Joseph ♔ Kavinsky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnyoudown) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
route666rp2026-03-25 07:10 pm
burnyoudown) wrote in route666rp2026-03-25 07:10 pm
[Open] Set me on firе just to watch me
Who: Kavinsky and OPEN
What: Returning from a canon update and not doing so well from it. Emotions are running high + elemental surges (fire)
When: The end half of March
Where: Outside the Convoy
Warnings: Potential mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, drugs, and alcohol in threads, though none in the actual starters. Also lots of swearing.
I'll match format to whichever you prefer!
I. Up In Flames - (new glowing eyes elemental trait activation)
[Kavinsky couldn't say he knew what had happened, but that didn't mean he wasn't feeling scorched to his core. His dream animal and the cuccos weren't with him; he'd left them back at the Convoy. It was safer for them there, all things considered. Just like it was safer for everyone else that he wasn't at the Convoy right now.
His control over his fire wasn't what anyone could call 'present'. The ground around him was scorched in frantic patterns, and a tree or two here and there had flames flickering along the bark. The harmless fire that licked along the edges of his--semi-translucent and red-orange--hands and forearms surged whenever actual flames leapt from him. His eyes, normally a deep brown, glowed with the same red-orange every time his power surged, though he wasn't aware of it.
Things had been looking up for him. He'd thought they'd been looking up. He'd thought that Ronan would be just as eager for kinship, finding another dreamer, as he was. He'd been wrong.]
Fucking son of a bitch.
[He dropped into a crouch, breathing, or at least trying to focus on even breaths. Raking his fingers through his hair, he scrunched down more, like he was trying to become as compact as possible. That's not enough. It didn't take much for those words to twist into a different meaning, the one he knew Ronan had been implying. He wasn't enough.
The moment he pressed his hands to the ground on either side of him, steadying himself, flames surged from his palms, scorching the ground around him. He was distantly aware of the fact he needed to get the fire under control, but he didn't think that was going to be doable until he'd calmed the fuck down.]
Fuck.
II. Embers In The Air
[Though the ground around Kavinsky was scorched, the permanent flames on his hands and forearms had stopped surging, and his eyes, hidden behind white-rimmed sunglasses, had gone back to their normal dark brown. He seemed tired, spent, potentially asleep as he laid there--but he wasn't. He was all the other things, but he was very much awake.
That was more obviously confirmed when he sniffled, the ugly, sinus clogged sound of someone who'd been crying. He didn't have the energy--or really, the motivation--to get up right now, and he wasn't sure he had the motivation to do something about it if the sounds of something or someone approaching were something less than friendly. He didn't move, didn't lift his head.]
Just give me a heads up if you're going to eat my liver or something. Otherwise, fire's all done. I think. I'm not going to deep fry anyone.
[The last part he could nearly promise. The fire being done with and fully back under his control? Questionable.]
What: Returning from a canon update and not doing so well from it. Emotions are running high + elemental surges (fire)
When: The end half of March
Where: Outside the Convoy
Warnings: Potential mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, drugs, and alcohol in threads, though none in the actual starters. Also lots of swearing.
I'll match format to whichever you prefer!
I. Up In Flames - (new glowing eyes elemental trait activation)
[Kavinsky couldn't say he knew what had happened, but that didn't mean he wasn't feeling scorched to his core. His dream animal and the cuccos weren't with him; he'd left them back at the Convoy. It was safer for them there, all things considered. Just like it was safer for everyone else that he wasn't at the Convoy right now.
His control over his fire wasn't what anyone could call 'present'. The ground around him was scorched in frantic patterns, and a tree or two here and there had flames flickering along the bark. The harmless fire that licked along the edges of his--semi-translucent and red-orange--hands and forearms surged whenever actual flames leapt from him. His eyes, normally a deep brown, glowed with the same red-orange every time his power surged, though he wasn't aware of it.
Things had been looking up for him. He'd thought they'd been looking up. He'd thought that Ronan would be just as eager for kinship, finding another dreamer, as he was. He'd been wrong.]
Fucking son of a bitch.
[He dropped into a crouch, breathing, or at least trying to focus on even breaths. Raking his fingers through his hair, he scrunched down more, like he was trying to become as compact as possible. That's not enough. It didn't take much for those words to twist into a different meaning, the one he knew Ronan had been implying. He wasn't enough.
