[All of that slams into Cain with a sudden drop in his stomach as if the floor's vanished beneath his feet. It's the darkest tunnel he's experienced since the curse of the empathy link. He wonders how Giovanni ever sees through it, how he ever finds a window out, and how much it doesn't match up to-- what he sees on a regular basis. The calm, strangely polite, well-dressed entity that is his roommate.
The loneliness hits hardest of all. The force of that collision drives him into memory of his own isolation, the day to day distance from his fellow soldiers, the superficial lie of each moment. The fear of never leaving it. The fear of losing that barest connection of skin and bodies.
And then his hands withdraw, bloody and shaky, and it ends. Wounds mended and stitched, towels saturated by the mess, a heavy layer of silence painted in the air.]
Good.
[It's the only word Cain can summon to his lips. Even that sounds quiet, shaken both by what he's seen and felt in Giovanni, what he's heard, and by his own reaction to it. Like he's swallowed bits of glass, and now his throat's filling up with the blood and pain of it.
He stands and grabs the whiskey bottle, setting it down on the kitchen counter with a jostle of amber fluid. His fingers leave sticky smears on the neck. Disappearing into the bathroom, he leaves Giovanni there on the table.
Make no mistake, he'll be back soon to check on him. For now, Cain places his concentration into the efforts of clean-up -- it's going to be a long night.]
no subject
The loneliness hits hardest of all. The force of that collision drives him into memory of his own isolation, the day to day distance from his fellow soldiers, the superficial lie of each moment. The fear of never leaving it. The fear of losing that barest connection of skin and bodies.
And then his hands withdraw, bloody and shaky, and it ends. Wounds mended and stitched, towels saturated by the mess, a heavy layer of silence painted in the air.]
Good.
[It's the only word Cain can summon to his lips. Even that sounds quiet, shaken both by what he's seen and felt in Giovanni, what he's heard, and by his own reaction to it. Like he's swallowed bits of glass, and now his throat's filling up with the blood and pain of it.
He stands and grabs the whiskey bottle, setting it down on the kitchen counter with a jostle of amber fluid. His fingers leave sticky smears on the neck. Disappearing into the bathroom, he leaves Giovanni there on the table.
Make no mistake, he'll be back soon to check on him. For now, Cain places his concentration into the efforts of clean-up -- it's going to be a long night.]