No listen- LISTEN! He’s a cat boy. He literally eats rats. You cant silence me! No no you dont understand- no plea- *gunshot*
(Also, vyncent tried to dye his hair black when he got to prime to blend in more, but the purple bled through cause it was shitty box dye.)
"because there was one person worth saving. that's what i did. i saved him. then i protected him." keeperschampion. i'm laying on the floor.
[ID: the “Mr Electric. Kill him” meme edited to say “Hermes. Kill him” End ID]
thought about keeperschampion don’t text
it's rand who throws the first punch, because it's always rand, isn't it? always rand who starts shit, who can never finish it, always rand who runs his mouth to the big kid and has to get pulled away before he gets his brains bashed in. and he knows he shouldn't (he always knows he shouldn't) but he does it anyways, because he's so angry. angry at rolan for leaving, angry at rolan for not telling him, angry that rolan was gone and now he's here and he's fine, better than fine, angry angry angry. he throws the first punch and it connects with rolan's jaw with a satisfying thump of his knuckles, and it hurts, hurts like a bitch, but it feels so good.
rolan stumbles, almost falls off the steps of the rands' porch, the creak of wood underneath his feet. he cradles his jaw, staring with wide eyes, and rand can see a small steam of blood trickling down from the corner of rolan's mouth. they stay like that, almost frozen in time, a warm rivulet of blood trailing down the side of rolan's neck and under his shirt collar, for a second, air thick with the humidity of galloway summer. and then, in an instant, rand sees rolan's face seize up, anger searing through his features in a way rand's never seen before, at least, never directed at him.
a hand grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and tugs him forward until he's face to face with rolan, so close he can smell him: the sharp sting of a cheap liquor and aftershave, and the heady metallic rush of blood. rolan's pupils are pinpricks in the pale blue of his irises, and rand can see the reddish veins bulging out at the whites, can see the deep purple where his eye sockets sink in. rolan forms a fist, with his left hand (his good hand, rand remembers, even though he swears rolan wrote all of his papers in high school with his right) and pulls it back, and out of instinct, rand squeezes his eyes shut. he feels like he's twelve, getting the shit kicked out of him in the dugout after baseball practice, except this time, there's no rolan, no knight in shining armor to come save him. to throw the rocks or pull the guys off of rand or yell at them to buzz off before he tells the pastor. because rolan isn't the knight right now, isn't the paladin, because this is the real world and in the real world when you throw a punch you get punched back.
time ticks by for what feels like forever, until the hold on rand's collar shakes until it loosens, and drops him to the ground. rand cracks open an eye just in time to feel something warm splatter on his t-shirt, and he looks down to see a red stain spreading through the fabric. he spit on him.
rolan extends a hand, avoiding his rand's eyes, and tugs him to his feet. "don't do that again." he says simply. rand nods, dazed.
"thank you," rand blurts out, words spilling out of his mouth like bile. "for not hitting me. i would've deserved it." rolan looks back, almost sadly.
"i couldn't even if i wanted to."
vyncent sol 🤝 qsmp slimecicle