exsiliumlogs | beneath the stars came falling on our heads

Entry tags:

beneath the stars came falling on our heads

Date & Time: throughout September.
Location: various.
Characters: Donny Casey/Atlas and assorted unfortunate souls.
Summary: Going to be throwing individuals starters in, but slam me a pm or grab me on plurk if you would like a thread sometime during the month! c:
Warnings: I will add these as necessary!

( Donny's actually feeling pretty good about this month.

But we all know that's going to go up in flames so let's prepare the popcorn. And here is a sly link to his appearance page in case you need to know what Atlas' uniform is like, ohoho. )

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B-but--

( No, stop. ) I d-don't-- I n-never thought you w-would. Or uh, I-- and I d-didn't um, I didn't expect you to. It's just-- it's f-fine. I'm m-meant to uh, to p-protect you. That's m-more important.

( At least he's facing her properly, now. Somewhere through all that he turned, and he's not putting hand on her, not touching her or grabbing her, in case that-- in case it makes things worse. ) I p-protect you.

( It's what he does. That's the only thing he does, really. Everything else can be forgotten except for that. ) The other stuff d-doesn't-- it d-doesn't m-matter.

( Rushed, and clumsy, but he has to just get it out before he keeps talking. )

[She lets him speak, waits patiently for him to finish what he has to say before working out her own response.]

It matters to me.

[And that's another part of how she has to make this work. He won't leave for his own good, he's too much of a martyr, doesn't value himself enough, but if she makes it about her, then he'll have to do it.

If he leaves first, he won't notice when she goes.]

It's only going to get harder for you, the more I let this drag on, and I don't want to do that.

( It matters to me.

He's hurting her.

And his breath is stuck in his chest. Listening underwater, that's what this is like. He feels like his mouth might be moving, but he's not too sure if there's any actual words coming out, or if he's just tasting the air.

It was just meant to be coming home, and cooking, having some nonsense conversation and just--

Not this. Not her saying that he's hurting her. )

I'm s-sorry.

( Shouldn't he have a solution? He's meant to have a solution, if he's hurting her than there should be a solution. )

[There's the reaction she wanted.]

It isn't your fault, you don't have to apologize.

[He can't help it, can he? And it isn't as if she discouraged it, at least not until recently, but by then it really was too late.

She wants to see if he'll come to the solution himself, to save her having to say it. It'll be better that way.]

( He wonders when he started hurting her, before the stupidity of the question strikes him. He's always been hurting her. Through Asteria, through himself. The first day they were here together, he hurt her.

And maybe that night on the beach and the day he got back from his mission, maybe those were the times he hurt her worst of all. Let her down, made this what it is. I'm meant to protect you, he claims, but Donny's hands are dropping to his sides as the sheer weight of it settles on him. )

I'm sorry.

( Again, because she's wrong, it is his fault, he should apologize, and he takes a step back. ) Um.

( He doesn't know what to do. ) I'll-- ( Something. He'll do something. He'll change this, he'll fix it. ) I c-can uh, I can go.

( And she'll have space again. Part of him wants her to say no, that he can stay, but that wouldn't be right. He should still go. )

Donny...

[She catches his wrist, fingers curling against his skin. It's a loose hold, but she to make this convincing, because normally she wouldn't let him go so easily.]

I just want you to have a chance at being happy.

[And he can't do that while he's around her, while he's pining after her.]

( If nothing else could have, that makes him look at her again. Because he can't be happy. Not him, not like this. Sometimes he feels like he's just a shadow, as Adonis, only becoming a solid thing when he's Atlas, when he's carrying the world. The rest of the time he's too miserable, too pathetic to actually be someone with a name, a pulse. He's just... Donny. Adonis. He's the void between, because he can't find a place where he's comfortable. At least, he's comfortable with Max, but being comfortable around Max is wrong when it's hurting her. When him being around her and being too comfortable matters.

It's not coherent, it doesn't make sense and he can feel it smothering him, overwrought and too much and he always does this, always feels too much and this is just another time.

Carefully, he eases back. ) N-no. ( He can't stay. He can't keep hurting her. He should--

Go. He has to go. Needs to go. Gently, he tugs his arm away from her hand, shaking his head. )

[She lets him go, shoulders sinking as if this is hurting her, as if she doesn't want to happen but is resigned to it, too.

He's so easy to manipulate it's almost laughable.]

I just-- [She stops, sighing quietly. There's no end to that sentence, but she wants to make it seem like there was, like she wants to stop him. Like she wants to find away around this, but just can't.] I'm working tonight, you can take your time.

[Something in her voice wavers and she takes a breath, eyes closing in a slight wince.

This would hurt, normally, so she has to make it look like it does.]

I'll-- b-be out. B-before uh, before you g-get-- ( Moving to the sofa, and he'd almost forgotten that his bag was still slung over his shoulder, Atlas uniform inside. When he slips it off, he stares at it for a moment, dropping it before he moves to the drawers, fumbling to grab up his clothes. It's not like he has a lot. ) I'll g-go now.

