a mouthful;

"with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own."

[dancefevers]

guy who ends his prayers with “or whatever.” instead of amen

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

mortal projections || bode + ajay || ruina rex {howl}

ajay-benitez​:

[He’s getting the impression Bode is worried about something, but maybe Ajay is too blinded by his own grief to really see it. Caught up doing the wrong thing? Not making Kaiser a saint? Something is telling him it’s all supposed to mean something, that Bode is trying to give him some kind of advice or steer him in one direction rather than another, but Ajay can’t see which direction he’s heading, either way. He can’t see past the windshield, past the rain. So if Bode is trying to warn him about something it’s not having an immediate effect. It’s not falling on deaf ears, exactly… but Ajay doesn’t know how to compartmentalize or process most of what’s being said to him. He can’t yet see the relevancy.

He gives a minute shake of his head, a gentle buckling of his brows that’s short-lived.] No I… definitely wouldn’t say I’m making him out to be a Saint. He was a.. chaotic, problematic dude. But I just… liked him. [A shrug.] And he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be, either. Just… nobody really knew him. Even I barely did but I saw… [he trails off. Shakes his head, this time with more conviction.] Anyway. It doesn’t matter. 

[He looks over at Bode briefly, but his eyes still feel damper than he’d like, so he blinks and looks away.] You don’t have to worry, anyway. I’m not going to… raid your distribution centre in a moment of rage and injustice, or anything like that. If that’s what you’re worried about. [He cracks a small smile, nudging Bode’s knee at the comment. A gesture, a plea to be understood that he’s intending it to be playful, but he doesn’t have the energy he usually would to follow through with the sense of humour.]

[He wished Ajay had finished his sentence, not because he thought Ajay’s opinion of Kaiser could change his own but because it seemed to weigh heavily on the other to keep it to himself. It might also work in his favor for Ajay to believe Bode was someone he could confide in. The more fellow infected Bode had a working relationship with, the better.

He smiles at the other, something friendly as he jokes about raising the distribution center. How ironic that in this situation Ajay stealing from the center was the furthest concern plaguing him.] It’s not what I’m worried about but thank you for trying to lighten the load. You’re consideration is heavily appreciated.

[He pauses for a moment, letting a light lull eclipse their conversation before continuing.] We don’t know each other very well, Adrián, but if for whatever reason you feel on the verge of exploding whether that be verbally or physically, I’m around if you need help diffusing. From one grieving man to another. [His gaze falls back on the natural memorial as if deep in thought.] You aren’t under any obligation to take me up on my offer but I do hope you keep it in mind in any case something comes up.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

howl hangover | corbin + bode

call-corbin​:

[Corbin’s not sure how much of a ‘cult’ Kaiser had here, but out in the wastes… that’s a different story. At least, that’s what the whole decoy raid fiasco suggested.

He glances up at Bode, then, tiring of the doodle, and running out of things to add to it, he tosses the pen to the table and shifts into a more comfortable position.] Not so much here, but he had impact out in the wastes, I reckon. Word is he was somethin’ of a radical figurehead, before the crusaders got to him. And since then… well, how much have they told ya about the kids that went missin’ back in September last year? Anythin’?

[A literal kidnapping. And though of course they didn’t know that Kaiser was involved in anyway, but the point is, he could have been. He wasn’t a resident back then, and either way, that Mink kid had confirmed it was a Radical agenda. And Kaiser was captured.. what? A few months later? Seems like quite the coincidence…

At the question about ‘gossip’, he shrugs.] I ain’t one for gossip, really. Ain’t a whole lot I hate more than dealin’ with other people’s drama. But in this case? I mean, ‘cor, yeah sure I’m curious. I just ain’t gonna be the first to call it a conspiracy. But would I put it past the Reforms to have him killed if it was convenient? Nope. Wouldn’t do that, neither. [Another shrug, and a slight raise of his brow.]

[Everything coming out of Corbin’s mouth is new information, and it’s not particularly helpful in easing Bode’s worry. He was already aware the strange following Kaiser seemed to cultivate here in colony 22 but hearing he had an even larger and drastic affect on those in the wastes made him wonder how the NWRF got their hands on him to begin with. Did they know who Kaiser was before dragging him back here? Did they believe he was a large enough threat to have him put down? Did the reformist know about some plan that had yet to unfold? It was more speculation than Bode was comfortable with.

When asked point blank about kids going missing in September Bode has to physically retrain himself from reacting. He prayed Corbin was using the term ‘kids’ loosely because he would like to believe if children had gone missing he would have been in the known. Unfortunately in this instance, he wasn’t. Bode shakes his head, completely ignoring Corbin’s open aired speculating.] Stop. What kids? I wasn’t informed about anyone having gone missing. And even if I had been, what does Kaiser have anything to do with it?

[The last thing he needed was to find out Kaiser somehow played a part in disappearing the infected.]