The moment he pressed his hands to the ground on either side of him, steadying himself, flames surged from his palms, scorching the ground around him. He was distantly aware of the fact he needed to get the fire under control, but he didn't think that was going to be doable until he'd calmed the fuck down.]
Fuck.
II. Embers In The Air
[Though the ground around Kavinsky was scorched, the permanent flames on his hands and forearms had stopped surging, and his eyes, hidden behind white-rimmed sunglasses, had gone back to their normal dark brown. He seemed tired, spent, potentially asleep as he laid there--but he wasn't. He was all the other things, but he was very much awake.
That was more obviously confirmed when he sniffled, the ugly, sinus clogged sound of someone who'd been crying. He didn't have the energy--or really, the motivation--to get up right now, and he wasn't sure he had the motivation to do something about it if the sounds of something or someone approaching were something less than friendly. He didn't move, didn't lift his head.]
Just give me a heads up if you're going to eat my liver or something. Otherwise, fire's all done. I think. I'm not going to deep fry anyone.
[The last part he could nearly promise. The fire being done with and fully back under his control? Questionable.]
I. Up In Flames
But when Serph finds the source of the blaze, his demon within -- Varuna, who is always hungry -- gnashes at the corner of Serph's consciousness, disappointed that it's someone they recognise. Varuna is a creature of ice with fire as his weakness. The demon doesn't understand fear or even self-preservation, but he regards the flames licking the ground with a measure of wariness.
Serph calls out. "Kavinsky."
His voice is as calm and even as it always is despite the scene before him. Non-judgemental. But a quick glance around at the scorch marks tells Serph that it wouldn't be a good idea to approach just yet. There's no fear in his stance, only a cool, detached gaze as he tucks his wings at his back. He's more than familiar with people whose strong emotions culminate in violence.
"What happened?"
no subject
Instead of letting go, he took a breath, shaky, not nearly as calming as he'd hoped it would be. He didn't straighten up, kept his hands to the ground, but his head tipped in Serph's direction. Kavinsky didn't blame him for keeping his distance; it was smart.
"I-" what had happened? How did he explain that one blink, he'd been here, and the next blink, he'd been home again? And then he'd been back here, with no idea of how he'd gone anywhere at all. "I was back home for a bit. I guess. Everything went to fucking hell." And he'd woken with the dragon--there, not here--and he knew there was only one way that could end. "It's all ruined."
He didn't know what would happen to Prokopenko without him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He couldn't say it didn't matter, that he wasn't sure if knowing or not knowing was the preferable option. It was still out of his control, either way. He hated that, too.
"Wasn't even bullshit fucking social mind games. It was straight up a stab in the back." He sucked in another breath, still nowhere near actually calming. Fire pulsed out from under his hands. "I extended an olive branch and he threw it in my face. I thought-" He felt stupid about what he'd thought. He'd been so sure of himself, so confident he knew how things would go.
"I thought someone would give a shit." He finished the sentence quieter, almost like he was ashamed of thinking he might mean something to someone.
no subject
The explanation if being back home makes perfect sense to Serph. It doesn't happen very often, but there have been people who have disappeared to their home world and returned, dragged both ways by a moon warp. The returning is rare, but rarer still is the disappearance being so short.
At the sight of Kavinsky's open pain, there's an underlying feeling, a compulsion, to step forward and soothe. He's learned that hugs is often the most effective way and with six wings, he's become especially good at it.
But he can't ignore the habit of danger assessment from five years of violence with no reprieve, so Serph remains where he is; while he's not unfamiliar with being injured, if he showed up back at Heat's RV sporting bad burns Heat would probably tear Kavinsky from limb to limb. Well, not literally.
Maybe.
"I'm glad you returned." There's a lot of context that Serph's missing, things Kavinsky would need to explain for him to grasp more fully. But through all the emotionally amped up words, he could see the hurt. Serph's expression softens. "It wouldn't be the same without you."
no subject
"I think I'm fucked." Hadn't he always been, though? "I put too much- too much fucking hope, I guess, on-" he shrugged a shoulder sharply. "I can do things most people can't, and I never knew there was anyone else like me until Lynch." There had been a time when he wouldn't have named Ronan as a dreamer, but what the fuck did it matter now? It wasn't like Ronan would just stumble in the door somewhere or something.
