( mixed. ) pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego

[ashaya]

Who: Spock, Jim, Gwen, Peter, and various.
Where: Various locations (see prompts for details).
What: Gnosia-related shenanigans.
Warnings: Uh. Probably more than a few? Most likely: references to genocide, references to starvation/famine, references/overt descriptions of being targeted by racially motivated crimes, general violence, and gore. Maybe some vaguely racy commentary here and there (linked).

Comments

[arachnerina]

[She's feels so stupid, but it's hard to take one of Jim's peptalks, after everything that happened. After all the vulgar words he threw like knives hit in just the right places, because, of course, he knew her. Knew her heart. Knew the things that had broken her before.

She doesn't blame him, still, but that doesn't make it easier.

Still, she has to keep it together. Just a little bit longer. Just until she knows Peter is safe.

Just like with Jim, Spock looks terrible. Less human, more monstrous. The green blood is also striking, making him seem even more otherworldly in the moment. But none of that matters once he brings Peter out into the open.]

Peter! [He's alive. He's breathing. He looks terrible, but he's alive. It takes everything in Gwen not to rush to him in that moment, but she knows the Vulcan won't let her close to him, not when he still hasn't seen Jim. She pulls her eyes from Peter back to Spock, her fists tightening.

Keep it cool, Stacy. Stick to the plan, and you'll save them both.

She finally dares to turn her gaze back to where Jim is hiding, and she waves for him to come out. Once Spock had Jim in his sights, she didn't know how much time she would have, but she would have to be quick. Get Peter out of the way, and heal Spock. She could do this. She had to do this.]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Spock looks even worse than Jim remembers.

He's a dark specter, the edges of him serrated, sure to cut anything in his path. He looks dangerous, despite (or maybe even because) of the green stains splotched across his robes. There's enough of them that even the dark fabric can't hide it completely as Spock steps into the halo of light given off by the park lamp illuminating their chosen meeting point. Claude's arrows stick out of him in various places, left embedded in flesh, slowly tearing at muscle with every move Spock makes. The longer Jim looks, the more wrong he sees.

Spock's expression is even worse.

The Gnosia has made him almost unrecognizable. Dark shadows plague his undereyes, severity hangs heavy on his brow. Peter looks roughed up, but in one (misshapen) piece, and Gwen's relief is palpable. Jim shares it, though he scrambles to arrange his mind into some other configuration. Spock is still far too close for comfort, still with a grip about Peter, still dangling him over the edge as if to see how far Gwen will swoop to catch him.

Let him go, Jim steps forward when bidden, listing slightly as he does so. He ends his slow approach just behind Gwen, as impossible as it seems not to keep moving forward. Let him go, and we can be reunited. ]

[ashaya]

[ It is only iterations — giving up, letting go. Letting go, to receive what has brought him back to the fold of the scraping buildings, the rounding greenery. And yet, he does not see that Gwen budges. Not entirely. Instead, he is focused upon his mark. He is focused upon Jim>, who lists into the static proximity of Gwen.

And yet, it is —

Reluctant to leave the shield of the monument, it is Jim's unsteadiness that causes him to move. That causes him to consider. That causes him, in the intervening moments, to study each in turn.

And then, it is thousand hands and mouths and eyes that stagger, waver — pull. They brush about the boundary of the bond, sleek and feathered animals. It is not a simple want, they think. It is the whole of some great need, some vast starvation. It is a vacancy, a light burned out in a room that Jim has left. The ache is bitter, tannic and earthy within the pit of his stomach. The more it is he waits for Jim to surpass her, the more that it too burns.

Spock's hand stutters at the cusp of Peter's shoulder. His breath, so often even and unpronounced, rattles like a wound.

Khart-lan.

And for all that Spock knows within himself the overflow of churning uncertainties, he knows best that each contrasted surety is carried within Jim. Jim, for whom he would do most anything. Jim, who makes even the Gnosia concede that there is no such stability without him.

