sunk somewhere that aches so bad he can't stand it, and he has been there for a while. he doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, staring at the small, beautiful white knife resting in front of him, but he has lost feeling in his limbs. curled up and squeezing his knees to his chest, tears are leaking over the dried tracks of those that have fallen before them, as the war rages on. the pros and cons, furies and fears, all clamor back and forth inside of him while he mentally screams at himself to reach out and make it stop.

just pick it up; easy as breathing.]

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[He's pulling away, protecting himself. She understand that, but he's protecting a festering wound. She doesn't take her hand away, as she might normally. He needs to understand she's not going anywhere. She's here with him, and she won't harm him.

Perhaps the best way to make him see that is to show him wounds of her own.]

My soul was stolen from me once. It was ripped right out of me, by a mage. He'd experimented on me, tortured me, to drive a wedge been my soul and the rest of myself. When it was gone, I'd never felt so empty. It's impossible to explain the void inside of me. It was hard to think anything would ever be all right again. I filled up with rage, hate, but it could never quite make that emptiness go away.

I was desperate, losing myself. I almost killed people I care about, because I kept forgetting what it was like care at all. The instinct, the rage, was all I had left. Except I also had logic. My mind wasn't gone, and I knew I didn't want to be a danger to anyone. And I was so very dangerous. My friends would sleep and I would stay up all night, imagining all the ways I could kill them. And I felt nothing at all about it.

So I thought about killing myself then. Finishing the problem before it got out of control; before I got out of control. But what would that solve? I'd just keep losing, over and over.

[She doesn't know if what she's saying is making sense to him, but she's trying. All the while carefully toeing the line of how much she tells him. Because regardless of how far they have come, the fact that she has grown to trust him far more than she had ever expected to, he still remains the one person in all the fleet that scares her.]

[whether or not he'll go back to the information later, pick out all things that could be crafted into weapons and turned on her when the time is right, he at least seems harmless now.

for once, he isn't lashing out at the rest of the world just as much as he punishes himself. now, the hatred is only turning inward. she's safe while he's only angry at himself.

he is listening, though. he's still wracked with tension, tears continuing to brim in his eye, poised on the edge of something... but he doesn't get worse as she goes on. he at least hears her.]

[Coil is never harmless. Even vipers seem serene when they are sleeping. They aren't malicious, but it's in their nature to strike when they feel it's needed. She's not a fool, though most would question her judgement. She just chooses to offer opportunities for people to make the better choice.]

You don't have to tell me. But I'm not going to leave you alone with this. I'm not going anywhere.

[She's said something like that to him before, when they'd lost Zhas. She says it again now, because despite the fact that they barely interact, going their own ways so much, she wants him to remember. They're in this together. Whether he wants it or not.]

[he does remember the last time she'd said something like that. and the simple fact that she is still around to even be able to say it again adds more weight behind it. it's a double-sided blow--both reminding him of all that he has lost, and reinforcing the thought that he still has a few things that have willingly stuck around. two very different, and simultaneous, pangs of pain.

it cracks him open, a little bit. over the past months, he has lost the strength to keep up his defenses, slowly and steadily, and now they're finally beginning to crumble under the pressure.

life is returning to his expression again, and it's agonized. as the new round of tears spill down his face, a sob starts struggling around in his chest, and he buckles inward in a last attempt to keep it all together. curling up, burying his face down into his arms, he chokes on the effort to try and stay in one piece.]

[The agony on his face hurts her. Like a hand squeezing her heart. He's so alone. He's in so much pain. She wonders who, what brought him to this breaking point, and finds she'd like to punch them in the face.

But she can't, so instead she does the only thing else available -since watching him suffer is not an option in her mind- and pulls him into her arms.

She's quick about it, knowing hesitation would make him fight her, she's certain. It's an awkward angle, but she drags his arm away with one hand, pulling him in by the shoulders with the other. Her hold is steady, warm, a little firm, in case he fights her. He knows her strength, and that she's not easily deterred.

Coil needs comforting. He's survive the indignity. Hell it might do him some good.]

Edited (Late night autocorrects fixed) 2016-05-06 19:38 (UTC)

[of course he fights. but she doesn't let him get far, doesn't let him build up enough momentum to actually begin to push her away, before she's already past the remnants of his shell. he tries to pull back, but he finds himself already being hugged whether he likes it or not.

and it rips that wound right open--that thing that he's been carrying around, holding obsessively close as it destroys him from the inside out. as much as he'd been trying to ignore it and stitch different names onto it, that spirit had dragged it out into the light, and now she is holding it there.

he can't hide from it or pretend that it's something else anymore. he is grieving and wounded, and he can't find anything about himself or the world around him that makes the pain feel worth it. he's drowning--his greatest fear of all--and he doesn't know how to make it stop.

he falls apart. after a weak, cornered struggle, he turns into weeping dead weight in her arms. he tries to turn his face down so he can bury the sound of it, but there's no hiding the sobs that start to break their way out of him.]

[She's tenacious against his meager struggles, and then he just cracks open. It's not unexpected; she's ready for it. She keeps her arms around him as he cries, and rocks, ever so slightly.

She doesn't tell him it's all right, or anything like that. Doesn't shush him, just lets him cry as much as he needs.

Her tunic is probably going to need a severe washing after this. But that's fine.]

[he still tries to curl around the ache in his chest, as real to him as any wound, but she's part of that space now. so, though it's more out of anguish than commiseration, he hugs onto her as if he's trying to save himself from being swallowed by something dragging him down.

it's all he can do for a while. even as he begins to lose some of the violence behind his tears, it's like he lacks the strength or the will to pick himself back up and move away on his own again. he doesn't have a reason, let alone the energy to face the world around him.

so, for now, he stays right there.]

[She's solid and steady, something for him to hold onto, and that will hold onto him. She has no idea of what has caused this, and part of her doubts he'll ever tell her. But it's irrelevant to the moment. She's there for him, as best as she can be.

As his crying calms, at least in it's tone, she loosens her hold on him. She doesn't remove herself, no, but he's easing, so she does too, giving him something softer, more comforting, rather than a rock to cling to in a storm. The hand on his shoulder starts to move, rubbing his back in slow circles.]

[his shoulders tense when the embrace around him loosens, like he's going to pull away as soon as there's room, but he doesn't act on it right away. for a sad minute or two, he stays right where he is. he probably just lacks the will to sit up and hold himself up under his own power, but maybe--just maybe--he's gleaning some amount of comfort from her kindness.

when he eventually catches his breath, easing out the ugly hiccups, he finally gathers himself up and pulls away. he doesn't go far, though. he just needs room to breathe, grimacing in disgust at himself and wiping off his face.]

[When he moves away from her, she doesn't try to force him to stay. But she also doesn't give him room. Something tells her that for once, Coil needs to be crowded. So she's going to stay there, comfortably invading his space with her presence.

She makes a gesture with her hand, to get his attention, once he's done wiping at his face. She figure going back to signs would be best at this point. Help him feel more on even ground with her.

'Tell me what happened.']

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