ravenswrath | (no subject)

Corvo doesn't want his help this time. He's angry, the sort of rage built up that doesn't seem to have an end. His soul might have healed, but it's filled with that white hot hurt and he pushes him away.

He's going to kill him. He's going to - make them hurt. Make them bleed.

Jamie isn't going to let him go on his own. Not in this state.

"I'll help you look after him. He'll be right as rain soon enough."

"They killed him," he snarls, grabbing Jamie's coat, trying to push him away again with feeble, aching arms.

"He's dead. He didn't do anything."

And Jamie won't go.

"They did," Jamie agrees, feeling tired. He's had too many dead boys to let this pull him down or make his head stop working even as his chest feels empty and heavy all at once.

"He didn't. But he'll wake up. And he'll need kind faces and steady hands. He'll need care, not blood."

Corvo doesn't know how to care. He's relived Jessamine's death twice, had children, had lives in these dreams. He's saved her once and that was because of Richter. Richter, who's mouth doesn't close, but that shouldn't be a crime.

He tries to pull back again. "Blood is all I know," he snaps.

And Jamie won't go.

"Don't lie to me," he says, steady but not soft. "I know better."

A breath out.

"Let's find a good chair you can take by his bed. We'll watch over him."

Corvo glares at him a moment, breathing through his nose.

"Fine," he finally says, but there's still tension in his shoulders.

Jamie will get him into the chair set up by the bed and go to look for one for himself. If he has to, he'll sit on the floor.

He settles in the chair, slumping over, looking defeated.

"He helped me save her," he mutters when Jamie joins him.

"I'm not surprised. He seems like a good lad."

He looks over at Corvo.

"He's a good lad. We'll look out for him."

"Stop saying that," he mutters, his teeth clenched. "Stop saying it. I can't protect anyone. I can't take care of anyone."

Jamie looks at him for a long moment before he shakes his head.

"Maybe we can't. But we'll still look out for him."

He looks over at Corvo.

"Sometimes you fail. But sometimes you don't. You don't know when you try but you always fail if you don't try."

He sinks down in the chair.

"I did try. I try and fucked up."

"So we try again," he says plainly. Not easily. Not like it's nothing.

Determined.

"I'll help you."

It's not easy. It's not simple. And right now, that seems utterly insurmountable. But he's here, he's sitting, and that's enough.

"Did you take the girls back?"

He nods.

"I brought Snow to see you for a time. Then brought her back."

"He likes them," he remarks. "The girls. We should bring one by when he wakes."

That's not exactly caring for him, but it's something new. Something good. He can stop being angry for long enough to remember the way Richter handled Snow.

"I'll bring them both," he assures him, "one for each of you."

"You need one. I've had my time," he says, his hands on his stomach.

"I need nothing of the sort. They'll be worried after you if I don't."

(no subject)

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