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

bloodlines || bode + dante || ruina rex

dante-carrington​:

[Dante suppresses a small smile at Espen’s suspicion, the implied accusation that Bode might just not turn up to his sessions. It’s sweetly petulant. Dante has always been fonder of children than people might assume from his icy demeanour, though Espen isn’t really a child. A young man, if anything, but he looks and acts younger.

He shakes his head at Bode’s question. Conflict of interest doesn’t really apply in this situation, and in any case lines have necessarily become more blurred these days. It’s almost impossible to maintain fully professional levels of separation, with how thinly spread the Colony’s therapists are.]

In the pursuit of family therapy, separate sessions can be conducted by the same therapist. It won’t be a problem. With that settled, perhaps we can leave it there for today. I’ll have a look at my schedule and be in touch about when I can fit you both in.

FIN.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

history unwritten | bode & isha | ruina rex & the funeral

isha-feinberg​:

[Something in the way he says her name – Miss Feinberg – and the smile that slithers across his mouth makes Isha shift. It’s not an easily identified feeling. Disgust? Not precisely. There is something predatory about Bode though, and not in the obvious way she had seen in Kaiser. It’s subtler in Bode; like an ambush predator hiding in shadows, only Isha isn’t sure if she’s the prey.

She’s used to feeling like prey, or at the very least like a wolf in sheep’s clothing that knows how to play at being helpless prey. It’s why she’ll always strike first. But she’s not sure if Bode is giving her a reason to. He makes her deeply uncomfortable but she doesn’t necessarily want it to stop.

That in itself makes Isha want it to stop. She likes the little game they are playing, the blood in Bode’s mind, the wolf in her own, and her instinct is to play along a little more, coming up with some other disturbing imagery to show him. But, Isha is prone to resisting many of her instincts, so she doesn’t. Bode would probably like to play that game, too, and her interest in depriving him of that overpowers her own enjoyment.

The smile that crosses her face is fawn-foot fleet, the briefest dance across ice before it freezes over again. Her gaze is fixed coolly on a little cluster of Reformists – they always stick together like cockroaches, like a rat king – and she shrugs at the idea of Kaiser getting his hands on any of them.] 

He could have if he wanted to. But what is the point? If you take the life of one of them, another will just slither into their place. And in this matter, the bigger picture is more important than fleeting personal satisfaction. [Her gaze cuts back to Bode, curious:] Have you ever drawn blood?

[He summons up pictures of it pretty readily, but so do people that simply have an affinity for horror films. It could just be idle curiosity, but it never is with Isha. She wants to know if he’s dangerous; if he considers himself dangerous; if she should consider him dangerous. She’s unused to being so dwarfed by men, being quite tall herself, so she is acutely aware of his presence in a more visceral way than is her norm.]

[Isha makes a solid point. As impressive as Kaiser was being made out to be by the crowd around them, the truth was he was never going to be enough to take down the NWRF. If any change was truly to be made it would take a larger undertaking by strong minded individuals. It wasn’t about a single violent strike, as sweet and kindred it seemed to Bode, it would need a delicate hand. Call it arrogance if you want but Bode felt he should be on the frontlines of those plans.

At least between the NWRF and the radicals he had a better grasp of reality.

Bode meets Isha’s curious gaze, her tone remaining as monotone as ever. ‘Have you ever drawn blood?’ A question like that should have held some kind of inflection but this was Isha. A woman made of ice and quiet brutality. This could go one of three ways. Bode could either make a joke and change the conversation, he could outright lie to her or he could choose to be honest. He didn’t know Isha very well nor would he claim to, he’s only met her once before today but he felt a strange kind of kinship with her. There was something about her veracity and open resistance to the space around her that made him willing to trust her.] Not on purpose.

[He didn’t bother trying to make himself out to be the kind of man that could kill without remorse. The truth was, Bode would kill to protect his brother if it came to that, and although he enjoyed the sight of blood on his first four knuckles, he wasn’t particularly inclined towards murder. Peter’s eyes, devoid of life and color, still haunted his dreams.] The goal isn’t eradication. [Bode quirks a brow at Isha, forcing himself to not glance at her wrists and arms.] And you, Miss Feinberg? What have those hands of yours done before they found themselves here?

[theotherkingdoms]

i. Kaveh Akbar, "My Father's Accent" from Pilgrim Bell | ii. Hayley Williams, "Simmer" from Petals for Armor | iii. Sjohnna McCray, "Portrait of my Father as a Young Black Man" from Rapture

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

WRETCHED JACKAL || ricky & bode

diederick-dmornay​:

[[ Bode steps towards him. Ricky flinches, steps away from the wall, doesn’t care if he gets some rain on his back. Looking up at the man, one who’s clearly never been to a funeral before with a scowl. ]] I thought I was a self absorbed prick. [[ Ricky takes another drag of his smoke, is careless about keeping it out of Bode’s face, now. If he’s going to step into his space, Bode deserves a face full of it.

Even Ricky would assume he’d meet this attitude with anger: but there’s none to be found. Simply defeat. Exhaustion. ]] Look everyone in the eye? [[ The laugh is twisted, sudden. ]] No-one fucking likes me! They love Kaiser though! You think that man had any modesty? Wore his crimes like a bloody crown. Everyone in there who’s sad? Yell at them! They know exactly the kind of bastard he was and they still mourn him!

