vindictam: (pic#8341978)
corvo "FUBAR" attano ([personal profile] vindictam) wrote in [community profile] nonsuch 2015-12-24 12:39 pm (UTC)

[ He is exceptionally good at what he does, after all. Infiltration, moving like shadows and leaving nothing behind, except when they need him too. He follows and does everything he is told to with a single minded focus. Or rather maybe that is the point, as the years progress and he remains where others don't, all he can do, is focus. Everything else, to the chaos of lives past that still do not die in his head, he must examine only the way forward, else he risks drowning in his own memories. Because he does that enough already. Talks to them at length, often, even. When he steps in and out one world and another, death is only so permanent when his every action, every thought is dictated by it.

Shaped wholly in the ashes.

So when enough time later, he is asked what he might like as a reward, he asks only that he might keep the rover. Just as it as, yes there might be better tech, now. He will adapt where he needs to be efficient but what matters most is keeping the ghosts in place, even as they say he becomes one. They do not understand, he is mad, because he does not know how to live as himself. But they do, those that he lost, so he must keep them to keep himself. The floor has been ripped out from under his feet too often now, that he must make up his own and force it to be real. He has places for them all, careful maintained as he moves through it. Terra's brightly coloured scarves that hang over her bunk, he always tells apologizes to where she sleeps, when he needs to wash them. The bottles of drink under deadpool's bunk, where he tells him to shove over where a mission is bad and he wants to waste some time drowning in the burn. The calm instruction to Jasper to straighten up his boots by foot of the bed, each morning then sighs, and does it himself. The goodbye he says to the empty air, the good morning as he readies himself for whatever his orders are.

( Others too, of course. Where Shepard was gone in a shatter of stardust, he sets two glasses out at the small table, and makes a toast to and they're all dead. Aeryn, the spot lent on the kitchen counter as he washed dishes, and he tells her of the anatomy of rats, the disease in their bite, the most effective way to deploy them in combat. Fiona, in the drivers seat, singing along with him. Sometimes, teaches her slow steps to dances when he was a younger man. Tess, with her head next to him on the pillow, and tsking quietly when he doesn't tend wounds properly, fingers skittering on damaged nerve endings. )

( and if he is a ghost, dead as could be to a shell of a man, it is alright, there's another heartbeat, another soul in its place. So long now, he has spent hours in argument with her, once he had nothing else left to lose, until they had beaten themselves hoarse, till there were no more words for them both, and she sighs quiet in his ears, the melancholy of a contemplated eternity they share now. Speaking he finds exhausting outside of the flow back and forth between them. )

He is fifty, and he is a ghost, and there was a thousand choices to be made, that were not, and he knows there are a thousand lives, they all could have lived, but didn't. So it is not so much to imagine Jasper would know him, but not. Come back but never remember. Not that he read the orders the right way, though Jessamine did for him, the way she always had. She sighed quiet, into the rattle of his bones. ( he is coming back grown, beloved and it was not your fate to ruin him, he seeks it all himself. )

Forgets how he seems, if he ever cared anymore, when he sees not a boy, anymore, the man that once, he'd promised Jasper he would always become. Rises one step in front of the other. Mouth a flat inexperessive line. Eyes dark and there's not much to say at all, except everything that hasn't been remembered. Stepped out for shadows, to peer at the boy he had known that has molded as all young men are.
]

Corvo. You never liked titles before. Call me Corvo. [ because whilst he might understand, it's too hard sometimes, to pick apart the then, and the now, and the could have been. A jumbled up thought. ]

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