xistentia | 2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

you keep the strangest company

myself included of course

i am coming.

[ He'll be there as fast as his dream-spun car allows, and rolls the window down to look out. In a car like this with his sunglasses on, Rafa looks like he's heading out to lunch in Hollywood instead of driving up to the forest to play. Still, he's here. He waits on Kavinsky, engine revving by way of greeting. ]

[kavinsky shows up approximately on time, which is probably late, but nothing egregious. he's wearing a baggy t-shirt rather than his preferred tanktop, because he feels a bit ugly as well as murderous and tired and wired, and when you can take care of only one of those things, you might as well.

being preoccupied with his own feelings, he barely looks at rafaello when he sees them. sliding into the passenger seat like a sullen child, putting his seatbelt in in an automatic kind of way. he reeks pungently of cigarettes. turning away from the vampire, he draws a dick on the nearest car window with his forefinger, then breathes on it. sadness has not now and will never make him the best version of himself.

but fortunately!! rafa is prepared.]

[ Rafa watches with some consternation as the dick appears on the glass. He sighs. ]

I have just cleaned those windows.

[ He says, when by 'just', he means sometime last week. He revs the engine and whisks them away at enough pace that Kavinsky will likely be grateful for that seatbelt. This is not the Rafa that Kavinsky had taught to drive back in Eudio; this is the Rafa who has lived through to the modern ages, who has been driving for far longer than Kavinsky has been alive, and whose reflexes are well equipped to manage a speeding car. They zip around corners, and once they're out of the city - which, in fairness, does not take long - he puts all the windows down, sending a brisk wind around their ears. ]

Did you bring a gun? [ Conversationally, with a lifted eyebrow in Kavinsky's direction. ] Not that I need one. But you might.

[kavinsky is momentarily and pleasantly distracted by how well the car is maneuvering down the road. he sits up a little, his eyes slide off the phantom dick he printed in the window with his human finger-grease, refocusing on the world beyond. then he twists his head around to watch rafa's hands on the wheel. how delightfully deft. he likes the way the inertia inside the car sways when they hug a turn.]

'Course I brought a fuckin' gun.

[a mirthless smile curls his lip. kavinsky pushes his hips up, so he can reach around behind himself to pick the pistol out of the back of his pants. it's definitely prime 'shoot your ass cheek off' gun storage, but that is ever the least of joseph kavinsky's concerns.] You ever shot one before? You don't wanna?

[ Rafa glances over to see it. Guns are fascinating to him. They'd been fascinating when the humans first made them and they remain so now, with all of their innovations and improvements. Psychologically speaking, he finds it poignant that mortals go to so much effort to find better ways of killing each other. They've made exceptional strides over Rafa's lifetime. The very longest of their lives disappear in a blink of his eye, and yet they are always so keen to shorten them.

Musing upon that, he laughs and shakes his head. ]

They are good killing machines, I grant it, but I am a better one. I have always preferred my hands.

[ Even when he'd been human. That's how he'd been taught, after all. He'll teach Kavinsky too. If this boy's instincts can be honed he'll make a deadly little vampire. That's what Rafa wants for him. The car shifts gears around another corner and the forest appears ahead of them, dark and verdant, and promising a canopy of trees that will cut the sun enough to let Rafa take his glasses off. His smile grows. ]

You can shoot. It will be good practice. Have you killed with it before?

[kavinsky fit so neatly into this macabre little box of humanity-plus-innovation that rafaello has constructed in his own mind. one can hope that that'll die down a little, once he's immortal, but

also probably not.]

Yeah. [he twists around in his seat, almost putting his feet up on the dash, then obviously changing his mind mid-motion. his knees bang inelegantly on everything, then he sighs impatiently, breath reeking of liquor, and throws his arms backward over the 'shoulders' of his seat.] Yeah, I actually saved a cunt's life with it before. You remember when I told you about Lynch? Ungrateful piece of shit?

[look, kavinsky's version of the dream thieves would have been a very different narrative, we all know this.] Little fuckup made a monster this one time. [kavinsky closes his eyes like he's pretending to try to sleep in the car. he isn't. he's given up on sleep somewhat, lately. sadness insomnia, u no u no. his depression takes on a somewhat less exciting and dramatic format lately.] I killed it before it killed him.

[ Kavinsky's breath makes Rafa inherently glad he hadn't let him drive. Drunken humans are not to be trusted with machinery, even machinery they've pulled out of their own minds. Rafa's driving is fast and adrenaline-inducing, but it's safe. He has the reflexes for that.