At least I have the excuse that he—he was my dad. I spent years with that… [[ That overwhelming, terrifying sort of love. Suffocating love: as suffocating as his hugs, as his large hands smoothing down his hair. Tears begin to well up once more, he furiously wipes at his eyes. ]] I tried, I fucking tried to leave him. To forget him. [[ Instead, he even won that unspoken battle. Kaiser left first, left Ricky with only the heavy weight of his disappointment to remember him by. ]]

Save that energy for your baby bro. [[ He can relate to that at least, the protective, brotherly instinct. ]] Kaiser probably got inside your brother’s head if not his — [[  For once in his life, Ricky stops himself. Too late, though, he can imagine Bode can guess where that was going. ]]

[Bode didn’t want to agree with him but being a reformist didn’t exactly win anyone any points. Dead father or not. Bode himself was cracking jokes at Ricky’s expense with Isha. He wasn’t a revered figure the way Kaiser was to the infected and radicals. Looking at him now, a wash of cigarette smoke and sleepless eyes burned red from tears, Bode could do nothing but pity him. He looked like Bode did when Peter died; hollow, restless, completely and utterly exhausted with the weight of having survived where others did not.

‘I tried, I fucking tried to leave him.’

Without meaning to, he thought of his own father, the heavy disappointment that hung on his mouth every time he looked at Bode. Despite hating his father and everything he stood for, a small part of him always wondered what it would feel like to not be despised by the person who made him. It couldn’t be all that, could it? People with perfectly stable families still ended up awful human beings or worse, boring. Bode closed his eyes momentarily, a hand coming up to drag through his hair. He could feel his fingers shaking with his shortly fused temper.

He might have left Ricky alone to freeze in the rain if he hadn’t kept running his mouth. That seems to be a running issue with the civilians of 22. They never knew when to fucking quit. His hands are on him, fists curling the fabric of Ricky’s shirt in tight circles before pressing him hard against the wall of the chapel. He might have scraped the back of Ricky’s head along the way, something warm and gleeful rejoices somewhere in the back of Bode’s mind. The senseless rage bit. Maybe he’s in denial but as long as these words aren’t coming out of Espen’s mouth he can continue to deny it. His brother was smarter than this. Wasn’t he?] I understand your father’s a piece of shit, Ricky, and I feel bad for you. I do but it’s within your best interest to stop talking. [His words should be dripping with venom but instead they come out calm, concise, perfectly and beautifully enunciated.]

My brother is a decent kid. Better than you, better than me and significantly better than Kaiser Fucking Bahr.

[pennywises]

Bill Skarsgård as Clark Olofsson → Clark (2022).

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

nostalgia | teilo + bode {howl}

teiloembry​:

[‘I’m beginning to think you’re my only friend.’ Teilo turns a perplexed smile Bode’s way.] You? Goodness, I can’t see why. You’re fascinating, charming, well-spoken, handsome… [he quirks a smile, spares a shrug.]  And I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass, I promise you. [A pause, as they idly wander by a few more merchant tents, nearer to the back exit of the Hub, now.] 

But at the same time, I suppose I can understand the feeling of being a bit out of your element here. I think I’ve raised a number of eyebrows since my arrival as well, and not necessarily in the good way. I’m not… one among many, in this place. My experiences, both before and after D-Day, it seems, set me apart from the community here, somewhat. And the people here are scared, fairly so. So I think they have a hard time trusting people like me. Like us, maybe. [Though, no doubt it must help that Bode is Infected. Or it should, in the long run. Teilo is just that much more likely to be seen as ‘one of them’ if he’s not careful. Which is ironic, given why he’d come here.

It feels like what’s on his mind is probably obvious, given recent events, but this is probably Bode’s way of inquiring without being too specific or pushy, which Teilo can appreciate. Besides, yes, the death is on his mind, but it’s not necessarily Kaiser himself, who’s on his mind. After all, he’d not known the man. 

He shrugs, by way of reply.] I mean… I suppose the same thing that’s on everyone’s mind, at the moment. Not that I knew him. I just… can’t help but wonder the implications of something like this. How it might affect us in the future, politically. Granted, that’s a… part of brain I can’t really shut off. Though I did think the Hub might be a nice distraction. Just a bit of… fresh air to clear my head. [And of course, there’s everything that’s gone on with Dante as of late. But that’s not something he can easily discuss.] 

[He does his best to not visibly preen at Teilo’s comments, although there’s a chance he failed.] Careful now, Teilo, or I’m going to begin thinking you’re the one that is flirting. [He tilts his head down to match gazes with the other, his smile growing smaller as he continues to speak. If Bode was the kind of man that could step outside of himself and see the ridiculousness of their pouting he would, if it had been anyone else he probably would have pointed it out without remorse. But Teilo was sincere enough to make the distinction difficult.

