drop it like lightning and instinctively just grab at Siffrin though, his own eyes wide and alight with something. It's just a mixture of things and that's what makes it a little difficult to discern what the look is off the bat. Either their collar or outright their neck either is fine, your pick. ]
That's okay. Distantly, maybe they should have known better, but it doesn't matter. Siffrin doesn't pay too close attention to the flickers of those emotions, doesn't tense or try to move away in time just as that grip comes around their neck and they just remain still in it. Even the heartbeat beneath that touch is quiet and continuous, not picking up or beating rapidly. A lull.
Expectant of something. Maybe Marcoh would do them the kind service of snuffing out the last of whatever meaningless unlife they have here. They would welcome it, actually. Their gloved hand moves and it isn't to try and pull that hand away, no. Instead, it rests in a gentle and featherlight touch over the back of Marcoh's hand and they offer him an exhausted yet small smile. It's fine. It's okay. ]
[ Imagine I DM'd the mods right now like can Marcoh kill Siffrin off-schedule
No you goober it takes him about a second to realise what he's doing and when he does, horror does come over his expression and he lets go so fast. Like Siffrin is fire, like he realised he'd just aggressed a friend. He backs away, almost half-tripping over his own tree log with the attempted speed of it. ]
[ IMAGINE IF YOU DID. I'D ALLOW IT mods beat us up like naughty kittens
That grip is gone, and a part of them misses that contact already. Trying not to show that disappointment on their face like a freak. Which is easy when they see the way he rears back, almost stumbling, and they take a step to follow instead of move away with fear like ANY SANE PERSON.
Instead, they frown with worry, and quickly shake their head with their hands held out palm up. It's alright. They know he didn't. See? They're fine. ]
[ What about him. Is he being asked what he's doing? He doesn't quite have an answer. There's the obvious one of course, the exact of what it looks like, but the why of it is harder to answer. At least for him.
[ It would be useful if they used words, wouldn't it? But they don't, just watching him, with an expression of concern and something akin to heartbreak. Their brows furrow a little, lips twisting in a thin press until they gesture at themselves, and then back at Marcoh and then they look around. Until finally at somewhere nearby, where one could potentially sit.
Time is fine. Alone time is even more fine but. Clearly, they are making no motions to actually leave, even if still giving that distance he asked for. ]
[ Siffrin, made of delicate stuff, like gossamer and dreams. One swipe of a lion's claws and they'd shred like paper versus scissors. They're still shredded after all this time because they didn't get fancy healing. Guilt crushes him by the neck, hands itching to go back to splintering wood, dig his fingers into the pulp, wrench it away bit by bit. Feel like he's doing something concrete that isn't wait, watch, writhe. He's no good at the healing part. These hands were always better at making a mess of things. ]
[ As those words come, there's another shake of their head, bringing a gloved hand to rest against their own chest with a double tap. It isn't as if Siffrin is always good company and yet still some of them deal with him. Deal with their silence.
And a part of them is selfish. Greedy. They have lost.. so much this week alone. Even if Marcoh is in a destructive state, they'll stick with him through that. That hand holds out again. Not that they expect him to reach out, not with the way he enforced that distance earlier. But it's more of the gesture itself. To imply what it is they want. ]
[ Fuck. Okay. He breathes. Just give him a minute, pressing the end of his palms against his eyes, the bone of his brow, breathe. He'd been alright so far. Another day. One more day, and another, and another -- ]
Okay.
[ He doesn't take the hand, still letting the pressure do its thing. But okay. He can relent. For Siffrin. ]
[ That's fine. He can have as much time as he wants, needs, they aren't necessarily rushing him. ..A part of them feels incredibly guilty though. Churning in their stomach, almost sickeningly.
(You couldn't just leave him alone? You just have to be so clingy. Because you don't want to be alone? Idiot. Stupid. Forcing him to deal with you.)
