It's something he wants, certainly. None of this daily interpersonal small fry shit, he needs action. Actual work.
"I've decided to stay close to her. See what happens. And someone has to keep an eye. God knows Skulduggery is busy enough and I have nothing else to do."
The same talking around each other that they usually do. Like nothing had changed really. They've circled back around to where they started, with her in Stede's pocket and a professional distance between them. Little breaches of their defenses had just ended up closing them up further. They know too much to be strangers and too little to be actually friends.
She sort of reaches for one of the shot glasses she pushed away as if just holding it was going to give her courage enough to speak.
"If you need my help with anything, I'll be there. That hasn't changed. I'm just... sorry I can't be what you want me to be. That's it."
He isn't expecting that one, and really he should have. She said it earlier in so many ways but to hear it like that..
Really, it just hurts. And now Izzy has to make a decision. Does he brush it off and carry on like he has his entire life? Or does he dare to dip a toe out from behind the wall of carefully, painfully maintained defense.
Thing is, it's exhausting, this dance. He's done it long enough that it's autopilot but...lately... it's just been so much. He's felt hollow in a way he can't quite sum and is, painfully, beginning to allow himself to think about why. Why is he so angry. Maybe it's the fact that every time he's ever shown weakness he'd been savaged to within an inch of his life. Maybe it was the fact that the only emotion to ever earn him any respect, was anger. But that doesn't work here, does it. That doesn't work anymore at all. And he aches so terribly.
Why does he care about Darcy LeJeune so fucking much.
Why is he allowing himself to care about anyone? Is it because Edward has moved on and left him behind? Is it because this world doesn't spin on the same axis of violence that his does? Or is it because he's changing.
He is changing. And it scares the absolute hell out of him.
But fear, as Edward has always said, is the most powerful emotion. And perhaps it's time for Izzy to harness that in himself instead of forcing it onto other people. People like Darcy.
"Darcy, I-"
he wets his lips.
"I just want you to be happy, yeah? You'd make a fine pirate, and you'd make a fine Blackbeard, of that I have no doubt. But it wasn't for me to put that on you. What I want, and I know you can be, is the greatest version of yourself. Whatever, or whomever that is."
She croaks. It's not true but it feels true in the moment. Useful yes, powerful maybe, anything else but... happy is for other people. Closer to the truth is-
"I don't know what I want. I don't know if I want anything."
"Yeah, that's kind of the rub, isn't it. That's what life is, unfortunately. You just keep doing what you're doing and suddenly you're old and everything is still the same and then you disappear. Only your back hurts. And you care less about what people think of you. And you still don't fucking know anything."
Izzy watches her for a moment and idly helps himself to another shot. Is she drunk and passing out or just depressed and spiralling. Should he do something? Probably.
“So… I have roommates now. That’s a thing that’s happened.”
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It's something he wants, certainly. None of this daily interpersonal small fry shit, he needs action. Actual work.
"I've decided to stay close to her. See what happens. And someone has to keep an eye. God knows Skulduggery is busy enough and I have nothing else to do."
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If Ava didn't probably hate her by now she'd be thanking her for the little cushion against despair.
"It's probably a good idea. Don't get killed by her."
Even if it's temporary.
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A beat.
"Could probably use a little back up, though. If you know anyone."
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The same talking around each other that they usually do. Like nothing had changed really. They've circled back around to where they started, with her in Stede's pocket and a professional distance between them. Little breaches of their defenses had just ended up closing them up further. They know too much to be strangers and too little to be actually friends.
She sort of reaches for one of the shot glasses she pushed away as if just holding it was going to give her courage enough to speak.
"If you need my help with anything, I'll be there. That hasn't changed. I'm just... sorry I can't be what you want me to be. That's it."
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Really, it just hurts. And now Izzy has to make a decision. Does he brush it off and carry on like he has his entire life? Or does he dare to dip a toe out from behind the wall of carefully, painfully maintained defense.
Thing is, it's exhausting, this dance. He's done it long enough that it's autopilot but...lately... it's just been so much. He's felt hollow in a way he can't quite sum and is, painfully, beginning to allow himself to think about why. Why is he so angry. Maybe it's the fact that every time he's ever shown weakness he'd been savaged to within an inch of his life. Maybe it was the fact that the only emotion to ever earn him any respect, was anger. But that doesn't work here, does it. That doesn't work anymore at all. And he aches so terribly.
Why does he care about Darcy LeJeune so fucking much.
Why is he allowing himself to care about anyone? Is it because Edward has moved on and left him behind? Is it because this world doesn't spin on the same axis of violence that his does? Or is it because he's changing.
He is changing. And it scares the absolute hell out of him.
But fear, as Edward has always said, is the most powerful emotion. And perhaps it's time for Izzy to harness that in himself instead of forcing it onto other people. People like Darcy.
"Darcy, I-"
he wets his lips.
"I just want you to be happy, yeah? You'd make a fine pirate, and you'd make a fine Blackbeard, of that I have no doubt. But it wasn't for me to put that on you. What I want, and I know you can be, is the greatest version of yourself. Whatever, or whomever that is."
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She croaks. It's not true but it feels true in the moment. Useful yes, powerful maybe, anything else but... happy is for other people. Closer to the truth is-
"I don't know what I want. I don't know if I want anything."
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"Well in all fairness, you haven't had much of a chance to find out. Maybe that should be your purpose."
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If you get older, the Captain had said.
"I'll probably just... keep doing what I'm doing until I disappear. I think. Maybe if we get lucky and find a way out I'll work it out then."
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If that?
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"Who fucking knows."
Helpful, Izzy. But he was vulnerable and she shot it down and now they're back to being miserable cunts so what does it matter.
"I might die of boredom long before that."
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It wasn't shooting him down.
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“Because this is a made up fairy land and time is meaningless.”
Right. Forgot about that for a second.
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And then goes very quiet, with her face still on the table.
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“So… I have roommates now. That’s a thing that’s happened.”
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Doesn't move from the table still.
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[look he’s opening up, he’s whining. Does it work. Does he have to nudge Darcy’s foot under the table.]
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It's still table time but she's at least asked.
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Sometimes the space is tight enough with Dylan and herself, she'd hate to have to share it with two people.
"Rough."
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“It is. Though, they are gods so that’s fairly interesting.”
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Still in the same tired deadpan.
"I just have one. He's weird and doesn't talk to me much."
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He’s been spoiled with the luxury of privacy. Alas.
Mmmmyeah she’s pretty fucked, huh. He nudges her foot.
“Shall we retire for the evening or are you happy living here being one with the table.”
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Darcy makes a noise that can only be described as disgruntled.
"I'm fine. I'm just resting my face."
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You know what, doesn’t matter. What does matter is watching Darcy for a bit and then dragging her ass to bed.
He leaves a glass of water by her bedside with a small note.
You made a valiant effort. 2pm. ⚔️
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