Raleigh Becket Open RP Post

[righthemisphere]

"Please take the ghosts from my heart;
I don't want to be haunted anymore."

Comments

hi. :)

[dorothied]

Re: hi. :)

[righthemisphere]

Hey. Six years later. You still around?

[dorothied]

Bring it on, Mr Beckett ;)

[righthemisphere]

Oh em gee hii

[dorothied]

Helloooo. I haven't picked Mako up in years but if you wanna play, go for it, I will dust her off :)

[righthemisphere]

I just sort of remembered that dw rp exists and was like :c my peeeeeeople I missssss themmmmmm

blame yourself

[dorothied]

"Please."

[righthemisphere]

It hurts. His heart. His body. Everything hurts.

It's six months after the fall. Six months, three days, one hour and thirty-seven minutes and counting. The war clock has stopped but as the last ticker fell to zero it started another inside Raleigh's chest. How much time left. How much time until he really, truly has outlived his use. He's got two shot arms, a chest full of radiation breach and a head filled with a glimpse into another world and he just..

He's done.

Six months, two days, one hour and thirty-seven minutes and counting since he decided Mako was better off without him. That she belongs in the corps and she's doing good work and she doesn't need his broken husk of a waste dragging her down.

He barely even said goodbye, coward he is, making the decision for her.

Thinking it would hurt less.

It doesn't..

And try as he might to let the void swallow him, inviting it to swallow him, he's still alive.

One hour and thirty-seven minutes and counting since he's been standing on the street across from her building. Of that it's been seven minutes since he's moved inside to stand at her door, shaking hand hovering to knock, paralyzed.

Seven minutes and counting with racing thoughts and a racing heart. He left her. He ran away like he always does and begged for an end he didn't have the balls to carry out, himself. And now he's back for..

For what.

Coward.

Raleigh lays his hand against her door, followed by his forehead. His whole body aches. He hasn't been taking care of himself and the wreck standing there would never be confused for Raleigh Becket. War Hero. Celebrity. Inspiration.

Every breath makes the fresh scratches down his back rub against his shirt and with little pin prick needles. He can't. He can't do this anymore.

"Mako-" finally. Rough. He hasn't spoken out loud for a while. He hasn't had a reason to. Half of him hopes she doesn't answer.

i am choosing to believe the sequel doesn't exist bc i want these kids to have a good life

[dorothied]

Defeating the apocalypse does not come without consequences, or loss. But in the aftermath of losing Stacker, and watching the world stick its head out from years of being terrorised by kaijuu, dealing with all of her personal survivor's guilt and Raleigh's from the drift bleedthrough, what she does not expect to be a loss is her co-pilot.

He up and vanishes, like a fucking coward. Again. Probably thinks he is doing her a favour, too - she's seen enough into his head to know this - giving her space to spread her wings. But Mako can't spread shit, if she is worrying about where he went off to, and why, and why did he not stay.

I am finally looking forward to the future, he'd said once, and apparently that was, what. A lie?

It's been months since the last time they drifted, and by all means she should not still sense him. But she hears footsteps near her door one night, and that knock, and it makes the hair on the nape of her neck stand up.

She yanks the door open and there he is.

"Don't," she warns him tensely, because whatever excuse he might have is going to make her angry anyway, in a personal way. She gives him a once over, sighs at the sight, and steps aside for him to come in. "I appreciate being told that you are at least alive," she manages in clipped tone and hard words. "Mister Beckett."

What sequel lalalalalala

[righthemisphere]

It's a cold response but not as cold as he was expecting, if he was expecting anything at all. He doesn't know what he was thinking.. the nerve to show back up like this. Going through the trouble to find Mako's private residence and then the gall to actually approach her.

What do you want, Raleigh.. honestly what do you want?

He doesn't know. Maybe he just... wants to come home.

"Mako.." soft, again. An exhale. What is there to say. Nothing will be good enough.

"I'm sorry.."

No, this was stupid. Abort. Run away again, that's what he does best.

