[ There are times when Kepler will subtly nudge and tug and jostle people, even people that he loves, instead of facing something directly. This is not one of those times. ]
Brother? I love you. And you're worrying me.
[ He breathes out. ]
I've got a few things tucked away. Nothing too special. But. Something good.
He's already pulled out one of the plate covers to bring food for John, so it's easy enough to have another one prepped when he shows up at Lark's. Even so, the smell of something that seems to perfectly combine a number of different game meats into something intensely meaty with just the right amount of spice on the edges... well, he might have channeled some of his concern into his cooking.
Open the door, Lark. The perfect temperature is only a few away.
Warren takes that all in and makes his way to where he can put the food down for a moment to really Look At Lark.
"I brought you a game meat stew," he says to start before pulling off the top and the scent only blooms richer, "a lot of it. And supplies for shaving. And what the hell is going on with you right now."
"What the hell about what part? I needed a break from the kitchen to get my house in order. Alec's going back to work so I suppose it worked..." He trails off and grabs a bowl of stew, which he devours in three or four large spoonfuls.
Warren's very quiet for a moment before pushing over the shaving supplies.
He'll take the time to serve more of the stew for Lark.
"There are days. where. I just. can't. Where I lay in bed. And stare at the ceiling. And all of it... is. And I can barely move. Barely... think. Jacobi had never seen one of those days before this place. He was terrified. At first. Until I told him that this... happens."
He looks at Lark.
"There's already a stick there. As any number of people will tell you. So I'm not accepting any smoke. Even from you. Lark? Talk to me."
He doesn't talk through another bowl, and then half of another.
"I killed people I liked back home. If it served to make my pack stronger, if it would draw out my enemies, I did it without any guilt. I was even grateful to them for their 'sacrifice'."
"I've done the same," he'll admit. Because he has. The bigger picture had had all kinds of sacrifices to it over the years. Pieces of himself ripped out willingly.
"Yeah, but not long before here." He closes his eyes, finally feeling a touch of weary resignation. "I killed him, Warren. Jon. And I killed Steve Rogers. And it saved the ship twice."
Warren nods and he'll walk around to Lark. He won't touch him; he just hovers his hand near him, an offer, but one Lark has to accept as he starts talking.
"Two actions. Two results. But. I'm assuming. The results aren't the problem here.
"What about that. choosing to do that. is hurting you?" Is killing you inside.
There's so much tearing him apart right now. Some things he can't even look at yet but he feels them there, adding weight, crushing him.
"Do you know how many people have come around to make sure I'm eating, that I'm getting up out of bed, that I know they're there for whatever i need?" Lark shakes his head in quiet, awed gratitude.
"My life was easier before I let myself have people. I could make solid, quick decisions to get what I wanted, and I never had to regret it. But now that I have a choice, to distance myself or not, I'm choosing to keep them. I like having friends. I like having a pack I trust and love. I'm going to maintain all of these relationships the best I can." A flicker of something profoundly pained crosses his expression. "And if I have to kill them--to kill you--someday to save the fucking ship, I'll still do it. And I'll just have to live with tasting your blood in my mouth no matter how I scrub at my teeth later."
"There was a speech I used to give," he starts off as he nods along to Lark's words. "About whiskey. Maxwell, Jacobi- they heard it so many times? They could give it themselves."
There's a fond smile as he thinks of both of them, at the way they'd react when they felt it coming in their bones.
"I'd talk about... how much I liked my scotch. Which is a lot. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like the feel of it in my hand. How... it was nice, at the end of the day. Made my life better. Just... a great cap off? to a long day of work.
"But... if it started to get in the way of my work, I could get rid of it and things would be... well, they'd be more or less fine. I'd be sad, but life would go on."
He looks down at Lark.
"Most people... they were whiskey. Maxwell and Jacobi... they were the exceptions. It's why they? Could enjoy the speech. The people I got rid of before? Whiskey. The people you got rid of before? Whiskey.
"The people you have now? That I have now? Air. Or. Water, if you want to stick to beverages. And you're right that it used to be easier? But. Not 'easier' to get anywhere sustainable. Quicker... but not quicker to get anywhere worth going. Nowhere worth staying.
"You died. I died. We died. Because we didn't let ourselves have enough air. Or water. I'll pick one eventually. Which one do you like?" But he doesn't let Lark answer before he goes on. "Because without those things. Every. second. feels like you're just staving off death. And not living at all. No matter what you tell yourself."
He leans a little closer.
"You didn't save the 'ship'. The 'ship' was fine. I was around. I was watching. The ship. The physical space? Ship. shape, in fact. You... saved the air slash water. You. saved what's important. And you did it by sacrificing some of it. The air closest to you. Which is why. it feels like you can't breathe."
Beat.
"There, I picked one."
