driftfleet | Red Fish Pond

[call him a negligent captain, but Coil doesn't usually care who is at the door. with every new face infiltrating the ranks of this ship, the number of people he doesn't care about that might come calling continues to grow.

but there is a certain dead, unfriendly, unwavering 'tone' to that knocking that is especially hard for him to ignore. it takes only a minute or so of trying to come up with more compelling reasons to ignore that sound before he gives up.

and on the way across the cargo bay, he finds himself inexplicably hurrying.

Zhas won't have to wait long for too long before a sharper, rougher, wearier ghost of Coil jogs over to answer the door.]

[he knows that a lot has happened. he knows he doesn't have a good grasp on all the details of their unique situation yet. it isn't a surprise to him that Coil is the one to open the door, so he puts his leg down from where he was caught mid-wind-up... and stands there, waiting.

expecting, almost. hello, brother.]

[it only takes the span of time needed for that face to register in his head--one startled blink--before Coil is hit with what almost seems like terror. his gasp is an audible one as he almost trips over himself in falling back fast away from the door.

Zhas has seen the look a thousand times--the look of those who know the myth of him but are caught in horror at the sight because they know it can't be real. this is the first time that it's been on Coil's face, however.

he's not seeing Zhas. he's seeing the specter that Zhas must be... and he falls back another few bewildering steps almost as soon as he finds his feet after the first retreat.]

[well, that's not a good start. he's tried to dull himself to this already, he's had plenty of time... but seeing that look sends a pang of something through his chest regardless, like a stone sending ripples through a pond.

still, he passes through the threshold and calmly closes the door behind himself. his boots thunk against the floor with the same soft weight, his eyes are tinged with orange just the same. it's him, and he turns back to regard Coil again with another expectant gaze.]

[by the time Zhas looks back, Coil has halted his retreat... but he has a hand fastened over his mouth as if he actually needs it to stay silent. and while he frantically tries to judge the validity of what is standing before him--along with his own senses--the only thing he can do is stare. he certainly can't breathe. if he moves an inch, it will evaporate. it will all be a trick.

and he can't take that.

that would really be the end of it.

...once the decision is suddenly made, however, the whole thing snaps. as soon as he knows for sure, as soon as he can feel it where everything still hurts under his ribs, that held breath seethes out of him and he runs.

right at him, before he can disappear, Coil throws himself at Zhas' chest in open desperation. he bolts past whatever stretch of time had kept them apart and flings his arms up around his neck, grabbing on before anything else can get in.]

[it's second-nature to expect a strike--a punch or a jab, or the possibility of being tackled off his feet. of course he flinches away from the other. he's only human.

but then Coil is clinging onto him, exposing his sides (a vulnerable position). and he doesn't know what to do, because no one holds onto him like this--but his instinct has one arm wrapping around him in return, because that way nothing else can hurt his friend. not while he's there.]

[he is there. he's solid--he has weight and scent. he's real. the aching shock of it doesn't allow room for Coil to think about the wound that he's exposing to the world, clinging onto Zhas like a child. even at his weakest and accepting support from his partner, he has always crumbled inward. Zhas's arms have always wrapped over his shoulders so he could keep the broken things safe and contained.

this is the result of having been peeled right open, and set so far adrift that he is desperate to grab onto something that can keep him out of the high torrent of water. Zhas is that island--that solid ground that he'd never thought he'd see again.

his fingers grip into familiar fabric, holding on tight as he buries his face, and he doesn't have a moment to even think about fighting back the sob that wracks out of him. he can finally breathe again.]

[that's a sound that comes out of mothers who lose sons, children who lose parents. did he die, while he was away? he woke up cold, haunted by the echoes of a grave he can't remember--so maybe he missed his own funeral.

he doesn't move. this isn't right, but nothing about the Drift Fleet was every really right. he tilts his face away from Coil's, not just to keep the kid from smudging his face-paint. the neck is a vulnerable point too.]

[there had been a little funeral, yeah, but it hadn't helped. Coil had tried to mourn him as lost, but he apparently hasn't gotten any better at learning how to handle grief. judging by the sound of it, he's been choking on barely-stomached pain for months.

it might be the most of Coil's voice that he's heard for a long time.]

[he'll wait. he's feeling patient.

he's put up with a lot worse, for a lot longer.]

[it takes him a solid, uncomfortable minute before he can even try to get a hold of himself, and he does try as soon as he can.

he drags in longer breaths, attempting to gather himself together into one piece again. which means he finally loosens his grip on Zhas and starts to center on his own feet.]

[and he, having fallen into his place as a caretaker, reaches out for Coil's shoulder to give him a little stability as he reorients himself.]

[and that's the thing. that's where Zhas is supposed to be, but he hasn't been. he has evaporated from Coil's life--twice now--without a word or a warning.

and now, here he is, real and whole as if he'd never been gone. as if he'd never been dead to anyone. as if Coil hadn't had to suffer for a minute.

now that he knows that Zhas is somehow safe, and can see again through the rush of relief, something different punches through. the feeling of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder makes something in him hurt. and then it snaps. another sob wells up to choke him... but when this one bursts, it unleashes rage.

there's another sound--hoarse and growled through his teeth--and he lashes out.

with all of the fury that he's been throwing at anything willing to get in the way for months, he balls up expert fists and hits Zhas. dead in the chest. right in the center, like he's trying to knock a hole straight through him.]