( Better than her wondering if he'll really be gone, if he'd try to stay and change his mind. He should go now. Immediately. ) And--

( It's better if he goes now, before it catches up with him and he can't move. ) Max.

( It feels pathetic. It feels like begging, for solutions she doesn't have, because he's the one who created the problem. ) I'm s-so sorry. I d-didn't--

( This wasn't meant to happen. )

[She has to wonder if this was too easy, almost, but then Donny really has always been easy to manipulate, to play however she wanted. It hasn't always been done out of cruelty, sometimes she was even trying to help him, sort of like she is now.

Except right now she's pretending.]

Please stop saying saying sorry.

[It sounds pained. Clearly this is hurting her.]

I should be the one apologizing.

[For all the ways she's hurt him. That's how he'd expect her to think, because he thinks she's a martyr.]

( Stop making it worse, Adonis. You always make it worse. Asteria's voice slips through his consciousness; the scramble to just fit everything in his bag gets more frantic. None of his meticulous folding, careful piecing together of luggage. Like jenga, he'd told her once, grinning as her eyebrow arched. Not his finest comparison, to be sure. Clothes and shoes are scrambled together, his sketchbooks wedged into the side, because he needs to do this fast, needs to get out of the door fast before he remembers that before Max was here, he couldn't remember how to function, how to really even be. )

N-no, you--d-don't um, don't w-worry. ( As if he could reassure her, when his voice cracks. He's made her hurt, she's working tonight, she's hurt and she's working tonight, and they're mixing together in his head.

This shouldn't be real. How could he have let her down this badly?
Because that's what you do. For a second, he just stares at his bag, t-shirt still in hand. Faltering, flagging. This should not be real. )

[She sees that moment of breaking, and she needs to push it just a little, make him crumble so he leaves and never comes looking for her.

It might seem like the way to do that would be cruel words, but she knows Adonis better than that; anyone can use cruelty, everyone has used cruelty against him. Instead, she closes the distance between them, slides her hand up his arm to draw him into a hug, if he'll allow it.]

I'm so sorry.

[Make him think that he's hurting her, that she cares about him and all he's done is twist knives into her.

That's how she can make sure he stays away.]

( No, she can't do that, can't hug him, and he's gently taking her arms, curling his fingers against her upper arm and easing her back, shaking his head. His hands slide down her forearms, before he steps back. )

It's o-okay.

( It's his fault, voice so quiet as he gathers up the bags, and he wants to hug her so much but if he does that it'll--

he'll never be able to leave. ) You'll b-be okay.

( He'll go, he'll get out of the way. First he's shoving a couple more things in his bags, hauling them onto his shoulders. Going faster is better, before this can sink in. Desperately, stupidly he wants to kiss her, but he won't. He can't. )

[It's interesting that he has the strength to turn down the hug, but it seems to fit with what she's trying to achieve, so she doesn't push it, just keeps looking kind of sad.]

I didn't want to hurt you.

[Yes she did, but lying is so very easy.]

I kn-- know.

( She tried to protect him. always did. Right from the beginning. She warned him to keep his distance, for his sake.

She never mentioned her own. Donny nods, but he can't look at her because then she'll see his face, every kind of mask stripped away. As he passes the table, his gaze flickers over the bracelet, fingers flinching over it before he grasps it, fingers curling into his palm. )

You l-looked-- looked out for m-me. Thank you for uh-- ( Nope, he can't get it out. It's impossible. )

[Something in her expression seems to crumple a little, when he grabs the bracelet, like it's still hurting her.]

Please look after yourself, Donny.

[Because she knows he won't, because she should be worried about that and say something.

Maurice, meanwhile, clambers off the bed and trots over to Donny, nosing against his palm and whining softly.]

Yup.

( Maurice brings him close to cracking-- his shoulders shudder, but he suppresses the sound, chokes on it, before he looks back to Max's bed. Artemisia is slowly stretching, moving after Maurice. Scratching Maurice's ears, he murmurs a quiet, it's okay, buddy before moving to scoop up the cat. )

I'll-- so you d-don't have to, um.

Of course, she's yours.

[It's a gentle reassurance, because it's not about her not having to look after the kitten; Artemisia is Donny's, so he has every right to take her.

Maurice barks unhappily, quietly, and Max says his name, trying to draw him back to her, but he trots after Donny, instead.]

( Looking at Max is too painful. He bobs his head, cuddling the cat to his chest, though she makes a little brrrr of surprised protest. Her warmth is a comfort, but Maurice is moving after him, now, and he feels like he's letting down someone who he can't even explain this to. Kneeling, Donny scratches Maurice's neck again. ) It's okay. You're uh, you're a g-good-- good d-dog.

( A little pat, a ruffle, and he's standing again. Loaded up with bags, holding a cat, and finally he's looking at Max again. And, honestly? He's no idea what to say. )

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beneath the stars came falling on our heads

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