[OPEN] forever unforgiven

[connor crayze sykes]

A wry smile crossed his lips at the comment of going to hell. He can't hide it, his counter has been beat. The touch over his wing only eased him more, still amazed he could feel it as is he were being touched anywhere else. It caused his wings to relax, not pressed as close to his back any longer. The touch was soothing after being so tense and uptight about everything even more than usual lately. "Yeah.." He mumbled. "E-eeryone thinks they are.. But what i-is beauty if it has to be ach-chieved through torture?" Another cough rang huskily from his lips, Connor unsteady even just sitting. He wouldn't last long without food, surprised he had yet to be force fed. It would happen eventually, if starvation didn't come first.

Quinn's next words through him off. Glad he was alive? "Y-you don't seem to be the only one.." What didn't they understand..? Why couldn't they just let him die? It was torture either way.. He didn't know what to do anymore. He had wings, he was stuck here the rest of his life, and he had nobody he could trust still, no reason to be here. He was jothing to them but something to test and torture. Figers fisted in the grass, a single tear rolling down Connor's cheek.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Quinn watched the way the wing relaxed at his touch, and his fingers explored and caressed over the arch, down the feathers. It was a sort of nice, different feeling. It causes Quinn to wonder if Connor can fly, or if they are useless in that aspect. Curious, but he holds his tongue on that one, instead, focusing on the mumbling. He tilts his head, and there's so much that runs through his mind on what he can say to that. For now, he goes with the first thing that had crossed his mind; "Beauty, destruction...." There's a pause as he grinds out his cigarette, then holds up the hand not at Connor's wing, letting the flames rise up and looking thoughtful. "There are times when it's not all that different." It's quiet, but there's enough said by it all in his opinion.

The flames vanish in seconds, and he's smiling in an odd way. "Tattoos and piercings, aren't they kinda beauty through pain and a type of destruction?" He poses the question evenly, just going with it. Doesn't need to prove a point, that's long past anyway, wasn't it? As far as Connor's starvation, Quinn would be surprised that they hadn't forced nurishment through the male's veins by now. Not that he wants to think of that right now; he doesn't. He doesn't respond to the other words, it's enough that others care enough to want Connor alive, too. But it was the tear that got Quinn's attention, and he moved to gently brush it away, and half awkwardly -- wings, you know -- trying to pull Connor into his arms. "If I could make the pain stop, without killing you, I would." The words are barely audiable, it's not something he should say at all.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor nodded distantly as he listened, everything Quinn saying seemingly perfectly correct in his eyes. A lot of beauty came with destruction. He just wasn't so sure it was worth it anymore. Blue eyes looked towards the flicker of flame, and it all made sense then, the lighting of cigarettes on the first day they had et. It had been more of a hint, so far from a lighter trick.

Those gentle fingers on his cheek after the tear fell left him surprised. He pulled his wings close, feeling like they were in the way. Normally he would have tensed, being closer. But instead, he let those hands pull his malnutritioned body close, his head finding Quinn's chest as he closed his eyes. "Pain..." He finally whispered brokenly. "Y-you don't wven know h-how much it would take to m-make it go away..."

[tarquin finley ellis]

Sometimes, he doesn't remember how strange and messed up it really is. He's adapted to the fire pretty well, and normally it's as if it isn't there at all except to light a cigarette. Glorified lighter, and that was all he actually did with the flames. It couldn't keep him amused forever, and he didn't even see it as a defensive weapon. He was a weapon if he needed to be with all the martial arts training he had, and Quinn was a lot more prone to use that then anything. It simply made more sense to him. The only problem these days was how tired all the testing and shit they dragged him through. There were days it was hard to focus. There were days where he just wanted the drugs to overwhelm him.