[Coil gets the satisfaction of a solid hit. with a cry of pain, Zhas curls against the injury, clutching at his chest and gasping in against his winded lungs.

but he doesn't run, and he doesn't punch back.]

[it feels good for a second. finally, he makes a dent in something.

he can tell that it hurt, which is satisfying, but it doesn't make him feel any better. if anything, it's a confirmation that Zhas is fallible and mortal. he's capable of blinking out without reason, like any other stupid life. and Coil can't take that.

with angry tears still falling, it really looks like he's going to hit him again. but instead, it turns into vicious signing, whether Zhas is paying attention or not.

the motions are demanding. furious.

'never again.']

[he drags in a breath, steps back against the door. he reads those signs though a steady gaze, lifting his head and drawing himself up into something of a stable shape again. a strong shape. he may be guilty and upset--but he's never let that drown him out before, and he's not about to let it rule him now.

fair's fair, and he's done being patient. he strikes forward, intending to knock Coil's hands away. shut up, brat, don't talk to him like that.]

[he's done too much fighting lately. and that fact is probably more apparent now, with how he's primed for it even in a situation like this. as soon as Zhas strikes out, Coil twists his arm out of the way and knocks back with a strike meant to block Zhas' hands back away from him.

Coil is already poised to brawl, though he probably doesn't notice it. in the span of Zhas' nap, that instinct has apparently come back.

he throws out a few more short signs instead of striking at him, but they still carry the same energy-- 'leave' and 'don't.']

[he's still consciously avoiding a fight. he's injured and frustrated, but being knocked back only centers his resolve. something's wrong, that's obvious--but now he thinks he sees what.

he sucks in another breath in against his aching chest, reaches again... but it's slow, fingers spread out, palm facing downwards. he wants to reach around Coil, but he needs to get past the boy's own wall of rage.]

[his teeth grit as he clenches his jaw, biting on nothing in the effort to swallow back his anger. he doesn't want to strike out, he doesn't want to fight, but that's all he's been doing for months. it's how he deals with things now, and his mind is too flooded with fury and hurt and relief to think of anything else.

but the motion makes him hesitate. the gesture is close enough to a word that it manages to carry the same meaning, and he pauses--glancing down at Zhas' hand, blinking tears out of his eyes.]

[that's his opening. he reaches around for Coil's neck, pulling him in with a palm pressing at the back of his head. ducking down to press his forehead against the other's, he finally talks.]

I'm not leaving.

[it's the same ugly, gravelly tone Coil remembers. he's got a good voice for commands, assurance, things that Coil sorely needs. he looks him dead in the eye--expecting something, even now.]

[hearing his voice is what finally does it. it's solid and it's a promise. it's the first steady foundation that Coil has been able to put his feet on since Zhas left.

so, he buckles again, but there's a difference this time. the anger is gone, leaving only the sad, soft things it had been defending. Coil shuts his eye against that seeking gaze and he ducks away from Zhas' face. he moves past that as he crumbles, and his arms hook around his friend again.

he hugs him tight as his shoulders shake with tears, because he believes him.

it's also an apology. he didn't mean to hit him.]

[and this time, he lets him in. his returning the gesture isn't a reaction so much as it is acceptance of his apology. though his skin is already stinging with what's sure to be a hideous bruise, he straightens and lets him hide against his chest for a while longer.

but not too much longer. he was tired before, but this is exhausting. he looks down the length of the cargo bay, wondering who else is on board.]

... I'm tired. [maybe he can rest somewhere. is his old room still here? or his shuttle--that cramped little space that smelled of smoke. maybe the filtration systems have run that air back to clear-clean, in his absence.]

[that's his cue. he knows it is.

he'd like to stay there and purge until there's nothing left of him but ash, but he knows very well that there's always a time to put yourself together again and keep moving. and this is it.

so, he steals one more minute while he can. though, it's more to get a head start on pulling in longer, steadying breaths before he moves, than anything else. and only when he can manage that much, he finally peels away to hold up his own weight again.

Zhas will have to wait another minute while Coil moves into immediately pulling up the zippered edge of his sweatshirt to wipe off his entire face with, and he uses that time to swallow back as much of his tears as he can. he can't shut them off completely, but he can at least try to not be such a grotesque mess.

'full,' he finally signs, gesturing weakly at the ship as a whole. though, he only has to think about it for a moment--punctuated by hiccups--before he follows with 'my room.']

[he's not exactly in a hurry... he continues to take in the details of the cargo bay while Coil cleans himself up. one thread of thought weaves into another. all of the equipment is still here, but the room seems... sharper than he remembers, rustier.

it hasn't been that long, has it? he shakes off the looming feeling that the whole ship has grown older without him. he blinks back to Coil's hands, ignoring his lingering worries to nod in response.

under the circumstances, that would be fine. he trusts Coil's room to be safe when he can't say the same for the rest of the ship anymore. he signs back, 'we'll talk after I rest.']

[Coil nods, nice and obedient, though he's still wiping at his eyes.

it's good. he's not truly together--not by a long shot--but he's at least making the attempt to appear that way. some progress, finally. he straightens his spine; he tries to stand tall. appearing stronger than he really is has become even more second-nature to him over the past few months than it ever had. the shoes he'd had to fill were big ones.

and he shuffles to the side, giving Zhas some space and signaling that he's ready to follow again.]

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theboogieman - 2016-05-30 17:43 (UTC) - Expand