[ The war kills his father and so it kills gentle Konstantin.
-
When it begins, Ash tells him: You can't afford to be picky anymore. He knows what it means and he doesn't like it. He knows that it means and he says "fuck it."
Because this is what nature intended, isn't it?
-
Konstantin is no longer as lean as he used to be, and he wears every part of his mother's blood with pride now--teeth and scales, bright, jewel-like eyes, and a voice that is honed like a knife. He's just passing through Los Angeles when he hears the fight and the sound of a familiar voice under duress. The bike is loud, but the fight is already at a roar (and it's only going to get louder as he manipulates the pressure in one isolated area). He learns this trick from a beautiful woman in Andalusia after the world falls to shit. She keeps him for over a month and together they protect Spain's coastline with a series of curated storms as he learns his birthright day after day.
The storm, the lightning, they fit into the palm of his hand, they heat his fingertips, they crash along with the sound of his voice as he sees one of the group peeling away in a whirlwind of fire that flickers in and out like the tip of a flame on a matchstick. This won't do, Konstantin decides. It won't do because he recognizes the blonde hair, the build, the sound of his voice calling out. He would know it anywhere (even from the bottom of the sea).
The taste of his magic only makes him all the more certain. This is Dominic and he is on the edges of his energy.
The lightning strike that Konstantin summons could be considered overkill, but mermaids have always been known for being emotional creatures, and he is no different. The surge he feels wracking through his fingertips and along his spine is more than just the feeling of simple duty hardly owed to anyone. It's built on warm summers on a rocking boat and the face of Dominic's mother and the feel of her hands holding his cheeks when he was younger. It's swimming with fish of all colors and the incredulous look on his face when Dom always manages to show up riding a great whale like some kid from a movie. It's all stacked on sentiment so there's nothing left of the assailant but ash on the ground.
I missed you too.
He doesn't have time to react--Dom is already running towards him (if he hadn't known better, he'd have killed him too for running at him like that) and throwing arms around his neck, pressing his body up against him in all the ways an old friend and lover might. Konstantin doesn't hesitate, hands spanning Dom's back and letting him babble on in all the ways he shouldn't, not in an open area like this where Kon has just toasted some asshole. It's okay, he wants to say. It's okay, it's okay, we didn't see this coming, we didn't know this would happen. ]
I think I might, [ he breathes because Dominic's vice-like grip hasn't changed in his embrace and Konstantin can't help himself, even with the static clinging to his hair, to his clothing, still sparking off in tiny flyaways that catch in Dom's hair as well and snap a bit in the air.
It's like taking a breath of air when your lungs are ready to burst.
It hurts, but god... it feels so good all the same.
Konstantin presses his face against Dom's cheek gently, finds the familiar spot where his brow meets his cheekbone and stays there, breathing hard as the air hums with static. ]
Wasn't sure if I'd see you again, to be honest.
[ Not that Dom isn't capable, but the apocalypse takes. It doesn't give back. And Kon's been having some shit luck lately. He's going to hold fast to this one piece. ]
AND NOW I'M DONE
-
When it begins, Ash tells him: You can't afford to be picky anymore. He knows what it means and he doesn't like it. He knows that it means and he says "fuck it."
Because this is what nature intended, isn't it?
-
Konstantin is no longer as lean as he used to be, and he wears every part of his mother's blood with pride now--teeth and scales, bright, jewel-like eyes, and a voice that is honed like a knife. He's just passing through Los Angeles when he hears the fight and the sound of a familiar voice under duress. The bike is loud, but the fight is already at a roar (and it's only going to get louder as he manipulates the pressure in one isolated area). He learns this trick from a beautiful woman in Andalusia after the world falls to shit. She keeps him for over a month and together they protect Spain's coastline with a series of curated storms as he learns his birthright day after day.
The storm, the lightning, they fit into the palm of his hand, they heat his fingertips, they crash along with the sound of his voice as he sees one of the group peeling away in a whirlwind of fire that flickers in and out like the tip of a flame on a matchstick. This won't do, Konstantin decides. It won't do because he recognizes the blonde hair, the build, the sound of his voice calling out. He would know it anywhere (even from the bottom of the sea).
The taste of his magic only makes him all the more certain. This is Dominic and he is on the edges of his energy.
The lightning strike that Konstantin summons could be considered overkill, but mermaids have always been known for being emotional creatures, and he is no different. The surge he feels wracking through his fingertips and along his spine is more than just the feeling of simple duty hardly owed to anyone. It's built on warm summers on a rocking boat and the face of Dominic's mother and the feel of her hands holding his cheeks when he was younger. It's swimming with fish of all colors and the incredulous look on his face when Dom always manages to show up riding a great whale like some kid from a movie. It's all stacked on sentiment so there's nothing left of the assailant but ash on the ground.
I missed you too.
He doesn't have time to react--Dom is already running towards him (if he hadn't known better, he'd have killed him too for running at him like that) and throwing arms around his neck, pressing his body up against him in all the ways an old friend and lover might. Konstantin doesn't hesitate, hands spanning Dom's back and letting him babble on in all the ways he shouldn't, not in an open area like this where Kon has just toasted some asshole. It's okay, he wants to say. It's okay, it's okay, we didn't see this coming, we didn't know this would happen. ]
I think I might, [ he breathes because Dominic's vice-like grip hasn't changed in his embrace and Konstantin can't help himself, even with the static clinging to his hair, to his clothing, still sparking off in tiny flyaways that catch in Dom's hair as well and snap a bit in the air.
It's like taking a breath of air when your lungs are ready to burst.
It hurts, but god... it feels so good all the same.
Konstantin presses his face against Dom's cheek gently, finds the familiar spot where his brow meets his cheekbone and stays there, breathing hard as the air hums with static. ]
Wasn't sure if I'd see you again, to be honest.
[ Not that Dom isn't capable, but the apocalypse takes. It doesn't give back. And Kon's been having some shit luck lately. He's going to hold fast to this one piece. ]
In all this, I couldn't be sure...