They hadn’t discussed politics much, if anything they veered from that topic quite purposefully. Bode had yet to decide if Teilo was someone to be trusted with such things. It was one to discuss literature and art and another thing entirely to converse about their state of living under an oppressive regime. A part of him felt guilty for assuming Teilo could be the kind of person that saw the infected as…well, infected instead of people with newfound abilities. He made a mental note of never bringing it up to him. The last thing he needed was losing one of the few people who have come to enjoy his company.] If you’re ruffling some feathers while here for what you believe to be true, consider me an advocate to your cause. The world has had time to settle in the dust of its destruction, maybe it’s fine to desire something new again.

[If he was talking to anyone else he might have considered his words more carefully but he trusted Teilo to not make any hasty decisions. He was, after all, incredibly smart but more importantly, thoughtful to those around him. His desire for change would not be at the cost of the innocent. He could trust in Teilo to do what was right, when the time was right.] But that’s a conversation that can be had at a later date. If you’re done here, do you mind walking with me to Delma? I need to check in on my brother but would love your company.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

mortal projections || bode + ajay || ruina rex {howl}

ajay-benitez​:

[The touch of Bode’s leg makes Ajay look over at him. It’s not a touch he expects, but it’s one he welcomes. One he’s almost surprised to welcome. But the touch—the touch feels good. Grounding. Kaiser had touched him that way, too—in a way that was once unexpected, but Ajay had come to predict—and a way that humanizing and casual. It didn’t have to be ‘friendly’ in the traditional way, to be comforting. It had made Ajay realize that for someone so keen on company, he spends a lot of time going untouched, platonically or otherwise.

Don’t make a martyr out of him, Bode insists. And it might’ve come off as harsh if it hadn’t been followed by so much of the truth. Reality, painted unprettily and honest. An offer of a shifted perspective, a reminder Ajay probably needs right now. And the truth is actually a lot more comforting than the the cookie cutter conciliations he’s likely going to get just about anywhere else right now. 

It also sounds like a perspective Kaiser might have. Something he might’ve said.

‘Don’t get wrapped up thinking about what each of us deserves.’ Because the universe doesn’t care, and because it’s not for us to decide. Dark, maybe, but fair. And Adrián is feeling pretty dark these days, anyway.

He thinks a moment, gaze wandering similar absent patterns to the tongue dragging restless lines on the inside of his cheek. He appreciates what Bode’s said, but he doesn’t know what to say in return. His head still feels empty, nothing but cotton and fog behind his brows, and a gnawing ache behind his breastbone.] 

You’re right, [he says finally. Then, a tiny slip of a grin and he glances at the Torren again.] Though I’m guessing I don’t have to tell you that. [A pause. He clears his throat.] Um. Thanks, by the way. For the company. And the weirdly comforting nihilism, [he quips finally. Because he never claimed not to use humour as a crutch.] 

[He matches his smile, although it teeters closer to bemusement than joy or humor.] Of course I’m right. Between the two of us, I’m the only one with a working brain cell. [He’s not used to joking around with the civilians of 22 but it’s a nice change of pace all things considering. He leans back on the bench, letting his leg remain pressed against Ajay’s.] Sure. What else are knights in shining armor for?

[He’s looking at Ajay and the exhaustion coloring his face, and for a moment he sobers. He might not like Kaiser or the danger he might have put his brother in but it didn’t change the affect he had on people. It doesn’t change the anvil of pain his absence leaves behind.] You know, a long time ago someone mentioned to me that it’s not always the people you miss but the way they made you feel. Whether it was loved or capable or…simply enough, visible. Some people leave a mark without meaning to and others bite at the bit to not be forgotten, either way both are achieved the same way. The people you meet, the people you love or hate, they’re the ones who are left behind to remember you. It’s important to not make him out to be some Saint but it’s okay to…miss the way he made you feel. It’s okay to want some say in how that feeling stays with you.

Just…don’t get wrapped up doing the wrong thing in trying to keep that feeling. That’s all.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

give what you take || bode + mitch || ruina rex

mitch--douglas​:

[[ Mitch is not typically so oblivious to new arrivals, even outside of his own house. He has and always will go out of his way to be a welcoming presence at the colony, something that feels like more and more an act of defiance after his demotion and the further the NWRF burrows into their high ranks. It doesn’t stop him, though; he doesn’t see the danger in making himself available, even if there are those who are welcome to misinterpret.

It’s been a little different this week, though, when so much of Mitch’s time has been focused on damage control of the current population rather than the effort needed to welcome those who are new. He feels more guilty about it than usual, and probably than he should, if only because this is a confusing time in the colony to be completely new. Mitch can see it on the faces of some of the recent arrivals; they don’t quite understand what Kaiser was to this place, for better or worse. They’re only now hearing the stories, exaggerated like urban legends. Mitch would say they’re blowing Kaiser out of proportion, but for the most part, they’re not. The stories are as large as the man was, and equally as potent.