God help us all when Kavinsky does, too. It probably won't be long now.

Rafa hopes it won't be long now. ]

He made a monster, like you made a dragon?

[ He briefly turns a lifted eyebrow in Kavinsky's direction. ]

It seems you are both as reckless as each other. Interesting that a monster such as that could be killed by bullets.

[ Another pause. ]

I met him, you know.

Lynch? He's in town. Was, [kavinsky says, nodding. not terribly surprised that rafa found him, i mean-- ronan lynch is nothing if not a hot boy with powers. that was kavinsky's kryptonite, and he takes after his creepily identified 'mother' that way, for sure.] Maybe 'was.' I dunno where the fuck he's at now. There was this other kid too, Adam Parrish. We were friends in Eudio, but I've met a lot of the little fucks who don't like me anymore, so.

[so.]

Most things can be killed by bullets. Most monsters, even. But my dragon couldn't be. [he shuffles in his seat, scooting his ass up against the back of it finally. he can't get comfortable, because he's uncomfortable inside his skin. with this conversation. this fucking paradigm of reality.] I had to make another dragon just to kill that one. Hey. hey, [a sharp glance at rafa. sudden. he blurts out like he was thinking about not saying it, but he can't help it now:] Did you fuck him? Lynch. Did you fuck Lynch?

[ Rafa makes an interested, listening kind of sound when Kavinsky talks about Adam. He'd talked to Adam, too. The little villain, that had been Adam. Rafa had liked him. In actual fact he'd ended up liking him more than he liked Ronan, though that is in large part because Ronan had ended up not liking him. Rafa is difficult that way. Murphy, in his mind, suffers from the same problem.

That's why Kavinsky's question startles him, which it probably shouldn't. He looks sharply at him, then frowns. ]

Of course not. He grew hostile once he knew I was your man. Besides, I have my dreamer already. This was not a difficult choice.

[ He reaches over to lift Kavinsky's hand, and then thread their fingers together. ]

I believe his interest was in the Parrish boy. At least, that is how it seemed.

[there's a lot to respond to in those couple of innocuous sentences. a bit of preening and gloating about being the one who was chosen, because that never gets old, that'll always feel new, no matter how many people choose him because he will forever whine and thrash and bitch about the ones who didn't, once upon a time, when he was seventeen-years-old. there's even an obscure part of him, better-developed now, more equipped for moral reasoning, and cattle-prodded by guilt and misery, that's about to inquire about apologizing. you know, if ronan should ever reappear.

but

but he gets totally sidetracked by the revelation that the vampire shares at the end. his face goes dead. maybe vampire can even hear it, the weird kick-step of his heartbeat inside his skinny ribs.] Parrish? [he repeats.] Are you fucking--? [this!! is the sound of pieces falling into place. the skin around his eyes sink in. the arteries in his forehead bulge. and then, like some impulse-uncontrolled jackass, he kicks a foot over to immediateLY STOMP ON THE BRAke quite possibly sending the car reeling around in an extremely dangerous vortex of destruction.]

[ It is fair to say that Rafa had underestimated the potential impact of those words.

It is also nothing short of a miracle that he drives this car with a vampire's reflexes, because if he were not, they would certainly crash. At this speed, it would almost certainly be fatal.

As it is, his feet move faster than an eye could track. One comes off the gas. The other slams down the clutch, and his hands rapidly steer in the direction of his spinning wheels.

They come to an abrupt, jarring halt by the side of the road. They are slammed against their seatbelts, hard enough to be painful to Rafa, and he's more durable than his foolish fledgling to be.

He removes the key from the ignition, unclasps his own belt, and turns to stare Kavinsky down. He does not shout. His voice does not raise, but it chills by several hundred degree. It's sharp enough to break glass. ]

If you had flown through that screen and flattened your own skull, you would deserve it.

[ The wheels of his car are smoking. When he smells it, his voice chills even further. ]

Dare I invite an explanation?

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaribs hurt. but kavinsky is sufficiently drunk that the pain exists more in concept than in practice. he sucks in a louder next breath than he would have otherwise, is all, expelling one doglike cough.]

I don't know, [comes the rejoinder, acidly sarcastic, and shittier by far than rafaello deserves,] do you? Would that take some big. Fucking. Cajones? Are you too widdle? [baby talk in kavinsky's voice sounds like some kind of satirical nightmare.] You're so widdle, Rafa. So fucking teeny tiny you can fit your tiny gossip cock into Goddamn anything, even Lynch's teeny tiny virgin earhole.