"I shouldn't.. I shouldn't have come. I'll go.."

exactly

[dorothied]

She lets out a sharp, almost pained laugh, and reaches out to grab him by the arm, fingers digging into muscle, making sure he is really here. Then she gives him a long overdue shake.

"No, you fool. You should not have left!" She bites down on her tongue a little; she practically yelled at him there, and she'd promised herself not to put all her eggs in on golden apple pie Beckett basket. Not again, anyway. "Raleigh," she adds, softer. "Why did you leave?"

[righthemisphere]

Right... right into it then, huh. Again, he shouldn't be surprised. Mako never suffered fools and she isn't going to suffer him. Especially him.

"I don't.." he shakes his head, flinching internally. Just her touch- It makes him waver.

She knows why. She knows him well enough and saying it out loud-

So he doesn't. Instead he opens his arms to detangle himself from her hold and wraps her up against him chest, face in her soft, clean hair.

"I'm so sorry," again, breathing her in, emotion bursting in his chest.

"I couldn't. I couldn't, I thought-"

[dorothied]

Mako smells like a meadow after the rain, if the meadow is not radioactive and neither is the rain. That is to say, she has had a shower recently, as it is late, and it becomes very quickly abundantly clear that he has not.

"You smell," she murmurs against his jacket, wrapping her arms around him under it, hands pressed to his back between his jacket and shirt.

It's fine. The wide circle she rubs against his back, down his spine, that's what it says: It's fine, and I will probably forgive you much worse things.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Please take a shower, Mister Beckett, you reek.

[righthemisphere]

A soft, huffed laugh into her hair before he nods a little.

"Anything you want, Mako." A beat. A breath. Their hearts already falling back into rhythm.

"I've missed you so much."

He'll go in a minute. He can't let go yet. In fact she'll probably have to put him in the shower herself because he doesn't want to let go.

[dorothied]

She could probably manage to carry him, even if it will be difficult and awkward, mostly due to the height difference. But she could do it. It's not as if she has stopped being strong, just because the war ended six months ago.

She lets out a choked little sound, kind of like a whimper, and burrows herself into his arms. "I've missed you too." You should not have left. I am not letting you leave again.

A beat, and a wild attempt to make him laugh again: "Did you roll in wet dog fur?"

[oldladyenough]

[oldladyenough]

oh hi

[luckystriker]

On the subject of bonds and blood

[righthemisphere]

Soulmates, born of stardust, are real. The expanding universe pushing particles of diamond through space with no clear reason only to reach a tethered limit and contract. Wild magic, born of the same stuff, calls these pieces back together.

No one knows why, it just is.

Just like no one knows why wild magic is thriving so vividly in the veins of man. It just does.

Fate isn't a single thread, fate is a spider's web of gossamer heartstrings, woven and singing as they call to each other.

The chances of finding each other are slim to none, even with all the posters and apps and promotion. A mark on your skin matches someone else, somewhere on the planet. There is no guarantee you'll ever find them. Many people don't. But every soul is given this single clue.

Should one of you die and the other survive a new mark blooms on your skin and the cycle starts over.

Hoping eventually.. one day.. you'll finally find each other.

-

Raleigh Becket has had four soulmates and he's never found any of them. He's felt close a few times but never managed. It's a pain he doesn't wish on anyone, a loss he can't quite describe, and the scores of mortal lovers over the years haven't helped.

He's tried, he really has, but he guesses he just isn't lucky. He never really has been, to be honest. A drifter for hundreds of years, lost and alone and unguided. Sired and abandoned. His family..

Well.

He has a talent for dwelling. It's made him cold which is against his nature. It's made him mean to protect himself. It hurts.

He can feel it coming again. His latest soulmark has lasted way too long. Way too long. It's always felt different. Something just... He can't describe. He doesn't think this one was born for him. He doesn't think this person has ever tried to find him. The mark has lasted over a hundred years and shows no sign of fading and it's like being taunted. Night after night after night.