"I wanted him. I thought I really had his attention, finally. I saved him from himself- I mean- fucking literally." Maybe not literal in the sense some people might think, but the shit Ronan dreamed up was just as volatile as the shit Kavinsky had dreamed from time to time, the reason he kept a weapon under his pillow, just in case. "I showed him how to do shit better. And he used me. He got what he wanted and he left me standing there like a fucking asshole."
Trails of fire flickered to life again, dancing around him, but they were smaller, less like he was getting control back and more like he was wearing himself out. "He said I'm not enough. He didn't even want to fucking try. Wouldn't even give me a chance." Even after Ronan had left him in the dream field, telling him it was never going to be the two of them, Kavinsky had still thought he'd had a chance. He'd chased that chance right up to the moment of disaster, when it'd been a new slap in the face.
How did he explain that everything hadn't fallen apart just because of Ronan, that there had been so much else all the time, and that Ronan had only been the final push, the last thing K had been able to handle? He'd thought there'd be a them, the two of them together, and that things would start hurting less. "I'm so fucking tired. Between him and everything else, all the shit people have done." All the shit they kept doing. "I'm- I think I'm dead. Or going to be."
no subject
Serph walks towards Kavinsky with the confident stride of someone who has assessed a situation and made an obvious decision, carefully sitting down a short distance from him. Close enough to be within reach with a little effort, but far enough to not intrude on Kavinsky's personal space.
"If you were dead, you are alive now." Serph knows a lot about being dead and finding himself alive in Revan. "The pain of losing a comrade," and that's what it is, isn't it? Even if this Ronan isn't dead, that close connection between Kavinsky and Ronan has been torn to shreds, "hurts most when it's just happened. But you're not alone."
Seeing Heat standing with the Karma Society soldiers, flame and claws turned against him, felt like a knife being twisted inside his chest. Serph had wondered why Heat would fight against the Embryon. Fight against him. He thinks he knows, but there's a piece of the puzzle missing.
But the Heat who is here... he doesn't know why. Doesn't want to know. Sees himself as different to the Heat that tore a hole in Serph. And Serph has to accept that he won't know.
He turns his gaze to Kavinsky, no judgement in his expression or his voice. "Do you want a hug?"
II.
A white wolf with a suspicious surplus of legs and ice chips for eyes sits outside the ring of scorched earth. When Kavinsky eventually settles down and ends up on his back, staring up at the sky, the wolf stands, trots over, and unceremoniously flops down next to him, resting his chin on Kavinsky's chest.
Edward can't speak when he's in this form, and Kavinsky isn't a dog or a bug, so the pack link and hive mind won't be as strong as they usually are. Edward should still be able to communicate on a basic level, though, and he whines softly before sending a missive through to Kavinsky's mind.
why Kavinsky angrysad?
no subject
"Everything's fucked." That was the fastest way to sum it all up, but it left out a lot of details. "I was- I don't know. Went through some shit." He had zero idea how to struggle through the explanation of 'I was here and then home and then here' because it sounded like some kind of bullshit, rather than something that had actually happened. "Back home."
He sniffled again, a desperate bid to be able to breathe properly through his nose--it wasn't working out just yet, though. With his other hand, he brushed what was most likely a stray tear from his cheek. "He used me. The only other person like me I've ever met, and he-" Kavinsky swallowed, other hand dropping back to the ground. "I was there when he needed someone. I thought he was actually giving me a chance, and I wanted to show him he's worth more than a fucking car."
There was a lot of missing context, but he could easily provide it, with even the gentlest of nudges, or he might get there on his own, even, the more he talked. He wasn't trying to be secretive about things; his thoughts were just all over the place, jumping through everything that had happened, from one moment to another where Ronan had hurt him so carelessly, like he'd never considered that he was capable of it, like Kavinsky was bulletproof, immune to the shit people said and did. Like he hadn't been hurting for years, getting closer and closer to his limit.
no subject
He doesn't understand a lot of what Kavinsky says. He's both missing a great deal of context, and the wolf form blunts the sharper edges of Edward's mind, turning him into a creature of instinct over intellect. But he understands and recognises pain, and wriggles a little closer. He whines softly, then licks the underside of Kavinsky's chin. His skin is salty with dried tears.