They stand there, fiddling with a pin on their cloak now. Tucking their head to hide half of their face in their collar, peering back up after. ]
[ After a moment. Collected. Got out just enough frustration by ripping up wood like a caged animal with too little enrichment -- he can take a minute to just sit with Siffrin, even if it's just to kind of slouch in the depression. He's so sorry that he doesn't have the energy to be encouraging, even though he should, even though he should, because that's what he does, that's what he's good for.
When he goes to sit, they will follow. Plop down silently beside him, not close enough to touch though to still give him that distance he asked for. But they shift a little, looking to think.
A gloved hand does reach out as if to tap an arm, but remembers themselves and frowns. Opting instead to try and get his attention by waving their hand a little in his view.
It's okay for Marcoh to be like this. They aren't looking at him expectantly, or as if they're waiting for him to change his mood entirely. Just offering him company and... their hands disappear into their cloak until they hold up their knife and a small wooden block.
[ It'll take him a moment to respond, not because he's slow to acknowledge it, but because it takes a whole lot of effort to make this giant body move when he feels this sluggish, this heavy. ]
Whittling?
[ He does remember, this is something Siffrin likes to do. ]
They glance at the remains of that heavy branch earlier... to Marcoh's hands, before down at their own knife in one hand and the small wooden block in the other.
They look back up at him again and hold them out to him. Would he like to try? If a way to keep his hands busy that isnt entirely destructive with his fingers on bark. ]
[ Well, that makes sense. Even so, Siffrin seems to laugh a little even though no sound comes out. Just a small little jostle of their shoulders.
They will shift a little where they sit, showing with their hands in gestures how one will handle the block and with the other how they will hold the knife. They will start to motion for small cuts. ]
[ He'll follow it mildly. He's got no art direction and no real idea of what to go for but he feels the wood give under his fingers, the not-sharp end of the knife pressing a line against his thumb. It's nothing like tearing up wood with his bare hands but there's a smaller feeling of something perhaps satisfying in the outline of it too, making concave carvings against the surface. ]
[ There's plenty of wooden blocks to mess with and use as a canvas, so Siffrin doesn't look too particularly worried as Marcoh makes use of this one. Perhaps even a bit pleased as he watches him work. Doesn't need to be anything impressive or amazing. Just being able to do something at least helps.. right?
As the question comes, however, their eye widens and their mouth parts as if to say something. ..But again, no sound comes out even as their lips mouth a word. A frown, tucking a little before they eventually bring a hand to tap against their own neck and nod slowly at him. Yeah. No voice at all. ]
At that, they tuck a bit more into themselves, dipping their head so the brim of their hat hides their face from view. Hiding into their collar. ..How could they be expected to vote for Lucas? ]
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Sorry he is just going to
drop it like lightning and instinctively just grab at Siffrin though, his own eyes wide and alight with something. It's just a mixture of things and that's what makes it a little difficult to discern what the look is off the bat. Either their collar or outright their neck either is fine, your pick. ]
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That's okay. Distantly, maybe they should have known better, but it doesn't matter. Siffrin doesn't pay too close attention to the flickers of those emotions, doesn't tense or try to move away in time just as that grip comes around their neck and they just remain still in it. Even the heartbeat beneath that touch is quiet and continuous, not picking up or beating rapidly. A lull.
Expectant of something. Maybe Marcoh would do them the kind service of snuffing out the last of whatever meaningless unlife they have here. They would welcome it, actually. Their gloved hand moves and it isn't to try and pull that hand away, no. Instead, it rests in a gentle and featherlight touch over the back of Marcoh's hand and they offer him an exhausted yet small smile. It's fine. It's okay. ]
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No you goober it takes him about a second to realise what he's doing and when he does, horror does come over his expression and he lets go so fast. Like Siffrin is fire, like he realised he'd just aggressed a friend. He backs away, almost half-tripping over his own tree log with the attempted speed of it. ]
-- Siffrin, I -- I'm sorry, I did not mean to.
