diversified | into my core, where I've become so numb. [ closed ]

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into my core, where I've become so numb. [ closed ]

WHO Charon (

insertdadjoke), Abel Fletcher (

sociopapathic).
WHAT Reversal of fates. One brother dies, and the other lives.
WHEN Alternate 2014.
WHERE Arizona...?

His target was crafty. He was staying to the public, making sure to maintain contact with people at all times, never out of sight and never out of mind. Although Charon was thorough and he was brutal, there was a line he did his best never to cross: bringing the living into the affairs of the dead. The target had already bought several hours while Charon waited him out, shadowing him in and out of businesses, on city transportation and now in this restaurant where he seemed to have stilled but still not gotten rid of his nebulous crowd. There was, however, an opening that Charon knew had been coming. His target excused himself and darted down the hallway for the restroom.

He never got that far. Charon caught him by the arm and swung him into the wall, magic just barely absorbing the impact to swallow the noise. His target was startled, already begging for his life, tone perpetually frightened from his run from death, and Charon reached his knife around to cut out the disgusting breach of balance on his throat. Before he could even start bleeding out, Charon twisted the body back around and forced it into the bathroom door. Single occupancy, which meant it would be a while for anyone to notice he was there.

It meant Charon would see less panic. He hated seeing panic in peoples' eyes. Most things he could shut away or ignore, but that always bothered him. Most of his kills weren't face to face to avoid it.

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At some point during the hunt, Abel had spotted the runner and followed him, doing his best to keep out of sight. If there was a runner here, then that meant that his brother probably was there as well and catching a glimpse of his brother was all he wanted at that point. Even after the threats the Reapers made to stay away millennia ago, Abel wouldn't abandon his little brother to death and would still keep an eye on him whenever possible.

This runner was smart, so this would definitely take a while and thankfully, Abel had no obligations to deal with at the moment. He was between marriages and family, so he could waste whatever time he wanted stalking a dead man walking and a ghost. When the runner finally screwed up and went somewhere out of the public eye, Abel was relieved. Finally this would be over and he'd be able to catch a good look at his brother before he disappeared off to the next job. But Abel miscalculated and stumbled onto the tail end of the runner's murder. There wasn't anything in the way of panic in his expression, merely surprise at finding his brother in the hall instead in the restroom. He would have expected that to be a stealthier kill.

Charon turned, made to disappear into the lives of the still-living people around him, perhaps pretend that he was there too and sit in the corner for a while until another runner was discovered. It was a sweet and sour sort of feeling to do that, watch people, but it was one of the things he felt safest doing. His Reapers didn't like it if he spoke to people, tried to interact and be with the people he was nothing like, and so he had taken to watching, longing, pretending. Imagining what it would be like if he could just approach someone and say, Hello.

Those were all flights of fancy. Reality was before him right now, someone entering the hallway and catching him off guard. His mouth worked soundlessly in the moment that it took to process the man's face—his own face. Instinct born of time immemorial kicked in and he smashed this man into the wall as well. For a moment, Charon held tightly at the other's throat before the numbers edging out from under his fingers caught his attention. Those were far too many numbers. He was confused and knew his face must have betrayed it (there wasn't much reason to hide his emotions when he had no one to hide them from), but the confusion gave way to tentative anger. It felt like pain, as if someone were tricking him or trying to get under his skin. His grip tightened and his knife came up to threaten at the soft flesh under his hands. What was this about?

There were many ways Abel expected this to go, but he didn't expect it to involve being slammed into a wall. The air in his lungs was forced out by the impact against the wall and it kept him from instantly responding when Charon grabbed his throat. After a moment, he reached up and grabbed his wrist with both hands to try and pull it away. Suffocation was definitely not a fun way to die and he knew that from prior experience.

He didn't really seem all that frightened when the knife came up and instead of staring at it, he turned his gaze to Charon and just looked at him. With the hand at his throat, it would be difficult for him to speak and he hoped that he would realize that soon enough and let him go. He didn't really want to think about his own brother killing him, but it was definitely something that was on his mind even if he didn't want it to happen.

Charon paused at the motion, the hands tugging at his wrist. There was a good amount of force behind them, but Charon had the upper hand. He wasn't the one choking. His head tilted, faltering for a moment, before he shifted the knife more threateningly against the other man's throat and Charon's hand moved down flat against his collar. One finger was curled, pressed lightly against a nerve that he knew would make anyone flinch and writhe in pain when pinched.

With the length of his knife, he lightly tapped the doppelgänger's neck, raised his brows expectantly. If the man had something to say, then Charon wanted to hear what he could possibly come up with in order to explain. There was no verbal prompt, just body language and the potent confusion rolling off him in waves.

