Ever since their …extended holiday, they felt broken. No more biting back, no rapport, just compliance. It was an alien state to them. At the same time, she felt as if it were natural as all the other cycles of the world. As if, perhaps, this was the person he was meant to be.
No. No, they couldn’t, they mustn’t, they-
They must be obedient.
He went around for the next days, weeks and months in a slight daze. She listened, complied and served. He did everything just as requested.
And on everyone’s lips, at every corner, Cy thought they could just about make out the ghost of the words “I like you better broken.”
~~~~~
This is my first time doing Febuwhump! I’ve made the slightly silly decision to write each piece on the day, so all my bits might be a little short, but I’m hoping I can be a completionist!
Serving up some OC whump today! This is mostly lead up to it though. Also, my first multi-part thing! (Birch is I think ~17 in this and uses he/they, Cy is ~18 and uses she/he/they)
They were still standing, in the face of so much. Their team saw them as an inspiration. That was what mattered. They kept telling themself that was what mattered.
Not the gnawing, grating pit of loneliness that had opened within them long ago, yawning and insatiable. Not the separation they felt, miles away when right there. Not the fear their life was a sick joke, all laughing except them.
The only thing that brought them to life anymore was the fight.
-/-/-/-
Cy had been concerned about Birch for a while.
Truth be told, there was never a good reason not to be concerned about the guy. He was a walking disaster. But some of the team (and particularly their trainers) - the only ones Birch seemed to be listening to - kept pushing them, encouraging his more destructive behaviours, more paranoid thought patterns. They weren’t doing it maliciously. Cy understood why, as appalled as he was at it. Whenever Birch got in these anxious focused spirals, the sharpness (and so, effectiveness) of the whole team went up.
Until they crashed.
They never let anyone near in those days after. Debriefed, congratulated, “I’ll just check over next mission’s plans.”ed, and then… nothing. They always just disappeared in the following week, ostensibly dealing with extra work. One time, Cy caught them in the group kitchen making some instant ramen in their favoured, very chipped, Spider-Man mug. He had skittered away like a spooked deer.
Why had they been put on this placement?
If Meng were here, she would comfort them. She could help. But no, this was an exercise in independence, in team management, in if they really could stand each other over multiple months and not go all slasher-movie.
Why was there something different before this mission?
It’d be fine.
-/-/-/-
Mission today: deal with a mob of stray gargoyles down at the train station. Be discreet, cull quickly, no report needed.
That meant no investigation. Hmph.
He usually lived for investigation (that and talking peoples’ ears off). He was like a full-of-shit Sherlock. But today, they were pretty sure they preferred a straightforward fight, even if this was usually grunt work, the sort of thing you started out with when you first joined. Sadly, even for someone with his fighting skills, it was unlikely he’d get that roughed up. They didn’t know why their rotation team had even been assigned this.
Stepping out into the communal area, they fixed their trademark cheeky smile on their face and cleared their throat.
New OC- Fliss, an 18 year old flapper from the 1920s. She lives with her cousin Benji, loves dogs, and says fuck cops. Loyal to a fault, she’s also impulsive as hell
