[ There's so much about Lucas that remains a mystery to Aventurine, even with the bits and pieces he's been fed. And he thought it would have been okay to stay a mystery, so as long as they continued spending their time with silly conversations and mundane updates to their lives. Drinking away their problems without ever discussing said problems. But witnessing that rampage yesterday had been terrifying, and the resulting loss of life is something that he can't forget any time soon.
If this hadn't been their little town capable of bringing back the dead, then what? What would Aventurine have done?
It's hard to wrap his head around. It's even harder because he knows that hadn't entirely been Lucas mowing people down with such an unrestrained ease. Aventurine's feelings are a complicated mess at the moment, and he grits his teeth as he resumes down the hallway, looking to move past Lucas. ]
There's nothing to say. [ This isn't about him. ] Go and talk to the others.
[Oh to return to the easy days of drinking and talking shit about Kanda...
Lucas moves aside easily as Aventurine carries on down the hall, having no intention of keeping him. He's loathe in these moments to force anyone to converse with him, to deal with his blood-stained presence. More than anyone else, he knows what he is.
His head dips a little at the words. There are things to say, he thinks, but also believes that it isn't his place to say them. A part of him wishes that Aventurine would lash out in some way, verbally or physically, so that at the very least, he could take on some of the emotions behind those expressions. A paltry exchange for a life, but about all he can offer beyond pitiful apologies that feel like insults.]
...I will.
[A quiet response, his voice so soft that it's like he's speaking at a sickbed instead of across a hospital hall. He offers little more, and will simply let Aventurine continue on his way.]
As he draws closer to Lucas, he feels more of that anger from before. There's a sickening lurch to his stomach when he thinks about the bodies left in the wake of the attack, one of them in particular seared into his mind. Aventurine's no stranger to massacres. In fact, he might almost be too familiar with the image of bloodied and strewn corpses laid out, their unseeing eyes staring straight at him.
He didn't think he'd have to see something like that again so soon. He didn't think he'd have to lose another loved one so quickly after having finally made that push to get over more than a decade of refusing to love again.
So the timing is awful, and his steps falter for a split second as he comes shoulder to shoulder with Lucas. But he doesn't pause or stop despite the loud, shrill ringing in his ears and the heated blood storming away at his veins. It's going to take some time for him to calm down, even if he already feels like a piece of shit for treating Lucas like this to begin with. They pass by each other wordlessly, until Aventurine's steps fade down the hallway. ]
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If this hadn't been their little town capable of bringing back the dead, then what? What would Aventurine have done?
It's hard to wrap his head around. It's even harder because he knows that hadn't entirely been Lucas mowing people down with such an unrestrained ease. Aventurine's feelings are a complicated mess at the moment, and he grits his teeth as he resumes down the hallway, looking to move past Lucas. ]
There's nothing to say. [ This isn't about him. ] Go and talk to the others.
no subject
Lucas moves aside easily as Aventurine carries on down the hall, having no intention of keeping him. He's loathe in these moments to force anyone to converse with him, to deal with his blood-stained presence. More than anyone else, he knows what he is.
His head dips a little at the words. There are things to say, he thinks, but also believes that it isn't his place to say them. A part of him wishes that Aventurine would lash out in some way, verbally or physically, so that at the very least, he could take on some of the emotions behind those expressions. A paltry exchange for a life, but about all he can offer beyond pitiful apologies that feel like insults.]
...I will.
[A quiet response, his voice so soft that it's like he's speaking at a sickbed instead of across a hospital hall. He offers little more, and will simply let Aventurine continue on his way.]
no subject
As he draws closer to Lucas, he feels more of that anger from before. There's a sickening lurch to his stomach when he thinks about the bodies left in the wake of the attack, one of them in particular seared into his mind. Aventurine's no stranger to massacres. In fact, he might almost be too familiar with the image of bloodied and strewn corpses laid out, their unseeing eyes staring straight at him.
He didn't think he'd have to see something like that again so soon. He didn't think he'd have to lose another loved one so quickly after having finally made that push to get over more than a decade of refusing to love again.
So the timing is awful, and his steps falter for a split second as he comes shoulder to shoulder with Lucas. But he doesn't pause or stop despite the loud, shrill ringing in his ears and the heated blood storming away at his veins. It's going to take some time for him to calm down, even if he already feels like a piece of shit for treating Lucas like this to begin with. They pass by each other wordlessly, until Aventurine's steps fade down the hallway. ]
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