Once the hand was no longer tight against his throat, he let go and took a moment to get his breath back. The knife didn't really bother him and he tilted his head back against the wall, looking far more relaxed than he had any right to. He knew his brother didn't remember him and if he said the wrong thing, that knife was definitely going to slice his throat open, but death wasn't all that frightening to a man who couldn't die no matter how hard he tried.

"I didn't mean to catch you off guard like that," he started, looking straight at Charon and never looking away. This was his brother and no matter what, he wasn't going to let their time away mean he was going to treat him much differently than before. "It's been a long time since I've had the chance to see you like this or even talk to you."

See him? Talk to him? No one with his face had ever spoken to Charon before. He knew that. Thousands of years he'd been operating and not once had he seen his own face or heard his own voice. Not like this, anyway. His confusion was again apparent, as well as wariness and determination. He wanted things to make sense again, like they had only a few minutes ago. Back before anyone tried talking to him, got freaked out by his lack of words, tried treating him like any of the other Enforcers who had a life and friends and family to lean on in difficult times. When Charon was just a shadow hiding under the bed and didn't have to worry about anything but keeping himself together for the Reapers' sake, for whomever he had promised before he'd died.

His eyes flickered, nervous, to the numbers around the stranger's neck. He didn't understand. They went so far that the beginning almost looped back over the end. Without seeing the whole number, Charon couldn't even tell how impossibly long the man would supposedly live. He glanced up, back down, returned his gaze to the man's face. His hand tightened around the edge of the man's shoulder, betraying the odd mix of emotions he was feeling right now.

"Like I said, it was a long time ago. Back when you were still alive, even," he explained. It was easy for him to read Charon's body language and respond to it in words. If he couldn't, then he would definitely be in trouble and this would be the part where everything would start to fall apart.

He placed his hand on his own neck and touched the numbers there. Even if he had never seen them, he knew what was there and how those who could see it reacted to it. The response was familiar as every single one of his children reacted in the same way, confusion and something Abel didn't like to think about. He only hoped Charon didn't have the same thought. "My clock's always been like this, ever since I was born. It was always a comfort because it meant that I'd be there to protect the person who mattered most to me."

Charon pulled back at the simple statement. The knife wavered, although his hand on the other man's shoulder remained, a tether between the two that he didn't want to break. As if, were he to let go, the man with his face would disappear and Charon would be left with all the questions and no one to answer them. Back when he was alive? That time was practically a myth, something that may have happened but had no bearing on the reality today. Nothing left existed from the time he had been alive... or so he had figured. How could Charon be the same person if he didn't even know who that person was?

It had to do with his clock. That much was obvious. Charon shifted his hand to lightly brush a finger over the numbers himself. Despite the impossibility, it didn't feel wrong. He felt relieved for seeing it. Relieved and very conflicted. "How?" he demanded. If he were alive, his voice would probably be rusty and broken with disuse. As it was, his lips pursed immediately afterward while he waited for a reply.

If he was a normal person, Abel would have taken advantage of the situation and used it to put space between them, but this wasn't a normal situation and Abel had never been normal in his entire life. So instead of stepping away, Abel stayed close and reached to curl his hand around Charon's wrist lightly, keeping it there as pressure more than anything resembling a proper grip. "I'm not going anywhere."

There was a long pause as not only did Abel think about what Charon asked, but also the fact that he asked. It was almost enough for Abel to smile, but not enough yet and he didn't want to confuse him any more than he was going to do so to begin with. "How? Well, that's easy to explain. The two of us, we're twin brothers."

Charon stared at the hand encircling his wrist, instinct guiding the hand still holding the knife to cover it as if to pry it off. Once his hand was there, however, he hesitated again. There was a niggling, insistent feeling that he couldn't shake: he didn't want to hurt this person. It made no sense, because this was an unknown, possibly dangerous by his physical appearance matching Charon's, and had seen Charon operating. There was enough reason to incapacitate him and move on. Yet he merely wanted to stay and listen to what sort of reasoning or excuses the man had.

Which was kind of awkward, as it turned out, when the man then claimed to be his twin brother. Incredulity and disbelief warred for supremacy while some part of him couldn't deny that it might have somehow been possible judging by the numbers slowly ticking down the other man's life. He ended up shaking his head. No, that wasn't right. If they were twins... if they were twins, Charon would know. That was a thing you would hold onto with all your might, wasn't it?

