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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2020 19:30:56 GMT
A fond smile curled at his lips when he looked at Rhys, heart doing another flip at the matching expression on his lover's face. Ezra started to say something, pausing instead when movement caught his eye. He looked over the older man's broad shoulder instinctively to see Wagner exiting the building with what he assumed was an associate.
The hand that caught his cheek pulled his attention from the two other men, and he refocused on Rhys, mumbling an affirmative at the instruction given. Meeting his gaze, he found an unfamiliar emotion coalescing there. His chest seized with concern, and for a moment things seemed to slow to a crawl. Wagner out of the corner of his eye gesturing, and the unfamiliar, polarizing smell that followed.
Putting his sharp reflexes to good use for once, like lightning Ezra reached out and clung to Rhys like a lifeline. The force of the embrace moved them forward a step, and when he looked up their surroundings were altogether unfamiliar. Distantly he could hear the distinct sound of metal scraping metal, and something that sounded like heavy machinery.
Fingers curled into the front of Rhys' jacket, he looked around in surprise at the circle of people that surrounded them. Belatedly, he noticed Wagner and his friend. Releasing Rhys' jacket, Ezra stretched out his arm in their direction with little thought. Harnessing and manifesting the willpower and energy within him, he turned the flat of his palm to them and let loose a burst of force.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Aug 11, 2020 19:35:39 GMT
Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2020 19:35:39 GMT
Quick as thought, Rhysand's radar sprawled out over the interior of the large room, painting every edge in his mind, but especially homing in on the ring of people surrounding them. No guns, that he could sense immediately. Maybe that meant things weren't as bas as they seemed?
Rhys saw Wagner and the super materialize and assessed. Fighting - he counted - seven men, one of them superhuman, weren't great odds. Besides. Other than being whisked without their consent from point A to B nothing bad had happened... Yet.
Maybe they just wanted to talk? Maybe Ezra could talk them out of the corner they'd been transported into?
He felt his lovers's heart change tempo, by now able to detect the nuanced differences between the different rhythms. In this case? From alarm to determination. Rhysand scowled, knowing before Ezra even thrust out with one open palm that any possible peaceful solution had just took been f**ked.
Force exploded from Ezra's fingertips, catching Wagner and the teleporter off-guard and throwing them back through the air. Rhysand growled in frustration and intercepted the nearest person who was throwing a punch. From there, it dissolved into chaos; Rhys and Ezra covering each other's backs and dealing with their unexpected opponents.
Any time one reached for a concealed weapon, Rhys brutally prioritized them. One-by-one firearms were unloaded and thrown far out of reach by him. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Aug 12, 2020 20:47:52 GMT
Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2020 20:47:52 GMT
Distantly he was aware of Rhys disarming a few of the others with ruthless efficiency. In the meantime, he did his best to distract or otherwise redirect any attacks. Rather than think, he simply reacted. Every telegraphed blow and approach from one of the workers picked it's way through his synapses and nerves like lightning, eliciting a rush of adrenaline, and an attempt to counter from Ezra.
With a good portion of their attackers dealt with, he scanned their surroundings, just in time to catch the shift in energy and tang of ozone. Whirling on Wagner and his associate, he came face to face with the super, just in time to feel a kick glance off his rib cage. Ezra gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply before drawing up the reserves of his power once more.
Trading blows with the other super, he extended his hand forward once more to throw a blooming wave of force at the man. The hand on his wrist caught him off guard, and all at once he was wrestled to the floor in a choke hold. Coughing and sputtering, he let out a low growl, fingers curled, nails scrabbling to find a release from the hold.
Dragging the blunts of his nails against his attacker's arm, he settled on his least favorite option. Pouring his energy into his palms, he tried to take a ragged, choked breath. A few beats later, the panicked screams started, and with them came a smell he was unfortunate enough to be familiar with. The hold on his throat was gone quick as it came. With a labored breath, he looked around to find Rhys, only to hear the tell-tale sound of bones breaking from beside him.
It was at that point he realized the whole of the workers had been neutralized, leaving just Wagner- wherever he'd hid himself, the super, Rhys, and his own wheezing self. Struggling to his feet, he grumbled, brushing the dirt and sawdust off his clothes.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Aug 24, 2020 16:40:02 GMT
Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2020 16:40:02 GMT
It didn't matter what he'd been planning on doing next. Nothing mattered, as soon as his radar painted a figure behind him pinning Ezra to the ground by the throat. Any rational thought was dropped from his mind, and Rhysand was a ball of energy and ruthless wrath.
By the time he'd closed the distance, the worker strangling Ezra was screaming, loosing his hold. Too little, too late. Rhys yanked the man bodily off of his lover, broke one of his arms with a decisive twist - changing the pitch and volume of his screaming - then silenced him altogether by throwing him so hard at the floor that his temple connected with it, knocking him instantly unconscious.
Ezra was standing up, and much as Rhysand wanted to help, his eyes were stuck to the super. The teleporter was sizing them up, and Rhys could see the fight-or-flight gears turning in his head. The entire time, Rhysand had kept stock of Wagner, his radar making any attempt to hide laughable for the man. Just then, Wagner tried to make a break for it, but tripped over his own feet and faceplanted.
