[Open] Set me on firе just to watch me

[burnyoudown]

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: Mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, drugs, alcohol, murder, and abuse 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.]

Comments

I. Up In Flames

[bufudine]

Serph is drawn by the flash of fire. He's familiar with the monsters that use fire in this area -- Baphomet, winged goats wielding magic -- so perhaps there's one nearby that he can hunt.

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?"

[burnyoudown]

He was pretty sure he recognized that voice, before he looked over, and he didn't know if that was better or worse. On the one hand, Serph was definitely someone Kavinsky didn't want to light on fire. On the other hand, he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't happen, accidentally. Then, if he'd had a third hand, there was the quiet thought in the back of his mind, the 'what if' that wondered if he should just let go of his very strained control, just let the fire do what it wanted and see what happened. It would be bad, he knew that much.

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.

[bufudine]

He listens silently, not reacting to the emotion, as still as a rock.

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."

[burnyoudown]

"I-" The words clogged in his throat before he got farther than that, and he shifted from crouching to sitting, a graceless movement. "Thanks." Sometimes, the best thing to cut through a tangle of emotions was something unexpected. The flames dulled in his hands, and he was able to take a breath.

"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."

[bufudine]

The fires of betrayal burn fiercely within Kavinsky. That much, Serph can see. He might know the exact context -- nor does he fully grasp the idea of wanting, even though sometimes he's seen that same hunger -- but the smouldering pain is as obvious as the flames flickering around Kavinsky.

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.

[propatriamori]

The wild flames had certainly caught something's attention.

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?

[burnyoudown]

Oh. That sure was a wolf. With a whole lotta legs. And- Kavinsky lifted a hand, half-reflex, half...he wasn't sure. But the wolf only rested his head on him, and Kavinsky slowly lowered his hand to rest on the fur at- he was pretty sure that was the back of the neck. He was also pretty sure there was a specific name for that spot on wolves, but he couldn't muster the energy to try and remember right now. So he just rested his hand there, fingers pushing gently into Edward's fur.

"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.

[propatriamori]

Edward remembers being upset himself, and Serph in his fox form, patiently letting Edward pet his tails and his head. He's extending the same to Kavinsky, knowing how comforting a warm, furry body under your hand can be.

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

[burnyoudown]

He didn't mind being licked, even if it tickled a bit, and petted his fingers through Edward's fur. He didn't have the words at the moment to articulate how much that meant to him, what Edward said, but it meant a hell of a lot, and he was going to hold onto the feeling.

"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."

[propatriamori]

Again, many of the details in that explanation are lost on Edward, in this form. It would have been difficult in parts even if he was in his human body; too many characters all at once, too many relationships unexplained. But the emotions associated with all of this come through loud and clear, and he whines softly as he hoists himself up to lick Kavinsky's face.

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

i

[purplexing]

[He'd been drawn to the fire like a giant moth.

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.]

[burnyoudown]

[Donnie's sudden arrival startled Kavinsky, and the flames flickered wildly for a moment, leaping and leaning in his direction.]

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.]

[purplexing]

[The response of the flames was only briefly startling as Donnie didn't seem worried enough about getting burned to move.

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.]

[burnyoudown]

[Well, if Donnie wasn't worried, Kavinsky was going to assume there was something he didn't know going on, and not worry about the smaller flames. He'd try not to do anything he'd regret still, though. He had enough going on without adding something like 'burning a friend' to the list.]

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.]

[purplexing]

[It hadn't occurred to Donnie to outright state his newfound fireproof...ness, but then he was preoccupied by the fire as it was. Was it bad that part of him was hoping for another explosion of flames? He couldn't really explain himself.

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

[solitarysoul]

No. I won't eat you.

[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?

[burnyoudown]

Damn.

[Did he sound disappointed about that? Maybe. Or maybe that was just how he sounded right now, disappointed in general.]

I dunno man. Maybe? I'm feeling a little more talkative than I was before.

[Before had been a lot of anger and flames. And now in the absence of that anger, he felt...scorched, hollowed out.]

A lotta shit's happened.

[solitarysoul]

I-I'm not good at talking but I can listen i-if you want.

[Levi thinks he knows that feeling, though.]

...yeah. Sometimes its good to get it out or something.

[burnyoudown]

It's alright man. I'm not gonna judge you on your communication skills.

