hadriel_logs | like a wildfire;

( it just. keeps piling up, that heat and anger, sitting like a stone in the pit of his stomach and of course it shoves all coherent thought out of his mind that has anything to do with anything else.

all he can focus on, all he can think about is the way keith is looking at him like something is really, really wrong, and it is; for once in all the time he's known him, he's the one doing the reaching out when he'd spent all that time running from his own thoughts, his own emotions, and it makes lance sick in a way that nearly has bile rising in the back of his throat.

words sit like acid on the tip of his tongue as he peers down at the hand on his shoulder, feeling suddenly like he's being held in place and that is going to do, either. none of this is right.

everything is wrong. ) Why? You never talk to us when we try to figure out whatever is going on with you. ( his brows are still pinched; have they even come close to talking about the soulmate fallout, like they said they would? maybe it hadn't been intentional, and maybe he hadn't wanted to talk about that anyway because it was so much easier to just move on and. see where they're going. ) You never talk to me. So why should I talk to you?

[The accusation makes Keith flinch. He takes a step back, taking that hand off Lance's shoulder.]

I- I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?

[It's a cheap defense; Keith knows that, but his thoughts are racing again trying to figure out why Lance is bringing this up now, why his demeanor has gotten Sub-Arctic. But it's hard to think clearly when confronted with the realization that maybe it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe it's too late to make amends. Keith swallows, taking a half step back. It takes a considerable amount of self restraint to keep it at just that one half step.]

Look, i... [He glances over his shoulder, eyes darting from one side of the street to the other.] -- it's not safe, Lance. Something's out there and I don't know what's going on or what I did that made you mad, but can you stop?

( it is a cheap defense and he knows it, not something he would have expect to hear from keith in the first place because he's always been the one to bite back when someone snaps at him first; that should be enough to set off alarm bells in the back of his mind, but as it is all it does it make him scoff.

because none of this is how it should be. ) Yeah, now you are, but have you ever heard the phase 'too little, too late'? You never cared before, so why now? It just — ( he takes in a breath and lets it out as an aggravated sigh, hands still balled into fists, one of them dangerously close to the bayard taking up space at his hip. ) It just makes me sick.

( he takes another breath, in and out and in again and doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he's cracking one of them back open again, narrowed into a slit that only allows a sliver of blue to be seen. ) You look scared. ( that isn't something he's ever seen before, either, but. that's neither here nor there. ) Is that what this is? Scaredy cat Keith, wanting to turn and run from all his problems again just like you did with the Blade?

( ouch, lance. )

[Whatever direction Keith was expecting Lance to go with this, it wasn't this one. He flicnhes without really meaning to, freezing in place as he cautiously tries and fails to meet lance's eye. It's a simple movement, but somehow the thought of actually trying to face the other paladin's anger head on is suddenly the most difficult thing to do.

And maybe that's just indirectly proving Lance's point. The thought leaves an acrid taste in his mouth, stirring up some misplaced sense of defiance, even though he knows this isn't the time or place to argue because there's a real looming threat around and even as he sees the other's fingers move towards his bayard, Keith refuses to believe that Lance is the threat

No matter how pissed off, no matter how much Lance has unknowingly been bottling all this up... he wouldn't. They've been in so many fights together and if he can't trust Lance, he may as well stop trusting everytone else. ]

I'm not! [The words are blurted out -- urgent, forceful. Like he's trying to convince himself of this just as much as he's trying to convince Lance.] I don't want to run. Not from you.

( when all of this is said and done and he's no longer being affected by rage — there are going to be so, so many things to say, so many things that need to be said because everything out of his mouth in this very instant is not any sort of thing that would be in his conscious thoughts otherwise; but he isn't in his right mind, and his thoughts are erring on the side of erratic and baseless to the point that he doesn't really think he's actively thinking anymore.

it's all just coming to him in a flood of red at the corners of his vision, and he bares his teeth in a way that he never would have before now. never would have, period. his hand lingers next to his bayard, fingers still itching to take it from his side and bring it out in the open, something so satisfying about just the thought of it enough to sate something deep in his chest, something with teeth that has already latched onto him and doesn't have a thought of letting him go anytime soon. ) Why now? ( he bites out around clenched teeth, fingers finally settling on the curve of his bayard, but still not drawing it. )

Why now, of all times, when it feels like I've been chasing you forever?

( the words leave his mouth and he finally looks at keith directly again, the blue of his eyes almost like shards of ice behind dark lashes. ) Why now!?

[As the hostility dials up, Keith feels himself starting to panic. It isn't like him at all; he prides himself on being able to keep a level head in the worst of times, except .... except for maybe when it most counts? Like the time they were all hallucinating in deep space. Hunk had said they were all acting out because they were brave heroes who had no idea how to be scared, but this isn't like that time, is it.

