[One of Faustino's earliest memories, one that was his and his alone, was being curled up in a corner praying for someone to save him. Many times, he had concocted fantasies where someone saved him from his torment, where he would somehow be spared from what was happening around him. In time, he began to realize such a wish would never be fulfilled, and his fierce independence and rage had been born then. There was no one in this world that he could rely on but himself, and there was no one else who could change his fate but himself.
He had thought ill of people who cried out for someone, anyone to save them, even with their dying breaths. He had scorned those who had huddled close to one another, like a bare amount of extra warmth would make their miserable existences better. he had scoffed at those who had extolled the virtues of family, who had gone like sheep to slaughter because it would bring their family to greatness again.
But seeing Lancia burst through the door and dispatch of his torturers so easily, knowing that Al and Ciro were nearby, made him want to rethink his negative associations with the word 'Family'. He watched, transfixed, if only because the Abandonato scientists had torn off the eyelid of his red eye to help make it easy to tear out his eye. It must have been an odd sight, to see the rest of his body so pristine but his face bloodied and scraped beyond all repair.]
My hero.
[It came out far weaker and far more sincere than Faustino would have liked. He tugged weakly against his restraints, unsure if he had been drugged or if perhaps his tolerance for pain had lessened while he had been enjoying the benefits of having a family.]
[While he’s not the most dedicated Catholic, Lancia still isn’t usually one to blaspheme. Probably just something that happens when you grow up in Italy and share its blood. Too many old ladies sending disapproving stern glares when you said that thing as a kid, and the secondhand guilt just sticks.]
[But it’s what escapes his mouth as he finally gets a real look at Faustino, sees what they’ve done to him. It could be worse- somehow. He knows that. But it’s hard to really think about that, and he takes a step closer to the table. His hands are bloody but, with Faustino as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll get any complaints this time as he smooths his fingers over his hair.]
Just relax, alright…? Al is taking care of anyone outside, and Ciro is going to be here in a few minutes. He’ll get you fixed up.
[Hopefully, anyway, and Lancia starts to work on the restraints.]
[It must be awful if Lancia was taking the lord's name, and though Faustino would like to comfort himself with the fact it was mostly Lancia's sentimentality talking, it hurt. For someone who controlled their body like it was a tool instead of an actual home to inhabit, to feel that pain was a bad sign. It might be as bad as Lancia implied, and he grit his teeth ( feeling the skin pull every which way ) as Lancia put his fingers through his hair. It was supposed to be a soothing gesture, he knew, but it hurt, and he didn't even have the luxury of being able to swat that hand away if he wanted to.
The mention of Ciro coming in to see him like this had him turning to Lancia, teeth bared like he was Al, like he was some feral animal.]
Do not let them in.
[It may be vanity on his part, but he didn't want them to see him like this. Beaten and bloodied, tortured and weak. It would only bring up old memories that were best forgotten, and this was Faustino's nightmare alone to bear. He could only imagine how they had reacted to M.M.'s phone call, if Lancia's arms were a testament to it.
He turned his gaze around the room, trying to collect himself, to pull back some measure of control.]
Get me out of the room and I will be fine.
[He would be able to scrape together a convincing enough illusion, he hoped, to look better than he did.]
[Faustino’s reaction, vicious and cornered and- not proud, not entirely, but stubborn- is of no surprise. The whole story of what the three of them have gone through isn’t something he knows. All he has is what he’s been able to gleam from simply having been their caretaker for so many years, and what the much more loose-lipped Al. Even that was abridged, shortened, their secrets theirs alone. With that in mind… he understands Faustino’s feelings.]
[Seeing this will devastate them.]
[Yet even as he understands, as he removes the restraints on his legs, he shakes his head.]
You went into this alone…. And now look at the situation. They’ve already found out about this. It’ll hurt like hell, but better with it all at once, instead of tearing at the wound later again.
[It was more of an accusation than anything else, a feeble defense against what Lancia was saying. Even now, with his legs freed, he could barely move them. Having Ciro look at his wounds wasn't the worst fate he could have, but being in this place was already painful enough. He could only imagine Al and Ciro's faces if they saw him like this.]
They've been through enough. Don't make them go through more to teach me a lesson.
[Because that's what it would be to him, a punishment for his failure.]
[Wrists now, and he has to fight the urge to shut his eyes and bow his head. Ciro must be halfway across the place by now- there’s not much time left to debate this.]
….Do you think they won’t realize what you’re doing?
