𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘐𝘕𝘚. Night had settled over the neighborhood by the time Graves finally turned onto the street he had been walking for the better part of an hour. His coat hung heavier than usual from the rain and weight of everything tucked beneath it, boots carrying the grime of an evening that had already gone badly enough. His hands were worse. Blood had dried in the creases of his knuckles, darkened beneath his fingernails, and streaked across the backs of his fingers. A shallow split above one knuckle had reopened somewhere along the walk, leaving a thin line of red trailing toward his wrist. None of it concerned him particularly. It was the sort of damage that came with his work now, an occupational inconvenience attached to a life he'd stopped pretending was anything respectable. Carver. He had almost forgotten how strange the name sounded in his thoughts when it wasn't attached to a memory of fluorescent lights, reinforced doors, and the miserable little room where two damaged men were forced to learn how to survive one day at a time. The memories had never r͟͟e͟͟a͟͟l͟͟l͟͟y͟͟ left. Graves could still remember Carver before the world had been kind enough to give him hope to hold onto. When every experiment seemed designed to strip a piece of him away. Every hour spent inside that place left him quieter than the last. Graves had been through and there for more of it than he liked remembering. He watched Carver come a͟͟p͟͟a͟͟r͟͟t͟͟ and become something worse. Something violent, obedient and hollow. But, somehow, against all reason, Graves had managed to keep a little piece of him intact. A joke here. A stolen meal there. A reminder that being built as a weapon didn't mean he had to spend the rest of his life behaving like one. Carver had once needed that l͟͟i͟͟g͟͟h͟͟t͟͟. Graves had been it. That was what made standing here feel particularly rotten. The man Carver remembered was not the man walking up his street now. He slowed when the house came into view, and for several seconds he simply watched it from across the road. There had been plenty of nights when he'd wondered what he'd say if he ever found Carver again. He had rehearsed variations in his head over the years, usually when sleep wouldn't come and the past decided to make itself inconvenient. Something simple, perhaps. Something ridiculous enough to make the whole exchange less important than it was. Maybe an apology. Maybe an explanation. Except there wasn't a good one. Graves hadn't faked his death because he wanted to disappear from everyone who cared about him. He hadn't expected to survive. Then he'd woke in a world that had no use for the person he used to be. He c͟͟o͟͟u͟͟l͟͟d͟͟ have found Carver afterward. He c͟͟o͟͟u͟͟l͟͟d͟͟ have told him. Graves never did. Still, he had watched from a distance. Not obsessively, but every now and then Graves had checked in. A passing glimpse from somewhere Carver would never notice him. Enough to know he was breathing, and that the miserable man he'd once known had managed to become something else. B͟e͟͟t͟͟t͟͟e͟͟r͟͟, even. Carver had learned to carry himself without letting the past dictate every step. He built a life for himself. Graves had seen the difference, and it had been strangely comforting from afar. Maybe that was why he had kept checking. Maybe he needed proof that at least one of them had made it out without becoming exactly what Vought had wanted. Graves changed for worse. The realization sat heavy in his chest as he crossed the street. There wasn't a nice way to describe what he'd become. He had stopped counting the bodies a long time ago. ➟

⠀ ⠀⠀ ☠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾. ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ ☠⠀⠀⠀ 𝚁𝚄𝙻𝙴𝚂. ⠀

003. Plotting beforehand is always welcome, but not mandatory. I'm a big fan of the “yes, and” approach. Give me something to work with, and I'll gladly build on it. I don't have an estimated length for replies, it depends entirely on the thread, my inspiration, ➟

002. I don't enjoy roleplaying in DMs for a variety of reasons. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, it's simply not my preferred format. Please respect this and don't initiate IC interactions through DMs without asking me first. My DMs are always open for plotting and ➟

001. I'm mildly selective. I'll likely follow you as long as you're a roleplay account, but my time and energy are limited, so I can't interact with everyone. My activity can range from slow to very slow, so please don't rush me for replies. I'm well aware of who and what ➟