It's odd, feeling protective of someone like this. Possessive he gets; it's molded deep, part of who he is and always has been. But this is more difficult of a concept for him to grasp, yet certainly the reason why he's breaking the natural order of things to hold Connor close, to want to comfort the frail male. He's silent, hearing the whispered words and not liking it. There wasn't much worse for Quinn then actually giving a fuck, because that left something much more vulnerable out, and Quinn doesn't like any type of self weaknesses. He has them, but he doesn't like it. "No, I suppose I don't." He replies, sighing. A hand brushes Connor's hair aside, fingertips light at the male's neck. "Anyone other then the staff been messing with you?" He asks before he's thought the words through, but that seems far too normal around Connor as it is.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor closed his eyes absently at the brush of fingers through his hair. He hadn't thought Quinn would actually care if they met again. "No," He mumbled, deciding it best not to bring up his incidents with Deacon. It had been his own fault, both for slitting his wrists and for nearly overdosing on morphine. As for anybody else giving him trouble, he had no friends that he was in contact with, kept to himself.. Yeah, it got lonely, but it meant nobody could hurt him..

A shaky breath passed his lips and he sifted his weight carefully in Quinn's lap, somewhat uneasy still despite himself. But he was doing his best on not panicking with the friendly human contact, no matter how uneasy it made him.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Oh, he didn't want to care, that was for sure. Attachments in any form were only complications in his life. If that weren't so, he'd actually have friends. Connor might not be a friend, but he was the closest thing to one for Quinn, which was bewildering enough. Someone whose presence you could stand for more then a few minutes; that was one of the basic aspects of friendship, wasn't it? Quinn was not perfectly sure on that. He'd never had much of a reason to bother figuring it out. It left him unsure on how to even go about being a friend. He honestly shouldn't even bother.

He heard the mumbling, nodding at that. "Good." He replied evenly, satisfied with the answer. Yes, best to keep the incidents away from Quinn's ears. He was far too unhinged to be any kind of rational. Perfectly unfair to settle any of that on Connor, but it wasn't on purpose. His fingertips brushed over the male's neck, stilling at the shifting, the breath. He peered down at Connor. "Are you uncomfortable?" He questions, loosening his hold. Perhaps he wasn't being gentle enough, maybe he was hurting the male. He was trying not to.

[connor crayze sykes]

"Just n-not..used to this.." Connor whispered softly. He settled down again, realizing Quinn was the only one not pissed or ignoring him right now. It saddened him, he felt like he had ruined everything with Deacon.. and he hadn't wanted to. It had all happened so fast in such a blur.

Realizing the tremble in his jaw, the emotion showing through, he tightened it. Maybe he needed to stay away from the staff. He'd end up on that slab eventually suicide or not, he didn't need anybody hurting when he was dead. Connor relaxed some, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter from his sister, Christy. "Sh-she replied.." Bandit's drawing fluttered to the grass and Connor bit his lip.

[tarquin finley ellis]

His head tilted at the words, thoughtful and quite understanding. "Me either." He responds simply, pondering it all for a moment. Of course there seemed to be a number of things he wasn't used to that he charged into head on. Quinn didn't often let hangup hold him back. He did what he wanted boldly and brash most of the time. There was a bit of hesitation in this matter, but perhaps because it was so utterly alien to him. It made him feel odd, out of his element. Could be much worse though, and Quinn wasn't complaining out loud about things. Not his style.

He wasn't great with dealing with most amounts of emotion, so he just kept silent, gaze wandering here and there, no matter how attuned to the male in his arms. Enough to feel Connor relax a little, notice the movements as the male took out a letter. He heard the words and smiled with a nod. "This is good, right?" He inquired, eyes finding Connor's face as he absent reached for the drawing on the grass; handing it back to Connor. He doesn't look save for a glance, though it wasn't enough to really process what was on the paper. Not his business, so instead he waits to hear whatever Connor wants to say.

[connor crayze sykes]

"Yeah.." Connor whispered softly, turning it over and over in his hands fondly. He loved her so much. And yet if he was stuck here forever, it wasn't likely he would see her again.
"But I...f-fucked things up with the coroner.." No, nevermind. That waver in his voice... He didn't want to talk about it. He had vowed simply to not talk to anyone else, shut everyone out so he couldn't get hurt. And yet Quinn had stumbled aceoss him when he needed a friend most.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Quinn doesn't want to think about his family. There's too much there that's fucked up, too much that bothers him about the whole situation. He probably would kill Amery if he could, that much is true. But he still cares about his mother, his younger brother. They still matter, somehow. Even if his mother hadn't done a thing to sway what was done, having him put here after Manson. He could understand that; it had been fine. But re-locating him? To this? It's difficult to accept, and he doesn't think he can hate her for it, not even now.

