opportunitycosts: (• but somehow you always find me)
Alvin ([personal profile] opportunitycosts) wrote2018-04-15 11:10 pm

[ empatheias ] message box

Alvin will have acquired his own little carrier pigeon to send messages, so he'll have one stationed at the main carrier pigeon place that will come and find him.

In the meanwhile, this is the entry for any private messages that are delivered via the carrier pigeon system.

[personal profile] gottacatch 2015-10-26 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Should he?

Red doesn't know, and for a while it has nothing to do with the question itself. They both know what they're talking about, but throw in the words 'killed you' in a way that can't be mistaken and it's too raw and personal. If he doesn't answer, then he doesn't have to....

...he doesn't know. Alvin's not about to forget his own question, and it's not going to magically mean it wasn't asked. Still, there's a fight at the back of his throat between the options of keeping his mouth sealed and just getting this over with. He's already doing the first without any satisfaction, and getting it over can be done with a single word, a few more at most.

Fine. ]


...No. I don't. [ And, in case a why comes, when one shouldn't come at all given by the sharp now in his voice: ] It's not important to me.

[personal profile] gottacatch 2015-10-28 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ No.

No, no no nono
-- ]


Don't- [ It's a plea that sticks to Red's throat, trapped between the sudden spike of adrenaline, alarms going off in his head and the larger intake of air.

He's talking, why is he talking. ]
Alvin--

[personal profile] gottacatch 2015-10-28 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ he



he has to stop it. ]


Shut-- shut up! Shut up, stop it- no!

[ Not interrupted, not without Red's voice rising above his and all attempts at poor façades fall, and a swift kick aimed to one of Alvin's shins when his mind calculates as quick that he's not going to very well reach the man's face in a more satisfactory manner. He's not trained, it could miss, but the attempt is still there before he's screaming at him again, caring no more about anyone nearby or the emotion boiling up yet freezing and melt his own hold over his limbs. ]

I told you! I said no! [ His face is getting hotter, his breathing thicker, suffocating--and when he pulls back his head to with he feet stumbling back, noise stutters and breaks as he inhales.

He trusted him. He trusted him not to-- ]


Why--why? [ They might've not been close, there wasn't reason for him to trust the man; maybe it was his own fault. But it hurts all the same, and why--why was very well in whatever Alvin was saying, what Red already knew. How couldn't he already know from the moment he started asking about working with Ludger, bringing up about his death.

But it's not a why Red's waiting for an answer to, strained and cracked in its delivery, and all the swelling that'd been building in his stomach spills up and out, his sight blurring, his movements as he turns away hard to steer as he walks. Still repeating the question as mumbling just to fill his own ears. He doesn't want to hear why, he doesn't want to hear another word.

He just wants to get away from him, everyone, everything, now, the air thinning around him, the ground softening beneath his feet and his chest heaving. ]