theothermoran:
Severin’s voice is barely loud enough to break the silence, a sort of bitter and empty sound, “Even in his grave, Moriarty has his clutches around you. What sort of man prefers the dead to the living?”
He rose then, for it had become impossible for the assassin to keep still in his seat. He leans on a nearby window sill, taking his knife out quite subconsciously and twirling it back and forth in his hands. This..this uncertainty pains him more than he would like to admit. For one so used to relying on no one but himself, Moran feels very much like a caged animal in his current situation, with nowhere to turn, nowhere to run, no way to make anything better through his actions alone. Every instinct screams against this, pleads for him to get out now - but the price would be to lose the only person he actually gives a damn about, one that he cannot and will not pay.
“I’m done waiting for somethin’ to happen, Seb. I’m just done.”
He knows that if he doesn't intervene now, he will lose his brother again. He's lost too much already, and Severin is the last bit in his life that keeps him sane. He needs to fight for what's left of his sanity. He needs to fight for his brother.
But he's right. Even with the Irish cunt dead, he's still got Sebastian in his powers.
Every receptor in his body is screaming at him as he approaches his brother, hesitating, but leans against the windowsill beside him, watching his twin play with the knife. It makes him uneasy, almost feel annoyed, and he reaches out, taking his brother by the wrist, and forcing his hand down to stop him playing with the weapon. He waits for his brother to look at him, and waits a few seconds before he finally speaks:
'I can't lose you.'
