[ There's a faint amused smile playing at Konstantin's own mouth, for a moment. But then it slowly melts, shifts into something more severe again. A cold feeling seeps through him, something that seems to react to that skin-crawling sensation leaking into him from the tether to the boy and crawl right back. A quiet shudder that seems to come from the inside.
'if they can come up a drug to sort something like me out'
He can only imagine what kinds of... tests might have been done, involving those with Kieren's "condition". And now that Konstantin's been on that side of it himself — an experiment — he fears it in ways that run deep, disturbing him in ways he never expected to feel. Being kept in a room like an animal, watched and observed through cold layers of white. Hooked up to machines, poked and prodded, monitored, toyed with, the smell of blood and disinfectant. And then there were the even worse things, even worse fates, looming— ]
Truthfully, I'm just waiting for the day men in labcoats show up at my door here. [ He tries to smile again, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and that cold fear tightens in his gut. He's been worried about that with Kieren, too. He doesn't believe for a second that they're free of that kind of danger in this place. "something like me", Kieren calls himself, and Konstantin understands.
Something like him, too.
He's watching Kieren move to find two objects and sit back down again, one hand slowly reaching to accept the one that's handed to him, dark eyes gazing silently down at it for a long moment. Two figures look back up at him: young. So young, just boys. Kieren has the same sweet doe eyes, and Konstantin gives a soft smile before he looks to the other youth in the photograph. Rick. ]
You both looked happy, [ he remarks quietly before he looks back up to Kieren, a stone heavy in his chest. He can feel the creature reacting subtly to these fluctuations in his emotions, his hormones, his upset — it uncurls and curls in on itself, a little restless, but the warmth of the fire and his present company keep the thing calm enough; it likes Kieren.
'killed by an IED in Afghanistan' — Konstantin draws in a slow, tight inhale. The rest only continues to be a horror, this tale. Hearing that Rick came back the same way Kieren did is... startling, but it's when he hears that the boy's own father killed him that Konstantin's eyes widen, and he's staring down at the knife. Kieren has it, here. It's all a cruelty that feels surreal, like it shouldn't be possible.
There's silence for a long few moments, and both of them are calm enough on the outside, but it's inside that everything falls inwards; he can feel those crumbling parts to the boy, not something that shatters like broken glass, but something that... slowly falls, losing its shape. Sand or dirt or mud spilling downwards, washed into a new form by the rain. Kieren's grief hurts, and Konstantin lets himself feel it, not trying to block him out. His heart is tight in his throat; there are layers to this boy's loss. Losing, then finding someone he loved again, only to lose them once more. In such a horrible way... ]
I'm so sorry, [ he finally says, voice deep and rumbling, and he's reaching over to place a hand at the space where Kieren's shoulder slopes to his neck, large palm spreading warmly, fingers giving a soft, but affectionate squeeze, and he lets the gesture linger. ] I can't imagine— the devastation you must feel.
[ But he can, he can feel it now, some of it, what leaks through. Konstantin dips his head for a moment, body feeling too heavy. ]
I served in my military, and then I commanded in it. I trained boys like this. They seem so young, now. So young to be exposed to such horrors.
[ He looks back up to Kieren, brows knit, eyes sad. And then what that poor child's father had done to him... it's unthinkable. ]
How could a father do something like that to his own son? No matter what might have changed about him, he was still his son. [ And that he'd... dump his body at Kieren's doorstop... It's all too horrible, how this young man has suffered, the ways in which he has. ]
no subject
'if they can come up a drug to sort something like me out'
He can only imagine what kinds of... tests might have been done, involving those with Kieren's "condition". And now that Konstantin's been on that side of it himself — an experiment — he fears it in ways that run deep, disturbing him in ways he never expected to feel. Being kept in a room like an animal, watched and observed through cold layers of white. Hooked up to machines, poked and prodded, monitored, toyed with, the smell of blood and disinfectant. And then there were the even worse things, even worse fates, looming— ]
Truthfully, I'm just waiting for the day men in labcoats show up at my door here. [ He tries to smile again, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and that cold fear tightens in his gut. He's been worried about that with Kieren, too. He doesn't believe for a second that they're free of that kind of danger in this place. "something like me", Kieren calls himself, and Konstantin understands.
Something like him, too.
He's watching Kieren move to find two objects and sit back down again, one hand slowly reaching to accept the one that's handed to him, dark eyes gazing silently down at it for a long moment. Two figures look back up at him: young. So young, just boys. Kieren has the same sweet doe eyes, and Konstantin gives a soft smile before he looks to the other youth in the photograph. Rick. ]
You both looked happy, [ he remarks quietly before he looks back up to Kieren, a stone heavy in his chest. He can feel the creature reacting subtly to these fluctuations in his emotions, his hormones, his upset — it uncurls and curls in on itself, a little restless, but the warmth of the fire and his present company keep the thing calm enough; it likes Kieren.
'killed by an IED in Afghanistan' — Konstantin draws in a slow, tight inhale. The rest only continues to be a horror, this tale. Hearing that Rick came back the same way Kieren did is... startling, but it's when he hears that the boy's own father killed him that Konstantin's eyes widen, and he's staring down at the knife. Kieren has it, here. It's all a cruelty that feels surreal, like it shouldn't be possible.
There's silence for a long few moments, and both of them are calm enough on the outside, but it's inside that everything falls inwards; he can feel those crumbling parts to the boy, not something that shatters like broken glass, but something that... slowly falls, losing its shape. Sand or dirt or mud spilling downwards, washed into a new form by the rain. Kieren's grief hurts, and Konstantin lets himself feel it, not trying to block him out. His heart is tight in his throat; there are layers to this boy's loss. Losing, then finding someone he loved again, only to lose them once more. In such a horrible way... ]
I'm so sorry, [ he finally says, voice deep and rumbling, and he's reaching over to place a hand at the space where Kieren's shoulder slopes to his neck, large palm spreading warmly, fingers giving a soft, but affectionate squeeze, and he lets the gesture linger. ] I can't imagine— the devastation you must feel.
[ But he can, he can feel it now, some of it, what leaks through. Konstantin dips his head for a moment, body feeling too heavy. ]
I served in my military, and then I commanded in it. I trained boys like this. They seem so young, now. So young to be exposed to such horrors.
[ He looks back up to Kieren, brows knit, eyes sad. And then what that poor child's father had done to him... it's unthinkable. ]
How could a father do something like that to his own son? No matter what might have changed about him, he was still his son. [ And that he'd... dump his body at Kieren's doorstop... It's all too horrible, how this young man has suffered, the ways in which he has. ]
Is there any chance he could... come back again?