The long, pensive silence from Flamebringer is unlike him. Perhaps they're not as emotionally connected as some (or, maybe they're more connected, they just won't admit to it aloud), but Wolfwood can tell these days when Flamebringer is feeling some sort of way, just by the quirk of his brow.
He's...thinking. Really hard. And- not even being cheeky- that's not something he catches him doing unless it's about something pretty damn serious. And then he says...that.
Wolfwood is aware that there were people who didn't make it back from their latest venture. It happens, sometimes...not often, thank the Gods, but...it still does happen. It's happened to him. It's happened to people he cares about. And...he's been the one to watch it happen where he was just inches from stopping it.
Pausing to take a deep, slow drag of his cig, he'll hold his breath for a moment before exhaling the smoke slowly through the gaps in his teeth.]
Somehow, fate hasn't seen it fit to kill me, just yet.
[God, he needs some fucking weed. Or to roll raw Originium into a joint and set it alight in front of his face until the resulting explosion causes a chain reaction and blows his brain up along with it. One of the two.
He opts for a cigarette instead.]
...Till died. This shit shouldn't bother me. He's just my employee. [And a guy he made out with at the bar. And someone he likes to draw with. And someone he saved from the dream-nightmares, and someone he likes to spend time around, and... a friend.] It's not like I haven't lost plenty of my "employees" in the past, and I didn't bat an eyelash over them. They were weak. If anything, they deserved to die just for that much.
[Flamebringer holds his hand out in front of him, a small flame igniting in his palm.]
He was only a few feet in front of me. The monsters on me were easy to deal with. Child's play. A Vampire toddler could have ended them in seconds. ...But I couldn't get all of them down before he died, for some fucking reason. [He squeezes the flame in his hand until it snuffs, smoke curling between his fingers.] I survived, as I always do, and he died before I could do anything about it. And I can't fucking figure out why it bothers me that someone so weak died.
Of course he was going to die. He couldn't even wield the blade I loaned him.
[He works the cigarette in his mouth around to the other side of it, using the edge of his teeth to jostle it enough to ash it onto the ground as he listens.
He...has been in Flamebringer's shoes. Countless times, even. He has had to be the one to put down people- oftentimes good people- who didn't deserve to die, but had to to ensure the survival of someone else. It would be easy to say they were also weak. Or...maybe they were just unlucky. Some might say Wolfwood was cruel, made the wrong choice. The selfish choice.
He still remembers the way Vash reacted when he killed Rolo, despite both of them knowing good and well it was a mercy killing. Had he been made to continue to live, he would have simply suffered until he'd died in some other way. Wasn't it kinder, then, to put him down now than to have him die at the hands of the Eye?
Yet. You still ask yourself: was I right? Was this right?
Why do I still...feel like I could have done more?
Another plume of smoke leaves him before he says anything, this time from his nostrils like a lazy dragon.]
Maybe he wasn't "just your employee". Sure, he was weak...but you could say that about a lot of people.
[About others Flamebringer would tear the world apart to protect. Ezell. Those little ones from Rhodes Island that Wolfwood himself parented in another life.
As much as the Sarkaz loathes it, he cares about these people. That's the simple truth. And Wolfwood feels like there's something Flamebringer needs to hear, whether it helps or not...makes him mad or not.]
...m'sorry he died. I doubt there was much more you could have done, if he was already on his way out before you got to him.
I don't care about people who aren't strong. That's just the fucking thing — I give two fucks about Ezell because he's strong. I give two fucks about you, tattooed what I did on your goddamn spine because you're strong. I don't care about people who can't hold their own.
[That's been his philosophy for his whole life, or so he tells himself. In reality, it's easier for Flamebringer to fake his emotions than acknowledge that they're there. It always has been. In many ways, he's a walking contradiction to himself — wants to surround himself with the strong, so that he can come out on top in every battle and cry that they were weaker when they die. Wants to fight to the death, but doesn't actually want to die himself. Wants to not be around the "weak", whatever that means, while he's surrounding himself with defenseless people and people he feels the need to protect because he knows that someone much stronger can and will stab a sword through their hearts.
If he puts off his strong feelings about the people he likes dying by saying they didn't deserve to live on account of being weak, it's a good way for him to justify the emotional shutdown that comes from it. The "not feeling anything". The "not caring", "not giving a damn".
