he/him
forty-eight
December 26
Slateport City
asexual
Enforcer
grunt
TAG WITH @grigorisokolov
Grigori Sokolov
PRISMATIC PENITENTIARY
POSTED ON Apr 22, 2024 15:55:23 GMT
By the time they finally arrived to the Chamber of Desires, Grigori’s knees buckled ever so slightly. He was not a man destined for flight. Even worse was when his sandals slapped and rubbed against the floor. So close to the ground, yet so far away.
But, finally, they arrived to their destination. The stifling mask fell around his neck, alongside everyone else’s. His doubts were confirmed: his ward was filled to the brim with familiar faces. Zev Harcourt , jayden cross , Elisabeth Fiorelli , BARNABY FINCH , and his own roommate annalise henderson . So many important people in just one room. And yet, he knew there were many more elsewhere.
If one wanted to, they could wipe out most of the top dogs of Rocket with a single coordinated attack. But yet again, the Megalopolans had other plans. That’s why they lined up to look inside the mask. Even worse, he watched as a few tried not to. How they struggled against the chain, against their warden, and against Velmos.
How futile it was. Thus, when it was his turn, he put his face into the mask. Just a brief peak, nothing more. Except…
It was beautiful. Dastardly so. There he was, in his favorite folding chair. Next to a campfire, with a dozen so other people. He could feel the ethereal warmth provided, even if he was not truly there. Grigori himself sat surrounded by friends, family. True friends, not the ones aligned with the insidious red ‘R’ on their sleeve. No, it was people he knew all too well. june sleigh . His heart leapt to his throat. She was there. She looked… happy. At peace. Sure, there was a violet toxic chain around her throat– alongside everyone else. But the woman was entirely relaxed. She was talking to friends, old friends of her father. None of them looked stressed, as they warmed themselves by the fire and roasted hot dogs and dined on S’mores. He had a plate right in front of him with three alone. But the first words he heard from her mouth sent a chill through his nerves. “ It’s great to not have to worry about Rocket anymore.” His tongue felt heavy in his throat, and air struggled to get into his lungs. “ Oi, you can say that again! Bastards deserved all they got coming to them.” “ Oh, that Elisabeth bitch? I bet she had that stupid smirk up even as the platform dropped. But she ain’t around, so who cares?” “ Poor shame, what happened to that Jayden fellow. But he had his chance.” But, then, why was he here? He had done far, far worse than them. If not in reality, then in the metaphorical sense. He’d been around longer than most of them, yet here he was as happy as can be. The paper plate felt impossibly heavy in his lap. “ But I’m sure glad they didn’t just throw people on the ropes willy-nilly,” a hand slapped against his left arm. “ Ain’t that right, Grigori?” “ Yea,” June crossed her arms and leaned back into her own chair, a chuckle on her lips, “ it was a surprise, but… I know it must’ve sucked. Feeling trapped there. But, hey, not like you ran away, or tried to get out of it. And hey, before you know it, you’ll be done with your remedial shit and you’ll be a free man!” “ Hell, maybe even Dad will come out of his grave and forgive you himself,” she said wistfully. “ He’d like that. But I’ll just have to do it for him, right now. Besides, I know you didn't want to kill him, that night. It is what it is.”
Something snapped. His face peeled away from the kalediascopic mask. Sweat poured down his sickly white face, and he gulped in air like he'd never breathed before. He was out, he was safe, he was free from that-that...
Dream.
The word gave him pause, concern, fear, pleasure, joy, gut-wrenching depression, and every other conceivably related emtion in the human vernacular. Why did he... want that? Maybe such a future was in the cards. He could be happy. Have the live he deserved. Maybe not the one from his dream, those months ago, but... the next best thing? One that belonged to this reality. This universe.
But thirty-one years of trust, loyalty, absolute obedience to Rocket, clashed violently with this hope. It did not need reason, nor elaborate phrases. His mind flashed to his conversation with howard slayte , in Dewford.
It was treason. That dream had Rocket dead, but him alive. He must go down with the ship, for that was his purpose. Grunts were not afforded mercy, or these temptatious desires. If Declan Walsh, or Cillian, or Elisabeth, or any of his superiors knew of this, what he saw, what his apparent 'true potential' was...
His life was forefeit. So why did his heart yearn regardless?
These doubtful, horrendous thoughts followed him into the showers, where he disrobed and placed himself squarely underneath the stream of water furthest from everyone else. His hands did not stop shaking, no matter how hard he pressed them against the wall or his skin, and his once authoritative eyes fell to the ground in fear.
Fear that his bosses could see into his soul.
Tl;dr - Grigori doesn't like flying - Damn that's a lot of his bosses here. Ain't that fucked up - Sees that you MUST see into the mask, so he only gives it a small peak - After the fact, he falls for the ruse - In the showers, he keeps himself very far from everyone else (for now) and hopes that no one asks him what he saw while he wrestles with this new piece of information about himself
fNOyMOWc
|
|