He clears his throat.
"...which is why you need to let the rest of the air in."
Lark listens, his gaze on his half-empty bowl. He doesn't add anything, doesn't interrupt, and when Warren finishes he simply leans against him, a distinctly canine sort of embrace. "Okay." This is him, listening and trying.
Warren relaxes a little as he does, and his hands will settle lightly on Lark's shoulders, not so much rubbing as... petting, honestly. It's comfort for him too.
"Tell me about Jon. Or tell me what happened with Alec. Or we both go furry and curl up together for that. However you need me to be with you. I'm here."
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I’ll check in with Trevor. But I’m also coming to see you.
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[ He doesn't hide the twitch but there's no resentment or anger. It's concern. He's concerned, Lark. ]
Anything I ought to bring by?
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[And then:] Shaving cream if you have it.
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[He just couldn't begin to figure out what sounds appetizing right now.]
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Brother? I love you. And you're worrying me.
[ He breathes out. ]
I've got a few things tucked away. Nothing too special. But. Something good.
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It was just a long week. We've had long weeks before, haven't we?
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I've seen Jacobi.
And.
Jacobi isn't howling for your blood.
So.
I can put two and two together.
And I'll see you tomorrow. With good food.
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[As bone-weary as he sounds, he means it.]
>>>prose
Open the door, Lark. The perfect temperature is only a few away.
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"What'd you bring me?"
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"I brought you a game meat stew," he says to start before pulling off the top and the scent only blooms richer, "a lot of it. And supplies for shaving. And what the hell is going on with you right now."
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He'll take the time to serve more of the stew for Lark.
"There are days. where. I just. can't. Where I lay in bed. And stare at the ceiling. And all of it... is. And I can barely move. Barely... think. Jacobi had never seen one of those days before this place. He was terrified. At first. Until I told him that this... happens."
He looks at Lark.
"There's already a stick there. As any number of people will tell you. So I'm not accepting any smoke. Even from you. Lark? Talk to me."
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"I killed people I liked back home. If it served to make my pack stronger, if it would draw out my enemies, I did it without any guilt. I was even grateful to them for their 'sacrifice'."
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"I'm assuming that was before... here."
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"Two actions. Two results. But. I'm assuming. The results aren't the problem here.
"What about that. choosing to do that. is hurting you?" Is killing you inside.
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"Do you know how many people have come around to make sure I'm eating, that I'm getting up out of bed, that I know they're there for whatever i need?" Lark shakes his head in quiet, awed gratitude.
"My life was easier before I let myself have people. I could make solid, quick decisions to get what I wanted, and I never had to regret it. But now that I have a choice, to distance myself or not, I'm choosing to keep them. I like having friends. I like having a pack I trust and love. I'm going to maintain all of these relationships the best I can." A flicker of something profoundly pained crosses his expression. "And if I have to kill them--to kill you--someday to save the fucking ship, I'll still do it. And I'll just have to live with tasting your blood in my mouth no matter how I scrub at my teeth later."
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There's a fond smile as he thinks of both of them, at the way they'd react when they felt it coming in their bones.
"I'd talk about... how much I liked my scotch. Which is a lot. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like the feel of it in my hand. How... it was nice, at the end of the day. Made my life better. Just... a great cap off? to a long day of work.
"But... if it started to get in the way of my work, I could get rid of it and things would be... well, they'd be more or less fine. I'd be sad, but life would go on."
He looks down at Lark.
"Most people... they were whiskey. Maxwell and Jacobi... they were the exceptions. It's why they? Could enjoy the speech. The people I got rid of before? Whiskey. The people you got rid of before? Whiskey.
"The people you have now? That I have now? Air. Or. Water, if you want to stick to beverages. And you're right that it used to be easier? But. Not 'easier' to get anywhere sustainable. Quicker... but not quicker to get anywhere worth going. Nowhere worth staying.
"You died. I died. We died. Because we didn't let ourselves have enough air. Or water. I'll pick one eventually. Which one do you like?" But he doesn't let Lark answer before he goes on. "Because without those things. Every. second. feels like you're just staving off death. And not living at all. No matter what you tell yourself."
He leans a little closer.
"You didn't save the 'ship'. The 'ship' was fine. I was around. I was watching. The ship. The physical space? Ship. shape, in fact. You... saved the air slash water. You. saved what's important. And you did it by sacrificing some of it. The air closest to you. Which is why. it feels like you can't breathe."
Beat.
"There, I picked one."
He clears his throat.
"...which is why you need to let the rest of the air in."
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"Tell me about Jon. Or tell me what happened with Alec. Or we both go furry and curl up together for that. However you need me to be with you. I'm here."
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"Let's go with option c. Both of us on that couch over there."
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He'll give his shoulders a faint squeeze.
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