[tonight is the night china's characters just yell garbage at the clouds i guess!]

God. [and with this incredibly sophisticated rejoinder, but mostly because he can actually tell rafaello is mad and it's mildly alarming, but also because he's mad, and reel-around drunk, and his heart was recently broken, he opens the door.] When's Vex gonna get his fucking surrogate, huh? Taller, balder, less of a cunt.

[ At first, Rafa lets Kavinsky talk. He doesn't interrupt, but his eyes narrow at the baby talk. It's only at the end that his patience seems to fracture, and he holds up a sharp hand at the word cunt. ]

Enough.

[ More than enough. A number of different options run through Rafa's head; among them, taking Kavinsky home, turning him out on the road, taking him to Ronan's house wherever that may be, and letting him do whatever he needs to in order to settle his mind.

In the end, he does none of those. His dark eyes hold Kavinsky's for a moment, before they flick to the back seat. ]

Get in the back.

[ Rafa takes the keys from the ignition and leans back in his seat, arms folded. His face is difficult to read, since it doesn't often wear anger as cold as this. It's wearing it today. His eyebrows lift. ]

Now, or I will put you there myself.

[the stalemate lasts for long, cold seconds. but while kavinsky is inhumanly terrifying in lots of ways, he's not like, hundreds-of-years-vampire-old levels of inhumanly terrifying, not by a long shot. besides, the old cokehead twitch and jitter has not abandoned him. he blinks first. he gives up.

shoves the door wider open, hard enough that he'd damage it if he weren't so wasted. he half-climbs, half-falls out, comes around to the back seat. yanks that door open, and proceeds to half-climb, half-fall back in, his shoulder hitting leather at an odd angle.] I know you want him too, [he tells the back of rafa's head, because the back of rafa's head is not as intimidating as the front of rafa's head, where there are fangs, and eyeballs he can use to target with.]

You know a cunt when he's jerking you around and pissing all up in your shoes.

[ Rafa waits for him to be in, and the door to be closed. Then he turns, rapidly, and takes hold of the seatbelt to snap it into place. He returns to the wheel, not looking at Kavinsky, and then turns the engine back on. He sets off again, and doesn't respond until they've made several turns and are zipping steadily along their way. ]

That was unimpressive, [ He says, his tone still cool. His hands sweep over the wheel. ]

I will not bear the blame for how Vex hurt you, or how Ronan hurt you. If you act like a child, I will treat you like a child.

[ With a back seat and a safety belt. And a cold shoulder. ]

Have you control of yourself? Think carefully. We can go on, or I can take you home. Decide quickly.

[kavinsky shows teeth for an instant, a sneer flaring through his too-full lips. then he crosses his arms, nesting his back against the leather seats and looks out the window, his facial expression emptying out. it's a thin show of defiance, though.]

I'm too fucking drunk to be 'in control,' [he points out.] But I'll be less of a bitch if that's what you want. [he sniffs loudly, more like a dog than a human crying. doesn't bother to look at rafa again, not even in the rearview mirror, but it could probably be worse. he has a gun on him, after all. and then, blankly,]

I'dve picked Parrish too.

[ Rafa concentrates on the road. He will let Kavinsky huff and sniff if that's what he wants. He won't be able to crash their car in a temper, and that's all Rafa really needed to ensure. Actually getting him past his temper is a far harder task. ]

You would not.

[ He says, and flicks a disparaging glance up towards the rearview mirror. ]

He was uncertain, fragile, and not that pretty. You have never had interest in the weak.

[ Which is not a particularly flattering commentary on Adam, but then Rafa hadn't known him that well. What he had known had done little to form a positive impression. Adam had been difficult to please and overly skeptical, even in the face of truth. Rafa has never known Kavinsky to be attracted by that. ]

You always want what you cannot have. Ronan, Caleb, Vex, and when they do not give it to you, you lose all sense of yourself and throw away everything you have to make a point. As if that helps. No one blocks your own cock better than you do, Joseph.

[ He only calls him 'Joseph' when he's angry. The last time was after Kavinsky sent Nico to 'put Rafa to sleep'. His voice stays chilly, too. ]

[he was pretty, kavinsky almost says, but it seems like a stupid thing to argue about.] The other one was different, [is all he says, even though that doesn't seem like something he'd say. eudio maybe actually taught him a thing or two about multiplicity. it's hard to not learn something about multiplicity when you literally meet three, four versions of the same individual, and they're all ever so slightly different.

he scratches his tummy, growing sullen again. he had rather thought, after being stuck in the back seat, that it'd be over. but no, rafa insists on continuing the lecture, when he'd much sooner just pretend it hadn't happened, like a cat erasing a recent humiliation from memory.

he closes his eyes and wonders how much he could get away with pointing out he's fucking drunk. not much, he supposes.]