The super looked toward the sound, eyes wide. Rhysand launched forward, moving with inhuman speed and, therefore, much quicker than the super could have anticipated. In his lunge, Rhys drew back a fist and followed through with a brutal haymaker that connected to the super's face, knocking him out cold, too.
Rhys didn't spare a moment, kicking off the ground to change direction. He intercepted a recovered and running Wagner halfway to the open loading door at a terrifying sprint. Rhysand tackled him to the ground, ignoring his cursing and pleading. He hauled him by the collar onto his feet, dragged him to a nearby forklift still holding its cargo at eye-height. Lifting Wagner, Rhys hooked the back of his coat on one of the tines of the fork, leaving him to dangle a few feet off the ground.
Rhysand reached over, then, and yanked the controls of the machine so that it rose to full elevation, suspending Wagner so far off the ground that he stopped struggling for fear of the fall. Rhys scrubbed blood beading in the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand. He found Ezra, walking around a crate that his lover was facing. "You okay-?" he started to ask.
Then he came up short. Ezra had opened one of the containers in the warehouse, and inside, the contents were damning. Rhysand blinked at the treasure trove of illegal, hi-tech objects and weaponry staring back at him and his lover. Police sirens pricked his ears, quickly gaining in volume.
"We have to go. Now," Rhysand growled, grabbing Ezra's distracted shoulder and pulling him around. Shoving the other man ahead of him, the couple made a B-line for the open loading door and the narrow gap between it and the semi trailer backed up to it that meant freedom. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Aug 26, 2020 16:45:18 GMT
Post by Deleted on Aug 26, 2020 16:45:18 GMT
Chest rising and falling with labored breaths, Ezra took a step forward to deal with the other super, only to watch Rhys pacify the man with ruthless efficiency that made his throat go strangely dry in a way that would have been wholly distracting had he not caught a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye.
Stepping towards one of the crates, he kept mental tabs on Rhys and Wagner in the event that he needed to intervene, and got to work opening one of the containers. Pushing his sleeves down to cover his hands, he wrenched the door of the shipping container open. Almost immediately he felt icy cold dread grip him, staring at the contents before him. High tech weapons, very obviously illegal and unregulated by the looks of them.
Taking out his phone, he snapped a few pictures. He opened his mouth to assure his lover he was alright, only to pause a moment later upon hearing the sirens in the distance. With a curse, he scrambled after Rhysand, squeezing through the narrow opening with little trouble.
The trip back to the apartment was distinctly quiet. It reminded him of his misadventure at the old shoe warehouse and the similarly silent journey that had followed it. The dread he'd felt grip him upon seeing the contents of the container hadn't dissipated, instead metamorphosing into apprehension and irrational worries.
His normally dexterous thin fingers fumbled unlocking the door, and on the other side he heard Jonah give a soft 'wuff'. After a beat he finally managed it, letting it swing open before stepping through as the shepherd came to greet them, tail wagging furiously. With a deflated greeting, he hung up his jacket, before letting his gaze settle hesitantly on his lover and the irritation radiating off of him.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Nov 9, 2020 16:28:43 GMT
Before Ezra Mournspire had slouched into his life, Rhysand had been completely unfamiliar with feeling indecision. His opinions, thoughts and emotions were always very straightforward, and he was straightforward with them. But Ezra had fundamentally changed everything about Rhys's world, and that damn well included how simple his judgment was.
The entire way back to the apartment, Rhysand's mind surged and twisted with more emotions than coherent concepts - which, in itself, was foreign to him. Nothing coherent had emerged, even when Ezra opened the door to their home and Jonah happily greeted them.
Rhys ignored the room, jacket still on, appearance still disheveled and blood dried on his brow, knuckles and lower lip. Through the chaos in his skull, Rhysand was still hyper-aware of Ezra, and knew his lover was keeping a cautious, anxious eye on him. Rhys stopped in front of the windows of the main room of the apartment, staring through the panes without seeing.
"That was a mistake," Rhysand heard his voice growl out, sounding more fierce and like his old, lonely self than he'd seemed in weeks. He forced himself to glare over his shoulder at Ezra. "Bringing you was a mistake." Looking at him, Rhysand could see the faint pinkish welts on Ezra's beautiful throat from being strangled.
He wanted to hold the other man, but the anger that fired through him that someone had dared touch Ezra - and that Rhys hadn't been able to prevent or stop it from happening - made breathing hard, let alone moving. "Never again." | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Nov 9, 2020 17:49:34 GMT
There was a palpable tension radiating from his lover, and it permeated the air between them. Simultaneously he felt a frigid chill crawl up his spine and a burst of scalding, angry heart blister his skin even before the words left Rhys' lips.
As dense as Ezra could be at times, the familiar, cold, grumbling tone of voice didn't escape his notice. Turning on his heel fully away from the coat rack, he faced his lover, feeling a rush of desperation and anger.
Thoughts racing, he tried to form some kind of response. Words failed him, and instead he moved forward, freezing in place under the distinctly heated glare leveled at him. Unconsciously, his thin fingers went to his throat, skating over the pinkish-red marks. Ezra's brow furrowed, knitting together and twisting his expression defensively.