[He really wasn't. And he already had the impression that Levi was sort of...nervous, or something like that, and Kavinsky knew how that felt, too.]

You're way better at talking than fucking Lynch, anyway.

[Wait, that didn't quite- whatever.]

Haven't seen you ghost anyone, or use people. That's just Lynch. [He took a breath.] He's a guy. Back home. Who I thought would get me.

[solitarysoul]

[He doesn't really know what ghosting someone is, but he tries not to use people. Not since...well, they were all being used in the army anyway.]

Oh. I'm sorry. Sometimes its, um, its hard to tell if someone is just being nice or actually likes you.

[Its hard for him since his brain constantly tells him 'they hate you' but whatever.]

II. I know I'm late, but room for one more?

[thegoodslayer]

[She wasn't sure what she'd expected when she saw the fire in the distance- but the possibility that it was somebody in need of help was too high to ignore. She had no idea how long it had been going, no idea if anybody was still there, but she still raced over.

Once she arrived, however, all she saw was the aftermath. It had already died down- perhaps she'd noticed it too late. She didn't see any sign of anybody. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was somebody who'd already moved on.

Ooor, maybe it was the figure lying on the ground in front of her, on the ground, where she hadn't even seen him- it was the sad sniffling noise that first drew her attention, she'd missed him entirely.

...Hold on, she recognized that guy. She approaches cautiously, if only because he sounded like he'd been having a moment and she wasn't sure if she should intrude. Maybe she should just leave him alone. He's probably not injured, right?

And then he talks. Well, too late now, she can't just walk off and pretend she'd never noticed him. Alright. She can deal. She can, uh, she can be emotional support gal.

Maybe.]

Nah, cuttin' way back on liver. I hear it's wicked bad for cholesterol.

[She doesn't look directly at him- she's still, for all she's able to do so, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed the state of him.]

No worries! And always!

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky didn't particularly care who saw him like this right now. He couldn't be bothered to find the energy to care, and besides, it wasn't like things were back home, when one drop of blood in the water, a hint of weakness, would have the sharks circling. He didn't have a reputation here, or anything to prove. The freedom to be a fucking mess and have it not matter who saw was...a weight off of him that he hadn't realized had always been two steps away from dragging him all the way down.]

Yeah, that's fair. Mine's probably shot anyway. All the drinking.

[It was something like an attempt at a joke, but he sounded exhausted, and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.]

Who knows what that'd do to the t- oh fuck it.

[He sighed, almost like he was physically deflating, and scrubbed both hands over his face, fingers pushing under his sunglasses like there was any chance of getting rid of all the salt crusted in his lashes and around the corners of his eyes just yet.]

Guess you saw the fire, huh?

[thegoodslayer]

Thought maybe somebody was in trouble.

[She's still pointedly pretending not to notice the remaining signs of emotional distress.]

Looks like you're five-by-five now, though. You smoke?

[No judgment here. Though it only occurs to her after she said it that the question might sound like a joke about the whole fire thing.

She pointedly pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, taps it against her palm, and begins extracting one for herself. Real question, no mockery intended, honest.]

[burnyoudown]

[He made a sound that could have been a laugh.]

Oh no, someone's absolutely in trouble. What's 911 around here?

[Poor attempts at joking aside--his, not hers, because honestly he hardly even made the connection right now, which was just further proof of how well he wasn't--he pushed himself up on one elbow, head tipping in her direction.]

God, do I. Haven't since I've been here, but not by choice.

[Mostly because he'd been dividing what dream energy there was here on more 'important' things, when he wasn't dreaming Braille books and Ronan's leather bracelets and cucco capes and his absolutely-not-a-magical-battery dreamthing.

He didn't make any further move to get up, just held out a hand. At least his sunglasses hid how red and puffy his eyes were, and most of the splotches on his face from crying.]

Don't even need a lighter, I got that part covered.

[thegoodslayer]

[She tips out another cigarette and hands it to him.]

Crap flavor, sorry. Nothin' but flavored smokes since I got here.

[She actually forgets which one she's on now, it's a new pack so she checks- Orange mint. Gross. God, this place is hell.]

Tell you what, light mine too, we'll call it even.

[Every light counts when you have to scavenge for lighter fluid, after all.]