[The question made him laugh, a rough sound that scraped against his worn out throat. Despite what many may think, Al and Ciro knew him as well as anyone could. Once his wrists were free, he shakily propped himself up on his elbow. If his body was anyone else's that small movement would have been too much, but luckily unlike most human beings, his body seemed to be powered by willpower and spite alone instead of air or blood.]
Do you think one more secret will matter to them?
[It wasn't as if Faustino had ever been or would be a forthcoming guy.
Still, he knew what he had to do if he was to get what he wanted, and while he was loathe to do so, Lancia had already seen him in this sorry state.]
Please.
[It was barely a whisper, his face turned away. He wouldn't say it again.]
[....He can’t deny him when he’s in such a sorry state that he’ll actually ask that. Lancia’s shoulders slump, even as he carefully lays his hands on the younger man. He thinks this is a mistake, that Faustino will very likely be wrong about what Ciro and Al will think, what they’ll do… But he’s an adult. And part of being an adult is dealing with the consequences of their actions.]
[In this case, it’s all about keeping secrets and hiding the truth.]
[Outside the room, he can hear the sound of feet pounding against the floor, and Lancia looks over his shoulder to call out.]
Ciro! Wait right there, understand?
[Reluctance is in every slowing step, and Lancia can hear Ciro’s uncertainty even though it’s dead silent. It’s going to be difficult to talk with him about this, but… Gently, he starts to pick Faustino up to cradle in his arms. He’s in no state to walk around right now.]
[Even though he was getting exactly what he wanted, it didn't feel like a victory at all. For all the painstaking steps he had taken in order to be seen as an adult and being taken seriously, this had undoubtedly landed him back to square one. He let out an exhale of relief when he heard Ciro's footsteps slow to a stop outside of the door. He didn't need to see the other boy to feel his worry and confusion and anxiousness.
Steeling himself, he started to recreate his face, layer by layer of skin at a time, the work shoddy by his standards, but even most illusionists wouldn't be able to sense it. Still, for someone who knew his face as well as Al and Ciro, it would be noticeable. To think he had decried other illusionists for their vanity, and yet here he was doing the same, if not worse.
He couldn't even allow himself to enjoy being scooped up ( though a proper illusionist would always take note of the texture of someone's skin, their scent, and their musculature ), scowling slightly.]
I can walk.
[But he didn't exactly struggle, focusing on smoothing out the illusion of his face, leaving the bruising and some of the blood to make it somewhat believable.]
You're stubborn enough to walk on shattered kneecaps- that isn't saying much.
[All too aware of Ciro's presence anxiously waiting outside, Lancia at least keeps his voice low. Besides, Faustino is already using up more of his energy than he can say he really like by hiding his injuries with an appearance. The least that can be allowed is that he carries him back to their vehicle.]
[Once it's clear that Faustino has finished, Lancia finally takes him out into the hallway. Ciro is exactly as he looked when Lancia left the younger man to watch the security station: paler than a ghost, eyes dark as pits, and quietly shaking against all his best control. He's at Lancia's side in a second, murmuring Faustino's name and only barely resisting the urge to touch. But then again, maybe that's because Lancia speaks up then, dissuading him.]
Not now, Ciro. Go get the car started up, and check in on Al. Alright?
[A mute nod as he still levels a worried gaze over Faustino- and then there's a click in his eyes. A realization. Lancia can guess what it is that has his lips thinning, brow furrowing, but... To his credit, Ciro says nothing. Not right then. He simply nods, and hurries away to do as he's told.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
no subject
He had thought ill of people who cried out for someone, anyone to save them, even with their dying breaths. He had scorned those who had huddled close to one another, like a bare amount of extra warmth would make their miserable existences better. he had scoffed at those who had extolled the virtues of family, who had gone like sheep to slaughter because it would bring their family to greatness again.
But seeing Lancia burst through the door and dispatch of his torturers so easily, knowing that Al and Ciro were nearby, made him want to rethink his negative associations with the word 'Family'. He watched, transfixed, if only because the Abandonato scientists had torn off the eyelid of his red eye to help make it easy to tear out his eye. It must have been an odd sight, to see the rest of his body so pristine but his face bloodied and scraped beyond all repair.]
My hero.
[It came out far weaker and far more sincere than Faustino would have liked. He tugged weakly against his restraints, unsure if he had been drugged or if perhaps his tolerance for pain had lessened while he had been enjoying the benefits of having a family.]
no subject
[While he’s not the most dedicated Catholic, Lancia still isn’t usually one to blaspheme. Probably just something that happens when you grow up in Italy and share its blood. Too many old ladies sending disapproving stern glares when you said that thing as a kid, and the secondhand guilt just sticks.]