He blinks, pulled out of his thoughts when Connor speaks again. His eyes narrow, and he's tense; his grip has probably become tighter for it, even. It takes Quinn a few seconds to respond at all. "I'm not going to like this conversation, where it's going, am I?" His voice is low, almost grim, but honestly, it's not like he can really say much, can he? Of course that won't stop him, not even for a second. He was possessive and he couldn't help it, even when he had no actual right to be.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor swallowed at the sudden tightening in grip. And yet it eased him up. He was so confused. "],he...I don't know... I th-think things kinda worked out. I was p-pissed he tried saving me a-and we started arguing. He told me I sh-should just die then, s-so I went to the morgue after tr-rying to overdose on morphine. He k-kissed me, then j-just left..haven't talked to him s-since that yesterday.." He rubbed at his face, sighing shakily. He didn't know why he was telling him, it was just the same as telling him about his past pretty much. But he couldn't shake the words 'faggot' or Deacon telling him he hoped he would suffocate, couldn't forget those cold, emotionless eyes... What worried him more was he'd slipped up, told Quinn about the kiss, even if it had been brief. Even if it had scared him..

[tarquin finley ellis]

He was already on edge, and his comment should have been an indicator that Connor should not go there, wherever he'd been going with those first words. Quinn knew he wasn't going to like whatever was going to be said next. He didn't even want to hear it. It wasn't going to go over well, and he could feel that in his very bones. When Connor started to speak, Quinn when perfectly still, tensed. Then a snarl ripped from his throat, angry warmth heated his skin. No, Connor should have kept that little story to himself.

Quinn shifted, not being quite as gentle to expose the side of Connor's neck, aiming to once again send quick nips across the flesh. A little harsher this time as he tried to keep a grip on the male, not wanting Connor to pull away. The mark could end up being a very good homing beacon for whoever this coronor was, and if it led the guy to Quinn, perhaps he'd feel better kicking the guy's ass into a brand new shape. Honestly, Quinn shouldn't be nearly this possessive, but he had a bad habit of clinging to the wrong damn shit.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor flinched at the snarl, felt the warming of skin. But abuse had beaten him into fearful submission, that fight or flight instinct. He let out a shaky breath as his neck was forcefully revealed. Working his jaw, his eyes shone with confused tears at each nip over his neck. He didn't dare pull away from the other male's grip however. Naturally, Connor had grown addicted to being possessed by another, it had come with his father's constantly abusive ways the past three years, how he was punished for even speaking to somebody in front of him. So he remained perfectly still, allowing Quinn to re-establish his 'ownership'.

[tarquin finley ellis]

He noticed all the little changes -- the shaky breath, the way Connor flinched -- but it didn't cause Quinn to stop, not until he was sure he'd left a clearly visable mark at the male's neck. He cocked his head a little to eye the mark, and satisfied, he sent calm licks to the area. The tension eased away -- for the most part -- and he was just as careful as before. For Quinn, things were pretty much 'all better' with that simple -- if a bit rough -- act.

Though he didn't have any intentions of leaving Connor then and there to his own devices. Quinn was all gentle at this point, shifting Connor a bit for a better hold before bracing himself for balance to get up with the male in his arms. He held Connor close, the idea of the male falling unpleasent. He stood there for a moment, wondering at the reaction. "Can you eat anything yet? Ice cream or something?" He questioned lightly, worry in his gaze. For as fragile as Connor was, it was ending up oddly clear that the male could very well be Quinn's destruction, or possibly a saving grace. Either way, no one would ever know.

[connor crayze sykes]

Just like that, Quinn was gentle again. Connor wasn't in the mood to do anything about the incident, and let it slip. He tensed some as he was lifted, terrified of being dropped, and pulled his wings closer so they weren't trailing in the dirt. But with how thin he was, he probably wasn't difficult to hold at all. He swallowed back his unease, head finding the male's shoulder. "Maybe, i-if I eat slow.." Only because he'd already upset Deacon. He didn't need the second of the two seemingly caring people mad at him as well. Upset stomachs had led to bigger problems though, often making himself throw his meals up now. He'd eaten recently before Quinn had come across him, a nurse had forced him to, and had forced himself to upheave the food behind the building.