offline.

written by tiny warrior.

private && selective
please read the rules!!

#caelitum

drafts: 12

theme requests: open

est. july 12, 2015.



  

50SHADESOFCAIN.

image

He meet’s Abel’s faux cheerfulness with a silent stare of his own, ignoring the falseness utterly. Does Abel take him for an idiot?

(Probably. Navs always did.)

“Cut the bullshit,” he says shortly. “What’s the matter with you?”

The question comes out much more brusque than he’d meant it to, and Cain frowns, wondering if he should soften his words. A brief debate, and then he decides that the effort is worth expending on his Navigator.

“I mean… I saw you,” he continues, “I saw your expression. Something’s bothering you.”

Ugh, why is this so difficult and awkward? Cain shifts his weight from foot to foot, starting to get annoyed. He’s not sure if it’s with himself, or with the little blond in front of him.

“Just… what’s wrong, Abel?”

image

DISTRESS TWISTED HIS SMILE INTO A FICKLE THING, LAUGHTER
falling from his weakened tongue. It sounds like plastic, dull & weak & far too deflated to have originated from him; his fighter’s lack of knowledge in comforting another was endearing, but it stuck a wrong chord in him. It made things WORSE, watching Cain leave behind his egotistic mindset in order to soothe the cavity sadness had dug within him; Abel’s forehead falls in SHAME, blond locks masking his dark eyes. He could get out of this himself, couldn’t he? ❝Ah, I guess you did, didn’t you?

HIS HEAD RESTS AGAIN THE STARFIGHTER WITH EASE. His arm comes up to rest atop of his, leaving it’s twin to hang at Abel’s side. ❝Nothing is wrong, Cain,❞ he assures, but that was as much of a LIE as one could be. There was so much that nothing in particular could come to him, not one thing to fulfill his Fighter’s thirst for an answer. Yet another disappointment to add to his jar; he figured he’d need a bigger one, soon. ❝I’ll go see a medic later, if it makes you feel better. Just don’t WORRY about me; I’m alright.❞