offline.

written by tiny warrior.

private && selective
please read the rules!!

#caelitum

drafts: 12

theme requests: open

est. july 12, 2015.



  

50SHADESOFCAIN.

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There’s something on Abel’s mind. Well, there always is – damn Navs were always overthinking things, a bad fucking habit they all had – but for whatever reason Cain finds himself trailing after his Navigator at a distance this time instead of leaving Abel to stew in whatever thoughts had gotten him the expression on his face.

He’s not really surprised when Abel ends up in the hangar. Out here in the void of space, the Reliant’s become a symbolical home to Cain as well, the Fighter’s cockpit a place to call his own.

(Both home, and a tomb. Because Cain’s always been one to face reality head-on, and the reality is that if he’s going to die out here, he’s going to go down fighting to the last.)

Cain watches quietly until Abel calls him over. He does so, not bothering to silence the tread of his own boots. Stalking over to the Navigator until Cain’s right behind him, close, very close, but not touching. His hands clasped loosely behind his back as he leans forwards to breathe against Abel’s ear.

“Didn’t really have a destination in mind, princess.”

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ABEL HEAVES A SIGH BEFORE MOVING AWAY FROM HIM. The Navigator finds no pleasure in physical contact, then; his veins buzzed with distress & hatred for something he couldn’t quite place ( perhaps for himself, or perhaps for the way things had ended up. ) He doesn’t even think to bother scolding the male for whatever he might’ve done; his eyes locked onto the stars & he wonders, a FLEETING moment passing by, why he’d ever pledged his life to them. That thought is discarded with more glee than not.

FALSE SMILES, CORNERS OF HIS EYES WRINKLED WITH MISPLACED concern. He turns happily towards his fighter & confronts him, seemingly without any issue at all ( despite the OVERWHELMING growth of his foul depictions. ) ❝So, how was your day? Did you do anything interesting?