It would be impossible to stifle anything at the moment.
His walls, which there never were many really beyond what he would run behind and hide behind, have been unceremoniously torn down one after the other after the other until they were lying crumbled at his feet instead of around him. There's no strength, no energy to run anymore, and it is impossible to run from something that is Inside of you, that made you, that has you in a cage.
It's everywhere.
Inside, outside, touching him, in his head, screaming at him all the time, but it's his screams.
Ethan never wanted her to die. He had hope. He had so much hope that the ceremony wouldn't happen, that she wouldn't die, that she would be saved, because it is not right-- it is not right for his father to kill the one person he loves the most outside of his family. It is not fair, and it is not right for a second that he do so.
It can't be--
It can't be how it ended, and he wouldn't let himself think about it as terrified as he was. He wouldn't let himself think that there was an ending where any of them died, where she died as she was 'meant' to do so, a sacrifice. Fuck all those words and ceremonies and bullshit, she is so much more than the fucking doppleganger.
And fuck Klaus and fuck his father and fuck everyone that has ever reduced her to a blood bag and used her and abused her in any fucking way, because she is so much more than someone that reminds them of their former girlfriends or someone to be compared or someone who should be sacrificed for their own desires of more power.
She is a person. She is an amazing and wonderful fighter who changes the people around her for the better, makes their lives better, and fuck.
Fuck, he wouldn't let himself think for a second that it was a possibility, because he wouldn't have been able to live with it.
Ethan is strengthened by her tightening her hold on him, hearing what she doesn't say out loud that she trusts him, that there is no need for uncertainty. His hands slip back into her hair as he looks at her, removing the uncertainty from his motions for this brief moment.
I know you won't, she says, and he can see her face crumple in what little light there is, and i breaks-- breaks something further in him, because he- they shouldn't be here at all, and he wants her safe, them safe, and far away from this. Back to the nights they shared, the movie nights and the times when they were sick and had to shove each other in their beds and not this.
I trust you, she says, and his face nearly crumples but instead because it is Elena and he can hear the certainty in her voice. Instead of his face crumpling, he leans forward, hands till on her face, and he kisses her with everything that he has, everything that is Ethan while Ethan is still around, because there aren't any guarantees.
There are no guarantees that she will be allowed to live.
There are no guarantees that he will be allowed to remain himself, and he pours everything, months of tangled up feelings that he never allowed himself to examine and untangle that would have been too late- it's too late.
He pulls back breath shaky as he feels her hand reach, find his pulse, and he nods against her. Ethan is still alive too. They're both still alive. His hands remain against her face, keeping her close to him.
Ethan nods, voice a mess, a tangle of emotions. "I know you wouldn't. You never would," he says even if he'd understand. He knows she wouldn't. She's a fighter, a survivor, and she wouldn't abandon him here to be on his own here. He never would, and she never would.
It's that loyalty. Their core characteristics that connected them when their outward ones seemed so wildly different on the surface level.
They won't leave each other, and it's a comfort.
...it was a comfort.
Until Lucien takes that too.
The whole of it rushes down on him in waves, and he doesn't recognize himself or find himself in his hatred and his panic and his pain. The panic is pushing forward above all else. It's what he wants, but there is literally nothing that has ever been more terrifying to Ethan than this, than having anyone be on the other side of that violent force within him, the animal and monster that is more a part of him than he is when the moon is out in full.
...and at other times it feels like,, like it would be too loud if he ever stopped running, stopped moving for too long.
It bred his restlessness. His terror bred his restlessness, his refusal to face anything of his own, to have anything real, and now it's-- now it's manifesting in the worst possible way. It's not just anyone that would be on the other side of it. It's elena.
It's elena with no way- no where to go, no- there's no escape, and it's squeezing down on his chest like two boulders smashed together.
He's pounding, fighting against the bars that he can't even reach because of the shackles digging into his flesh, and it's-- the pain is nothing that he feels,, because it's nothing in comparison to the pain that he feels at the thought of ever hurting her even a little bit. Even a little bit. Not- not not ripping no-
Ethan can't. He can't-
This can't be happening.