Finally, Raleigh can't take it anymore. He remembers what his brother said all those years ago, that soulmates aren't just in your skin, they're in your heart and blood and bone. Their names forever scrawled into your ribs.

It's October. Wild magic is growing thicker and thicker in the air as the days pass and by the 31st it's palpable. It's a full, blood moon, and finally he's lucky. Finally.

It's simple, really. Blood. Magic. For someone like him it's second nature.

A second, dark, monsters nature. But monsters need masters and he'll be damned if he isn't he own.

Raleigh sits on the floor of his apartment; a ramshackle, one room hovel of a place in Toronto but he doesn't care. It's cheap and he doesn't think he'll be there much longer. Around him he's lit candles and he's burning sage. He isn't sure if it'll work but he's got to try.

A beat. He sighs.

He picks up a razor and holds it to his forearm, tip of the blade against the mark that's been taunting him for over a century.

"Who the hell are you?" He murmurs, waiting for the stroke of midnight.

He glances at his watch, laid flat on the floor next to him. Counting, waiting, nearly--

Now-

A sudden jerk and he slips the blade over the mark, deep and sharp. He hopes to harness the power of the moment, the magic in the air, this one, powerful chance, to make contact with his soulmate.

"Who are you!?"

mcbitey and mcwooferson

[luckystriker]

Herc's had more marks than he wants to count. The last mark that had appeared on his skin, he'd decided to ignore because he'd had no luck finding the previous ones.

He's old and tired and heartsick still from losing his last love. Angela hadn't been a soulmate, but she'd been close enough, they'd loved each other dearly, they'd decided to make it work, but Herc had held off from biting her until after Chuck was born - another unexpected turn to their relationship, but one that gave them joy. They'd thought once he was old enough not to need a baby sitter at home, he'd understand his father's lycanthropy, and Angela would be free to be turned by Herc, too...

Figures life would shit on him all over again.

A group of crazed hunters that had been convinced Angela must be 'infected' just from being with Herc, despite her clearly not having any bite scars. Just as well little Chuck had been visiting his grandparents.

And years later, after he learned the real reason why his mother had been killed? He'd left. Angered and hurt, probably more than a bit scared. It's only been a couple of years since the teen had gone, but Herc is comforted in knowing Chuck's safe and now living with Angela's parents permanently.

He's honestly thinking he's had enough. He's done enough. One more full-moon... and then he's got a silver bullet waiting for him in the busted old cabin he's living in, out in the woods by Toronto.

It's as the giant wolf is racing through the cold woods that he feels the pain lancing through him, snarling and wheeling around to try to see what might have hurt him. He stares down at his foreleg, seeing the dark blood shining as it soaks over the tan fur, but then he's seeing through someone else's eyes, down at a faintly tanned human arm where a razor blade has cut into a mark he's all too familiar with...

There's a ragged howl voiced to the sky, angered and broken and lonely, before Herc takes off running, headed towards the city where he knows, he knows his soulmate is.

2 for 1 special

[righthemisphere]

Maybe it's Herc's plan to end it that's prompted Raleigh to give in. Subconsciously knowing something is about to happen. A dull, throbbing anxiety that the other boot is about to fall after all this time. That this mark, hat feels so different, is about to fade as well and he'll be left behind again until it starts over and he'll yearn for someone who's never managed to find him. Another bit of stardust next to his when it all started, trying desperately to come back together.

He thinks is a beautiful notion. The theory is poetic. But poetry is often sad and this is no exception.

The razor cuts his skin and he hisses, gums buzzing by reflex as sharp teeth extend behind his lips like a viper.

But it works. He thinks. He feels a sudden headrush and pitches forward like his soul is trying to leave his body; he sees without seeing, feels without feeling. A cold rush of air, woods, the beating of a strong heart and the roar of blood in veins that aren't his. It's like a trance, looking down at himself as though he's floating above to see the sudden fright and snarl of a beast as it telps and jerks back to defend against an unseen attack. Hair? No.. fur. Limbs not his own, not even human-

His watch's second hand circles back around. 12:01. The trance releases him as quickly as it took hold and the wild magic he'd summoned sinks back into the floor and walls in black, inky tendrils.