[But it’s what escapes his mouth as he finally gets a real look at Faustino, sees what they’ve done to him. It could be worse- somehow. He knows that. But it’s hard to really think about that, and he takes a step closer to the table. His hands are bloody but, with Faustino as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll get any complaints this time as he smooths his fingers over his hair.]
Just relax, alright…? Al is taking care of anyone outside, and Ciro is going to be here in a few minutes. He’ll get you fixed up.
[Hopefully, anyway, and Lancia starts to work on the restraints.]
no subject
The mention of Ciro coming in to see him like this had him turning to Lancia, teeth bared like he was Al, like he was some feral animal.]
Do not let them in.
[It may be vanity on his part, but he didn't want them to see him like this. Beaten and bloodied, tortured and weak. It would only bring up old memories that were best forgotten, and this was Faustino's nightmare alone to bear. He could only imagine how they had reacted to M.M.'s phone call, if Lancia's arms were a testament to it.
He turned his gaze around the room, trying to collect himself, to pull back some measure of control.]
Get me out of the room and I will be fine.
[He would be able to scrape together a convincing enough illusion, he hoped, to look better than he did.]
no subject
[Seeing this will devastate them.]
[Yet even as he understands, as he removes the restraints on his legs, he shakes his head.]
You went into this alone…. And now look at the situation. They’ve already found out about this. It’ll hurt like hell, but better with it all at once, instead of tearing at the wound later again.
Let other people be there for you, Faustino.
no subject
[It was more of an accusation than anything else, a feeble defense against what Lancia was saying. Even now, with his legs freed, he could barely move them. Having Ciro look at his wounds wasn't the worst fate he could have, but being in this place was already painful enough. He could only imagine Al and Ciro's faces if they saw him like this.]
They've been through enough. Don't make them go through more to teach me a lesson.
[Because that's what it would be to him, a punishment for his failure.]
no subject
….Do you think they won’t realize what you’re doing?
no subject
Do you think one more secret will matter to them?
[It wasn't as if Faustino had ever been or would be a forthcoming guy.
Still, he knew what he had to do if he was to get what he wanted, and while he was loathe to do so, Lancia had already seen him in this sorry state.]
Please.
[It was barely a whisper, his face turned away. He wouldn't say it again.]
no subject
[In this case, it’s all about keeping secrets and hiding the truth.]
[Outside the room, he can hear the sound of feet pounding against the floor, and Lancia looks over his shoulder to call out.]
Ciro! Wait right there, understand?
[Reluctance is in every slowing step, and Lancia can hear Ciro’s uncertainty even though it’s dead silent. It’s going to be difficult to talk with him about this, but… Gently, he starts to pick Faustino up to cradle in his arms. He’s in no state to walk around right now.]
no subject
Steeling himself, he started to recreate his face, layer by layer of skin at a time, the work shoddy by his standards, but even most illusionists wouldn't be able to sense it. Still, for someone who knew his face as well as Al and Ciro, it would be noticeable. To think he had decried other illusionists for their vanity, and yet here he was doing the same, if not worse.
He couldn't even allow himself to enjoy being scooped up ( though a proper illusionist would always take note of the texture of someone's skin, their scent, and their musculature ), scowling slightly.]
I can walk.
[But he didn't exactly struggle, focusing on smoothing out the illusion of his face, leaving the bruising and some of the blood to make it somewhat believable.]
end scene??
[All too aware of Ciro's presence anxiously waiting outside, Lancia at least keeps his voice low. Besides, Faustino is already using up more of his energy than he can say he really like by hiding his injuries with an appearance. The least that can be allowed is that he carries him back to their vehicle.]
[Once it's clear that Faustino has finished, Lancia finally takes him out into the hallway. Ciro is exactly as he looked when Lancia left the younger man to watch the security station: paler than a ghost, eyes dark as pits, and quietly shaking against all his best control. He's at Lancia's side in a second, murmuring Faustino's name and only barely resisting the urge to touch. But then again, maybe that's because Lancia speaks up then, dissuading him.]
Not now, Ciro. Go get the car started up, and check in on Al. Alright?
[A mute nod as he still levels a worried gaze over Faustino- and then there's a click in his eyes. A realization. Lancia can guess what it is that has his lips thinning, brow furrowing, but... To his credit, Ciro says nothing. Not right then. He simply nods, and hurries away to do as he's told.]
[It's going to be a hell of a drive back home.]