prince_of_beasts (
prince_of_beasts) wrote2022-06-27 03:17 pm
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A synthesized woman's voice picks up the call.
"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. Two - Zero - Two - Nine - One - Eight - Two - One - Three - Two -- is not available now. At the tone, please record your message. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press the # key for more options."
Dimitri hasn't figured out how to customize the thing yet.
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... he can't. Not now. He's burned out every emotion he has. He can't muster anything besides flopping back onto Darcy's shoulder, shaken by quiet sobs that soon subside because he can't. He's too fucking tired.
"Tell me later. Sleep now."
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She quickly disentangles herself to shed her boots and remove her knives and such, returning to lay her head on his lap.
"I'm sorry," she croaks, settling in.
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It takes a bit more awkward shuffling for Dimitri to settle himself -- between the two of them they have a half-dozen elbows and twice as many knees -- but he does, arms wrapped around himself.
"We're alright," he mumbles, as the last scraps of his strength give out. "We're alrigh'."
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She jolts awake at a noise outside and it's over, she can still feel hands on her face, she paws at the drool on her face. In attempt to let Dimitri keep resting, Darcy otherwise tries not to move too much, just keep an eye on his breathing.
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She lightly grazes her nails over his leg, trying to ease his panic.
"We're good."
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Please let them have gotten at least an hour.
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It's been a crispy 45 or so minutes and she relays as such.
"I don't think I'm getting back to sleep," she sighs, "especially if people are getting up now."
Which means they need to talk. Ugh.
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Dimitri feels a little less like he's the one who just woke up from the dead. He levers himself upright, biting back a yawn.
If Darcy doesn't say anything, he'll ask, but he doesn't want to pressure her right out of the gate.
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"Skulduggery... told me that the reason that the Captain isn't repairing the ship is that he found something out that's made him depressed. And... I'm fine, but it's been a rough month, so I've been thinking about what helped me in the past... Clarke- back before you arrived I think, on the camp- she... goaded me out of a spiral I was in. She told me it was alright to give up, knowing it would make me mad. And it did. So I tried to do that to him. I told him that it was totally fine if he gave up, and... some other stuff."
Details she can't share without tipping her hand, and she loves Dimitri like a brother but she knows his rage like her own and she knows the risks of telling him.
"He told me to decide how long I wanted my death to take, minimum five minutes. I said ten."
She rubs a hand anxiously over the side of her neck, slotting in to rest her thumb over her carotid.
"The Captain was going to strangle me for ten minutes. I apologized and I tried to-" deep breath that jostles the water in her lungs, "he let me go. He let me go, because of Skulduggery."
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That bit still doesn't make sense to her. Skulduggery is arguably the person whose gotten the closest, between seeing the bridge and the way Skulduggery seems to be able to handle him but... is that worth a life? Is that really worth staying the Captain's wrath?
"Honestly, I have no idea. I... guess I should be grateful. But..."
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"I just wish my life was mine. That if I fuck up I could just... fuck up on my own without other people getting dragged into it, even if it helps me. That's it."
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Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Here it comes, the fog rising, the blinding searing horror of an Abraxas --
Dimitri's voice cracks. "Ten minutes, Darcy."
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Which she absolutely without a doubt totally isn't.
"But it's fine, he didn't do it, and I'm fine. It's fine."
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Again, again, it burns like a brand in his mind, "Ten minutes!"
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"...no," Darcy admits, and visibly winces when Dimitri reminds her of how long it would've taken. The couple of seconds it took her to drown were agony enough, what would this have been like?
"I'm sorry," she can't bring herself to look at him, "I'm sorry."
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Dimitri doesn't like getting upset, least of all with friends. Between his strength and his status, any emotional outburst turns people careful and quiet. One of those things doesn't matter here, but the other can never and will never leave him.
But what else can he do? How else can he feel? Knowing he could have returned from one friend's deathbed to find another's? With no idea what was happening, or any chance to stop it? His mind burns and he just, he just, he just --
"Why?"
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Snapped back, but she really doesn't want to be lashing out like this at a friend.
"I'm sorry, I'm going to fix it and I've already been yelled at for it, okay!?"
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He doesn't know what he's trying to say. It's selfish. Darcy's the one who was nearly killed, and Dimitri's making her reassure him when it should be the reverse.
"Why didn't you talk to someone? Anyone?"
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Impulsive as a greyhound with a rabbit. It's going to get her killed one day and she knows it. And in any case, the whole thing was hinged on knowing what the Captain was. She couldn't have explained it.
"I'm not scared of dying if it would've helped, Dimiti."
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"You should be!" Dimitri cries. "Enough not to -- to throw your life away like this! Enough not to seek it out!"
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Darcy flinches at the outburst, both hands going up to the back of her neck.
"I wasn't seeking it out. I was just... trying to help."
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"I didn't," he says, halting, "I wasn't -- " He can't say he's not angry with her, because honestly, he is. But he wouldn't lash out. (Wouldn't he? Darcy seems to think so. When did Darcy start being afraid of him? How can he take it back?) "Please, Darcy. There are better ways for you to help. There are -- " Dimitri swallows. "You don't have to, to 'screw up' alone. That's what we're for."
("Bit hypocritical, wouldn't you say, old thing?")
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