[color=gray][INDENT][INDENT][i]
[color=white]|  A Few Days Earlier |[/color]

Rory had never felt his bones before. Now he had, and he was worse for it.

The casts felt deeply uncomfortable, and a dull thrum constantly pulsed through his body. The morphine helped, but kept him nearly catatonic to the point he didn't know what day it was. It was hard to tell what was a dream and what wasn't. It always felt like something was standing behind him, just out of view. News has been passed on that the school was closing. The government was stripping the place for parts, and HELP was on life support. For once, he felt free. He couldn't follow in his parent's footsteps if he tried: within a few years, his entire future had been torn asunder. He could do anything.

But could he?

No diploma, minimal life skills, and two broken legs. He finally had the chance to slip away into obscurity, and even that was barred from him. Through no fault of his own, he got to choose which new shiny cage he could lock himself into. What a treat.

But it was all he could do to distract what little there was left of him from the screams he had heard and the things he saw. That faint copper smell that permeated the room and was so rich he could taste it. Or maybe it was his own blood that wet his lips then. Was he still bleeding? Was he dead? Part of him wondered if the sterile white room he had trouble leaving was his own personal hell.

He barely remembered his discussion with Mary and Will. What he did remember was the look they both had on their face. Mary's eyeliner ran down her cheeks. Will couldn't even look at him. Rory wondered if he looked like his brother at their father's wake. He hated that this was the closest he had felt to him in years. He hated how cold and absent he was. It felt like they were at his funeral.

Then again, maybe part of him died at that dance.

He didn't know what time it was when he seemed to come out of his stupor. Mary was squeezing his shoulder, and he could feel the vibration of contained sobs. They were both staring out the window, watching students lug bags across campus. Rory raised a hand up to Mary's, squeezing it gently. He wanted to tell her it would all be ok, but he knew he couldn't promise anything.

He couldn't keep anyone safe.

So Rory just watched out the window. Mary lingered a little, before muttering something about packing, and that she would be back. Rory continued staring out the window for a while, becoming more and more aware of the fact the morphine was fading. His bones throbbed, and Rory desperately wished to return back to that dream-like state. At least then, he could pretend the nightmare wasn’t real.

The sounds of the hospital had blended together over the past few days. Doctors and nurses had their usual rhythms. He had made a game of guessing who was approaching by the sound of their footsteps echoing in the hallway. He even grew to recognize Mary’s footsteps. So he was confused when he heard a set of footsteps he couldn’t recognize approaching his door. That intense feeling of not being alone creeped up his neck, but he couldn’t bring himself to look. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his hands gripped the arm-rests of his wheelchair tightly. But he continued to watch the world outside.

The steps slowed to a stop as they reached his doorway. Their hesitation was clear in the sound they made as they shifted in place. Worn rubber soles whispering against the vinyl tiles where Haven stood like a ghost.

Until her relief broke the silence in a quick, but soft set of feet making their way to him.

[color=#d2b48c]“Rory.”[/color] She breathed, tears already welling in her eyes at the sight of him alive. Her arms were slow and gentle as they wrapped around his chest from behind, her body leaning over the back of the chair to get closer to him. She rested her head against his, and only then did she squeeze him in her embrace. Her tears gently dropped onto his gray henley as she breathed in the smell of him. [color=#d2b48c]“Rory, I-”[/color] She began, but the lump in her throat kept her from saying anymore.

There was so much to say, and she had no idea how to begin.

Rory felt the tension in him melt away the second the footsteps had quickened. He lifted his hands up to Haven's arms as she embraced him, gently squeezing her to offer some semblance of reassurance. His heart dropped at the sound of Haven's tears. He was getting very tired of tears. He didn't have any left to shed, opting instead to softly brush her arms.

[color=#04cf3a]“How are you holding up?”[/color] His voice croaked, hoarse from a lack of training the past few days. He wasn't sure if he had spoken since the dance. His voice shook more with uncertainty, though. He couldn't get the image he saw from the dance out of his head. He knew there were bigger, far more important questions to answer. But none mattered more to him than the one he asked.

Haven bit her lip as she tried to reel in the tears that kept silently falling from her eyes. She looked down at his legs, glad to see that they were back in one piece but unable to forget how she’d seen them look on that night. A subtle shake of her head and a sniffle was her only response for a moment as she found the words.

[color=#d2b48c]“Miserably… but it already feels better being here with you.”[/color]

Rory gave a solemn nod before brushing his lips against her arms. The soft kiss felt more like a reflex than a decision he made. His hands continued to hold her in the embrace. His eyes remained fixed forward, focusing on the scene outside. His stomach churned at the thought of leaving this place, but he didn't feel safe either. Part of him still expected to see a winged shadow pass over the campus. One monster was already made: how many more were waiting for them?

How many more monsters were waiting for Haven?

[color=#04cf3a]“I- I couldn't… I can’t protect you, Haven.”[/color] It turned out he still did have some tears in reserve. His breath caught in his throat, his choking gasps interrupting his thought as droplets fell upon Haven's sleeve.[color=#04cf3a]“I… I'm tired of losing the people that I lo-”[/color] His sobbing overwhelmed his ability to speak. The lifting of the haze had only sharpened his recollection of the dance. He had done everything right, and yet it didn't matter.

Haven only held him tighter as her tears doubled to match his. She had no energy for sobs left, and yet she still felt the crushing weight of his pain intermingled with her own. Holding him didn’t feel like enough to comfort his grief.