Frustrated, he grits his teeth hard enough to feel his ears pop, passively making the campfire rage before he huffs a sigh.]
[Wolfwood knows that Flamebringer's words are hiding the truth in plain sight. Of course he cares about people who aren't strong. Not everyone can be "strong", or at least...strong in the way they might define it, be it physical or mental. You don't have to be strong to be worth something. To be worth living.
Some people would call being emotional weakness, after all.
If there's anyone who can understand just how Flamebringer is feeling right now, it's the man sitting beside him. And while he could knock some sense into him- verbally OR physically- he chooses not to in this moment. He chooses not to call him out, because he feels like that's not quite what he needs right now. He needs to get these thoughts and emotions out, and Wolfwood will hear him out in a way that doesn't make it obvious that's what he's doing.
He plucks his own cigarette from his lips so he can ash it again, this time just holding it between his fingers for a moment as he looks at the sky above.]
Left my whiskey at home. ...but maybe we can find some here, if we look. Always found talkin' over drinks to be easier.
[Flamebringer is going to get his emotions out in the rage room and the dojo both when he's home, and then Mizuki will undoubtedly blorp into his room at 3am to be like hi would you consider therapy :) and for once, Flamebringer might drag his ass down to that chaise lounge himself and say yes.]
Doubt that half-Elafia guy with the dreamcatcher has liquor here.
[Lord of the Mountains they'd love you in Sami—]
I'm half-dead myself anyway. I haven't slept in multiple days. Got these fucking injuries to show for all my efforts. Don't know where Twinkie is [this is his new name for Ain because Elsword asked Flamebringer to stop calling him "boytoy"] but I could probably use his magic right now.
[He bandaged his wounds after Till died, cauterized the ones he could, but they're still pretty bad and cauterizing doesn't exactly heal anybody. Slowly, Flamebringer gets to his feet, walks closer to Wolfwood, and just
flops his head onto the other man's shoulder, on the Oripathy-less side.]
If you tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you.
[Ain isn't far, Wolfwood knows that much. He'd be happy to drag him around to heal Flamebringer's wounds if he really wanted, though he imagines he would decline if given the option. Something about his pride, and how ashamed he probably already feels...it would just be rubbing salt into wounds that are already festering.
He lifts his head, watching as Flamebringer makes his way over. He's expecting him to just sit down at his side, so it prompts him to swap his cig to his other hand so he doesn't singe his clothes with it...
Only for Flamebringer to surprise him, dropping his head onto his shoulder.]
Mm. Tell anybody 'bout what?
[He saysm his voice low and soft as he lets his head lean back against the Sarkaz's, just slightly.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sticksandbonesmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sticksandbones2025-10-15 12:56 pm
no subject
The long, pensive silence from Flamebringer is unlike him. Perhaps they're not as emotionally connected as some (or, maybe they're more connected, they just won't admit to it aloud), but Wolfwood can tell these days when Flamebringer is feeling some sort of way, just by the quirk of his brow.
He's...thinking. Really hard. And- not even being cheeky- that's not something he catches him doing unless it's about something pretty damn serious. And then he says...that.
Wolfwood is aware that there were people who didn't make it back from their latest venture. It happens, sometimes...not often, thank the Gods, but...it still does happen. It's happened to him. It's happened to people he cares about. And...he's been the one to watch it happen where he was just inches from stopping it.
Pausing to take a deep, slow drag of his cig, he'll hold his breath for a moment before exhaling the smoke slowly through the gaps in his teeth.]
Somehow, fate hasn't seen it fit to kill me, just yet.
[...]
Double dollar for your thoughts?
no subject
[God, he needs some fucking weed. Or to roll raw Originium into a joint and set it alight in front of his face until the resulting explosion causes a chain reaction and blows his brain up along with it. One of the two.
He opts for a cigarette instead.]
...Till died. This shit shouldn't bother me. He's just my employee. [And a guy he made out with at the bar. And someone he likes to draw with. And someone he saved from the dream-nightmares, and someone he likes to spend time around, and... a friend.] It's not like I haven't lost plenty of my "employees" in the past, and I didn't bat an eyelash over them. They were weak. If anything, they deserved to die just for that much.
[Flamebringer holds his hand out in front of him, a small flame igniting in his palm.]