Lance isn't scared, but Lance is scaring him. Funny-not-funny how acknowledging that to himself isn't bloody helping anything. Instinctively he starts reaching for his own bayard, mirroring the motion of the other paladin's hands. He's not going to need it -- he's not.]

We can talk about everything and anything you want. Just calm down, alright? It's -- [It's gonna be okay. The words stay choked in his throat. Isn't that what he said to Shiro's clone before they fought? Keith takes another half step backwards, teeth grit. They're not going to fight. This isn't going to be like that time.]

Please.

Edited 2019-04-02 02:56 (UTC)

( of course, none of this anger is like lance, either; sure, he's been known to lose his cool from time to time in the past, over ridiculous things to boot, but he's always gotten his head back in the right place before anything serious happens, and this.

this is not that. the longer they stand there, the longer keith tries to plead with him the angrier he gets, or maybe it's just the shorter his fuse gets, because he can feel his entire body being taken over by the heat that comes with unbridled anger. rage.

his bayard comes away from his side and instead of forming his usual rifle, that broadsword that has never seen much use takes its place and he shoves it in keith's direction, vision hazy and still red at the edges, teeth still bared, voice cracking when he finally speaks up again. ) Don't. Don't you dare ask me for anything right now. I'm — ( i'm done is on the edge of his tongue but somehow stays stuck there instead of spilling over, caught like maybe it doesn't belong, or some unconscious part of him knows the damage that's going to end up being done if he lets it slip.

the broadsword sways in his grip, pointed at keith's throat. ) I'm done talking.

[It can't have taken more than three seconds for Lance to draw his bayard, activate it and then point a broadswor at him, but Keith feels like he's watching it all happen in slow motion for all the disbelief he feels over it, the disbelief he still feels over it. But where rational thoughts come to an end, years of training and combat kick in as he jumps back and activates his own bayard for defense. He lands solidly on his feet, sword in sweating hands, still with that disbelieving look on his face.]

Stop...

[It comes out like a plea for all the good that it'll do. He knows it won't. They hadn't worked when he fought Shiro's clone, they're not going to work now when Lance is so clearly out of it. Maybe there's nothing surprising about any of this. Maybe this was always going to happen because why wouldn't it? When has a single thing ever gone right in the last couple of months? Why is he even asking why this is happening in a world as fucked up as this one.

Heart hammering in his chest, Keith grips the handle of his sword tighter and makes one meager attempt to stand his ground and act like he isn't so afraid of how badly thins could turn out that he might be sick.]

I don't want to fight you! Drop the weapon and talk to me, damn it!

( things like this tend to happen either all at once or frame by frame, too quick to tell or drawn out in the kind of way that that exaggerates every movement, every shift in an expression, and were lance to see himself now, he'd be both horrified and ashamed.

( and even though he never will, when the memory sticks with him long after the fact, he still will be. horrified and ashamed that he's done something so messed up to someone he cares about so much, but of course that isn't on his mind now, is it? )

the fact that keith is trying at all, making an effort like he had with shiro's clone speaks volumes where words fall short; lance hears him, because of course he does but he can't listen for the anger that still searing through him, has him attempting to press forward even more with the tip of that broadsword, and he doesn't think for one second that he isn't going to end up using it. ) I told you, I'm done. ( and it sounds every bit like he means it. )

So you either get ready to fight me, or run. ( his eyes narrow into slits of blue ice, and he snarls. ) I vote run.

[Fight or flight. Keith's breath comes to him in gasps, as he stares at the point of the gleaming broadsword. It occurs to him belatedly that he's never seen Lance's bayard take on that form -- it'd always been a gun of some sort hadn't it? When did this change happen? How good is Lance with a sword?

A lot of time has passed since he left Voltron for the Blade of Marmora. A lot of time has passed since it was just him alone caught up in different universes in a duplicate body. Since being in Hadriel with the team again, he wanted so much to close the gaps that time and distance created. He wanted not to be caught off guard by things that have changed with Lance. In theory, Lance's apparent proficiency with a sword gives them even more common ground than before. We could have trained together is some stupid, distant thought echoing in his head, though the unforgiving chill of Lance's glare keeps him grounded in the moment.]

You... you said you hate me because I run.

[Lance isn't in his right mind, but the accusation still hurts to repeat.]

Tell me, how am I supposed to just run now without making it worse?

like a wildfire;

oh, the happiest, only good things are happening here

incredible fiesta

god i was so scared to read this i put it off until just now ... doesn't hurt any less tbh

im still /o\ over this

honestly i am cringing so hard, god ...

this contiues to be upsetting

i'm not ready for how quickly this is escalating

i'm feeling max /o\ atm

god ... hard same

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