Kavinsky better than car
more important
Kavinsky friend
no subject
"Apparently I'm not to Ronan." It sounded an awful lot like he was choking back fresh tears, before he took a breath and swallowed them down. "He took his best friend's car to race me. He thought he'd win for real. I thought he was... interested." Even when Ronan had hurled racial slurs at him and threatened to kick his ass. That was how half their interactions went, most days. He'd thought the Camaro meant Ronan's attention was shifting, becoming more serious.
"He wrecked that bitch. Shit got messy. He acted like Dick was going to disown him if he didn't fix the damn car--instead of being glad he hadn't died in a fucking wreck. I'd always thought Ronan deserved better. He's so much more important than a car, he shouldn't-" Kavinsky shook his head, pushing the fingers of his other hand under his sunglasses to smear tears from his eyes. "Dick's got him on a leash. I thought showing Ronan we're the same would mean something to him. But he used me to help him with the car and he-" he laughed, the sound strained. "-he acted like I was the unreasonable one for thinking we could be something. Like I was stupid." Was he? Ronan sure as fuck had made him feel stupid, standing there in the dream field, watching him drive off.
"And I still thought he'd change his mind. That he'd want to know another dreamer as much as I did. That he'd want me. Only been fucking flirting with him for like, a year." Longer, probably. He'd thought Ronan had been expressing interest in return, that they spoke the same venomous, acid-laced language. They did--to an extent.
After a pause, Kavinsky added, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "He said I'm not enough."
no subject
sorry sorry so sorry Kavinsky sad
Then Kavinsky says that, about not being enough, and Edward lifts his head. He tilts it, then his upper lip curls and he growls, his ears going back and laying flat on his head.
bad Ronan
liar Ronan
Kavinsky good, deserves love
Ro cat monkey dragon better than Ronan
Even in this form, Edward has strong opinions about people being told they're not enough, or that they're lacking. It's something he heard himself, back home, and he knows others here that he cares about immensely have dealt with it too.
if Ronan here, Edward bite
cw: talk of suicide
"He doesn't lie. So he's said." Kavinsky nearly choked on the words. Some part of him knew, though, that Ronan thinking something was true didn't automatically make it true. But fuck if it didn't hurt all the same, knowing Ronan believed what he'd said.
"I've never been good enough for anyone." Not his parents, not most of the population of Henrietta. Not Ronan. "I'm so tired of all of it, and all of them." He sucked in a breath. "I don't think I have anything left, back home. I think I'm going to die there."
He didn't know what to do with that thought immediately, after he'd said it. His throat was too tight to continue, and he needed a moment to pull himself together enough to say anything more without actually choking on the words.
Pushing his sunglasses all the way off, into the scorched grass, he squirmed around onto his side until he could press his tear-damp face into Edward's fur, one arm draped over him. "I wanted to make it stop fucking hurting." And dying had been the only way he'd known how to make it stop. Better a quiet sleep than even one more day with the sharp pain the world kept hurling at him.
no subject
He wishes, for the first time, that he could talk in this form the way Serph can talk when he's a fox. That truly is the best of both worlds.
In the end, Edward decides to stay a wolf for now. He focuses, though, to try and be as articulate as he can when he answers Kavinsky back.
who believe?
lying liar, or Edward?
Edward no lie to Kavinsky
Kavinsky
DESERVE
LOVE
He whines softly and flops two or three wolf legs over Kavinsky in a weird little hug. Then he nuzzles the top of his head and starts licking it, grooming his wild hair back into some semblance of order.
Edward knows
wanting hurt to stop
wanting
quiet
but better things waiting!
good people, good friends
someone to love
if Kavinsky stops
is quiet
never going to find those
just be dead
is hard though
living hard
but better than dead
no subject
Oh, his hair was sure going to be in a state later. But that was a later thing, when he wasn't crying into Edward's fur. "I'm sorry." That Edward knew what it was like to hurt, and to want the hurt to stop. He'd never really been able to talk to anyone about this sort of thing. His friends knew he struggled, but they didn't really know; he held it back from them. They had enough to worry about without him adding to it, and maybe they'd disagree--they probably would--but he couldn't do anything about that now.
"It's too late. I'd already made what's going to kill me. The only way that it doesn't is if Ronan steps up." But Kavinsky didn't know if he would. Or if he could. He might have drained their dream place of its energy, selfishly; he didn't know if there was enough for Ronan to use for anything. The dragon had been a big ask of that place, the embodiment of all the hatred he held, the way he hated himself most of all. There was no way it wouldn't go for him once it found him back in the waking world, back home.
