[the Captain's fist curls around something that not even the Faceless Ones could reach, and he is reminded again of just how fragile he really is. his hands curl, fingers digging uncaringly into the skin beneath them, his teeth gritted against the tremulous noise that rises from his nonexistent throat as every dead nerve sings. for just a second, he feels as alive as any heathen trapped on a pyre, before the sensation splits his consciousness at the seams, his thoughts wiped clear from his mind.
he doesn't fall apart physically. but there's a shift in his posture, a lack of care in the way he slumps against the Captain's chest, unable and unwilling to move away from the fist that's already reigniting the embers of whatever the hell that all was.]
no subject
he doesn't fall apart physically. but there's a shift in his posture, a lack of care in the way he slumps against the Captain's chest, unable and unwilling to move away from the fist that's already reigniting the embers of whatever the hell that all was.]