All of that is to say, he may not have had the time to reach out to Bode yet personally, but he does know who he is. New Elites are of particular interest, and Bode fills a particularly important spot — one he likely flexed in procurement of the glistening apple now set on Mitch’s desk, bordering on cliche that makes him smile. ]]

Mr. Lindqvist, [[ Mitch answers easily, standing for a moment to reach over the desk and offer a firm handshake even as a moment ago, he’d waved away the praise. ]] A pleasure, I’m sure, I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to connect before now. I hope you’ve been settling in okay? And your brother? [[ Family was, of course, always of note to Mitch. It was always a quiet relief for him to know there were those who could still keep family close. He’d made his own family here, and there was no understating the importance of the support system. ]]

Is there something in particular I can help you with? [[ Just because he was exhausted from helping so many others the past few days didn’t mean Mitch would stop offering. It went without saying and without exaggeration, he’d only stop offering his help when he had no breath left in his body. ]]

[Bode takes his hand, leaning forward as well as they shake hands before pulling away.] Please, there’s no need to apologize. I’m aware you’re a busy man. [He leans back onto the table, hands clasped in his lap. He appreciates Mitch’s warm and receptive nature. It’s a welcome introduction after so many others have gone sour. To be fair, that’s usually Bode’s fault, not that he would ever admit to it.] We’ve…settled. [He looks pained as he says it.] I think I’m fairing worse than my brother. It’s a bit difficult to grow accustom to new surroundings. I was never great with change.

[He shakes his head slightly before he continues.] But that’s not what I’m here about. [Bode glances around the room, feigning interest in the classroom when really he’s making certain they’re alone.] I’ve heard quite a bit about you and your accomplishments here at Colony 22. Including your demotion with the NWRF came swinging in. [He raises a brow at the man at this.] Seems a bit unfair you get pushed aside when you’re the person who kept this place afloat. You helped keep everyone safe, warm, even fed. A difficult feat that I personally admire.

You’re a man of the people. Even I can see that and we’ve only just met. [Bode meets Mitch’s warm gaze.] Do you think that’s the reason why they replaced you? To take you out of the equation? Because I do.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

bloodlines || bode + dante || ruina rex

dante-carrington​:

[He’d not honestly expected that from Bode, not this early on. But he seems to take Dante’s words on board, and conclude that separate sessions might be beneficial – it’s what Dante had insinuated might be preferable from the beginning. He hadn’t been entirely supportive of Bode’s desire to take a backseat, and to essentially sit in on Espen’s therapy sessions. Approaching this more as family therapy is better, but he still thinks beginning with private sessions would be better. Once they have begun to untangle a few threads, then they could begin meeting together again. 

He’s pleased Bode reached that conclusion, without much in the way of prompting. He’s clearly a wilful individual, and Dante suspects any heavy-handed input would be met with resistance on principal.] 

I think separate sessions would be sensible. It can be difficult to look objectively at a relationship when you’re sitting there with the other person, worrying if your honesty might hurt them. Is that something you’d both be comfortable with?

[He directs this question to both of them, but is more concerned about Espen’s answer. If Espen isn’t interested in pursuing therapy, then Dante won’t strong-arm him into it.]

[Espen meets Bode’s gaze with considerable caution. That seems fair, to be met with disbelief. He knows he hasn’t made any part of this easy, for either of them but Bode is desperate to not lose his brother. Everything else, everyone else has been pushed out to sea. He needed to make a decision but for once Espen needed to have a say in that choice.]

Do you mean that? You’re not just going to have me come to sessions and not show up to yours?

[Bode smiles thinly at his younger brother.] You make me out to be more devious than I could ever possibly be, Pen.

Promise? [Bode sighs.]

I promise, Pen.

[He seems satisfied with this answer. Espen turns his attention to Dante, his face gentle and open.] So how will the one on one sessions work? Do one of us need to change therapists? Conflict of interest is still a thing isn’t it?

[Bode hadn’t thought of that before. He should have considered it before opening his mouth but it was a bit late to pull out now. He swallows his regret.] Must we?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

change in frequency || bode + alois

alois-the-real-boy​:

[[ ‘Some might consider what you can do a miracle.’ Alois doesn’t bother to mask his scowl, one that only deepens as Bode continues. He doesn’t care what Bode is ‘comfortable’ teaching him; this training is meant to be about him, isn’t it? Alois’ own levels of comfort?

Calling it a miracle sounds dangerously like the Radicals Alois can’t even begin to comprehend. Maybe they’re the ones who’d just gotten the better draw of the lot; maybe they just had more patience when it came to trying to control their so-called ‘gifts’ rather than, as Alois wants, to simply get rid of it.

‘Can you imagine?’ he wants to ask, but knows he’s just being petulant because Bode isn’t telling him what he wants to hear. Alois reigns in the bite of his tongue, lets the indignance tighten the muscle in his jaw instead, and simply listens. He’d been the one to ask Bode for help. The least he can do is, yeah, try Bode’s way first.

