[Duplicity] Inbox

[likeathief]

VOICE	TEXT	ACTION
Kavinsky You know what to do. <

Comments

[likeathief]

i always fucking want you here dumbass
i'll break his teeth if he looks at me
your call

[occultatum]

i'll come over

[likeathief]

door's open

[occultatum]

[He comes in, then, just a little while later. He looks serious and exhausted both, now.]

Hey asshole.

[He says it and looks at him, and sighs.]

I'm here.

[likeathief]

Kavinsky is laying on the couch when Nick walks in, bottles of pills and bottles of booze on the table next to him.

"Hey. Nice to see you, too. Didn't exactly put out a spread but help yourself if you want anything."

[occultatum]

He looks around, his mouth pressing into a line. He drops a bag on the ground and walks over, looking at the pills briefly, and then the booze. "You'll have to excuse me," he says, shaking his head. "I won't indulge."

He sits down next to Kavinsky. "Sit up."

[likeathief]

"Gettin' a little bossy there, Scratch."

But Kavinsky moves, languidly pushing himself up so that he's sitting with his back against the armrest, one leg curled closer to make more room for Nick.

[occultatum]

He moves over and reaches for him, because touch can be comforting, and takes him by the arm. "I've always been too bossy for my own good," he says, but tugs him closer. "Hey."

[likeathief]

"Gotten you into trouble yet?"

Kavinsky doesn't shake off the touch but it takes him a moment before he moves closer, following the gentle pull.

"Hey. Uhm. How's shit?"

[occultatum]

"You'd be surprised. Everyone just wants someone to tell them what to do," he says, casually, and presses his mouth to Kavinsky's cheek.

"Not as bad as you, probably."

[likeathief]

"Is that what you want?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm fucking fine." He was alone before he met Ronan and he can be alone after. He doesn't know how this place works but maybe Ronan's just gone back to Henrietta with Dick. Kavinsky misses feeling him in his dreams. He thinks of what Henry Cheng said to him, still not sure what to do with it. He hasn't mentioned it to anyone.

Ronan's not supposed to be the one that's gone.

"Your side of the building get hit?"

[occultatum]

"Depends on who," he admits readily, and he leans on him without any prompting. "And no," he says, and ducks his head, but doesn't say much else.

"What do you want to do?"

[likeathief]

"Wrap a car around a light post," he answers. "Set something on fire and throw glass at it until I can't move. Raze this place to the fucking ground."

None of it will accomplish anything but it doesn't matter. Everything inside him feels fit to burst and it has to get out somehow. The dragon helped, but it isn't enough. He needs to explode.

[occultatum]

"That's all very dramatic for a guy who left you," Nick says baldly, his eyebrows up. "Come on. We're going to do a spell," he tells him, getting up, reaching for Kavinsky's hand. "Ritual magic."

[likeathief]

"You should see what I'd do if you fucking left me," he answers. "What kind of ritual magic?"

He lets Nick pull him up. He's seen Nick work spells before, but somehow ritual magic seems different. Sounds different.

[occultatum]

"Aw, you'll make me blush," he says, and he takes K to the bedroom, to the foot of the bed.

He looks around and finds things; odds and ends of life, underwear, pills, an empty bottle of beer. "We're going to create a beast out of your anger to eat your grief. So you can get some sleep, after we fuck."

So. Lots of reasons.

[likeathief]

Kavinsky watches Nick collect bits of himself from various places in the room, wondering exactly how the magic works. His anger is good for a lot of things, most of all consuming. Maybe that's not a bad way to use it.

Nick has his attention once he mentions fucking.

"What do we have to do?"

[occultatum]

He pulls a piece of chalk, thick and white, out of his pocket. "You sit there, right in the middle," he says, and finds another bottle, and offers it to K. "Here," he says, and he looks him over. "This is going to be like one of your dreams," he says, as he kneels and draws a circle on the floor. "But worse."

He knows that K isn't scared, though.

[likeathief]

“You haven’t seen the worst of my shit.” He takes the bottle. Kavinsky doesn’t think grief will just die. He also doesn’t think this will be the end of it, unless Nick plans on ripping the feeling out of him entirely, along with the memories.

“What’s it going to do? Like yeah eat my grief but what the fuck does that mean?”

[occultatum]

"It means we're doing ritual magic I've never done before," he says, but he doesn't seem deterred. "It means that it'll make you numb when you sleep." he adds, and he sits down across from Kavinsky, his legs crossed in front of him. "Are you ready?"

[likeathief]

Kavinsky hesitates. "Every time I sleep?" he asks, watching Nick as he sits. He's tense, like he's ready to bolt from the circle if he doesn't like the answer he gets. "Or just tonight?"

[occultatum]

"How many nights do you want it to last?" he asks, because Nick, of course, can edit these things. But the point is - no. Not forever.

[likeathief]

"Just tonight," he says. "I just-- Just tonight."

Kavinsky doesn't know what going to sleep numb will feel like. Not the kind of numb induced by a spell like this. He's done it with drugs plenty of times but those never affected his dreaming. Not in a real way.

[occultatum]

He nods, easily. "Just tonight, then," he says, and sets things out, then takes the bottle and starts the spell. "It's going to hurt," he says, "so don't freak out."

It takes a while; the magic of it isn't easy, but soon K should start to feel something. The grief comes first, spiraling out of K's mouth, like he's throwing up, but the thick black sludge goes right into the bottle. Nick's fingers come to catch K's wrists, and then he calls out the anger.

This is the part that hurts, because rage is a flame, and it burns out of any place it can, screaming with the noise that K's been keeping in. He clutches his wrists. "Don't stop. Don't let go."

[likeathief]

"Pain doesn't freak me out."

Not much does anymore, but definitely not pain. He gags on the grief as it leaves him, eyes watering from the effort but it goes into the bottle just like that. Nick's hands are gripping his wrists and the sound the anger makes is the same sound the dragon made: the same ravenous scream. His anger is a hungry thing, all-consuming, burning like the sun. Somewhere in it all might be Kavinsky's scream, too.

He clutches Nick, rides out the pain because pain is real when nothing else is.