He listens. Each tap upholding more MAGNITUDE than the next, growing with an eery cloud of trepidation; keeping count with the numbers by three, almost READY to disregard. One would like to think he’d know Rory well enough, maybe not DISTINCTLY as he would have thought. Such a notion already brings discomfort to his desolate posture, the position to which he’s made HIMSELF aquatinted with laying back on a solid mattress, voices for his very own state of mind to hear; the tranquility engulfing every breathing soul, all PROCEEDING with forethought. Oblivious towards the natural FEAR that would strike their hearts to it’s centre — NOT ALONE ever but it’s always made things seem effortless NEVER needing their support because more than well, it remained Gale’s only duty to GIVE back. Footsteps OVERSTEPPING give off the sound of ambling, slow tattered breaths vacate his vocal chords not from exhaustion but another meaning. Rory to be pictured for a FOOL is a ridicule, the middle child indistinct during his YOUTH came as something natural in the spirit of things, overtime just showing his true colours by fault. The consequences for his own undertaking had been SHATTERING for all of them, coming to face with that all over again was something to pitifully regret but there he was, standing over the doorway – for once maybe, just maybe they’re on the same page like they had been before.
Accommodating himself into an upright position they’re both eventually on CUSTOMARY terms, the muscles over his abdomen giving off the split second of a throb, though vaguely giving no indication for the public’s eye, ❛ What d’you want? ❜ The RESPONSE given comes across as a jibe – brusque was what he was going for but even minor details are far out from his reach, he goes with what he has.
although he held high expectations when approaching this particular situation, rory knew he shouldn’t have. gale had much more to worry about than his family at the time. the eldest hawthorne’s response almost shoved a scoff right out of his mouth, as if it had been the wrong answer. a question in response for a question always followed up with either an argument or a cliff-hanging conversation. rory wasn’t in the mood for either of them. while his younger years proved him to be a coward, falling limp beneath the grasp of everyone else’s bite, rory was different now. he used to be a good kid, one that listened and did as he was told. then, the rebellion came along. somewhere along in the back of his mind, he would kill to see the look on gale’s face if he’d ever found out about the trouble the younger hawthorne had stirred up with the peacekeepers, or if gale knew about the tesserae he’d taken out to feed his family.
there’s no attempt to move forward, every muscle in his body aching to make him turn and flee the scene almost instantly. this was not the confrontation he’d imagined. but, if this was how gale wanted to be, rory could return the attitude. he shows no sign of hurt as his arms cross, an almost instinctive form of defense that he could have sworn helped with defending himself from people getting inside of his head to break him down. but, alas, a physical gesture could never really protect him from the mental torture he’d received. he was fractured, almost as damaged as prim was, seeing her sister go off to fight for her life. gale chose to fight, and if rory had the choice, he’d do the same. then again, he was only a child. he wasn’t allowed. ❛ i wanted to say goodbye. never got the chance with dad. ❜ quick and easy, that was the key. he knows it’s not good to fight fire with fire, but the tone in his voice is almost impossible to budge. he’s in pain, breaking down on the inside while his brother seems to be unmoved. deep down, rory still knows gale cares about them. that’s why he does what he does. but, with the attitude his brother was giving off, rory could have mistaken him for a complete stranger in the dark.
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
areudirty
romaincrisis
dededos
yousharknotpass