"I- I mean it didn't go totally to plan, but, I didn't think it went that badly." He countered, "It's not like we knew there was going to be another bloke with fancy powers there."
Ezra took another stalled step forward, gesturing towards himself as he continued. "I can handle it, I promise. I melted half of that poor sod's arm and came out the other side okay." With another step, he moved into arms reach, passing his thumb gently over his lover's cheek.
"You can't control everything, Rhysand."
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Nov 16, 2020 16:44:21 GMT
Post by Deleted on Nov 16, 2020 16:44:21 GMT
Ezra was never less than argumentative. Rhysand knew that. Knew that his judgment call, just given, wouldn't be taken easily. That there would be a fight. He was prepared for it. But the fact that Ezra paused, and his fingers darted, compulsively, to his throat and the welts there, twisted a knife in Rhys's chest.
Not only at the reminder of the injury, but that Ezra knew that's where Rhysand's pain was snagged. That he knew, and was going to argue anyway. Ezra plead with him, voice light, insulating logic with gentleness, taking steps to carefully close the distance.
He stopped, right in front of Rhysand, and his long thumb traced over his bearded cheek. Rhys's eyes had been glaring stubbornly and petulant until that moment. The little point of pragmatism that Ezra dropped into his side of the debate, though, stoked a flash fire in Rhysand. He may have even been about to fold, weak as ever for Ezra's touch and attention.
"That's just it," he murmured. Rhysand's glare found Ezra's eyes again. He grasped the other man's wrist, took a moment to close his lids and savor the contact, then dropped Ezra's hand away from him. Stepping away, Rhysand fiercely cast off his jacket, moving to the kitchen. "I can control this. You're not coming anymore," and his voice was more jagged and raw than he intended, his true desperation peeking through.
Guilt tangled in him, because Ezra didn't deserve that tone - that glare. But his fear burned brighter for Ezra's safety, and the terror at the thought of him getting hurt again. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2020 1:31:15 GMT
His throat tightened, brow wrinkling with a mixture of worry and his own ironclad stubbornness. Words stalled, and he choked down the sharp splinter of hurt that pierced him as his hand fell to his side once more. The rarely used voice of reason within him assuaged the reaction. Ezra didn't need much coaxing logically to understand that Rhys was afraid for him. He was all too familiar with the feeling.
Not content to back down, Ezra met the sharp look leveled at him with a glare of his own. Following close behind Rhys, he caught the older man's shoulder gently, contrasting with his still pinched expression. "That's a load of shite." His voice came finally, his tone as steady and serious as he was capable of.
"You think you can control it. But let's say I go and work at ARF. I'll be in just as much danger, if not more because I'll be on my own. Lab accidents, not to mention the bombings that've been going on around the city." Ezra argued, fingers curled into the fabric of his lover's shirt.
"That's not even mentioning the smaller everyday hazards. Car accidents, come to mind. Hell, you've seen the toaster I brought- I look at that thing the wrong way and I could get electrocuted." His voice cut out towards the end, rippling with emotion he'd been trying to hide. Ezra hadn't even begun to explain how nervous the thought of Rhys being out on his own made the younger man. Part of this whole stubborn, pigheaded struggle was braided with his own fear for the other's safety.
He doubled down: "I love you, you asshole. You can't control everything. But if I'm with you, you'll at least be able to be there like you were today- and I can make sure you're okay. We're stronger together than separate."
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 16, 2024 1:42:17 GMT
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Nov 17, 2020 18:47:31 GMT
Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2020 18:47:31 GMT
His radar painted every contour and tensed muscle of Ezra, even if he tried to ignore it. His lover stalked after him into the kitchen, and it was a conscious effort of will to allow Ezra's hand to reach out and find purchase - to not deny him the contact on instinct, stepping out of the way.
It was just as big an exercise of determination to allow himself to be turned, to look at Ezra - who he'd been fleeing from, on some level, to create space for his anger to build and flex. Immediately, the look on Ezra's face threw sand on those flames, but Rhysand wasn't ready to let them go out, yet.
Rhysand knew how stubborn he was. That stubbornness had leaped to new heights now that he had something he genuinely loved to fix it on. But Ezra's tools were perfectly suited to counter that stubbornness. His mixture of pragmatism, logic, tenderness, empathy and desperation. Rhysand found he was petulantly avoiding his lover's eyes, because the adoration in them would undo him.
Then Ezra said he loved Rhysand. Without prompting. Without preamble. Without Rhysand starting it.
There was a moment, when Ezra finished, where not even Rhysand knew which way he'd be pushed by the debate. All he did know was that it would be one extreme or the other. The die was cast, though, when Rhys dared to meet Ezra's gaze again.
With a surge of movement, he reached out and clutched Ezra against himself, one hand going to the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes hard and breathing heavily. "I can't lose you," he whispered, voice breaking a little, and this was the exact opposite of the fierce, angry, hostile tone he'd started the conversation with. Rhysand didn't think he'd ever sounded so - or been so - vulnerable. He'd never had a reason to be, before. But now that reason was in his arms. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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