But here? Here he had a chance. There were people who cared about him, people he considered friends. He could live--if he wasn't going to end up just getting sent back where he knew he was going to die, having that inevitability hanging over him. He'd never see Proko again, but that wouldn't change if he went back, either.
He didn't even know what would happen to Proko without him, and he hated that he didn't know, hated that he might be fucking him over. "Whenever I go back, that's all that's waiting for me. And I- I don't know what's going to happen to my best friend. He's the best thing I ever dreamed, and I don't know what'll happen to him without me." Proko deserved to be able to live his own life.
i
With the robotic dinosaurs finally taken care of, more or less, Donnie had finally returned to more habitual flights, his newfound sunlight sensitivity giving him all the more reason to do so as dusk made its approach.
It made the fire-show even more of a curiosity, well away from the streams of lava and gouts of flames that had earlier made up the landscape.
A potential snack? It was hard for him to work out whether it was the thought of fresh blood or the fire itself that made him eager to investigate, both enticing in different ways, not that he'd become very aware of the latter.
He circled as he spied the glow, the tell-tale marks of a fire that had gone out of control. He knew the figure there at its center too, although the last time he'd seen Kavinsky, he certainly hadn't been glowing like that.
Dropping down to land on the scorched earth, Donnie didn't seem the least bit concerned about the residual heat, nor the fact that it seemed like his friend seemed very in control of it.]
Vin..?
[The turtle himself had gone through some recent changes as well, but the metal rexes had not given him an easy time, leaving him caught between forms, a bit of cerberus encroaching on the harpy, leaving black fur here and there, and his right eye seemingly gone, replaced by a violet glow within its hollow socket.
His tail swished about behind him almost anxiously as he watched the flames spread out from beneath Kavinsky's hands, the turtle-harpy-cerberus not bothering to move even as it washed out towards him. In fact, he looked to be pawing at it with a furry, clawed hand, his eyes brightening with their own glow.]
no subject
You-
[He didn't finish that sentence right away, as he looked Donnie over, a quick up and down glance. He didn't seem bothered by the fire, but-]
It's not safe to be so close to me right now.
[Unless Donnie was suddenly immune to fire, which would honestly be a relief. Especially since he already looked a little...rough, and Kavinsky was sure getting burned wouldn't improve things. He didn't want to hurt him, either. As upset as he was, none of it was Donnie's fault and he didn't deserve to get caught up in things and end up as collateral.]
no subject
And then he started moving closer on all fours. It was easier this way than trying to walk with just his legs.]
What happened?
[He tilted his head as he asked. Some overlap from encountering the robo-rexes? Or another monster level-up? It could be anything around here, really.]
no subject
I don't know, but I was home for a bit, I think. Everything fell apart.
[And he felt like an idiot.]
It's all a mess, and I'm pretty sure I helped make it that way. But I- [He shook his head.] I wasn't the one who got shit rolling that way.
[He was the one who'd been used, and rejected, and hurt.]
no subject
But Kavinsky tries to explain, although the mention of home- or rather that he thought he'd gone home briefly, did capture Donnie's attention.]
How- [It was a natural start, because the desire to go home was always there. He'd thought for the longest that it was everyone's, but he was discovering recently that he could not be any more wrong...
While Donnie wasn't the best at catching on to the between-the-lines with people, especially when it came to emotional issues, Kavinsky's current state was clear enough to him that it had not gone well.
He shook his head, the answer still fragmented, but perhaps asking for specifics wasn't necessarily the way to go here. So instead he sat beside the firestarter, well within arm's reach. Clearly not afraid of fire.
These were the sort of problems Donnie wasn't sure how to even go about fixing. He doubted that he could in any case given it sounded like something separated by worlds. But Kavinsky was here again. And he didn't know what to say to any of that. Maybe his brothers would. They were so much better at this sort of thing.
But Donnie could sit and be there. Alone never seemed to really solve anything.]
II
[Levi came to investigate the flames but lingered after he confirmed they weren't something attacking. He's kind of worried about Kavinsky so once the other man seems done he moves closer.]
Are you--
[Are you okay is a bad question]
--i-is there anything I can help with?