Suppressing the other noises by trying to hyper-focus on one isn’t really something he’s tried. Hyper-focusing on anything isn’t really something he’s tried, for fairly obvious reasons. Without otherwise responding, Alois lets his eyes slide shut and exhales softly and quietly, and listens. He listens beyond the sound of Bode’s breathing and his heart beat, beyond a persistent wind that whistles distractingly in the rafters.

But he can hear the birds now, a little more clearly for his concentration. He can hear the scrape of their wiry feet on the branches and the occasional jostling of a dry leaf, punctuated with the odd chirp that nearly makes him flinch in surprise. ]] Okay… [[ Alois says carefully, hands and fingers still laced in front of him. ]] And now… ?

Now you pull back. [Alois’ face scrunches up with concentration. It’s a face he’s grown accustomed to, albeit under completely different circumstances. Bode smiles without meaning to.] Think about what something sounds like as you move farther and farther away from it. The way sound slowly but steadily grows smaller and smaller until you can’t hear it all. The birds aren’t in front of you. I am. I should be the only thing close enough to annoy you.

Don’t shut it out. You’re not a window keeping out the noise of the city beyond. You’re just walking further and further away. Tuning it out.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

WRETCHED JACKAL || ricky & bode

diederick-dmornay​:

[[ Ricky whistles low at the boy’s age. ]] Kaiser liked two things: my mother, and men, and he liked them young. [[ It’s an exaggeration, but not entirely off the mark. Ricky is unaware of how truly accurate that comment is —he is, thankfully, unaware of post-apocalypse trysts at the Colony—but he remembers. Vague memories of being young, sat at the kitchen table as guys left Kaiser’s room. Always when his parents were having a disagreement. Always younger, sometimes they reminded Ricky of his mother in an uncomfortable way. ]]

Far as I was aware… [[ Ricky can’t help but wonder if he’s one to judge. Then again, Charlie isn’t old enough to be his father. They haven’t actually done anything beyond kissing, heavy petting. Charlie. He’s a decent distraction, even if not the best. There is the fact that he’d recently learnt who the man really is. Poor romantic choices must be genetic, he thinks. Neither of his parents seemed to make good decisions on that front. Now Ricky is entangled with a man who doesn’t even know himself, who Ricky is too damn selfish to let go of.

It doesn’t feel as good as he thought he would. A heavy pit in his gut, like somehow anyone knowing Kaiser and being upset was his fault. It doesn’t make any sense, he can’t quite explain it even to himself. Shaking his head, Ricky tips back against the cold, chapel walls. ]]

Désolé. He was comp—[[ He was complicated? Is Ricky really going to make excuses for him now? ]] I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. [[ He runs a hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes. It’s not a lie, he’s not wrong. ]] He wasn’t a good man. Or father. The person everyone else here knows? Never fucking met him.

[‘he liked them young.’ Bode doesn’t hear much after that. The world’s on fire. It’s black. It’s devoid of color and sound and reason. The world is as it has always been. Empty and godless. The stone that’s been waiting to drop has finally found the bottom of Bode’s stomach. It felt a little like getting shot, not that Bode knows what that feels like but he imagines it feels a little like this.

He liked them young. He liked them young. He liked them young. He liked them young. He liked them young. HelikedthemyounghelikedthemYOUNG!

This entire time Bode had been terrified Kaiser was selling Espen radical propaganda, too busy being worried about his brother getting wrapped up in the wrong politics that he hadn’t even considered worse scenarios. Maybe he purposely avoided the obvious conclusion because he wanted to believe his brother wasn’t stupid enough to fall under the spell of a man so much like their father.

All that time spent keeping his brother safe from his father’s restless hands and he still manages to fall into the jaws of a wolf. He’d feel sick if he wasn’t so full of rancor. Whatever pity he had for Ricky was long gone. There was only the fire in his veins, blood gone acidic with venom.] A complicated man? [He bites each word with clenched teeth. Bode steps towards Ricky, bones stiff with rage.] You just implied he fucked my baby brother. Complicated doesn’t cover it, kid. Being a shit father doesn’t even scratch the surface. [He gives Ricky an incredulous look.]

But you’ve got one thing right. No one here is being honest about what kind of man Kaiser was. [He points at him.] Including you. You think you’re a better man because you’re willing to talk shit about him to a stranger? Why don’t you go in there and look everyone in the eye and tell them what kind of person he really is.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

history unwritten | bode & isha | ruina rex & the funeral

isha-feinberg​:

[If he knows his opinion means nothing to her, then for what reason is he expressing it? It’s either indulgent self-satisfaction for a man that loves the sound of his own voice, or else he fancies himself so compelling that he feels once his opinion is expressed, Isha will be so charmed by it that she rethinks her stance.

The former seems more likely, since his opinion amounts to a backhanded compliment. ‘I would have been a bit more… cautious’ is a half-heartedly polite way of saying he’d thought it was foolish and reckless. Well, it’s not untrue. Isha has always been more impulsive than she appears, even if she fights very hard against that instinct. She just thinks she’d have more respect for Bode if he said outright that he thought she’d been stupid for getting up there.] 