This isn't happening. He needs to die. He needs to be killed. He needs to not be alive, and he can't reach and he's breaking his bones in the attempt, already- already it's loud. already it's loud in his head, and it wants to tear him apart ,tear Lucien apart, taer himself apart but never her. Why her? He can't.
There's nothing but rage. Once the rage leaves, it'll be panic instead.
Lucien who is by the bar only smirks at Elena. "This is hell, and the only one who looks like she's rotting is you, filth," he says, ignoring Ethan who is practically incoherent at the moment still.
Well, not completely ignoring, he turns to look down at him. "Pathetic," he says cleanly, crisply like he is talking about a dog. Not his sons, no. Never his sons. He has no need for people but for an army, he would enjoy having one of those, someone to stick their necks out so he won't have to. Someone else to get their hands dirty.
And now he has several someones that he spent years cultivating and engineering to be exactly what he needed before that bitch took off with them.
Ethan only calms down at what Elena says. She's right. She has to be right. If she's right, it means he won't do this. There's nothing more important than the ceremony to him, and it would waste all of it.
Her protests are... useless but smart almost. Huh. "I think we are both aware that I have more than enough blood at this point," Lucien says as he finishes his glass of wine, crashes the head of it against the nearest wall, and digs the broken glass into her finger where her hand is gripping hold of that bar. "What I don't already have, I am absolutely certain I'll get tonight." He lights a nearby candle which provides enough light so that he can gesture at the floor of the cell which has a drain in the center of it.
"Isn't that right, Ethan?" Lucien smiles politely to them both. "Have a good evening, I look forward to the symphony."
And with that, he turns...and leaves.
And the world comes crashing down on them.
Ethan has a very physical reaction, physical need to-- it's dry heaving because he hasn't eaten and he hasn't had much to drink, and he's not-- He's not. Ohgodohgodohgod. "No, no, no, this can't- this can't- I can't," he- it's not quite settling in yet.
It's not quite settled into his head yet, what it means.
no subject
His walls, which there never were many really beyond what he would run behind and hide behind, have been unceremoniously torn down one after the other after the other until they were lying crumbled at his feet instead of around him. There's no strength, no energy to run anymore, and it is impossible to run from something that is Inside of you, that made you, that has you in a cage.
It's everywhere.
Inside, outside, touching him, in his head, screaming at him all the time, but it's his screams.
Ethan never wanted her to die. He had hope. He had so much hope that the ceremony wouldn't happen, that she wouldn't die, that she would be saved, because it is not right-- it is not right for his father to kill the one person he loves the most outside of his family. It is not fair, and it is not right for a second that he do so.
It can't be--
It can't be how it ended, and he wouldn't let himself think about it as terrified as he was. He wouldn't let himself think that there was an ending where any of them died, where she died as she was 'meant' to do so, a sacrifice. Fuck all those words and ceremonies and bullshit, she is so much more than the fucking doppleganger.
And fuck Klaus and fuck his father and fuck everyone that has ever reduced her to a blood bag and used her and abused her in any fucking way, because she is so much more than someone that reminds them of their former girlfriends or someone to be compared or someone who should be sacrificed for their own desires of more power.
She is a person. She is an amazing and wonderful fighter who changes the people around her for the better, makes their lives better, and fuck.
Fuck, he wouldn't let himself think for a second that it was a possibility, because he wouldn't have been able to live with it.
Ethan is strengthened by her tightening her hold on him, hearing what she doesn't say out loud that she trusts him, that there is no need for uncertainty. His hands slip back into her hair as he looks at her, removing the uncertainty from his motions for this brief moment.
I know you won't, she says, and he can see her face crumple in what little light there is, and i breaks-- breaks something further in him, because he- they shouldn't be here at all, and he wants her safe, them safe, and far away from this. Back to the nights they shared, the movie nights and the times when they were sick and had to shove each other in their beds and not this.
