There was so much uncertainty hanging in the room, it was almost edible should one stick out their tongue and sample the air.
The scowl never left his face, though, as he squinted (he was tempted to outright glare) at the Commissioner—it wasn’t even harmful smoke.
“It’s not actual smoke, it’s vapor,” he began, the scowl still on his features.
“I need this to relax my nerves.”All the same, the same scowl never left as he begrudgingly turned off the instrument he was holding and hid it in the pocket of his jacket. Fuck, he wanted to torch something so bad, but the remnants of the vanilla-flavored vapor still hung around him, so there was that.
The remaining curlicues of smoke were hesitantly released as he turned his attention to the—
holy fucking shit.
And I guess there’s my answer, he thought as a grim look darkened his features for a few moments. He finally knew the fate of the one who came before him. And it was nasty.
Unlike
cait alfric, who had a benevolent—well, okay. Unlike her, who had a deity that guided her through what he surmised were the early stages, his own was—more… how was he going to put this?
Finicky.
Yes, ‘finicky’ was the word he was looking for. Adding onto that, the only other instance his own had spoken to him was during that one sojourn across time, and it was to chastise him for losing his shit.
Can’t blame me for losing my head as we were warped into outer fucking space, or at least an approximation of it, though! he continued to himself, relishing the remnants of the vanilla-scented vapor as long as possible. There was still also the matter of his missing boyfriend to consider, but that was something he would stress over another time.
This contract was taking the forefront and
really stressing him out, so to speak.
He was tempted to answer in
kyle lopez’s direction regarding his friend but chose not to—instead, he kept his eyes on everyone else in the room. Most of the witnesses had already (at this point) scrawled down their signatures, but what if it was a trap—
What if some of them, among their number,
also became Avatars down the road? He flashed
Thomas Benoit a knowing look for a few brief seconds before turning away, not wishing to communicate so openly.
I find it strange that out of the witnesses, one was a previous Avatar but still invited over to sign, he pondered quietly.
I wonder what’s up with that… he continued to muse, eyes still darting around the room.
It wasn’t until then he realized something… there was something
else that was gaping wide open. If there were witnesses invited over, but there were also
other Gym Leaders who weren’t around to witness this—
Was this
just for Avatars? Why weren’t the other Gym Leaders, who are also part of the League as a whole, present to witness this as well? Or were they not important in the higher scale of things…
Was this
really encompassing all of the League? Or was there something else he wasn’t explicitly seeing, that was just out of his reach, hidden in the blanket of very obvious things that nobody had pointed out yet?
Today was apparently a day full of self-doubt.
He only looked up when
Stormy Silph had spoken, and to be honest, taking the same path she had was quite tempting. The pressure to make a snap decision, under duress? That wasn’t good for anyone in this room; at least anyone who was singled out as an Avatar to say the least.
Lars looked over at
Zac Ramsay and wondered if this day was going to end with just one signatory to this madness. Right then and there, he realized that there were a few things he had to consider—
His younger cousins
lumia peura and
Elinor Anderson.
The rest of the Rangers, who he considered more than just work mates and associates at this point. The ‘family’ that took place of his own biological shattered mess of a ‘family’.
His younger sister, who he had to bury without so much of a ceremony out at Mount Pyre. His younger brother, wherever he was now. Who knew if the youngest was still alive? There had been no contact ever since he’d left home all those years ago.
And pray tell, where had
evan fader gone off to, without a single word?
The scowl was still on his face, however if he was to protect the second family that had taken the place of his own… he would be joking himself if he wasn’t playing advocate at this point.
Choosing to ignore
FERNANDO SILPH’s statement about the Rangers (as he was fucking
done with everyone ragging on them just because they were ill-funded among other things he didn’t want to discuss as that wasn’t the point of all this shit) he took a deep breath.
The last of the vanilla-scented vapor left him as he exhaled, willing himself not to snap in front of everyone—as it was one of his own shortcomings.
He wondered what all the other Rangers would think of him after this.
The scowl was still on his face as he reached for a pen, and shook it to make sure the ink wasn’t stuck. He sincerely hoped that this shit wasn’t going to backfire. He fucking
wished that everything would just… melt away.
He had reservations.
So many reservations.
What would he be without the Rangers if he left? A rogue?
His eyes continued to dart around the room for a few more seconds before he finally opened the folder he was holding in his left hand.
His features were still locked in that distrust, but even so. He hoped on a lot of things that whatever else deities were watching him from who-knew-where that this was the right thing to do.
A messy scrawl of chicken shit, but still distinguishable as his own name.
It felt like the Devil’s contract once he was done putting his name down on that blasted line.
laurence michael anderson.
so much internal conflict, so. fucking. much.
@tag