[color=tan]“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”[/color] She choked out, guilt settling onto her shoulders although she knew none of it had truly been her fault. She was only to blame for putting herself in harm's way, in her failed attempt at a resolution to the suffering. [i][color=tan]“I’m so sorry.”[/color][/i]

He’d been through so much because of her. Because of the trials, and because of [i]him[/i]. Would it have hurt Rory this much if she hadn’t made a move in the tent a month ago? If they’d stayed apart, remaining as friends and not as lovers?

[color=tan]“I don’t want to lose you, either.”[/color] She whispered.

Rory continued to hold on as they both cried into one another. When his own crying died down, he lifted his sleeve to wipe his tears and nose.[color=#04cf3a]“What do we do now?” [/color]His voice was soft and quiet, barely more than a whisper under his breath. [color=#04cf3a]“Is anywhere safe? Do we run?”[/color] He paused, catching himself on his words. He didn’t want to even ask the question, but felt it tumble out of his lips before he could stop himself. [color=#04cf3a]“Is there a we?”[/color]

[color=#d2b48c]“I don’t know where to go… I don’t know if anywhere is safe.”[/color] She murmured softly where she still clung to him.

Her arms slowly drew away from him as she stood upright. Her back aching now from being leant over for so long.  She wiped her eyes with the edges of her sweatshirt, trying to compose herself before she pulled a chair over to the wheelchair’s side. When she finally stepped into view, she hardly looked any different than she usually did. The only difference being her red and puffy eyes, rimmed with dark circles from both a lack of sleep and entirely too much of it, and the empty space behind her where her wings used to rest.

She took a seat in the chair, still subconsciously leaving space for her wings, and greeted him with a miserable smile. [color=#d2b48c]“But I’ll go where you go, Rory. You’re my home.”[/color]


[/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][CENTER][COLOR=04cf3a][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/33a4f953-7c60-417b-8573-ea5575d2530c.png[/img] [/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=04cf3a][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Beach - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=04cf3a][b]Human #5.013:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I][b]Nobody Likes You[/b][/I][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=04cf3a][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=04cf3a][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]Haven - [@Skai], Katja - [@Zoldyck], The Gang at Large[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5563998][I]Anything but Blood[/I][/url][/right][/SUP]

[INDENT] 

Rory sat like a log for most of the conversation amongst his gathered comrades. He gave Haven a single look at her words, before his eyes returned to the fire before them all. He was stuck here in this position, unable to freely move to follow Gil and Lorcán as they broke off to have a heated discussion of their own. So instead, he just simmered. He tried, desperately, to push down the boiling contempt and frustration that rose like bile in his throat. All the talk of safety, home, and justice felt like wasted breath to his ears. It was less substantial than the sand beneath their feet.

He finally began to understand Jim's frustrations.

After everything, they hadn't learned a thing.

Rory's heart broke.

[color=04cf3a]"I won't attend your funeral, Olly."[/color] Rory's eyes didn't move from the flame... or perhaps more accurately, they never moved from that spot behind the fire his glazed eyes were fixed upon. But the nickname, one he had not used for the Aussie in ages, was more than enough of an indication of the man he was speaking to. His words dripped with a certainty that made his voice seem like someone else's entirely. [color=04cf3a]"If you want justice you can get..."[/color]

He didn't need to look to feel the slight bump that reverberated up his spine with Katja's approach. The anger continued to seep out of his mouth, his voice growing ever so slightly in volume. [color=04cf3a]"Why not start with her?"[/color] Rory's eyes finally moved, his head turning in Katja's direction as he clenched on to the arms of his wheelchair tight. His voice carried across the beach, crashing like the waves that lapped the shore. [color=04cf3a]"Come to finish the job, Kruger?"[/color]

He didn't wait for the confused expressions or questions. The second Rory had laid eyes on the person he had pined for since they first met, he lost any semblance of self-control left. [color=04cf3a]"Been out high fiving your Orcinus pals? Or were you busy leaving flowers for Hyperion?"[/color] He let the accusation hang in the air, shifting slightly in his seat as he hunched forward. The torrent of anger couldn't be contained. Neither could the tears that began streaming down his face.

[color=04cf3a]"A few days ago, I just wanted answers. I wanted to know what they could have promised you that would have made it so easy to turn on us. How you could have possibly chosen the janitor over your own team. Or if you thought leading us to where Haven was kidnapped would make up for nearly getting her killed the first time. If you thought playing the hero then would make up for what Harper, Gil, and Calliope went through. Or if you even fucking cared."[/color]

Rory shook with rage, his knuckles white against the arm rests. His voice quivered with a manic energy as his eyes shifted down to those two useless appendages connected to his waist. [color=04cf3a]"But you know what... I don't care about answers anymore, Kat. Or excuses. I can't stop you or hurt you. I can't do anything!"[/color] His words rose to a shriek, shoving off any attempt of comfort or care Haven could possibly extend as he panted and frothed.

[b][color=04cf3a]"The only justice, Kruger, is that you're alone. Hyperion and his children are dead and gone. There's no more Pacific Royal, no more Blackjack. You've burned everything to the ground. No one loves you."[/color][/b]

He leaned back in his chair, a small sadistic smirk rising to the corner of his lips. Piecing together what little details he had picked up from the dance and the morning before the Trials, he had one final thorn to lash out with.

After all, subtlety wasn't his strong suit.

[i][color=04cf3a]"Not even Amma."[/color][/i]

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