Seldom does he offer genuine concern 'pon others. it's equal parts
seldom does he offer genuine concern 'pon others. it's equal parts his nature — equal parts resisting attachment. still, the other looks beaten to shit, whether physically or mentally; he's yet to prod. there's a cadence in his voice expertly honed, a mellifluous and compassionate patchwork of sympathy. ❛ that so... ❜ his eyes drag themselves over their stained coat and linger on the two-tone coloring of their hair. if he notices anything out of place, he graciously doesn't insist on questioning them. it's better to puzzle over things like this. ( at least there's fun to be had in trying to solve them. )
❛ a couple bloodstains usually ain't enough to get people to make faces like that. ❜ at least, not in his experience. no, no, countless days of wandering gave him a deadly instinct for probing the truth. sometimes, he can't help himself. truth can cut deeper than any blade, whether the sting of denial or bitter acceptance. assuming he had been unerring in his questioning, he quietly gauges their reaction. noting the softness in the features and wondering if that gentleness he sees could merely be false. those marks didn't appear defensive — not to him. ❛ but, you've got tired eyes. fishy ones. ❜
yeah, that's what he decides. there's a deeper melancholy to them that the surface permits. all bundled up in that coat, something is twisting and writhing; whatever feelings haise's nursing were tricky indeed. some of his tact fails him as he stares. for a moment, he thinks about himself and whether he's ever felt such things. if the sting in their eyes matches the one that greets him sometimes in the mirror. was their pain similar? or was he so desperate to see himself in others that he clings to the tiniest modicum of recognition?
flashing a smile, he gingerly picks some dirt from beneath his nail — his troubles quickly forgotten. ❛ ain't always gotta be the tough guy, y'know? older i get, and the more good-looking, mind you, that's what i've learned. ❜ with preening done, he inspects his fingers, framing haise with them. ❛ ... lemme see if i can get some of those stains outta that coat. you're a bit of a mess, my friend. damn near a fashion travesty. now, before you answer, think about what i said — then answer. there is a wrong answer. ❜
જ⁀➴ @amcssing ( Bradley ) finds Haise after he has been in a fight.
The sting of humilation lingered like a bitter aftertaste — the fact that he, the squad mentor, the one tasked with guiding and protecting the Quinx, had been the one roughed up like this during their latest investigation had Haise reeling. How could he possibly command respect, lead effectively, when he had so demonstrably lost control?
It haunted him — their expressions as he had come to his senses again, each of his subordinates' eyes filled with a mixture of incredulity and unspoken judgment. He suspected harsh words lingering in the minds of even those who had never outwardly criticized him, silent doubts harbored by those who had come to trust him — and he didn’t even want to start thinking about those who questioned his authority, the ones who already bordered on outright insubordination.
This incident would undoubtedly worsen the already tense atmosphere within his barely held-together squad and further shake the fragile foundation of his team. His stomach churned at the thought of distrust and disrespect taking further root within those he so desperately tried to hold together — a sharp, unpleasant feeling, it mirrored the throbbing pain radiating from his battered body.
And fate, it seemed, was determined to deny him even a moment's respite. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Haise to stiffen, to pull himself a little straighter, despite the protest of his aching muscles. The thought that someone was about to walk in on him while he was feeling sorry for himself — wallowing in self-pity with his coat stained in half-dried blood — only increased his burning shame, fueling its already stoking flames. His cheeks flushed with heat as he prepared himself to wave off the inevitable gaze of concern and confusion.
❛ I’m okay. Just a rough mission. ❜ It was the kind of line he had perfected by now — light, casual, deflecting any kind of concern that could be directed at him. He hated this; the idea of causing anyone worry. Deeply rooted was his desperate desire to not be a burden to those around him, to prove his worth.
With trembling fingers hidden in the folds of his stained coat, Haise looked up to give Bradley a smile — subtle, yet reassuring, the kind that was designed to convey a silent ‘Really, I’m okay’, despite it not quite reaching his eyes.
concerned roleplay starters, accepting !
More Posts from Amcssing and Others
the older i get, i completely understand why some people go off the grid and live their lives in private
smears of green, streaks of blue, dots of red like stars, it's a tapestry from within the speed force. wally wonders how much dick could make out; how many of these fleeting instances he remembers? ( wally remembers most, if not all. ) / a single long second, it spans a thousand years, the shifting of body weight—— the familiar warmth, let's say they're both lucky: one misstep &. they're both gonna be joining those smears of color. not exactly the best way to start a reunion / date. he won't have it hanging over his head, not when dick already had plenty to dangle already.
slowing, wind goes from roar to a hushed whimper, all the colors unstretched becoming plain. only stopping when they're alone, only stopping when there's no danger, no risk, no nosey reporters eager for a story nearby. luckily, every hero kept a safe house—— some more private than others, but this one, he knew better than most. eyes glow with faint traces of the speed force, jolts of blue lightning that fade to reveal warm green eyes.
