𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝚂𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙰 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚂𝙼? how has this tectonic shift happened, in months which feel millennia? the questions singe her skull, threatening to leak from her ears in a demonic black lacquer. the only certainty she feels is in what is happening now; not a widening of plates, but a collision of them. that certainty laps at her heels, molten lava erupted. is there any combating such apocalypse, such rapture? in search of an answer, she glances to severin; beloved ally, bemoaned conspirator. she’s searching solace in sev, as much as she’s searching refuge from ira. in the former’s stillness, maria prepares to draw her blade. in the latter’s waiting, maria prepares to use it. ( can she? )
“ you know what we did. you know we went. ” her caution erodes slowly, as though lapped at by a thrashing shoreline; beaten by the elements. that pressure surrounds her, chokes her, a monoxide poisoning seeping from ira’s walls. can severin propel her? armour her? maria looks to him again, a phantom figure coated in the dust of ira’s volcano fury. she begs the cinders to fall, to reveal some guiding principle that will act as lighthouse to her simmering venom. the ashes remain.
“ and you know why. you should know why. going down there, going to him, everything we did was because of you. ” not for him–––because of him. the distinction acts as a final earth tremor, and maria feels some of her own dust fall. “ if you’re not going to protect yourself, don’t hate us for trying. ”
Next to Maria, he sits not only unarmed, but tenuous: an embarrassingly sheepish version of himself, a diffident boy half-hiding behind the mother. None of the anger he arrived with remains, instantly combusted by Ira’s rage; all protest, all righteous dissent ground to dust beneath his disapproval. Useless boy, cowered in anticipation of punishments to come, nothing but disappointment, a disgrace. All the world’s cyclical and what remains at the centre is only him – the reliable constant that makes people turn away. Even Ira he’s turned harsh and unforgiving, even Ira has been depleted of his calm.
"Only way to see you’s by pissing you off these days", his attempt at backing up Maria but an ineffective mutter, quietly stroppy without denying his own guilt. His gaze seems glued to Maria’s knee, his own bouncing nervously, because what – not who – sits before him cannot be faced without it all coming apart. On a path as ill-fated as his, the inevitable cannot be changed, only forcibly ignored. If you cannot see his fury then perhaps it isn’t real. Her conviction, remarkably brave, paradoxically only makes him want to retreat more; bent uncomfortably forward with both hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans, he leans further into her, restless chest against the back of her shoulder. At her he directs a whisper that admits defeat before he’s so much as given it a try: "Maybe we should go.“
what a wasted shepherd you are, if your flock is so truly as blind as this. gall - faced and nauseous in the face of the apex, but still so zealous, still so loyal that they’d follow you regardless. i didn’t ask for this, ira thinks, and while he’s usually fairly adept at cauterizing himself before a match - turns - blaze, it’s like the rational section of his synapses seems ... dormant. like it had fallen asleep without his realizing, and simply didn’t wake up. in some sick and gangrenous way, ira’s grateful for it. he will saturate his words later over the inevitable dissection but right now demands of him his amassed severity. it’s just a shame it comes by the side of a mauled temper.
“ is this a joke? ” ira asks, but the query is complete rhetoric, as he’s simply electing to highlight the fact that none of them are laughing. maria’s words are flightless warfare, something ira’s come to expect of her, but it’s severin’s childishness that’s inspiring the crusade. a hand rises to swat the air with gestures while he speaks, so fit to bust it’s almost uncharacteristic of him to become so animated. “ so you both ... what, exactly? what did you set out to actually achieve by doing this? do you have some kind of grand plan to explain why you’re both so fucking stupid or did you seriously think it was a good idea? i’d actually really ... like to know if you had a plan, beyond just turning up like a pair of fucking ... i don’t even know what! ” he’ll turn at last, abdomen clenched with muscle taut, and run fingers through his hair so tight it leaves white streaks on his available skin. the same will dig into his eye sockets, push until he sees spots of colour. “ for fucks sake, ” muttered, telling of frustration so finely wound that it’s a wonder he’s not burst a vein. turns again fast. “ what were you gonna do? ” unsure where to look, both severin and maria get equal fashions of his glare. “ have another crack at one of them? or something? since it went so well the first fucking time?! ”
suddenly, ira sets on severin. a painful assault to watch for sure. “ ... - was this your idea? ” not exactly like sev doesn’t have a track record for showing up ‘unannounced’. “ so what ... didn’t work the first time you did it so now you think bringing her will help? as if it didn’t end bad enough? ” he can’t displace those memories sometimes. can’t sleep sound with those images in his head. sev’s blood, the blooming red and purple, sev’s blood, all that swallowing guilt, severin’s blood all over you. “ you fucking, ” ira spits, but the recipient is clearly open ended. a desperate breath, his lip curls upward and his neck stiffens. “ what the fuck, guys?! ” - “ what happens if they catch you and decide you’re up to no good? what fucking happens then? protect me ... fucking protect me!! what about protecting yourselves?! what about acting like normal fucking human beings!! ”
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