BO2657

* ⠀ Cb Codrpc...  He’s slowly being Revamped

Iovelynes

Uhm Excuse me. On Price.
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Bravo6d

@BO2657        ★              ¹            〘   John knocks about three times before he decides come inside Rhys’ room.   His journal entries are scattered   [&]    erratic,  something rather frantic.    It wouldn’t be as alarming to him if it wasn’t for the recent events,  Macmillan’s untimely death.    Death was something John became accustomed to from a young age,  how could he not be  [?]  Death was a way of life,  he caused it,  he’s seen it.   And he’s almost embraced it.   Death became a familiar friend to him,  yet it still didn’t prepare him for this.   [&]   apparently it didn’t prepare Rhys for this either.      There’s too many discarded papers,  scattered clothing   [&]    fragments of glass within his room to grasp it all.     If the journal didn’t work,  then violence would.      Rhys had an odd way of thinking,  it resembled something like a child.
          
          JOHN MOVES PAST THE CHAOS ONLY TO FIND RHYS,    TEAR STAINED,   PALE   [&]    COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED.        JOHN MOVES WITH THE UTMOST PRECAUTION,   KNEES HIT THE GROWN WITH A SOFT   [THUD].     He kneels at the foot of the bed like some father soothing his child.  Hands would wipe away at tear stained cheeks.    His thumb circles back   [&]    forth in a soothing motions,  [&]   when he speaks  [?]  it’s hardly above a whisper.  〙      
          
                
             ²              ──────              〞 GO RHYS.   GO BACK HOME.    YOU’RE GONNA KILL YOURSELF IN HERE.     YOU’RE ON LEAVE,   I SENT THE REQUEST.     YOU LOOK PALE,   REAL SICK.   〞
          
          〘   Price doesn’t say anything else about his appearances,  he’s sure Rhys already knows about.   The kid had to lose a few pounds like this, it just wasn’t right.   〙

Bravo6d

@BO2657       ★              ¹            〘   All he does is nods.   He listens, it’s all he could do.  The gnawing thought of joining Rhys in Scotland lingers in the back of his head.   John’s thumb rubs absentminded circles on his shallow cheeks.   He’s still searching for Rhys gaze,  gently tilting his head to face his line of sight.   John mutters a soft curse under his breath,  seeing him up close like this   […]   he’s defeated.    JOHN NEEDS TO LEAVE,   THE GO BACK TO HIS OFFICE   [&]     GET WORK DONE.    HE WOULD CLEAN RHYS ROOM AFTER.    When John’s hand leaves the side of Rhys cheek he hears a soft   ‘  no.  ‘      
            
            A DEFEATED SIGH ESCAPES PRICE.   HIS FREE HAND BALLS INTO A FIST,  then releasing all at once.   His hand finds Rhys hand.   Giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance.   〙      
            
                  
               ²              ──────              THE SOUND LEAVES JOHN FROZEN IN PLACE.   TEARS HIS DAMN HEART IN TWO.   〞 […]     YOU KNOW,   MAC WOULD HATE SEEIN’  YOU LIKE THIS.    (I’M SURE HE WOULD APPRECIATE IT THOUGH,)   YOU’RE GOOD LAD.   〞eyes scan rhys face once more,  then the room.      〞I CAN’T STAY TOO LONG    […]    KATE NEEDS ME IN THE OFFICE—   ‘N I’VE GOT TO CLEAN THIS PLACE UP FOR YOU.    GIVE ME TWO SECONDS,   YEAH  [?]       〞
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BO2657

@Bravo6d,⠀ ❛⠀DEATH IS NOT A FOREIGN CONCEPT. CERTAINLY NOT TO HUSH — TO RHYS. IT WAS EVERYWHERE, LIKE A PLAGUE. He’s seen his parents, devoid of all life. Unmoving. Then the corpses of civilians and enemy soldiers riddled with bullet holes. Everything was red, heap of flesh and guts that’d stare back at you. Unwilling to look away.
            
            It’s different this time. This time, it was in a hospital bed. The harsh smelling antiseptic in the room that’s unwelcoming, the hospital’s devices swarming Macmillan. The doctor, standing next to Rhys, informing him of Macmillan’s condition. Then it was his ultimate death. It all happened, so fast. At first, came the storm — the anger all released all in one wave before it dies down. He feels.. lost. 
            
            It’s been hours and hours since he’s been managing Macmillan’s finances, his general property, planning for the funeral..  Reviewing the will. In the mess of the room does the obituary sit on the nearby wooden desk, standing out from the other dozen papers building on top of one another. A single light was flickered on, illuminating only a limited portion of the room. There is silence in the tense atmosphere. He does not move from his place when John enters. Still as a statue, until he flinched at the gentle carress of his sunken face. He does not meet his eyes. No arguments, no protests came. He feels the fatigue. It hits him hard. He blinks to keep himself awake.
            
            He’s staring off into his own little world, mind reeling in on reality’s recent events that’d passed. Processing. For the first time, Rhys opens his mouth slightly. “He’s gone, John.”  Voice is guttural. Harsh–sounding, croaking. He emits a tired sigh, rubbing his eyes. Avoiding to properly respond to John’s.. observations. “I’ve written his obituary. ‘m planning his funeral, purchased the casket.. funeral’s in a couple of days. I’m going back to Scotland soon. And then Wales, for a while.”
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Bravo6d

/   :D
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Bravo6d

WELL I’LL BE DAMNED.     Y’  SMILED.

Bravo6d

@BO2657    ★     ‘S NICE TO SEE YOU LIKE THIS.   HAPPY.    YOU ‘N GHOST ARE TWO PAINS IN MY ASSES.      [john never means it of course,  a hand is already drifting to neatly tied ribbons in rhys hair.   rosie seemed to give him a makeover,  something about a   […]    tea party.]      YOU SHOULD’VE LET HER DO YOUR MAKEUP,   THATS ALWAYS FUN YEAH?
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BO2657

this message may be offensive 
@Bravo6d, ⠀ ❛⠀[a grumble, clearly irked at the captain’s teasing tone. and that shit–eating grin on his face.]  fuck off, captain.
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