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Entry tags:
rags to suit my soul for the day
Title: rags to suit my soul for the day
Fandom: End Roll
Character(s): Russell, Kantera
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 540
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers, character death
Summary: Russell, and Kantera's old clothes.
Notes: This canon was sad as crap.
The chanchanko Russell is now holding in his hands is dusty. Russell’s not terribly surprised - it must have been a long time since Kantera wore anything close to his size. He’d be more surprised to know that Kantera even kept around a childhood garment that clearly won’t fit him again, but this is a dream. Logic can be bent for his own convenience, or more often for his inconvenience.
Even so, the vest is warm. It hangs long on Russell’s frame, and he bunches the extra fabric in his hands and breathes in dust and the faintest smell of herbal tea.
‘Only corpses’, Russell hears, and suddenly there’s one less set of footsteps following him. He turns to look behind, and there’s Tabasa’s bloody body on the floor.
Dogma and Kantera make no comment as to why he’s staring behind them, or why he’s stopped moving, and that’s how he knows that after a few more steps forward, it will be Dogma who ceases to follow, a burned up husk lying behind them. There’s still nothing else he can do but move forward.
When he hears Dogma’s footsteps stop, Russell swallows, and takes Kantera’s hand in his. Kantera says nothing, but his hand is warm, and it’s a small comfort for the few more steps before it’s replaced by empty air.
He clenches his hands in his chanchanko instead.
Russell doesn’t return to the informant first. He heads straight to Kantera’s medicine shop.
As soon as he enters, Kantera starts to say something - about how reckless it was to head into the nest ‘alone’, and how worried he was - but Russell is only half-listening. He all but runs until he can bury his face into Kantera’s chest.
Kantera smells like herbal tea, stronger than his old clothes do. He hesitates for a moment, then rests his hand gently on top of Russell’s head. “There, now. It must have been terrifying, facing the monsters in there alone, but you’re alright now. Everything is going to be alright.”
Russell knows that isn’t true, but it’s true from Kantera’s perspective, and that’s something. He nods, and clings harder.
“...Are you afraid they’ll come back, Russell?” Kantera asks, softly. “If you want, I have a spare futon in the back - it isn’t much, but you could stay with me tonight.”
Russell hesitates. He meant to visit the informant just as soon as he confirmed with his own eyes that Kantera and the others were alright, but… Surely one extra night wouldn’t hurt?
He thinks about leaving the broken bodies of his friends behind him in that cave, thinks about the wooden dolls they’d turned into on his way back, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“That’s quite alright. I used to have trouble getting to sleep with anyone else in the room, too, and you deserve a good rest after all that.” Kantera leans forward and gently kisses Russell’s forehead. “You get straight to bed, young man.”
Russell nods, and figures it’s not a lie if he’s already dreaming.
The smell of herbal tea is even stronger in this house. Russell closes his eyes and clenches his hands in the now familiar fabric of his chanchanko, one last time before the end.
Fandom: End Roll
Character(s): Russell, Kantera
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 540
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers, character death
Summary: Russell, and Kantera's old clothes.
Notes: This canon was sad as crap.
The chanchanko Russell is now holding in his hands is dusty. Russell’s not terribly surprised - it must have been a long time since Kantera wore anything close to his size. He’d be more surprised to know that Kantera even kept around a childhood garment that clearly won’t fit him again, but this is a dream. Logic can be bent for his own convenience, or more often for his inconvenience.
Even so, the vest is warm. It hangs long on Russell’s frame, and he bunches the extra fabric in his hands and breathes in dust and the faintest smell of herbal tea.
‘Only corpses’, Russell hears, and suddenly there’s one less set of footsteps following him. He turns to look behind, and there’s Tabasa’s bloody body on the floor.
Dogma and Kantera make no comment as to why he’s staring behind them, or why he’s stopped moving, and that’s how he knows that after a few more steps forward, it will be Dogma who ceases to follow, a burned up husk lying behind them. There’s still nothing else he can do but move forward.
When he hears Dogma’s footsteps stop, Russell swallows, and takes Kantera’s hand in his. Kantera says nothing, but his hand is warm, and it’s a small comfort for the few more steps before it’s replaced by empty air.
He clenches his hands in his chanchanko instead.
Russell doesn’t return to the informant first. He heads straight to Kantera’s medicine shop.
As soon as he enters, Kantera starts to say something - about how reckless it was to head into the nest ‘alone’, and how worried he was - but Russell is only half-listening. He all but runs until he can bury his face into Kantera’s chest.
Kantera smells like herbal tea, stronger than his old clothes do. He hesitates for a moment, then rests his hand gently on top of Russell’s head. “There, now. It must have been terrifying, facing the monsters in there alone, but you’re alright now. Everything is going to be alright.”
Russell knows that isn’t true, but it’s true from Kantera’s perspective, and that’s something. He nods, and clings harder.
“...Are you afraid they’ll come back, Russell?” Kantera asks, softly. “If you want, I have a spare futon in the back - it isn’t much, but you could stay with me tonight.”
Russell hesitates. He meant to visit the informant just as soon as he confirmed with his own eyes that Kantera and the others were alright, but… Surely one extra night wouldn’t hurt?
He thinks about leaving the broken bodies of his friends behind him in that cave, thinks about the wooden dolls they’d turned into on his way back, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“That’s quite alright. I used to have trouble getting to sleep with anyone else in the room, too, and you deserve a good rest after all that.” Kantera leans forward and gently kisses Russell’s forehead. “You get straight to bed, young man.”
Russell nods, and figures it’s not a lie if he’s already dreaming.
The smell of herbal tea is even stronger in this house. Russell closes his eyes and clenches his hands in the now familiar fabric of his chanchanko, one last time before the end.