Daybreak IC Inbox

[unpocoloco]

Héctor
UN: OLLIN

STATUS: Graduate Student / Teacher's Assistant

ACCOLADES: I write music, know how to play a few instruments, mostly la guitarra.

BIO: !Hola¡ Soy Héctor. Yo hablo español y un poco inglés. I've come to Daybreak to learn a little about all this magic stuff and help out around the Campus. If you need an odd job taken care of, I'm your guy! (Unless you are la policía. Or someone I have borrowed from. If that is the case, do not contact me, por favor.)

© TESSISAMESS

Comments

torture mention

[deuteranope]

[It's an odd roil in his already-anxious stomach, because how could he still want to be so wary about Akechi's fate when shit like this was going on and leaving him outraged when nothing had been done? He knows Akechi's reasons and intimate details of his life, but it didn't make what he'd done better. The way Héctor's captor had kept him from going out and hurting anyone didn't make the horrific treatment of him better.]

Fuck that... Fuck that, and you know why? You fucking said, back when all those kid copies of us were around, you fucking said I didn't have to feel bad because shit worked out for me and I was happy, no matter what happened to make it that way. Why the fuck would you have to be fucking grateful that horrible shit happened to you?! Be happy about what your happy about and be furious as fuck about the rest! You were tortured! God, no wonder you need to fucking scream!

[He isn't good at initiating contact, and he's not sure making a sudden movement towards him would be a good idea while he's agitated and ranging like this... Still, there's a little step and lean, an awkward twitch of his arms towards Héctor as he gets the urge to throw them around him in a tight hug.]

torture mention

[unpocoloco]

[He winces a little at first, like maybe he's done something wrong. Ay, everything is raw again, it feels, and he knows that'll go, that it's a resetting of bone so to speak and it'll heal better later, but not yet.

But it's not that he's misspoken, not exactly. His head lifts as he listens to Maverick, watching with that uncertain tired look. He remembers that, Maverick cursing a storm and hurting himself in the process. It wasn't advice he'd turned on himself. Of course not. He's never been very good at that.

There's still a voice, small but insistent, that Rex is a boy. Just a screwed up boy. He shouldn't be angry. But Dios, he wants that permission to be. As if he knows even what the heck to do with anger when he has it besides let it fizzle out.

Then Maverick leans close and for that, it seems enough permission. He steps into the hug willingly, bends to it, arms wrapping around tight. Another thing to be not-grateful for, that in all that pain he was never actually touched, never had that ruined, just felt the slicing and sifting in his guts by phantom motions of energy. This didn't send him back. It was safe. Maverick was safe.

It's that thought in mind that brings the glow back. His first two breaths are shuddering, just shy of a quiet sob, but he manages a breath steady enough after and that glow of him focuses. He's a skinny man and still a corpse, the difference it makes isn't much except for where how his clothing sits on him and less boniness than there was a moment before. He hugs tighter that way. He sniffs, swallows hard, laughs once at himself, and then speaks, voice rough and quiet.]

Thank you, Maverick. [A tear slips, and another. What an evening...] This was... good to get it out. Sorry about, you know, being a mess.

[deuteranope]

[At the very least, Mav appreciates the extra padding of skin. This kind of hug is much, much better, even if he can still feel the bodily wheeze that happens when someone's upset and worse, that warm wetness of a tear soaking into his shirt. To compensate, he chuckles, and there's an edge of soft amusement in his tone when he mumbles back.]

Oh, come on. Who fucking isn't, in this family? [mm -- ] Wait, no, Mama's not a fucking mess, I take that back. Must be a guy thing.

[And then, even gentler,] Gracias, Esqueleitío.

[unpocoloco]

[This family. His heart swells.]

Oh, it's definitely a guy thing.

[That gentle whisper makes that heart ache. But it's good. It's a reminder that it's there, even down to bones, in that phantom way.]

De nada, mijo.