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over the years.
vignettes.
"you looked into its eyes." shraplla says bluntly. not a question. the way ellaire was acting, it was certain. he'd looked into the eyes of the marble seer.
"they told us not to, rell. why would you look?"
ellaire stays silent. he's trembling under his part-machine metlov armor, sat in the empty transport. the mission had ended successfully, but ellaire, after looking into the statues eyes, had to be nearly carried back to the transport by shraplla.
"did you see something?" shraplla asks hesitantly, voice soft. shraplla is close to ellaire, but he doesn't want to offer any kind of contact. it might scare ellaire at the moment.
ellaire looks haunted. ellaires usually blueish eyes seem pale, grey, and empty; clouded. ellaire takes in an almost gasping gulp of air before he opens his mouth. ellaires voice doesn't shake, but his tone is quiet. almost imperceptible.
"i saw death." ellaire whispers, vacant eyes finally coming up from the floor; ellaire finally meets shrapllas concerned gaze. they saw death every day -- they killed constantly and consistently. they were soldiers. why was ellaire so shaken up about this one death?
i think i saw your death, ellaire doesn't say. ellaire knows what would happen if he broke the vow he made to the creature. seeing the future, no matter how hazy the vision, came with a price; a vow of silence -- to never speak of what he saw in his vision.
while shrapllas thoughts go into overdrive, ellaire continues trying to get the image of a man who could-have-been shrapllas open-eyed corpse out of his head.
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ORIGINS
TRUE AGE
OCCUPATION
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aconstalii
y/a
soldier
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♚
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PRONOUNS
ORIENTATION
ALIGNMENT
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he/him ; post!shra he/it
queer
true neutral ; post!shra, chaotic neutral
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the transport jostled, lights flickering out as the rain and wind howled and clawed at the outside of the ship. "hey," shraplla said, knocking his M4A1 against ellaires M4A1, which was shaking minutely as a result of ellaires shaking hands. from anxiety or adrenaline, shraplla didnt know. maybe both.
"dont act like youre not one of the best here." shraplla muttered, stubbornly avoiding eye contact. shrapllas metal-suit encased hands were gripped on the butt of his gun; his was barely audible over the noise of gravel, dirt, and rocks being whipped against the metal doors of the transport, but ellaire heard him anyways.
ellaire just cracked a small smile, tossing shraplla an affectionate look as he pulled his protective tac mask on.
"where are those from?" ellaire asked softly, clearly as to avoid the others in the lockerroom hearing. ellaire tossed his head lightly in a gesture, short, fluffy hair rustling with the movement. shraplla glanced to ellaire, then to where ellaire had gestured; to shrapllas pale, viscously scarred abdomen.
"its rude to stare when someones changing, rell." shraplla chidingly responded, putting his remaining mission gear into his duffel.
ellaire rolled his eyes, chuffing a laugh. "shut up, man. first, it's not rell. it's ellaire. i dont even have a rell in my name," shraplla just hummed softly, pulling a plain black shirt on as ellaire continued. "secondly, and more importantly, we dont train with live rounds, and you know damn well the amfiecas footsoldiers use blasdbolts. i dont know where youre going and getting those slug scars, but you need to stop before you get someone -- like yourself -- killed."
ellaires voice had become a harsh whisper as he tied his boots, one foot propped up on the metal benches they had. after a few moments of shrapllas deliberate silence, ellaire had finished tying his laces, and fixed himself.
ellaire stood up and sent shraplla one last glance before making a move to leave. shraplla, minimally moving his head to watch ellaire go, was internally surprised when ellaire paused by the doorway and walked back over.
ellaire looked conflicted before clapping a firm hand onto shrapllas shoulders.
"look, you can talk to me if you want to. were friends, right?" ellaire murmured. "you dont have to keep all those tough guy secrets in there." shraplla let out a small sigh, sending ellaire a glance holding a small, wry smile and tired eyes. "i know, man."
growing more serious, shraplla glanced around briefly before edging closer, and in a hushed, uncharacteristically anxious tone started, "i- theres something-" of course, as soon as he started to talk, a fellow soldier passed by them to get to the exit of the lockerroom.
shraplla immediately clammed up, and instead of saying whatever he was going to, he lamely finished, "...ill see you in caf."
ellaire just nodded, smiling gently in return, responding with a slightly strained, "yeah. yeah, buddy, okay."
ellaire kept his gaze to the ground as he left.