You think I made a point? That's nice. You know I'd just make you another car. It'd take more than one fucking wreck to kill you. Why are we doing this right now? I got no cock to block. [... ...] That came out wrong. I got no-- nobody to cock. Blocking... [he exhales loudly and slumps deeper in his seat.]

[ Rafa glances around to shoot him a furious look. ]

I would live. Cars can be replaced. You cannot be replaced. Foolish boy. [ Rafa mutters something angry, colourful and Italian under his breath. ] You are not a vampire yet.

[ But that's typical Kavinsky, isn't it? So obsessed with his own hurt feelings that he doesn't realise when he is cared about, or worried about. He has no respect for his own safety. He forgets that he's still human, and fragile.

Rafa doesn't forget it. He puts his elbow up against the window and rests that hand against his head. The other stays on the wheel, and seems at ease, even though Rafa is anything but. ]

I am sorry, about Vex, and about Ronan. You deserve better than they have given you. That is not to say I think you did no wrong, but you are not wrong to want more. What ever happened between you and Aric, Kavinsky? He wanted you and only you. I know, because he certainly did not want me.

I dumped him, [kavinsky says, after a moment's pause. he doesn't notice that rafaello is tense, partly because the vampire is a rather convincing actor, and partly because he's a turd lord with tunnel vision right now. (by 'right now,' we mean-- always. or at least usually.)] When I decided to be with Vex, I broke up with his death god ass. Figured it was the merciful thing to do, you know? Like shooting a lame horse.

[it's not the most flattering sentence ever said, but the spirit of it is accurate if you ask kavinsky, who is generally known for his clear and unbiased perception of people;;;; the balm that rafa offers, in his reassurances, is-- nice. chronically bitter, nasty little piece of work that kavinsky is, it doesn't do as much as perhaps it should. but nor does rafaello go entirely unheard.]

Bet you feel bad for him. I know you got issues about being runner-up or what if people fuck off on you. Dick Grayson used to talk about it. [it used to be, kavinsky could only dig his head out of his own ass and look at somebody else if he had something to get out of them, some ulterior motive or angle of attack, some gory wound to inflict for fun. these days, though, he's less categorically awful about it.] At least you got people to spread it out over, though. Aric's like, triple exponentially fucked.

Edited (triple not tripe!) 2017-11-17 03:14 (UTC)

[ Rafa had in fact been preparing to speak to the subject of Aric, but then Kavinsky derails him. Kavinsky is remarkably good at that. He doesn't even seem to have to try very hard. ]

So that is what Dick thought of me.

[ It's not, most likely. Kavinsky also has a way of twisting things to make them sound worse than they are. Rafa knows it, but it still heats his blood to know they were in some way talking about him. Why were they talking about him? He'd love to know, and doesn't want to ask. ]

Well, that is charming. I do not feel bad for Aric, I feel for you.

[ He pushes a swift hand through his hair, and hauls the car through an unreasonably sharp and jarring turn. ]

There you are, wanting so badly to be the one someone loves, and there he is giving it to you and you leave him for someone still grieving over another. I do not understand you.

Did you hate Aric? Is that what it was?

[an embarrassing thing happens to kavinsky where tears start to sting his eyes, which is humiliating and terrible for him. even worse than it ever used to be for even ronan, probably. they always had the same ideas about bullshit masculinity, but kavinsky has always been distinctly worried about it. he'd rather have needles in his eyes than salt water.

he is looking out of the back seat and passenger window now, rigidly, his face averted out of the scope of the rearview mirror. but rafa can probably smell it.

no stories about dick grayson are going to get him out of this one.]

No.

[it's an uncharacteristically short reply, especially for kavinsky, who does love to hear himself talk. it rings of the truth, hard-won, dug out of him on pain of more questions, more incisive, painful truths. rafa has been onto him some time, now. and maybe that's what family is like. close, in a way that doesn't come easily or often. and just as rare and difficult, kavinsk shuts the hell up, after that. and thinks about it, until it's time to shoot guns and speak like a civilized (sort of) adult (sort of).]

2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

Re: 2/2 (cw ableism)

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powerpose lmk if not ok! i can edit

same goes!

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