I trust you, she says, and his face nearly crumples but instead because it is Elena and he can hear the certainty in her voice. Instead of his face crumpling, he leans forward, hands till on her face, and he kisses her with everything that he has, everything that is Ethan while Ethan is still around, because there aren't any guarantees.
There are no guarantees that she will be allowed to live.
There are no guarantees that he will be allowed to remain himself, and he pours everything, months of tangled up feelings that he never allowed himself to examine and untangle that would have been too late- it's too late.
He pulls back breath shaky as he feels her hand reach, find his pulse, and he nods against her. Ethan is still alive too. They're both still alive. His hands remain against her face, keeping her close to him.
Ethan nods, voice a mess, a tangle of emotions. "I know you wouldn't. You never would," he says even if he'd understand. He knows she wouldn't. She's a fighter, a survivor, and she wouldn't abandon him here to be on his own here. He never would, and she never would.
It's that loyalty. Their core characteristics that connected them when their outward ones seemed so wildly different on the surface level.
They won't leave each other, and it's a comfort.
...it was a comfort.
Until Lucien takes that too.
The whole of it rushes down on him in waves, and he doesn't recognize himself or find himself in his hatred and his panic and his pain. The panic is pushing forward above all else. It's what he wants, but there is literally nothing that has ever been more terrifying to Ethan than this, than having anyone be on the other side of that violent force within him, the animal and monster that is more a part of him than he is when the moon is out in full.
...and at other times it feels like,, like it would be too loud if he ever stopped running, stopped moving for too long.
It bred his restlessness. His terror bred his restlessness, his refusal to face anything of his own, to have anything real, and now it's-- now it's manifesting in the worst possible way. It's not just anyone that would be on the other side of it. It's elena.
It's elena with no way- no where to go, no- there's no escape, and it's squeezing down on his chest like two boulders smashed together.
He's pounding, fighting against the bars that he can't even reach because of the shackles digging into his flesh, and it's-- the pain is nothing that he feels,, because it's nothing in comparison to the pain that he feels at the thought of ever hurting her even a little bit. Even a little bit. Not- not not ripping no-
Ethan can't. He can't-
This can't be happening.
This isn't happening. He needs to die. He needs to be killed. He needs to not be alive, and he can't reach and he's breaking his bones in the attempt, already- already it's loud. already it's loud in his head, and it wants to tear him apart ,tear Lucien apart, taer himself apart but never her. Why her? He can't.
There's nothing but rage. Once the rage leaves, it'll be panic instead.
Lucien who is by the bar only smirks at Elena. "This is hell, and the only one who looks like she's rotting is you, filth," he says, ignoring Ethan who is practically incoherent at the moment still.
Well, not completely ignoring, he turns to look down at him. "Pathetic," he says cleanly, crisply like he is talking about a dog. Not his sons, no. Never his sons. He has no need for people but for an army, he would enjoy having one of those, someone to stick their necks out so he won't have to. Someone else to get their hands dirty.
And now he has several someones that he spent years cultivating and engineering to be exactly what he needed before that bitch took off with them.
Ethan only calms down at what Elena says. She's right. She has to be right. If she's right, it means he won't do this. There's nothing more important than the ceremony to him, and it would waste all of it.
Her protests are... useless but smart almost. Huh. "I think we are both aware that I have more than enough blood at this point," Lucien says as he finishes his glass of wine, crashes the head of it against the nearest wall, and digs the broken glass into her finger where her hand is gripping hold of that bar. "What I don't already have, I am absolutely certain I'll get tonight." He lights a nearby candle which provides enough light so that he can gesture at the floor of the cell which has a drain in the center of it.
"Isn't that right, Ethan?" Lucien smiles politely to them both. "Have a good evening, I look forward to the symphony."
And with that, he turns...and leaves.
And the world comes crashing down on them.
Ethan has a very physical reaction, physical need to-- it's dry heaving because he hasn't eaten and he hasn't had much to drink, and he's not-- He's not. Ohgodohgodohgod. "No, no, no, this can't- this can't- I can't," he- it's not quite settling in yet.
It's not quite settled into his head yet, what it means.