carnagecarnival | We The Lost Mailbox

YOU'RE "PRETTY SURE"
i got my doubts as you even know shit bout your species

I DIDN'T SAY I WAS WALKING AWAY
i said prove you ain't gonna
YOU HAVE SQUIRMED ON OUT ANY CHANCE YOU GET
coming back without putting down the bets
CLAIMING WHAT YOU COULD AND GIVING LITTLE AS POSSIBLE TO BE OF YOU
you want my passing you a tooth to show you got something of me?
YOU BEST BET I'M MAKING YOU COMMIT, BITCH

grow your hair down to your ass for as long as you're kicking it
FIND SOMETHING YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT AND PASS IT UP AS LEVERAGE
i don't care
BUT THEM'S THE TERMS OF TRADE

you know where i live, shitclown

eat me
YOU'RE THE ONE WHAT GOT WANTING FOR TOOTH FIRST
you can bring exchange at to me
I AIN'T GOING TO GET A THING AS I AIN'T EVEN KNOW FOR
you can come the fuck to me for goddamn once
OTHERWISE YOU'LL NEED WAITING A LONG ASS WHILE
just got back to my hive and frankly?
I AIN'T FEELING MUCH PRESSED TO LEAVE AS YET
ain't that just some tough shit for you
AFTER ALL THAT WORK TRYING TO TRACE YOUR OWN HAND

[Shepard shows up, alright. She shows up in her BDU, clothing provided by Zephyr, or home, or her own memories of home, the latter seen through the lens of the former. It's nothing like what she's ever worn in his presence before, and with the helmet cradled under her arm, the picture she presents is... very official.

Confident, in a way Shepard could never be except in the trappings of her own people.]

Hey! You want your fucking collateral or not?

[Her options had been to shout obnoxiously, or to simply knock. Other people might say to choose wisely, but Shepard simply decides.]

Goddammit, it's the middle of the motherfucking day, you bitch!

[He's shouting through the walls of his hive before he's even out, making a fuss about the hour, even though of course he's already up, having another venture with sleeplessness.

He rips the door open with a force he really shouldn't be applying, considering he's already put a crack down the top of it once. But his eyes haven't even turned a shade, save for a slightly unhinged orange-gold tint that was there already.]

What?

[He doesn't open the door for her. He stands there, with one hand braced on the frame and the other hidden inside.]

[She's not impressed, and certainly not by this display. Kurloz had, to her knowledge, been operating on a diurnal schedule for a long time-- maybe it wasn't his preference, but it wasn't as if he had suffered all that much by it, all things considered. There was so much more to complain.

She took him in, a long, hard look. He really had grown.

He had healed.

Two years, he had shot up and past, had assumed his own identity, his own name, his own people. He'd regrown his horns and broken bones, paved over and sealed so many of the potholes left in his mind that he could stand up straight and speak without a warble and-- and... And. And Shepard would be lying if she said she didn't find it attractive. More than before, to be sure; you took what you could get, in a cage. This might still be a cage, but it was a lot closer to freedom than anything that had come before. Just having the option not to, made the desire run stronger in the contrary direction.]

Here. [Despite the tender sentiment, and the unspoken threat in the hand he's hidden behind the door, Shepard's tone is hard, annoyed, unimpressed. She pushes the helmet into his chest, though not as hard as she could have.] I'm coming back for that. But if it's not in exactly the shape it's in, when I do... you're sure as hell not getting anything more from me.

[Hardware can be replaced, though not without difficulty. Can he replace her so easily? Can she? Nothing but time to tell, and Shepard was newer to this, this long-term promise, than even he was. But she's trying.]

[ This wasn't an impressing quadrant they got up in. This was a quadrant of petty annoyances and fantastical piss-offs. She's doing great on the annoyance bit as she stands there doing nothing more but gawking him. It's not entirely off for black flirting, but it ain't her style, and really, it ain't his neither.

Then she's thrusting her helmet at him, and he's forced to let go of the doorframe to grasp it. His brows go up. ]

Your Helmet... and this is being part of your bargain?

[While he suspects as much, the part of him what doubts in all is incredulous she's offering anything, and the others bit just want to make her spell out what it is for true, or at least see her squirm.

He doesn't show his other hand.]

[She levels a particularly unimpressed look at him. What the hell else would it be, clown?]

First time I died, that helmet was the only thing left intact. That was before Panem.

[It's not really an answer, but at the same time it's more of an answer than he asked for. The message should be clear; this is important. More than just having a helmet, that was important.]

Takes time to get the real trade. Unless you don't think that's collateral enough? Take it or leave it, it's all I got.

[A non-answer that reveals is more than what he usually gets from her.

In that instant he learns she died before all this-- that made two of them-- and that this was that last real piece what got left of her. This is her motherfucking Beforus. He can see his own reflection in the red and silver shine of it. He looks back to her, blazing through her broken skin. His chin lifts.]

... It'll up and do.

[Time. She was offering time. That was all he wanted.

He shifts to let his other hand show from behind the door. In his hand, dangles a thread, and on it the single fang she held a want for, already strung upon it. He's left some indigo on it.]

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