Post #2575861 in Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape, a roleplay on RPG

(Same warnings as Cirrus vaguely apply. All Harper actions and dialogue dictated by Cirrus because for some reason she trusted me to write this. )

At the moment, Dorian, and he assumed Skylar as well, felt something like a child caught in the midst of a nasty divorce hearing (something he'd never experienced, of course. His own parents' divorce had been done with a clinical detachment and neatness that had probably left more mental scars than a heated custody battle ever could). It was like a disturbingly violent tennis match (or like those poo-flinging monkeys at the zoo) of Harper throwing past situations at Tallyho that Dorian didn't quite imagine as relevant and turning on everyone in the room individually. Well, he was more arguing with Kyle and Tallyho and using Skylar and Dorian as props in his rant.

"I can't call you friend because I don't push my nose into your business?"

Dorian stared at Harper's back as he turned, not giving the March Warrior a chance to answer what he was beginning to suspect was a rhetorical question. It wasn't that he so much objected to Harper not "nosing into his business". That was all well and good, it was the whole having no idea what he was up to that was a bit concerning. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd talked, not even just one-on-one but in a group. Dorian wasn't an expert on friendship or anything, but Harper's Dorian-retort fell flat for him, much like it did for Skylar whose reaction to the "side dish" comment went unnoticed by Harper as well. And then it continued on, a barrage of words and sneered insults. Dorian was beginning to eye the door himself, wondering how far he could make it before Mildred caught him. He paused before deciding that he'd rather face whatever was happening in here.

Skylar, at least, seemed to be on the same wave-length as him, and he really did feel bad for her. Here she was, thrust in the middle of everything without anyone really listening to her leaving her between a rock and a hard place.

Tallyho barely acknowledged her as she rallied again, hurling more barbed insults and bitter truths at the June Month Warrior as the month warrior tradition of never letting anyone else get the last word in continued along. Something electric was in the air, something dangerous that had nothing to do with Tallyho's own powers. He knew what was coming as Tallyho's words continued to slam into their mark, brutalizing the other month warrior. He braced for it like a sailor in an unavoidable storm. Then it struck.

Dorian had always wished that Harper applied trigger warning to the start of his speeches, the ones where he tended to reveal something awful about himself. It didn't have to be much- just a little "Those of you with issues with X, please cover your ears" or more specifically "I'm about to mention awful things that make Dorian uncomfortable like excessively bad parenting and self-hatred- please, leave the room if you are Dorian". But he didn't, which left Dorian feeling a bit sick to his stomach and more than a little upset.

Dorian would be the first to admit that he had issues of his own, even if they weren't as glaringly obvious as, say, Kyle's or Harper's. His abandonment issues would be(and were) a psychiatrist's wet dream(Stephen, as he insisted Dorian call him, often objected to that phrasing but his father thought it was funny so he kept it), he still had vivid nightmares after the two or so months he'd spent wandering Aires when the magic portal had messed up that no one had bothered talking to him about, and his dependency on his phone was becoming incredibly concerning. He just hid it a bit better, but the way Harper was going on made his own level of discomfort rise to the point that it actually became visible. It wasn't pity on his face or sympathy, just pure, distilled discomfort for your viewing pleasure. Dorian's left hand began trailing up the doorknob, groping for it blindly in case he needed to make a quick exit.

The other man, Dorian was well aware, was a complex combination of self-awareness, self-loathing, and overconfidence blended and contained within a confrontational shell with a dash of motor-mouth. This assault was his coup-de-gras so to speak, intended to make anyone who summoned up a reply look like they were kicking a puppy and, if things turned violent, he'd solve his own need for self-punishment without having to actually inflict it himself. This could only end badly.

And it did because Kyle opened his mouth again, and, okay, yeah, Dorian agreed with him to an extent in that you really can't blame others for everything that you did and you had to take responsibility for your actions. But, honestly, disregarding "daddy issues" as Kyle had so eloquently put it wasn't on. Maybe that was Dorian "mommy issues" talking or maybe it was a bit of human decency, but it struck a raw nerve in him. Also, he wasn't quite fond of Kyle talking for him. Yeah, Harper wasn't his favorite person right now, not by a long shot, but he didn't hate anyone on the team, really, although that was clearly subject to change.

And then things got better as Harper shuffled away with a fruit in his hand and a parring knife in the other, apparent content to lick his own wounds instead of retorting or acknowledging Tallyho's final barb. It was surprisingly mature and calm. That should have been Dorian's first clue that something was terribly wrong.

It was hard to see what was happening from his angle, but the startling red that popped into existence was as telling as if he'd seen the knife perform itself.

"Harper!" He barked out, apparently not stunned into silence as he bolted for the sitting man. By the time Harper, all panicked and wide-eyed with fear not of Dorian but that he would stop him, had stopped the cut on his arm prematurely and instead brought the knife to his throat, Dorian was on him, wrestling the knife from his hands amidst Harper's protests of "I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm fucking doing! It's my life, I can do what I want with it! Just let me have this one fucking thing!" along with Dorian's own flurry of "let go, you absolute bastard"s. He put up a powerful fight, wild and frantic like a cornered animal, but Dorian didn't relent. Dorian's palm got sliced open in the melee, tossing the knife across the room until it slid harmlessly against the other wall, ruby red still decorating the blade.

Formal wear was not meant to wrestle in, but Dorian eventually had him pinned, arms tightly wrapped around the shorter man like a vice-grip, effectively pinning the other man's arms to his sides. It was sad that this wasn't the worst hug he'd ever been a part of in his life.

"Why do you even care? Apparently we're not even friends! Why do you even fucking care? If we didn't have the fucking world on our shoulders, you wouldn't even care! I don't even care! Why the fuck do you care?"

Harper was crying now, ugly sobs that wracked his body.

"I care, goddammit! I'd care even if you weren't a month warrior. t don't have to have a reason!" Dorian snarled, tightening his grip. He, quite unlike almost everyone else in the room, didn't feel the need to monologue about his feelings and/or issues. Some things he just didn't feel the need to explain.

"I don't want this. I don't fucking want this anymore. I hate this. I hate this so fucking much."

And Dorian didn't know what to say to that, so instead he held on tighter, one hand rubbing soothing circles on the bawling man's back in mimicry of what his father had always done for him back on Earth. His hand stung- the hand, incidentally, not rubbing Harper's back-, his pants were still too form-fitting for his comfort, his headache was coming back, and he had a sobbing and possibly still suicidal mess in his arms. Today was not his day.

Snippet #2575861

located in Aires, a part of Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape, one of the many universes on RPG.

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Characters Present

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