It's not us doing it again. I'm telling you to come to me with some damn ideas so that I'm not the only one making the hard decisions to save the people that you care about. [The words come out in a rushed snap. The temptation to hurt Bellamy surges up inside of him, mixed with an anger that doesn't suit this situation. The weight of all of this bears down heavily on Jason, and he wishes he had taken his leave sooner.]
But when Clarke and Octavia die ... when Hiro dies and I die and Ariadne dies? You look at yourself. Enjoy not having the blood on your hands. That's gonna be all you have before the Seelie assholes rip the shard out of your chest. [He went too far. He knows he did. But he doesn't give a damn. It's not about being an idiot, or being weak, or anything else. He definitely wanted a fucking plan from Bellamy, and instead, he's come up with nothing.
Just a lot of "I'm not doing that," and "I don't want to be a part of this," or whatever. Whatever he said.]
Enjoy that little image. And don't depend on me to turn to you when I need someone. [His shoulders are tense and drawn back. Leave, leave. He needs to leave. He starts making the motions to get the fuck away before he goes even further.
[Bellamy blanches. It makes him feel sick and angry at once, and there are a million awful things he wants to spit back in Jason's face, because it already has hurt him, even if it's not physically.]
[He slams his fist into the ground instead, hard, and the pain that shoots through his knuckles warns of bruising, but it channels most of his anger there instead of lashing out at a person. He doesn't think his hand is broken this time, at least. Maybe.]
[It doesn't stop his voice from going low, edging on hostile.] You know there's already blood on my hands, Jason. This isn't me avoiding that. Fuck off.
[It'd be so easy to just tell him what he wants right now, that even if he doesn't trust the Red Hand entirely outside of John right now, pushing back the Void to give them all more time - that's something he can get behind. But telling Jason means telling Morla, and he can't afford that.]
I'm sorry I don't have something for your immediate needs. But don't think for a second I'm going to sit around and do fuck all either. I'm working on it.
Yeah, you know what? I'll believe it when I see it. [The hostility hasn't drained from Jason. It hasn't left, and it won't leave until he's gone. He doesn't believe in Bellamy (and truthfully, Jason wouldn't buy the Red Hand plan anyway). His shoulders are withdrawn and angry, and he knows that this is about to turn into another fight. He knows that Bellamy can use ice magic in a way that can and will hurt him. He knows all of this.
But neither of them want that. Even if shit has hit the speeding around fan, he's not going to throw another bag of shit right up at it. He needs to go.]
See you later, pal.
[As much as he wishes he could teleport—though he resolves to fix that later—he stalks off, turning firmly so that he leaves with his back to Bellamy.
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But when Clarke and Octavia die ... when Hiro dies and I die and Ariadne dies? You look at yourself. Enjoy not having the blood on your hands. That's gonna be all you have before the Seelie assholes rip the shard out of your chest. [He went too far. He knows he did. But he doesn't give a damn. It's not about being an idiot, or being weak, or anything else. He definitely wanted a fucking plan from Bellamy, and instead, he's come up with nothing.
Just a lot of "I'm not doing that," and "I don't want to be a part of this," or whatever. Whatever he said.]
Enjoy that little image. And don't depend on me to turn to you when I need someone. [His shoulders are tense and drawn back. Leave, leave. He needs to leave. He starts making the motions to get the fuck away before he goes even further.
(Clarke doesn't need this.)]
no subject
[He slams his fist into the ground instead, hard, and the pain that shoots through his knuckles warns of bruising, but it channels most of his anger there instead of lashing out at a person. He doesn't think his hand is broken this time, at least. Maybe.]
[It doesn't stop his voice from going low, edging on hostile.] You know there's already blood on my hands, Jason. This isn't me avoiding that. Fuck off.
[It'd be so easy to just tell him what he wants right now, that even if he doesn't trust the Red Hand entirely outside of John right now, pushing back the Void to give them all more time - that's something he can get behind. But telling Jason means telling Morla, and he can't afford that.]
I'm sorry I don't have something for your immediate needs. But don't think for a second I'm going to sit around and do fuck all either. I'm working on it.
no subject
But neither of them want that. Even if shit has hit the speeding around fan, he's not going to throw another bag of shit right up at it. He needs to go.]
See you later, pal.
[As much as he wishes he could teleport—though he resolves to fix that later—he stalks off, turning firmly so that he leaves with his back to Bellamy.
That's a statement, right?]