Thank you. [He was polite on the surface, so she will be too. And besides, he already said he knew she didn’t care about his opinion, so he can’t have been expecting much more than that.

He looks at the crowd, milling and murmuring quietly, and Isha takes the opportunity to scrutinise him. He has a very unusual face, somehow cartoonishly exaggerated and subtle at the same time. It is difficult to know how to read a face like that. Isha doesn’t particularly want to entertain his guessing game, and is tempted to tell him it’s pointless to consider because Kaiser is not alive, but in the end she does. If nothing else, it is pleasing being able to speak to someone in Danish. That, and he doesn’t flinch when she’s rude.

Isha is rude, or dismissive, to most people. Most men, anyway. And they always take it so personally, even though she’s rarely trying to insult them on a personal level. She’s just defensive. Bode lets her words roll off him, which is how she wishes more men responded.] 

Quinn. Clove is too slim and Diederick is too short, so neither of them would be good sport for him. [For her own amusement as much as Bode’s, she sums up an image of Kaiser grabbing the Chancellor and slamming his head against the wall with a splatter of bright red blood, and sends this image into Bode’s mind.] 

[The image of splatter—bright red and heavy unfurls in his mind, they fly through the air before falling into a puddle on the floor. It a was shocking thing to see but Bode was raised by violence and in this case, he didn’t hold much love for either parties.

A thrill ran through him, up his spine and around the nape of his neck.

A telepath. One that used their power freely, without permission or forgiveness. He would have been angry if he wasn’t so throughly charmed by the Danish girl. His eyes shine with something close to kinship as he turned his attention back to Isha.] Miss Feinberg. [He smiles like a snake, not at her or her answer but the way she so easily dismisses Clove and the reformist guard.] I think you’re absolutely correct. Clove seems easy enough to disarm. I heard Cambie beat the shit out of him during one of their training session. Not that I think I would fair any better than he did but I’m also smart enough to not go up against a woman like that. Dancer’s have more stamina than people give them credit for.

[He would know. He’s slept with a large portion of them. He also wanted to be a ballet dancer once upon a time, had even begun taking classes as a child before his father found out and quickly put an end to them. If he thought about it hard enough he could still feel the burning of his father’s hand on his wrist. He’d been so frail once. One twist and his bones would have snapped in half. Bode swallows, drops the memory and swims his way back to Isha and the topic at hand.] As for the reformist? I think he’s more likely to pull a gun than throw a punch.

[He smiles slightly.] The chancellor it is. [Bode conjures the image of Kaiser, then thinks better of it and transforms him into a great big wolf. He let’s the wolf run through Isha’s mind, his feet leaving deep imprints on the ground as it runs through the halls of Colony 22. It rams through the Chancellor’s office and pushes itself over Quinn’s desk. He bares his teeth sinking into Quinn’s throat—the only sound is the chancellor’s wet desperate gasps. Blood floats up his throat and spills down his cheeks. He’s just a stain now, a dead animal in the teeth of its victor. It’s a pleasant image, Bode thinks, to see the man quiet.] Such a shame Kaiser died before he could get his hands on them. Isn’t it?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

betraying philotes || bode + lake

lake-valentine​:

[Ah, right. The ‘Elite suites’ thing. Lucky jerks. Even though he knows it’s like not really possible for EVERYONE to have their own room around here, (like, it’s not like they can change the way the school is structured, after all, and seriously where would they put everyone?) it’s still a huge bummer to not have any privacy, like. Ever. Especially as like…. young…. hormonal…. humans. 

He clears his throat. Nods.] Right, yeah, I… I can imagine. [He can’t, really. He’s never had a sibling or specifically missed falling asleep to the sound of someone breathing… but who knows, after all this time of sleeping in shared dorms, maybe he WOULD have a hard time sleeping alone, if he tried. In a big empty room, with no sounds of other people moving or dreaming or snoring or sleeping. Huh.] 

So, your brother… [the wording makes him hesitate. The way Bode says ‘doesn’t share a room’ instead of simple, ‘he isn’t here’ or something, makes him think that maybe Bode’s brother is here. But also, he doesn’t want to assume. Siblings and family members are like, understandably a touchy subject for people these days.] Is he like, here, or? [He swallows, trying not to sound awkward, to let his voice tighten or strain.] 

He’s here. [There’s a slight pause before Bode looks back towards Lake. He almost doesn’t give up anymore information but at this point he was tired enough to speak his mind without much resistance.] He hates me half the time but, we talk. After everything…I think it’s important to keep family close.

[Theres another slight pause. Bode knows he isn’t lucky in most regards but in this, he is. If the world did have to end he was glad it ended with his brother at his side. It made the end easier to survive.]

Do you have family here or?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

seaside improvisation || bode + jr

who-is-jr​:

It’s like falling into a dream: one moment he’s standing at the foot of his bed, Bode is sitting in his chair, and the next it’s open water. Choppy, dark seas. He can smell it, taste it. His stomach churns. If he were anyone else, maybe it’d even be soothing. Seeing the ocean, the sharp dark rocky shores ahead. Instead it’s torturous: drawn out. Get to the important bit, he thinks. Just like that, things move ahead.