its late when shraplla gets back. he opens the bunker door slowly and incredibly quietly, only the soft light of the outside coming through the cracked entrance. ellaire, who had finally fallen asleep, was woken up. shraplla closed the door equally quietly, and walked near silently to the bed. shraplla was uncharacteristically silent, but it made sense for the time of night.
the glowing red tech on the wall states that it is 0300.
ellaire opened his eyes from where he was resting in his bottom bunk, and he stared at the approaching form for a few moments before realizing it was shraplla. shraplla still had his tac gear on, but held no weapons; no weapons were allowed in the sleeping quarters. not that gear was, either; they were supposed to change out of gear and put it into their duffle after training or their mission ended, usually before 0000.
it took another moment for ellaires bleary mind to realize that shraplla was staggering. forcing a stream of adrenaline through his veins iin order to force himself coherent, ellaire got up from his bunk. ellaire walked to where shraplla was -- about halfway to the bunkbeds -- and though unmenacing, shraplla flinched as ellaires approach became close. ellaire put steadying hands on both of shrapllas shoulders, trying to meet shrapllas gaze.
shraplla simply avoided ellaires searching, though ellaire couldn't tell if it was on purpose. shraplla had this blown out expression to him; shraplla simply stared off to the side, gaze foggy and sluggish. shraplla looked like -- he looked like the men that came back who couldn't handle what they saw. the men who got the code, and the men who finally figured out that no, their friends weren't coming back in this lifetime.
concerned at both the staggering and the uncharacteristic motions, ellaire whispered, "what happened?"
shraplla simply stared through ellaire, somehow sluggishly avoiding ellaires searching gaze. shrapllas head was slackened, and his head slid to the side, turned to stare past ellaires shoulder and to the floor. there was nothing there, of course; the odd motion only caused ellaires brows to furrow further, mouth becoming a thin line.
was shraplla sick? where had he come from? why was he out so late? why wasn't shraplla saying anything?
"can you look at me, shra?" ellaire murmured, moving one hand up to shrapllas face to gently move it. shraplla didn't stare through him this time, but he still seemed -- empty. no recognition crossed shrapllas face. ellaires hand feels a bump on shapllas cheekbone, and he realizes in the near pitch black that shraplla may have a black eye.
what the hell had happened? they hadn't been on a mission in weeks, and this hadn't happened during drills.
"okay, buddy," ellaire whispered, "i'm getting you to the bunk, okay? you can take my spot. since," he paused briefly, "since you don't seem to be up to climbing the ladder or hopping up."
shraplla, unsurprisingly, did not respond. this time, however, shraplla finally seemed to realize who was in front of him. he stopping staring completely through ellaire with his eerily half-lidded eyes, and actually opened his mouth slightly before clamping it shut again. shraplla finally decided on leaning forward to rest his head on ellaires collar bone.
caught off guard, ellaires eyes widened minutely, but his brain caught up and he put his arms around shraplla in a hug.
the other man seemed to need it. ...
... the next morning when shraplla wakes up, he's out of his outer tac gear; of course, he still has his undershirt and second pants on, but at least he didn't sleep in his vest or jacket.
he can't fully remember the night prior; he isn't sure when he took his gear off or maybe ellaire helped him out of his armor -- shraplla wouldn't be reprimanded by his officers, that way. shraplla also doesn't understand why ellaire keeps glancing at him with concerned eyes during the morning officer checks.
ellaire doesn't know about the doctor. the visits. the tests.
right?
shraplla and ellaire sat at their usual bench in the mess hall, other friends joining them once they got their plates. shraplla rested his head in one hand, palm covering his nose and fingers splaying to cover his closed eyes. he was exhausted; not that anyone lamed him, half the other guys in here were doing the same pose.
sleep didn't come easy to anyone anymore.
codex sat down far before alibi did, long pale hair thrown into messy braids. he always fixed them -- tightened and secured -- before training or any officer involved happenings. but this was just morning meal, so he had nothing to worry about.
alibi came last, sitting down gently as he always did. he was oddly quiet in everything other than personality. as soon as alibi looked up from rubbing his eyes, his gaze fell to shrapllas bruised face. the blunter of the two instantly let out a rough chuff, studying shrapllas face for a moment beofre looking back down, "sh!t, man, nice shiner," he said, picking up his utensils, "who'd you **** off for that one?"
shraplla let out a small grunt in response, dragging the hand of his face down so it fell to the table. he took in and then let out a large amount of of oxygen, making a muted sigh. "some..." he looked disorientedly down to the plate in front of him, eyes suddenly fogging.
