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Entry tags:
after
TW: self-harm, thought of suicide
Leo was pacing. He'd been pacing for a while; it felt like a while, to an endless mental parade of whys and what ifs, of trying not to remember the past while forcing himself to think of it.
Through all of it kept cycling the same thought; Where is Zita? But he knew where she was: Zita was gone, off being her own person. He'd thought, at the time, it would be okay. (He used to think that a lot. He thought he did.) They had been spending more and more time travelling separately; she'd been okay. He'd been okay. He'd thought he'd been okay, and would keep being okay, and everything would be... but it wasn't.
It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay. It wasn't--
A searing stab of pain raced up Leo's arm. Breathing hard, he stared down at his hand, clenched into a fist against the stone of the wall, at the blood trickling slowly down his skin. It hurt; he welcomed the pain, focusing on it, on each inhale and exhale. The mass of confusion, anxiety and despair that had been hounding him for what felt like forever slowly faded, sliding back into the corners of his mind, away for at least a little while.
He would be okay.
He straightened up, pulling his hand away from the wall and gingerly trying to uncurl his fingers. Another stab of pain tore up his arm, making him grimace; his hand was definitely broken. Nothing too difficult to fix... eventually. It could wait. He gently ran his uninjured fingers over the bloodstain on the wall, then with a quiet Working it vanished into a puff of nothing. Cya had given him this house; he didn't want to mess it up.
He would be okay, dammit. He couldn't let everyone down, not after surviving for this long.
* * * * *
Leo sat on the roof, his right hand loosely wrapped in bloodied bandages, watching the sky gradually lighten and turn pink at the edge. He hadn't slept - he'd tried, at first, but whenever he managed to doze off through the pain of his hand, the dreams would wake him up. They weren't entirely new, or at least felt familiar, but familiar nightmares were no less horrible than unfamiliar ones.
After three such awakenings, he'd given up entirely. Getting up onto the roof proved a challenge with a broken hand, but it was a challenge that kept him occupied until nearly sunrise. And now, he sat, looking out over Cya's city as the stars faded into the lightening sky.
His attention kept being drawn back to the tower, rising out of the center. The rays of the sun - not yet visible from his viewpoint - were already striking the top of the tower, glittering off the twisting glass. Boom's tower. She'd asked them all to help build it - which he had, he thought. Possibly. He remembered helping, but it was impossible for him to tell which memories resembled actual events and which were just...
He curled the fingers of his hand tighter, the pain cutting through the thought before it could spiral him back to the mess he'd been earlier. It was a very tall tower. He watched the sunlight slowly creep down the surface, lighting more and more of it as the sun worked its way towards the horizon.
It was a very tall tower, he thought again; a skyscraper, the likes of which he hadn't seen built in... since the war, at the very least. Leo wondered how far you could climb up inside of it; he wondered, in an absent sort of way, if a fall from that height would be enough to kill, say, an Ellehemaei with no special physical toughness.
He watched the sunlight creep down, counting the time for it to move one thumb width, calculated from that the height of the tower, then calculated the force from an object roughly the weight of an adult man (he rounded his own weight for the value) and considered whether that would be enough to make a Jasfe Working ineffective.
It was a pointless exercise, though. It would look awful for Cya's city if someone killed themselves by jumping off of its iconic tower this early in its existence; she would have to deal with the clean-up, too. His crew would be angry at him, too. And Zita--
Zita isn't around. His jaw tightened reflexively. She left you behind.
It was good, he told himself forcefully. It was a good thing. Besides, who would want to be dragged around forever by a madman? She had every reason to want to get away.
A faint memory - the memory of a feeling, whispering of words - drifted into his consciousness. If you go insane, I'll go with you.
Leo laughed, a bitter sound halfway to a sob, and put his head on his knees, ignoring the warm rays of sunlight as they brushed across the roof of the house Cya had given him.
At least he kept his promises.
Leo was pacing. He'd been pacing for a while; it felt like a while, to an endless mental parade of whys and what ifs, of trying not to remember the past while forcing himself to think of it.
Through all of it kept cycling the same thought; Where is Zita? But he knew where she was: Zita was gone, off being her own person. He'd thought, at the time, it would be okay. (He used to think that a lot. He thought he did.) They had been spending more and more time travelling separately; she'd been okay. He'd been okay. He'd thought he'd been okay, and would keep being okay, and everything would be... but it wasn't.
It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay. It wasn't--
A searing stab of pain raced up Leo's arm. Breathing hard, he stared down at his hand, clenched into a fist against the stone of the wall, at the blood trickling slowly down his skin. It hurt; he welcomed the pain, focusing on it, on each inhale and exhale. The mass of confusion, anxiety and despair that had been hounding him for what felt like forever slowly faded, sliding back into the corners of his mind, away for at least a little while.
He would be okay.
He straightened up, pulling his hand away from the wall and gingerly trying to uncurl his fingers. Another stab of pain tore up his arm, making him grimace; his hand was definitely broken. Nothing too difficult to fix... eventually. It could wait. He gently ran his uninjured fingers over the bloodstain on the wall, then with a quiet Working it vanished into a puff of nothing. Cya had given him this house; he didn't want to mess it up.
He would be okay, dammit. He couldn't let everyone down, not after surviving for this long.
* * * * *
Leo sat on the roof, his right hand loosely wrapped in bloodied bandages, watching the sky gradually lighten and turn pink at the edge. He hadn't slept - he'd tried, at first, but whenever he managed to doze off through the pain of his hand, the dreams would wake him up. They weren't entirely new, or at least felt familiar, but familiar nightmares were no less horrible than unfamiliar ones.
After three such awakenings, he'd given up entirely. Getting up onto the roof proved a challenge with a broken hand, but it was a challenge that kept him occupied until nearly sunrise. And now, he sat, looking out over Cya's city as the stars faded into the lightening sky.
His attention kept being drawn back to the tower, rising out of the center. The rays of the sun - not yet visible from his viewpoint - were already striking the top of the tower, glittering off the twisting glass. Boom's tower. She'd asked them all to help build it - which he had, he thought. Possibly. He remembered helping, but it was impossible for him to tell which memories resembled actual events and which were just...
He curled the fingers of his hand tighter, the pain cutting through the thought before it could spiral him back to the mess he'd been earlier. It was a very tall tower. He watched the sunlight slowly creep down the surface, lighting more and more of it as the sun worked its way towards the horizon.
It was a very tall tower, he thought again; a skyscraper, the likes of which he hadn't seen built in... since the war, at the very least. Leo wondered how far you could climb up inside of it; he wondered, in an absent sort of way, if a fall from that height would be enough to kill, say, an Ellehemaei with no special physical toughness.
He watched the sunlight creep down, counting the time for it to move one thumb width, calculated from that the height of the tower, then calculated the force from an object roughly the weight of an adult man (he rounded his own weight for the value) and considered whether that would be enough to make a Jasfe Working ineffective.
It was a pointless exercise, though. It would look awful for Cya's city if someone killed themselves by jumping off of its iconic tower this early in its existence; she would have to deal with the clean-up, too. His crew would be angry at him, too. And Zita--
Zita isn't around. His jaw tightened reflexively. She left you behind.
It was good, he told himself forcefully. It was a good thing. Besides, who would want to be dragged around forever by a madman? She had every reason to want to get away.
A faint memory - the memory of a feeling, whispering of words - drifted into his consciousness. If you go insane, I'll go with you.
Leo laughed, a bitter sound halfway to a sob, and put his head on his knees, ignoring the warm rays of sunlight as they brushed across the roof of the house Cya had given him.
At least he kept his promises.