There was no fear when the knife came up again. If Charon was going to hurt him, then so be it. Abel would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant getting stabbed by him. Lord knows he probably deserved it after keeping his distance for as long as he has. Plan or not, he should have made contact with him right after the Reapers warned him off. They scared him as much as death did, meaning not much at all, despite their rather freaky appearances.

Seeing the look on Charon's face made him grin and he had to keep himself from getting too emotional because even without his memories Charon was still his brother and there were signs there that Abel could pick up on and spot. "Despite what myths and legends may tell you, twins don't have a special connection that links them together and that includes us," he said carefully. "I know you don't remember anything about your life, so I'm not going to force you to deal with me or anything like that. I just wanted to see you again."

Charon currently had no intention to hurt the stranger. What he was saying was insane, true, but there was a part of him that understood that it wasn't impossible. Strange things happened all the time, sometimes peoples' fates altered due to incredible circumstances and their lifespans increased. He'd seen that once or twice. Maybe a twin brother living through millennia to the current day was possible. Unlikely, maybe even absurd, but it wasn't without a chance of occurring.

Watching the other man carefully, Charon lifted the hand with the knife, now held backward and pressed to his own palm, to poke at his cheekbone. He liked the grin, at least, no matter how narcissistic that probably was. He pulled his hand back when the twin continued, lips thinning out into a line and he gave the best scolding look he could manage. Charon shook his head again and tightened his grip on the man's shoulder. He didn't want him to leave, he wanted to hear more. This was worth the Reapers getting angry at him for interacting. This was someone who claimed to know him. Hope of that happening had died ages ago, yet he found it rekindling somewhere in his heart. How could Charon just let him go now?

It was insane, yes, but it was also true. If Abel hadn't lived through it himself, he wouldn't have believed it either. So he understood Charon's confusion on the subject and really wasn't going to push him into believing it and instead give him time to think on it himself so that he could make his own decision on the subject.

He kept an eye on the knife and was amused at the poke, his grin going wider. Even his brother's scolding couldn't stop him from being happy right now. Charon was here and wanted to actually deal with him. This wasn't something that he had expected, but he certainly didn't have any problems with it. Sure, he didn't deserve it, but for now he'll take it. "If you don't want me to leave, then I won't. It might be a good idea to locate somewhere else though. We don't want anybody to stumble on us and that runner you just killed."

At the reminder, Charon glanced toward the closed bathroom door. He let his eyes trail downward and saw the draining blood starting to slowly soak into the carpet where it met the tile. People would soon start to notice and that would quite easily break up this puzzling reunion. It took him only a moment to decide, and soon Charon was putting the knife away at the back of his belt, hidden by his jacket, and motioned for the stranger to lead the way.

Caution had him hide his presence. Although the stranger would obviously still be able to see him, all of the Sighted could view the dead and the Enforcers whether they were hidden or not, it kept the eyes of the regular populace off him. That made him feel much safer, as if being spotted by mortal eyes was some kind of punishment the Reapers were surely only to expound upon if they knew he was walking amongst the living so casually. Despite all that, however, he didn't really let go of the other man's shoulder, simply twisting his grasp so that he could hold on to his shirt from the back and follow him by feel if he had to.

Abel glanced back at Charon once he had decided that he was going to lead the way and frowned slightly at him. If he thought that he was going to follow him like that then he had another thing coming. He stared at him for a moment and held out a hand towards Charon, tipping his head towards it slightly to hint for him to take it.

"I'm not going to have you walk around holding my shirt like you're some sort of puppy on a leash," he said, still frowning slightly. Abel wanted him to experience things like other people did, even if he was going to hide from everything like the ghost he was. And honestly, he just wanted to hold his brother's hand again like he had when they were both still alive. "Take my hand, brother. You'll still be holding on to me and nobody will notice you besides me and the other Sighted."

Charon stared at the twin for a long moment, letting his gaze snap down to the offered hand. It was an odd thing to correct; as far as Charon had known, it was better for people like him to follow and stay quiet than it was to work your way ahead and lose your direction without a better in front to lead. Then again... if they were to go hand-in-hand, then Charon could still hang back like he was used to. He just wasn't entirely sure why this man wanted that.

All in all, the decision didn't really take very long and he placed his hand in the other man's with caution but no fear. It felt solid, real, so very unlike anything he was used to. When he realized that right hand in right hand wouldn't work, he rapidly switched them around, this time placing his left hand more tentatively than before. It was his dominant hand, and tying it up in another person's grip was not something he did lightly. As if to distract from the show of weakness, Charon made a show of tipping his head up and looking about down the hallway, brows raised and eyes still locked on the stranger. Other Sighted? Were there actually more here that he hadn't accounted for?

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into my core, where I've become so numb. [ closed ]

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