[For all his attitude, this one's managed (somehow) not to start trouble-- kept to himself, kept his head down. Avoidance is something he's grown very good at in his lifetime, and after being severely weirded out by the connections a couple times... well, he figured he'd do better alone, here. For now. If his presence has been marked by anything, it was probably a faint sense of something almost lonely-- he feels the pull, wants to follow it, but he's still unsettled.
That's a large part of why, in the aftermath of Parker's death, he doesn't reach out earlier. The pain hits too close to wounds that are too easy to open and it hurts, it hurts in ways it shouldn't for someone he didn't know at all, it hurts and he hates it--
When Ares does reach out, it's in near desperation, lost as to what to do about this. His emotions are volatile, caught between anger and sadness and that sharp, keen sense of loss-- between wanting to do something about it and wanting everything to just stop.
It's hard for him to wring words out of it all, and the ones that manage to form as he fumbles to reach the person he's looking for are-]
Why is it like this? [Not quite what he wanted. There's more right on the heels of that thought, frustrated.] --I want to talk for real. Not this way.
[There would be words about what occurred on Avera. About the utter failure the play-mission had been, enough to surprise even him with his carefully tempered expectations.
But for all that it is both his responsibility and something he firmly believed was required in order to prevent further loss, he was not without compassion. Or perhaps merely practicality. He knew what it was to lose a member of your brood. He knew very well. He does not expect his words to reach them so soon afterward. So he intends to give it time, something they had less of than he would like, and perhaps they would come to understand among each other what he would spell out for them soon.
He did not expect to be called on by any of them before then. Cathaway was a far more common source of comfort, as ironic as that may seem to him at times. Nevertheless the boy's grab for his attention is easy to notice, for all it does not come naturally to him. He doesn't bristle from it, although there is no attempt on his part to strengthen the connection, to invite him further, to answer Ares emotions with any of his own.]
I will meet you in the training hall.
[It is an attempt at understanding, on his part, even if the words are seemingly unaffected. He seemed like he would be most comfortable there.]
[He lets it drop there, hardly eager to keep up the connection longer than he needs to-- that's all he needed from this.
And he'll be there before long, looking as usual like he could probably use multiple baths. Ares is uncharacteristically quiet, the easy nonchalance and energy absent for once; it's just this side of complete blankness, and if not for the continued presence of those same emotions in his mind he might seem to be feeling little at all. The instability is still very much there beneath the apparent apathy.
The toe of one shoe scuffs against the ground before he glances up.]
[Prince is, as always, already there before he arrives. He doesn't move as Cathaway through the Station, but it has still been his home for many cycles, as much as he may deny it being anything of the sort.
He is unsurprised to find the boy less at ease than he had been- even if the way he had reached out to him had been less tense, less fraught. Loss like that was difficult to even comprehend, even for one who had done little to embrace their new life. It still hurt, even if it seemed like it shouldn't. Ached.]
Of what do you speak?
[He could look for himself, but he was less inclined than he was normally, and he was normally not inclined at all.]
[It takes a moment for him to answer-- he's always been taught how to suppress things, never really learned how to talk about them.]
I didn't even really know him or anything. It just-- feels all wrong.
[There's too much. It shouldn't be this way, he shouldn't have to deal with it. This should have been something so much easier to get over, and it leaves him uneasy-- if it hurt that way for someone he wasn't even friends with, what would it be like for someone who was?]
He knew what the boy was speaking of, but hearing it in his words helped. There was no truly grateful way to weather this loss, but he thinks it is- not worse, the pain was the same for all of them- but more confusing, more incomprehensible for those who kept their minds and their hearts close. They protected themselves that way, and to find it didn't help, that their careful barriers meant nothing to this was hard. It could make them fearful. Angry. It was their right.]
You don't.
[The step Prince takes towards him is carefully measured.]
It is a pain you didn't ask for, but it is yours now. It is a reminder of the only thing you have left to fight for but your own life. [Prince's hand raises, it is an unintentional thing, the way it comes to resf near the center of his chest] They are wounded, too.
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day 164 after Shit Happened
That's a large part of why, in the aftermath of Parker's death, he doesn't reach out earlier. The pain hits too close to wounds that are too easy to open and it hurts, it hurts in ways it shouldn't for someone he didn't know at all, it hurts and he hates it--
When Ares does reach out, it's in near desperation, lost as to what to do about this. His emotions are volatile, caught between anger and sadness and that sharp, keen sense of loss-- between wanting to do something about it and wanting everything to just stop.
It's hard for him to wring words out of it all, and the ones that manage to form as he fumbles to reach the person he's looking for are-]
Why is it like this? [Not quite what he wanted. There's more right on the heels of that thought, frustrated.] --I want to talk for real. Not this way.
no subject
But for all that it is both his responsibility and something he firmly believed was required in order to prevent further loss, he was not without compassion. Or perhaps merely practicality. He knew what it was to lose a member of your brood. He knew very well. He does not expect his words to reach them so soon afterward. So he intends to give it time, something they had less of than he would like, and perhaps they would come to understand among each other what he would spell out for them soon.
He did not expect to be called on by any of them before then. Cathaway was a far more common source of comfort, as ironic as that may seem to him at times. Nevertheless the boy's grab for his attention is easy to notice, for all it does not come naturally to him. He doesn't bristle from it, although there is no attempt on his part to strengthen the connection, to invite him further, to answer Ares emotions with any of his own.]
I will meet you in the training hall.
[It is an attempt at understanding, on his part, even if the words are seemingly unaffected. He seemed like he would be most comfortable there.]
no subject
[He lets it drop there, hardly eager to keep up the connection longer than he needs to-- that's all he needed from this.
And he'll be there before long, looking as usual like he could probably use multiple baths. Ares is uncharacteristically quiet, the easy nonchalance and energy absent for once; it's just this side of complete blankness, and if not for the continued presence of those same emotions in his mind he might seem to be feeling little at all. The instability is still very much there beneath the apparent apathy.
The toe of one shoe scuffs against the ground before he glances up.]
Was that supposed to be normal too?
no subject
He is unsurprised to find the boy less at ease than he had been- even if the way he had reached out to him had been less tense, less fraught. Loss like that was difficult to even comprehend, even for one who had done little to embrace their new life. It still hurt, even if it seemed like it shouldn't. Ached.]
Of what do you speak?
[He could look for himself, but he was less inclined than he was normally, and he was normally not inclined at all.]
no subject
I didn't even really know him or anything. It just-- feels all wrong.
[There's too much. It shouldn't be this way, he shouldn't have to deal with it. This should have been something so much easier to get over, and it leaves him uneasy-- if it hurt that way for someone he wasn't even friends with, what would it be like for someone who was?]
-how do you make it stop.
no subject
He knew what the boy was speaking of, but hearing it in his words helped. There was no truly grateful way to weather this loss, but he thinks it is- not worse, the pain was the same for all of them- but more confusing, more incomprehensible for those who kept their minds and their hearts close. They protected themselves that way, and to find it didn't help, that their careful barriers meant nothing to this was hard. It could make them fearful. Angry. It was their right.]
You don't.
[The step Prince takes towards him is carefully measured.]
It is a pain you didn't ask for, but it is yours now. It is a reminder of the only thing you have left to fight for but your own life. [Prince's hand raises, it is an unintentional thing, the way it comes to resf near the center of his chest] They are wounded, too.