ellaire narrowed his brows slightly, voice faux chidingly annoyed, and knocked the back of shrapllas head. shraplla clearly wasn't answering, so ellaire quickly supplied, "dumbqss fell off his bunk, decided that just wasn't enough, and then was twisting around all goddamn night in his bunk."
hellscape grinned, long reddish hair tied up, quipping, "sounds about right." to which sparrow -- who was sitting to his right, nearly a head shorter than his redheaded friend but making up for his height in temperament -- told hellscape he was a "fvcking ginger" and to "shut the hell up" because he "should be called 'rooster' instead of hellscape" for all his "goddamn noisiness".
in response to the fiery snark, hellscape just laughed heartily and said he'd try to keep it down, ruffling sparrows blue-gray hair.
if shraplla were in a better state he may have laughed, but he simply gave a flat noise of agreement instead; he also barely objected to ellaires friendly slap.
"well if you two are done bickering," thorax said, waving a hand noncommittally at hellscape and sparow, short black hair shiny with water -- always waking up early to shower, said he never felt clean anymore -- said to shraplla, "best clean yourself up, man. you look hung over."
"don't be a dovchebag, thorax, we don't even have alcohol here, that's not possible." codex chided.
"well we do at ceremonies, which you would know if you completed the last fvckin requirement in your rank, but no." thorax groused good-naturedly, mouth quirking into a smirk, to which codex let out an overexaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up into the air in an "i give up" motion.
"to be fair, thorax," codex cut in, voice even, "he would have gotten it if dvenstovska would stop pulling him away to the lab to look aat her freaks of nature-"
"'freaks of nature' -- she made you and codex in that lab, alibi, remember?" thorax snickered.
"you have no idea what she does to those marshsweepers, thorax. man if you saw those-"
at first, ellaire just thought it was a bad night. he disregarded the scars, the late nights, the fear in shrapllas eyes; because he couldn't afford to worry about shraplla. harsh as it was, ellaire could not afford to keep shraplla as safe as ellaire wanted to; those seen as failing or weak were, for lack of a better term, culled.
his concern could be sniffed out by more cutthroat soldiers, and shraplla could be unfairly deemed unfit for duty (which may be a harder case, since shraplla had been doing stellar work in all tasks given, always following the rules and putting out his best, but still).
and ellaire did not want to be without shraplla, especially in a warzone.
not now, not ever, if he was lucky. two halves of a whole or whatever dumb poetic speech it was.
there was something there; something unlabeled, but something that kept ellaires heart warm in the harsh, relentless reality of war and the death that followed their faction. in the cold midnight hours. something that kept shrapllas rather jagged and firm exterior melting, that kept ellaire in shrapllas rare raw moments. something that had them going back to each other after each mission.
but shraplla started failing. failing training. it was noticeable, too; it was not just a trip or a slide, like many of their fellow soldiers made -- thorax cussing quietly after misjudging a post he could climb and losing his footing, alibi missing a shot in a target. those were normal mistakes, ones scrutinized but not deeply offending or dangerous to careers when rarely occurring.
but shraplla made those mistakes -- and more. so, so many more.
shrapllas new staggering and dissociated personality was highly noticeable; the seeming lag that his eyes and his body had gained was painfully apparent in training.
outside of training, shraplla was no better. shraplla didn't respond to social cues, which was fine, everyone had their struggles; its not like he was a master of emotions or social situations even before whatever happened; always missing punchlines and getting concerned over jokes, thinking sparrow was upset with him when that was just how sparrow showed concern.
until it turned into shraplla not acknowledging presences. the twins would stop by their table if they weren't required in the lab the twins said it wasn't for tests, but ellaire saw the needles and incision marks all over them. everyone did. and codex would try to joke with shraplla.
sometimes the twins were ignored anyways, as they could occasionally be overenthusiastic (not really alibi, though, he was a bit of a hardqss), but shraplla always at least spared them a good-natured scoff or quirk of the lips.
he didn't anymore.
it was rare at this point for shraplla to give more than a few full sentences now; his eyes would dart anywhere but ellaires face while he picked at his trembling hands, or some days he would be so -- so out of it -- that he would just keep his slowly moving pupils trained on the floor, wall, or table. it was a lucky day if ellaire got more than a couple sentences out of him.
it wasn't like shraplla was comatose, or necessarily bad in combat anymore -- he was always skilled, got in a few nice enough kills that nobody got too suspicious up the chain of command of his state -- but he was certainly distracted.
