[that's a terrible thing to say to a chronic liar, and kavinsky is. was. might still be. he doesn't know anymore; he feels fractured and strange, which has always been true, but he feels it more keenly now. once upon a time, he had an armor of caked cocaine he could hide behind.
his undead heart slams the brakes in his chest, a split-second before he hits the ones on the hovercraft. they start to slow abruptly, but not violently, coasting to a stop on the edge of the glassy track. the vampire half-twists at the waist, reaching to pull the mutant's arm, urge him off the craft. there isn't a lot of force in it, but there is something scrabbling, insistent, almost childish about the way kavinsky handles him. he used to be cool, if kind of slimy. he's not that now.]
Do you know what 'make believe' means? [he hisses. he glances around. the other machines whizzing by are far and few between, and there's little chance even with vampire hearing that they might catch wind of this conversation. but for that instant, he pretends it's about that, because it's easier than asking,] Do you even know what I fucking am?
I'm a motherfucking monster.
[that isn't a nikki minaj quote. or if it is, it's wildly unintentional, blurted out as a substitute for deeper and more difficult truths. he'dve called himself a monster any time in his life— worn it like leather or shitty cologne. the shift in tone, the devil in the tails, that's where the ugliest, most important parts of the matter is, and that he's not willing to say. he can barely look at kurt now.]
no subject
his undead heart slams the brakes in his chest, a split-second before he hits the ones on the hovercraft. they start to slow abruptly, but not violently, coasting to a stop on the edge of the glassy track. the vampire half-twists at the waist, reaching to pull the mutant's arm, urge him off the craft. there isn't a lot of force in it, but there is something scrabbling, insistent, almost childish about the way kavinsky handles him. he used to be cool, if kind of slimy. he's not that now.]
Do you know what 'make believe' means? [he hisses. he glances around. the other machines whizzing by are far and few between, and there's little chance even with vampire hearing that they might catch wind of this conversation. but for that instant, he pretends it's about that, because it's easier than asking,] Do you even know what I fucking am?
I'm a motherfucking monster.
[that isn't a nikki minaj quote. or if it is, it's wildly unintentional, blurted out as a substitute for deeper and more difficult truths. he'dve called himself a monster any time in his life— worn it like leather or shitty cologne. the shift in tone, the devil in the tails, that's where the ugliest, most important parts of the matter is, and that he's not willing to say. he can barely look at kurt now.]