He was only a few feet in front of me. The monsters on me were easy to deal with. Child's play. A Vampire toddler could have ended them in seconds. ...But I couldn't get all of them down before he died, for some fucking reason. [He squeezes the flame in his hand until it snuffs, smoke curling between his fingers.] I survived, as I always do, and he died before I could do anything about it. And I can't fucking figure out why it bothers me that someone so weak died.
Of course he was going to die. He couldn't even wield the blade I loaned him.
no subject
[He works the cigarette in his mouth around to the other side of it, using the edge of his teeth to jostle it enough to ash it onto the ground as he listens.
He...has been in Flamebringer's shoes. Countless times, even. He has had to be the one to put down people- oftentimes good people- who didn't deserve to die, but had to to ensure the survival of someone else. It would be easy to say they were also weak. Or...maybe they were just unlucky. Some might say Wolfwood was cruel, made the wrong choice. The selfish choice.
He still remembers the way Vash reacted when he killed Rolo, despite both of them knowing good and well it was a mercy killing. Had he been made to continue to live, he would have simply suffered until he'd died in some other way. Wasn't it kinder, then, to put him down now than to have him die at the hands of the Eye?
Yet. You still ask yourself: was I right? Was this right?
Why do I still...feel like I could have done more?
Another plume of smoke leaves him before he says anything, this time from his nostrils like a lazy dragon.]
Maybe he wasn't "just your employee". Sure, he was weak...but you could say that about a lot of people.
[About others Flamebringer would tear the world apart to protect. Ezell. Those little ones from Rhodes Island that Wolfwood himself parented in another life.
As much as the Sarkaz loathes it, he cares about these people. That's the simple truth. And Wolfwood feels like there's something Flamebringer needs to hear, whether it helps or not...makes him mad or not.]
...m'sorry he died. I doubt there was much more you could have done, if he was already on his way out before you got to him.
no subject
[That's been his philosophy for his whole life, or so he tells himself. In reality, it's easier for Flamebringer to fake his emotions than acknowledge that they're there. It always has been. In many ways, he's a walking contradiction to himself — wants to surround himself with the strong, so that he can come out on top in every battle and cry that they were weaker when they die. Wants to fight to the death, but doesn't actually want to die himself. Wants to not be around the "weak", whatever that means, while he's surrounding himself with defenseless people and people he feels the need to protect because he knows that someone much stronger can and will stab a sword through their hearts.
If he puts off his strong feelings about the people he likes dying by saying they didn't deserve to live on account of being weak, it's a good way for him to justify the emotional shutdown that comes from it. The "not feeling anything". The "not caring", "not giving a damn".
Frustrated, he grits his teeth hard enough to feel his ears pop, passively making the campfire rage before he huffs a sigh.]
I need a fucking drink.
no subject
Some people would call being emotional weakness, after all.
If there's anyone who can understand just how Flamebringer is feeling right now, it's the man sitting beside him. And while he could knock some sense into him- verbally OR physically- he chooses not to in this moment. He chooses not to call him out, because he feels like that's not quite what he needs right now. He needs to get these thoughts and emotions out, and Wolfwood will hear him out in a way that doesn't make it obvious that's what he's doing.
He plucks his own cigarette from his lips so he can ash it again, this time just holding it between his fingers for a moment as he looks at the sky above.]
Left my whiskey at home. ...but maybe we can find some here, if we look. Always found talkin' over drinks to be easier.
no subject
Doubt that half-Elafia guy with the dreamcatcher has liquor here.
[Lord of the Mountains they'd love you in Sami—]
I'm half-dead myself anyway. I haven't slept in multiple days. Got these fucking injuries to show for all my efforts. Don't know where Twinkie is [this is his new name for Ain because Elsword asked Flamebringer to stop calling him "boytoy"] but I could probably use his magic right now.
[He bandaged his wounds after Till died, cauterized the ones he could, but they're still pretty bad and cauterizing doesn't exactly heal anybody. Slowly, Flamebringer gets to his feet, walks closer to Wolfwood, and just
flops his head onto the other man's shoulder, on the Oripathy-less side.]
If you tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you.
no subject
He lifts his head, watching as Flamebringer makes his way over. He's expecting him to just sit down at his side, so it prompts him to swap his cig to his other hand so he doesn't singe his clothes with it...
Only for Flamebringer to surprise him, dropping his head onto his shoulder.]
Mm. Tell anybody 'bout what?
[He saysm his voice low and soft as he lets his head lean back against the Sarkaz's, just slightly.]