the twins showed their concern over shrapllas state by covering him in training. physically and verbally. they gave him credit for things that they did, and moved him when he couldn't move himself. sparrow would help snipe from above as he always did, paying extra attention to shrapllas position. hellscape and thorax helped with brute force.
everyone had all gone thorough rough patches, weeks where they slipped or went into a state -- thorax when his girlfriend back home was found dead, hellscape when his sister was killed in crossfire, sparrow when his city was bombed -- and it was a silent understanding that despite all their bickering and teasing they'd always help cover the other.
of course, it wasn't always successful, but shraplla was never egregiously hurt after the first two... incidents; and ellaire of course greatly appreciated the protection.
it wasn't enough, though.
in the end, nothing would be.
shraplla was sent to the notorious mitske.
full time. not just visits anymore that no one could know about, not just quick incisions or misniscule surgeries he had to be taken out of the field for.
permanently.
and everything got worlds worse.
"he is recovering." alibi would say. "we see him when we go there. hes doing better." codex would say.
but they looked slightly guilty. and they were, after all, the lab rats of mitske.
they were full of propaganda, raised in dogma, drowning in the weight of whatever they had to see whenever they visited mistke. the fact that they had to keep eveyrhting a scret for fear of harm coming to them, their friends, or the patient.
mitske was a mind game. a monopoly, a silent reaper, a secret snake.
mitske was called -- in secret and among certain soldiers alone -- guthands, the vulture, and scrapteeth for a reason. the faces and appearances of those lucky enough to be released from her care knew who she was and what she did.
but those men never talked. not ever, not even when they were gunned down or caught in explosions when they had nothing left to lose. they never said a word, never whispered any clues. not to friends. not to family.
the only information anyone got on them was what they sobbed aloud about when in the midst of nightmares.
and so ellaire knew shraplla wasn't recovering. he couldn't be.
ellaire knew that shraplla wasn't recovering. shraplla couldn't be -- because every time he got those rare glimpses of shraplla, shraplla just looked more and more gaunt. like a skull with harsh, pale skin pulled over it. shrapllas face had lost what color it had, and he became utterly despondent. worse than before.
shraplla just stared at the floor, like some cowardly dog, when spotted in the halls or in mess, on those rare occasions. he had no flesh on him anymore, and his veins looked black underneath his pale skin. shraplla had red rimmed eyes, nearly black sclera what the fvck, and pale, peeling lips; his hands were covered in small scratches, and his showing limbs were often wrapped in tight bandages or completely covered by black clothing.
and rell hated it. hated how shraplla was wasting away, hated that he never saw shra anymore much less talked to him, hated that dvenstovska was doing this to his friend, hated--
he hated how helpless he was to help.
ajajaja shrapllas death will go here eventually. either hes being transported somewhere w like... 416 and it gets ambushed by the alliance or he is euthanized/put down by mitske or something (or maybe one of the twins oh **** that could be good *****)
rells reaction to the event may go here. i dont know if ill have him fin dout in the field and just watch his corpse in the hospital, or if i have him go to shras corpse in the field after the mission.
oh god i have to write so much exposition and context and make so many villains and aaaaaaaaa aaaaaaa but hey i get to write bloodmaw so that should be fun ????? mistke taking his corpse from the morgue. lil edgy sentences of stuff happening. next one is a jump to multiple yrs later. howd he get transferred to the bad side?? idk jason todd-ified him or smthn . maybe mitske is holding hn1 over his head?? + hn1 corruption lolz
shraplla getting drugged up or something. him objecting to something maybe or showing mercy. who knows maybe he cant shoot a civillian so veinteeth has to do it for him and shraplla is like this close to going "ayo w7f haha that was an innocent civillian" but he doesnt because mmmmmmmmmmanipulation and his over-reliance/dependency on the HN1 strain and all that . its kinda in his blood and also what healed his literal death/gunshot to the he4d so he'll have to either go cold turkey or be weaned off of it. luv u mitske u r such a empath 
shraplla -- better known as the canine, now -- bodyslammed bloodmaw, knocking the sharp weapon from the taller mans hand. unprepared, bloodmaw crashed to the dimly lit bunker floor. now both on opposite sides of the room, with ellaire bloodied, beaten, tired, dull eyed in the middle of the two tied to a chair, shraplla hissed,
"only i get to kill him."
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ELLAIRE
pre/post-death "friend"
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461
pre-death fellow experiment
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BLOODMAW
post-death comrade
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CODEX&ALIBI
pre-death friend
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x
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