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POSTED ON May 30, 2024 15:41:38 GMT

illeana reyes, Tempest Quinn, and 1 more like this

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In the vacuum left by fighting strength, there is only exhaustion. As Cyllora is snatched from the jaws of Rocket vengeance by the RED CHAIN and VELMOS bleeds out at THEO BECKETT's feet, the weight of incarceration and injury finally catches up to Cillian.[break][break]

But he is not yet allowed to give in to his grief.[break][break]

He switches to his BRELOOM, her fists crackling with emergent thunder to threaten against approach, and leans on the Shadow Pokemon's strength as he limps to Tempest Quinn's side.[break][break]

"We're going home."[break][break]

His strength does not falter as they approach the spatial rift opened by illeana reyes's PALKIA. It does not falter when they emerged battered and bleeding onto the porch of a Sootopolis beach house. It does not falter as he guides his husband inside and onto the couch; the bedroom was too far.[break][break]

Only when the doors are closed and locked and they are well and truly alone does Cillian's armour crack and crumble. His hands are shaking, his knees are shaking, everything is shaking, and he collapses against the couch with no regard for his broken ribs as a strangled sob tears its way up his throat. He tucks his legs beneath him, whimpering from the pain, and leans against Temp's shoulder.[break][break]

Ordinarily, after situations like this, Cillian is strong. He would get the first aid kit and start attending to their injuries. But as he shakes like a leaf before a hurricane, he can do nothing but submit to the breakdown.

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[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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notes

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temporary

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pacifilog, hoenn

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @temp

POSTED ON May 30, 2024 15:57:15 GMT

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Something like salvation comes as Tempest wheezes in place. Without Skipper to hold him, he slowly collapses into himself like a dying star. Cillian Quinn is what comes for him, Tempest barely able to think as he is led through the portal. At some point Skipper, still burning with Mega power, presses under his other arm. He is hauled back home. The familiar smells that greet him offer something like relief.[break][break]

Tempest slumps against Cillian as much as Cillian slumps against him, still wheezing loudly. A hand is over his chest, bruised and cut.[break][break]

Skipper slowy loses his shit.[break][break]

Faolan! he screams, with his aura, the deluge of panic and worry and hopelessness staining the whole area. Even a few of the other pokemon flinch away, the mega power making it stronger than normal. Large paws push at Tempest, grasping and fumbling, trying to do what Faolan did, what he had seen him do so many times. Instead of a Life Dew, a Heal Pulse is eventually forced into his Trainer, scorching enough to make Tempest gasp softly.[break][break]

Tempest feels brain-dead and empty.[break][break]

Still, a feeble hand grasps for the other man's hand.[break][break]

"Cil," He says, voice thick and rough and scratchy. "I think m' lungs collapsed."[break][break]

It's not as pressing as it should be. He feels better, slightly, as Skipper blasts him full of healing energy. Soon, those same paws press to Cillian to try and mend what he is able.

[attr="class","tag"]Cillian Quinn

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thorn

the Harbinger

he/him

october 28th

circhester, galar

demisexual

underboss

the harbinger

6'3" height

I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.

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POSTED ON May 30, 2024 16:29:23 GMT

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It's as though Cillian is underwater. Temp sounds far away. Cillian's ears are ringing and his whole body is shaking and he can't process the physical injuries, Temp's or his own, because the consequence of pushing off the trauma of imprisonment for days is having it all crash down on him at once.[break][break]

He tries to respond but it only comes out as a low moan.[break][break]

Faolan, woken from the first sleep he's had since the two had gone missing by Skipper psychic scream, is hit with the aura equivalent of a punch to the gut.[break][break]

He is in the living room in seconds, LIFE DEW beading like morning dew upon bruised and broken skin. It does nothing for the internal injuries, the things he cannot reach. It cannot unbreak bones or untwist limbs, and it certainly can't do anything for his master's mental state.[break][break]

But this is something Faolan has seen before.[break][break]

Not for a long time, not since Kanto, since Rocket had forced him to bottle up grief and rage and trauma until it woke him in the middle of the night shaking, screaming.[break][break]

He does now what he'd done then. It had been much easier as a Riolu, a tiny pup, but Faolan presses himself to Cillian's other side and begins to rumble low in his throat. He doesn't know what else to do. The look he gives Skipper is one of uncharacteristic distress. He can feel the raw terror pouring from Cillian in waves. The Lucario's head begins to pound with the overwhelming pressure of negative energy.[break][break]

Cillian fists fingers in blond hair and gasps for breath, hating CYLLORA & THE NEVER-ROT for imprisoning him. Hating the LEAGUE from taking away his opportunity for vengeance.[break][break]