❛ easy ! easy ! gentle with the nose, birdbrain. ❜ head shakes, trying to brush off touch. ❛ half the fun of going out to dinner is enjoying the smells—— whatya gonna do if you hurt this prize-winning asset, huh? ❜ light jest, still, despite reaching temporary destination ... wally doesn't put them down. grip tightens ever so slightly, subconsciously leeching more warmth, eager to stretch one second into thousands. features flush, a faint hint of red against light skin. ❛ i missed you, dick. ❜
CONTINUED FROM HERE. dick & wally. / @amcssing
bad habits die hard; especially when they don't consider it entirely bad. its always been a talent of his, the disappearing act, since he was a child long before he donned the cape of robin. the circus crew had to be good at not being seen, after all. nightwing had to be even better. he tends to forget that there can be exceptions to this rule----even decades later.
he remembers when he reappears, of course. the mild twinge of wally's mouth makes it obvious. the tiniest pang of guilt hits, but it's replaced with an easy smile and a quip. when he opens his mouth again, he nearly swallows air, and his i told you not to carry me like this is quickly abandoned.
------ " your treat ? " he says between the wind, when wally finally slows enough, when his mask is no longer the thing keeping him from going all but blind in the velocity. when it is safe, mis-matched colored fingers lift to poke the speedster directly on the nose.
" since you asked. date etiquette and all, KF. " a dramatic swing of the legs, a hollywood imitation of romcom tropes, though the wave of giddiness isn't fake.
then, quieter, more serious: " meant it, walls. i didn't mean to take off again. "
she insists——he refuses. it's push and pull. the tug of the waves and the moon 'pon each other where neither truly wins. for a moment, he thinks of his past ... when brandishing his spear would pave the way. when filling these roots with scarlet would make his will absolute. a time when he did not value life nor know their pain. now, however, he does. his curse subjects him to a sense of empathy deeper than mere sensation &. it pains him. a nagging pain only kept at bay with his strength of mind.
he remains obstinate as arms fold behind his back. their gaze sweeps these woods, drinking in the absurdity likely thick within them. it remains him of inodal——his home. a strange place full of secrets and the unknown. maybe a trip back, after this, would soothe the sickness in his heart. one can only hope.
"i answer your question, yet you spurn mine. you wound me deeply, you know?" he clicks his tongue. "i have wandered farther than you can imagine——far from a realm beyond this place. i am far from a human. it's an insult to them to compare them to my ilk. what's the word of this land ... i'm a godling. son of the beast who stalks the higher realms to bathe their eminence in blood." the hunt, the beast: Upione. "not that i expect them to be known here ... peer deeper, seerer. surely there's an answer that will satisfy you among the stars."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTRUST NONE, GIRL.
Like something predacious, does he stalk the area, as if looking for OPPORTUNITY ; she would not offer him such. Perched 'pon high, owlish eyes narrow. She could not discern intent, without further prodding ; but she must be cautious — tread with care.
Each and every signal in his body, the changing pitch of his voice ... all of it, a tell. He does not seem to be an aggressive sort, beyond surface expression ; but it was the calm, that held the most wicked of hearts.
❝ ... My vision is not business of yours, outsider. Are you not far from home ? Far from human settlements ? Do you not know, into which you have wandered ? ❞
The DREADWOOD, was no place for man - let alone a man, who dresses unlike all she's ever seen. Perhaps, his continent is across the GREAT SEA, where even she was left in the dark, in regards to their comings and goings.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ It is not too late, to turn back. ❞
i'm slowly building my reading list so i can get muse inspo and i love books
thane's love language is helping him maintain his dreads. thanks.
Long live the king
i got this amazing commission from HeloiseArt_ and would highly recommend them!
late night Brad thoughts are the fact he, more often than not, molds himself into roles for the people around him. To him, someone’s who’s seen so much, it’s both a way to disassociate himself from things but a source of amusement too. It’s not too different than the switch in perspective of a story, just because you’ve read it one way, maybe there’s something to be found from a fresh perspective. He flows off vibes and that can make him a helping hand, an antagonist, a mentor and more. But, just like roles, he can easily discard these guises. He doesn’t connect to them - if he does, never for long. His story was supposed to be an endless journey but he found the end and that is why he drifts endlessly. An unknowable figure, aimless until a new story begins.
-
amcssing reblogged this · 3 days ago -
wispedream reblogged this · 1 month ago
