karkat vantrash (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crab) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-03-11 07:12 pm
crab) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-03-11 07:12 pm
Entry tags:
you were always weird but i never had to hold you by the edges like i do now
WHO: karkat and ruka.
WHERE: heropa; some rooftop.
WHEN: march 10.
WHAT: ruka finally goes nuclear, karkat struggles to contain the fallout.
WARNINGS: tears, talk of suicide.
Living with Ruka had always brought with it a certain sense like that of waiting for a bomb to go off. He'd been almost certain no one else knew about the potential danger she could pose, if she lost control again. On top of that, he'd been sworn to secrecy on the matter. It made it difficult not to feel responsible for her, in the event of a repeat of Venezuela. When she'd gotten sick (they'd been sick last time), he'd been so sure that this would be it, that it would be the final push to topple her over that precipice.
Then Eridan had to get Ported out, ever a master of timing. She didn't seem to entirely comprehend it, the line between reality and hallucination had been so blurred, and in her state, Karkat had done nothing to try and convince her of the truth. After she was cured, he'd tell her, not before. He hadn't considered what might happen if she put two and two together before he could. Coming home to her wide-open bedroom door and finding what looked like the remains of a small hurricane and a distinct lack of Ruka were enough to instill a deep, cold sense of dread, for what it could mean.
He'd spent how many months waiting for this bomb to go off, to contain the blast, prevent it from damaging her or those around her, and he'd managed to miss it? The front door had been left hanging open, too-- she must have left in a hurry. Without her fancy sports car, though, at least he supposes she must still be in the same state.
He doesn't even pause to pull on a jacket, when he dashes back outside.
WHERE: heropa; some rooftop.
WHEN: march 10.
WHAT: ruka finally goes nuclear, karkat struggles to contain the fallout.
WARNINGS: tears, talk of suicide.
Living with Ruka had always brought with it a certain sense like that of waiting for a bomb to go off. He'd been almost certain no one else knew about the potential danger she could pose, if she lost control again. On top of that, he'd been sworn to secrecy on the matter. It made it difficult not to feel responsible for her, in the event of a repeat of Venezuela. When she'd gotten sick (they'd been sick last time), he'd been so sure that this would be it, that it would be the final push to topple her over that precipice.
Then Eridan had to get Ported out, ever a master of timing. She didn't seem to entirely comprehend it, the line between reality and hallucination had been so blurred, and in her state, Karkat had done nothing to try and convince her of the truth. After she was cured, he'd tell her, not before. He hadn't considered what might happen if she put two and two together before he could. Coming home to her wide-open bedroom door and finding what looked like the remains of a small hurricane and a distinct lack of Ruka were enough to instill a deep, cold sense of dread, for what it could mean.
He'd spent how many months waiting for this bomb to go off, to contain the blast, prevent it from damaging her or those around her, and he'd managed to miss it? The front door had been left hanging open, too-- she must have left in a hurry. Without her fancy sports car, though, at least he supposes she must still be in the same state.
He doesn't even pause to pull on a jacket, when he dashes back outside.
no subject
His chest isn't as broad as she's used to, for such vulnerable crying... but she's not a child anymore, either, so much smaller than everyone she lost. She doesn't make noise beyond the gasps for air, shuddering inhales and draining exhales.
The ones who don't remember her are better off not knowing her; the ones who have departed are better off forgetting her entirely. Caring, being cared for, they're shackles so heavily weighted where she's concerned. Ball and chain, iron and steel. Affection doesn't change that. Even so, the strength of her grip, the tightness with which she holds onto Karkat, it isn't just for some steady place to cry, mourn and grieve--the stain of terror accompanies.
He's all she has left, and she knows he'll leave, too. It's just a matter of when.
no subject
The terror doesn't pass him by, and it's not rocket science to imagine the cause. Don't make this about us... she was more on point there than he'd realized. Because there isn't any guarantee "they" would remain a thing for any significant period of time. He could disappear in the next half an hour, or she could, and if everything is about them...
If she relies on him the way she'd relied on Eridan, the way he'd been so jealous of, who will help her then? It shouldn't be about them. She shouldn't rely on "them."
It should be about her.