Hating himself for being unable to control any of it. For the panic. For the inability to help his husband when Temp needed him most.[break][break]

For being WEAK.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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temporary

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TAG WITH @temp

POSTED ON May 30, 2024 16:42:02 GMT

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Skipper's paws hover nervous over Cillian Quinn, having done all he can for Tempest at the moment. While sluggish and slow thinking and physically hurt still, Tempest was at least in some state of mind to keep himself together. His own distress mixes with that of Faolan's and Cillian's, a negative feedback loop in the worst way. He glances between Cillian, Faolan, and Tempest; the last one pleading with his eyes as he reaches for his husband.[break][break]

Steeling himself, Skipper takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself; it's shaky, but he mimics what Faolan does for Cillian. His own rumbling is rough and not as steady, something that Skipper isn't used to doing, but he still tries to press against the blond. Deep flashes of Heal Pulse still press from paw-pads into Cillian's skin.[break][break]

Tempest looks at Cillian and feels like a Dummy that he can't help the other. That he can't lift him in his arms and kiss away all the pain and trauma and bad. To smooth out the wrinkles of his brows.[break][break]

What can I do? What can I do? repeats in his head, desperate.[break][break]

Wincing as he shifts a bit closer, Tempest lifts staking fingers to try and have Cillian grab him and not his own body. To squeeze willing fingers instead of ripping out chunks of hair and flesh with it.[break][break]

"We're home, Cil. We're home. Cillie bear, we're home. I love you, we're home." A repeated, chanted mantra over and over, words losing meaning as they mix together. A voice to try and offer anything for Cillian to latch onto other than his own spiraling thoughts.

[attr="class","tag"]Cillian Quinn

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thorn

the Harbinger

he/him

october 28th

circhester, galar

demisexual

underboss

the harbinger

6'3" height

I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.

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TAG WITH @gavin

POSTED ON May 30, 2024 17:47:26 GMT

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Skipper, bless him, was doing his best.[break][break]

Faolan, who has long loathed the other Lucario as being his perceived replacement, acknowledges his kin with a slow blink of tired red eyes.[break][break]

Cillian's shaking persists. Temp's gentle hands would find Cillian's grip white-knuckled and iron, every muscle taut with tension unreleased. With time, he might pry fingers apart to lace with his own and there would be no protest, no words at all, just shaking and sobbing and grief.[break][break]

His hands are not gentle where they latch. They lock around whatever they can reach, overgrown nails cutting at skin with no regard for Temp's own well-being. He holds Temp like a drowning man holds a life preserver.[break][break]

It is not slow to cease.[break][break]

His lungs burn, his chest aches, his muscles are stiff as boards.[break][break]

At last, a rattling gasp like a last breath precedes a single word that's almost inaudible from how much it stammers on his tongue.[break][break]

"Sorry."[break][break]

For not being enough. For not being all right.[break][break]

He wants to explain the spiraling terror, the reason he can't pull himself from it's sway, but it only comes out in another low moan, like an animal in agony.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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yams

temporary

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may 3rd

pacifilog, hoenn

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housewife

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @temp

POSTED ON Jun 5, 2024 15:46:55 GMT

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It is hard and slow work, when he is so damaged. To worm and work himself to be the one Cillian Quinn clings. What was a few nail marks and snot after all they had been through? Mother knew they needed a long shower and treatment just as well as anyone else.[break][break]

So Tempest whispers as many soothing things as he can against Cillian's skin, allows him to shake and mourn, and stays close with him until the worst of it is over.[break][break]

"What're you apologizing for?" Tempest says it low, wheezing, with a crooked smile trying to push onto bruised cheeks. A few of Cillian's stray tears and scrubbed from under the other's eye with a careful thumb. Tired, he leans his head forward, bonking their foreheads together and staying close.[break][break]

"We got out. We survived."

[attr="class","tag"]Cillian Quinn

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played by

thorn

the Harbinger

he/him

october 28th

circhester, galar

demisexual

underboss

the harbinger

6'3" height

I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.