As soon as the body— no. As soon as his body—no, still not right. As soon as he appears, JR knows it’s a mistake. He looks dead, looks barely human. They should’ve left him on the rocks. It’s too much and too real but JR can’t move, can’t leave. He’s forced to watch. He didn’t exactly ask for this: Bode offered. The man must know what he’s done, what he could do?

Is this some sick game to him? Further punishment, flay the injured man with images of himself. The entire time he was in the infirmary, unable to answer who he is or was, laying there and seeing nothing but pity in the eyes of the staff. He knew he’d not been a pretty sight coming in. Being confronted with it, though, is an entirely different experience.

The fact Percy can even stand the sight of him amazes JR. How does she not see his scars and think of the layers he sees in horrific detail: skin, fat, muscle, drenched in blood and salt water. What good person would deserve that sort of near-death? The answer is none. The answer is JR can’t have been a good person.

There’s a flash: something else. Someone else. Too fleeting for JR to take in but jarring enough that he’s reeling. In reality, he stumbles on his feet but catches himself. It’s as though nothing happened, he’s back watching himself be hauled onto the boat, Bode’s arms catching him and struggling. Similar to dream logic in the way JR accepts the weird blip.

It’s worse than he imagined. JR had only ever seen the aftermath, mercifully asleep for a few weeks. Clothes barely hanging on and JR can map out every scar he currently has in long, red gashes. Inflamed cuts, a sickly mixture of blues and deep purples. How much damage did they do to his ribs hauling him up like this?

Despite knowing how this ends: JR finds he still holds his breath as one of the men leans in to check his pulse. Is he dead? It’s an odd sort of detachment, watching himself in an outer body experience. JR tries to not look, but his vision goes where Bode’s does. He’s a partially unwilling spectator.

The fact Bode acts the way that he does feels like yet another low blow. The apologies must be insincere, he must have kept the necklace on purpose, either that or Bode’s natural cruelty surpasses even the most deliberate of torture. Bode still sounds like an arrogant bastard, even covered in ice-cold saltwater, a wash of coppery of blood. Gold sits in a puddle of red. The necklace, picked up, pocketed. Forgotten.

‘Clean this up,’ he says, like it’s something disgusting. A waste of time, a delay in their schedule.

JR stands there, silent, an iron grip on the end of his bed frame. Knuckles white, fingers going pink with the force. His other hand still holds the crucifix, its sharp edges digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

“Get out,” he manages finally, staring at his own hand. There’s no immediate movement: looking up to see Bode looking tired only enrages him further, “Get. Out.”

He did the man a favor, he went out of his way to help him and still, he’s angry. ‘Get out.’ His mouth tastes like acid. Get out? Anger flares up as hot and piercing as the rising sun. He’s on his feet, towering over the other with a scowl etched into his face. “I warned you didn’t I? It’s not an easy thing to see.”

He wanted to hit him. His fingers itched, curled and unfurled with the wanting of it. It would have been so easy, justified even. It’s the mirrored expression on JR’s face that stops him, the faint line of his scar gleaming in the sun light. His face pulled skin tight with the horror of his unknown life. It’s just ocean water and blood. Rocks and scars that will never properly heal. “I know you’re angry. I would be too if I was in your position but I’m not the person who left you to die.” It wasn’t worded right, he knew that, but whatever little patience he had was long gone. JR wasn’t a child. He didn’t need to be coddled, especially not by Bode.

“You can continue to be angry all you want.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince himself or JR at this point, his words come out clear and concise. “I’m not the one to blame. I brought you aboard my ship. I made sure you got the medical attention you needed. I returned your necklace to you. It took me much longer than it should have, I admit to that, but it’s in your possession now. I’m not asking you to be grateful, fuck I’m not even expecting you to be amicable JR, just don’t treat me like some kind of terrorist.” He didn’t know why it even mattered to him that this stranger not hate him.

—a stone on the path means the tea’s not ready, a stone in the hand means somebody’s angry, the stone inside you still hasn’t hit bottom.

The thought came and went, with it the image of a tattered book on his bedroom floor, forgotten. He has spent a life convincing himself he was a monster meant to be hated, beaten to a pulp until there was nothing left but dust. And yet, when he comes face to face with someone like him, someone with a fire burning in the pit of their stomach he’s hit with an insurmountable desire to connect. To be understood by the anger that has shaped him. But the game only works if both players decide to continue and as of right now, JR isn’t willing. The stone is still in mid-fall. Bode pulls back, aware he’s failed somehow, lost at something he didn’t even know he wanted. He doesn’t wait for JR to respond, he simply collects his composure and heads for the door.

His hand is on the handle when he stops to glance over his shoulder at him. “It was nice meeting you, JR.” His tone lacked his usual sarcasm and indifference. He could make whatever he wanted out of that, it didn’t matter much now. He’s out the door, the scent of sea and cedar oil following him into the empty hall.