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That grip is gone, and a part of them misses that contact already. Trying not to show that disappointment on their face like a freak. Which is easy when they see the way he rears back, almost stumbling, and they take a step to follow instead of move away with fear like ANY SANE PERSON.
Instead, they frown with worry, and quickly shake their head with their hands held out palm up. It's alright. They know he didn't. See? They're fine. ]
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Stay your space.
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[ Shit. Fuck. His head hurts. He doesn't want Siffrin to be seeing him like this either. ]
Yoji could. Use your company.
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[ What about him. Is he being asked what he's doing? He doesn't quite have an answer. There's the obvious one of course, the exact of what it looks like, but the why of it is harder to answer. At least for him.
He breathes. ]
I just... need some time.
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Time is fine. Alone time is even more fine but. Clearly, they are making no motions to actually leave, even if still giving that distance he asked for. ]
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I will not be good company.
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And a part of them is selfish. Greedy. They have lost.. so much this week alone. Even if Marcoh is in a destructive state, they'll stick with him through that. That hand holds out again. Not that they expect him to reach out, not with the way he enforced that distance earlier. But it's more of the gesture itself. To imply what it is they want. ]
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[ Fuck. Okay. He breathes. Just give him a minute, pressing the end of his palms against his eyes, the bone of his brow, breathe. He'd been alright so far. Another day. One more day, and another, and another -- ]
Okay.
[ He doesn't take the hand, still letting the pressure do its thing. But okay. He can relent. For Siffrin. ]
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(You couldn't just leave him alone? You just have to be so clingy. Because you don't want to be alone? Idiot. Stupid. Forcing him to deal with you.)
They stand there, fiddling with a pin on their cloak now. Tucking their head to hide half of their face in their collar, peering back up after. ]
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Okay.
[ After a moment. Collected. Got out just enough frustration by ripping up wood like a caged animal with too little enrichment -- he can take a minute to just sit with Siffrin, even if it's just to kind of slouch in the depression. He's so sorry that he doesn't have the energy to be encouraging, even though he should, even though he should, because that's what he does, that's what he's good for.
Maybe next time. ]
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When he goes to sit, they will follow. Plop down silently beside him, not close enough to touch though to still give him that distance he asked for. But they shift a little, looking to think.
A gloved hand does reach out as if to tap an arm, but remembers themselves and frowns. Opting instead to try and get his attention by waving their hand a little in his view.
It's okay for Marcoh to be like this. They aren't looking at him expectantly, or as if they're waiting for him to change his mood entirely. Just offering him company and... their hands disappear into their cloak until they hold up their knife and a small wooden block.
A small gesture of them and in Marcoh's way. ]
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Whittling?
[ He does remember, this is something Siffrin likes to do. ]
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They glance at the remains of that heavy branch earlier... to Marcoh's hands, before down at their own knife in one hand and the small wooden block in the other.
They look back up at him again and hold them out to him. Would he like to try? If a way to keep his hands busy that isnt entirely destructive with his fingers on bark. ]
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I don't know how.
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They will shift a little where they sit, showing with their hands in gestures how one will handle the block and with the other how they will hold the knife. They will start to motion for small cuts. ]
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...
Have you lost your voice...?
[ He prompts quietly after a minute. ]
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As the question comes, however, their eye widens and their mouth parts as if to say something. ..But again, no sound comes out even as their lips mouth a word. A frown, tucking a little before they eventually bring a hand to tap against their own neck and nod slowly at him. Yeah. No voice at all. ]
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[ He realises something, and he just. ]
Did you vote yourself?
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At that, they tuck a bit more into themselves, dipping their head so the brim of their hat hides their face from view. Hiding into their collar. ..How could they be expected to vote for Lucas? ]
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[ Surely someone told them what happens when you vote for yourself... surely? Marcoh's thinking and realising maybe he hadn't, he should've. ]
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