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8,652 posts

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part of

TAG WITH @gavin

POSTED ON Jun 6, 2024 19:14:47 GMT

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He wants to answer the question. He tries.[break][break]

He can't, gasping for air and shaking his head.[break][break]

Progress is slow. But a body has its limits, and there is always calm in a storm's wake. Eventually, his heart rate begins to slow. His breathing shallows, steadies. Tears that are wiped gently from cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment do not fall anew.[break][break]

Sniffling, frowning at the sensation of now-blocked sinuses, Cillian nudges his nose against his husband's in another quiet apology. He doesn't say the words, this time.[break][break]

"You're hurt." It finally registers, the extent of his husband's pain. Guilt grips him in claws of ice. "I should've been helping you, not—"[break][break]

A frustrated noise catches in his throat, and he disentangles himself as carefully as he can to get to his feet. Having forgotten about his injured leg, he puts too much weight on it and nearly topples but for Faolan's quick intervention.[break][break]

With a watery smile, he scratches the jackal behind his ears. His laugh is equally wet when Faolan grumbles.
[break][break]
"I'll get the first aid."

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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notes

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🔗 if there's a post-pp mission

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played by

yams

temporary

he/him

may 3rd

pacifilog, hoenn

big homo

housewife

beast

6'2" height

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @temp

POSTED ON Jul 12, 2024 12:59:05 GMT

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Now it is Temp's turn to quietly panic.[break][break]

Cillian Quinn pulls away from him, moves to get up. The words on why are lost. A deep seeded pit opens in his stomach, fear gripping tight in this throat.[break][break]

As Cillian stumbles, Tempest reaches out to grasp for the edge of ragged clothes.[break][break]

"Please don't leave." It's rushed and tinged with his own panic; Tempest was not the statue he pretended to be in the moment. It felt like if Cillian left he might never see him again. The tedium of the prison wearing on addled nerves.[break][break]

I can get through this so long as Cillian is safe! Tempest had kept telling himself. But Cillian had been there, had not been safe, and it leaves the same stinging sensation as if being slapped.
"We got out. We survived."

[attr="class","tag"]Cillian Quinn

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played by

thorn

the Harbinger

he/him

october 28th

circhester, galar

demisexual

underboss

the harbinger

6'3" height

I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.

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TAG WITH @gavin

POSTED ON Jul 17, 2024 12:38:27 GMT

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Temp's sudden grip on his shirt alarms Cillian, who freezes like a Deerling in headlights. His fingers tighten to fists in expectation of a fight, heart rate jumping wildly, but he's too hurt to pose much of a challenge. Thankfully, that gives enough grace for Temp's words to register.[break][break]

Cillian uncurls his fingers, lets out a slow breath.[break][break]

"I was just going to-"[break][break]

But he registers, too, the raw panic.[break][break]

He sinks back onto the couch with a soft groan of protest and pain, curling back against Temp's side and rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders.[break][break]

"I'll stay," he mumbles, nosing his lover's neck in apology for causing alarm. "Faolan can get it. Right, buddy?"[break][break]

Though the Lucario seems equally reluctant to leave Cillian's side, he flicks his ears and departs soundlessly.

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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notes

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🔗 if there's a post-pp mission

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played by

yams

temporary

he/him

may 3rd

pacifilog, hoenn

big homo

housewife

beast

6'2" height

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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part of

TAG WITH @temp

POSTED ON Aug 3, 2024 5:00:24 GMT

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When Cillian Quinn sits back down, Tempest is quick to melt himself against the other. A small shiver sticks to his skin, fear eating away at him; it adds to the mixture of pain and exhaustion he feels. It really hadn't hit him until now. How lonely he had been.[break][break]

"I was all by myself." Tempest says to himself. Sure, others had been around them, but they hadn't really been allowed to speak. "My cell mate vanished after the first day. I don't know what happened to her." Dead, or maybe shuffled somewhere else?[break][break]

But regardless of her fate, Tempest had been wounded and alone in that cell. Some might see that as a luxury, but Tempest had found it to be a worse torture than anything those weird Pokemon could put them through.

[attr="class","tag"]Cillian Quinn

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played by

thorn

the Harbinger

he/him

october 28th

circhester, galar

demisexual

underboss

the harbinger

6'3" height

I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.

awards

8,652 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @gavin

POSTED ON Aug 9, 2024 23:33:51 GMT

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"I wish I could've been there."[break][break]

It's not an apology. More of a regret. Cillian couldn't have arranged their situation any more than Tempest could have, but he hates to think of his husband alone in those cramped cells.[break][break]

Of the cellmate, he says, "Probably dead. We saw our warden kill a few."[break][break]

Others had been tortured within an inch of death and then forced to work regardless, but Temp would've seen his cellmate again if that were the case.[break][break]

"Imagine she was League? Civvie, maybe?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","tag"]Tempest Quinn

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notes

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🔗 if there's a post-pp mission

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played by

yams

temporary

he/him

may 3rd

pacifilog, hoenn

big homo

housewife

beast

6'2" height

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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3,124 posts

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part of

TAG WITH @temp