Stunned, Raleigh it's very still for a moment, the only sound in his apartment the ticking of his watch and the blood dripping down his hand which he raises to his lips to lap away.

Holy shit, he thinks. It worked. Maybe.. but something happened.

Slowly his eyes track the walls.of his apartment until they settle on the window, curtains drawn. Outside, the moon seems exceptionally bright and beckoning. His chest feels full with a thin glimmer of hope, an emotion that feels almost foreign at this point.

It's enough to pull him to his feet, extinguishing his candles and sage before pulling on his boots and leaving.

Going.. he has no idea. All he knows is that he's made contact and they're.. it..

What kind of soulmate has fur..

It's not even a question of who anymore, it's what, but.. logically... There's only one real answer to that. What it means for him...

Jesus Christ.

Because of course his soulmate would be his natural.. enemy doesn't seem the right word. Equal predator? Adversary? Brother in supernatural arms?

Before he knows it he's standing out on the street. It's long past the time for trick or treaters but the clubs are heaving and groups of young people are laughing drunk and costumed as they make their way towards parties.

There are too many people around for comfort. He should be out hunting but tonight he just.. fate had other plans.

He doesn't feel the cold, he can't, but he turns the collar of his jacket up against his neck and starts to walk at random, pulled instinctively towards the nearest woodland.

[luckystriker]

The closer he gets to his destination, the stronger Herc feels. Of course he's strong, he's a bloody werewolf, but this is more. He feels that same bone-deep thrumming of energy that he'd felt in his youth and then when he'd been turned in his prime. Like he's invincible.

He comes to a stop close to the edge of the treeline, able to make out the lights of the city just beyond, and he waits, eyes eerily shining in the dark. He's not in a hurry, now. His other half's coming.

[righthemisphere]

He'll emerge soon enough. A single, solitary figure backlit by the city.

Raleigh feels the same strength. It's exciting. It's familiar.

He's been here before, in a way. The pull is familiar but the previous times he felt it they slipped through his fingers and vanished again.

This time is different, and it's dawned on him as he's walked, that perhaps the reason it's worked is because this mate of his has command of wild magic in the way a human could never imagine.

His senses are on high alert as he comes to a stop, the roads long since turned to gravel as the city limits came and went.

He can smell the blood and knows. This is them. It has to be. He can pick the scent of it from the air like the single high note of an aria's crescendo. It moves him in the same way and he hums to himself, hands in his pockets, too blue eyes looking it into the blackness of the forest. Waiting.

Raleigh takes a breath he doesn't need and lets it out slowly. Alongside his excitement anxiety and nervousness join him like old, jagged friends.

What if his soulmate hates him. What if he isn't what they want.. What if their century of waiting ends in enormous disappointment.

It's like a song in his head, over and over, the tubs changing trough the years; re-imagined in the modern age with instruments he doesn't quite like and a hollow synthesizer he doesn't quite trust.

[luckystriker]

There's a smell Herc hasn't encountered in some time. Vampires avoid werewolves where they can help it, these days, and vice versa. But that thrumming connection only grows stronger the closer that figure approaches, so there's no denying who it is.

Instinct makes him snarl viciously in warning when Raleigh comes too close for a vampire, but then Herc quiets, slinking forward warily from the bushes, circling the blond while his own right blue eyes lock with the vampire, ears flicking up and forward.

Tune* lol tubs wtf phone

[righthemisphere]

He tenses at the growl. He can help it. And while this light end in being mauled Raleigh can't help but feel relief when the wolf chooses not to flee but to reveal himself.

And so the vampire stays very, very still as the enormous wolf appears and circles him, eyes locked.

Like an idiot, and not knowing what else to do, Raleigh offers his hand.