Skin & Bones & Rot // [Ignis + Kaine]

[admin kay]

IGNIS

It wasn't the being trapped inside that made his pinkies twitch and his thoughts moulder. Not exactly. It was that outside had been his sanctuary. Even on the snowiest of days he almost always made tracks in the snow to smoke a cigarette or two. But this storm wasn't like others; it would not relent. And as the food supplies dwindled, Ignis risked the infraction to smoke in shadowy corridors. At the nicotine soothed his mewling stomach.

It did nothing at all to stop the rot in his mind.

As rail thin as he's ever been, Ignis stalks the old servants' passages. He's not the only one; they've all grown desperate and already the pre-war pantry has been ransacked. He sticks another cigarette between his lips but doesn't light it. Instead he holds the mirrored lighter out to see around the corner.

And sure enough, he's found a weak little mouse.

Polo shirt collar gaping Ignis takes a few heavy steps around the corner, right into Kaine's path. He doesn't look at the other boy; he doesn't have to. Unlit cigarette drooping from his lower lip, he says casually, "going somewhere? I think it's best if you have an escort."

[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

K A I N E

I'm decaying.

Yes, I've been as well-preserved as everyone else but I felt the slow rot settle in first. I can feel it, in the tips of my fingers having gone a permanent shade of red ever since they decided to start rationing heat along with our food. My hands hold a tremor that never goes away at this point. I'm all rust and aching limbs held together with sun-starved fibres that whither upon a single glance.

And I think that I'm really losing the plot now.

My notebooks get left behind in my room and I wander in silence, making my way down halls darkened by the drifts of snow that block the windows. Untethered, I'm like a kite, drifting. My stomach feels empty, I wasn't well last night and dinner was too many floors away from the warmth of my bed.

But now I hunger and that emptiness only lets the cold in further.

It's with mild hope that I find myself heading towards the infamous emergency food cache from pre-war times. There's canned goods in there so old that their labels have crumbled away into dust. It's risky business opening one up but I figure a teenaged boy's cast iron stomach has to be good for something.

My feet barely touch ground, I ricochet off walls in my aimlessness and all the while there's still this endless pounding in my head that hasn't gone away since the other night.

"Going somewhere? I think it's best if you have an escort."

Funny how the devil speaks before I can of him. I look up and Ignis has come from around my next corner. Despite it all, my mouth works itself up into a wry smile, "'N-n-nnnn-nis," I greet him. I don't know why, fear makes you do strange things I guess.

I don't really know what else to do. I just watch him get closer. I could turn and run but I guess my body knows the futility of it, I'm stuck in place.

The entire passage smells like stale cigarettes, I don't know how I missed that. Fuck, I'm such an idiot.

My foot slides backwards, I'm not hungry anymore, I'm not anything. Brain's going empty as panic sets in. Run, I'm supposed to run, right? Can't fight and it's usually either or, but he'll catch me, he always does. Then what?

I already know what. There's no escape.

My shoulders cave, body crumbling to match the small, tight feeling in my chest. I raise an arm above my head, shielding myself uselessly. I don't bother asking why anymore, I don't beg.

"Not g-g-go-goin-going any anywh-where," I mutter, not quite looking at him, "S-so no....n-no th-thhhh-thay-thanks."

I know the question was rhetorical but If I'm going to get hit anyway, I might as well earn it.