He does not release him, not entirely. The intent to trade is obvious, steering him out into the open further as he does. He keeps behind Peter, using him as a shield as he limps further into the clearing, eyes blacker and murkier than they ought.

He crooks his other arm, unable to lift it entirely, but reaching for Jim even so. He's close enough now, that if he were to let go —

Ma ish-veh tan-tor. Nash-veh dungi palutunau du.

— he might have hand upon Jim in a moment. A moment, before they would have to run. ]

[spidermenaces]

(his eyes dart from spock, monstrous green, not himself, in any shape or form. jim, himself, but unequivocally not in his best self, with all considered... and gwen. the guilt makes it nearly impossible to look at her long, his eyes meeting the floor for a longer beat.

defeat never looked great on him, and he might wallow on it for a moment, two, but he never really gives up. with spock now focused on jim, a chance, however fickle it may be, presents. all is strength goes to his legs, a sweeping kick with all the force he may muster, an attempt to cause imbalance in his posture, enough for the others to act.)

[arachnerina]

[Gwen tenses as Jim steps forward. Her gaze was only on him for a second before they went back to Spock, watching him intently. His hand was still on Peter, but he was reaching for Jim.

Good. Focus on Jim. Forget about Peter.

But before Jim could even go towards Spock, her spider-sense exploded in her mind, and she knew something was about to happen. And sure enough--

Peter drop kicked Spock.

She only had seconds to react, rushing forward to Peter. She scooped him up without a moment of hesitation, shooting her webbing and in moments, they were flying through the air. She didn't really have an exact plan on where to take him, just away, so once they were a decent distance, she landed again, gently helping him to the ground.

Thank god he can't see her face, as she's on the verge of tears as she wraps her arms around him, but it only lasts a few seconds. She pulls away, cupping her hands to his face.]

I've got to go save Spock, but I'll be right back. Are you okay to stay here? I won't be long, I promise.

[finalfrontiersman]

[ It's as they thought, thank whatever deity may or may not exist - with Jim there, Spock's attention is divided. Caught between the Gnosia and instinct, there is only so much the Gnosia can dictate. Only so much that can be suppressed, until it comes spilling out - pulling at the bond, making Jim's head ache with the effort it takes not to completely collapse, or go running forward towards Spock. Jim is not the only one who can lure; he is not unaffected by Spock's desperate siren call. The urge to return to him, to fix what has been broken and heal that ache inside him -

Well, he doesn't have to wait long.

Peter's sweeping kick takes Jim by as much surprise as he's sure it does Spock, but it lands successfully and the kids are gone in the blink of an eye. Jim rushes forward, catching Spock by the arm - it's not enough to stop him hitting the ground, but it is enough to slow him, and send them both down together.

Spock!

Jim's grip is firm, tight, as if to ever stop them being separated again. He catches him, landing hard on his knees, but hopefully mitigating any agitation of Spock's wounds. His other hand rises to the gaunt cut of Spock's cheek, a tenderness that belies the fear - fear for him, of him, perhaps all of the above. You're okay. I've got you. I've got you... ]

[ashaya]

[ It is not unexpected.

The Gnosia writhe and ramble, the wet of their mouths both wild and weak. For all that they burn at the mind they'd found their tinder in, there is only so much that the body might do. There is only so much that the body might withstand. There is only so much that the Gnosia might command, might seize within its formless hands. There is only so much a body might do, molded to the shape of its emptiness.

Even Vulcans require rest and respite. Meditation. Meditation, to sort through the muddle of days - the emotions they hold. Secreted, between what was the body and what was the katra, dug into the places that one might not access without the permission of touch. Touch, which Jim does, without touching. His mind is a sun-sweet and flickering thing, pulled at the edges of Spock's dark periphery. He is many things and for all that the Gnosia hungers, Spock thinks dimly, how is it know how it feels?

The kick doesn't drop him. Not entirely. It staggers him, stuns him. It makes what is dark and viscous in him howl, but all that is pulled from the lips is short and sharp and quick. A gasp, a breath - from the damp of his lungs somewhere, the Gnosia still attempt to catch - to stage a reclamation -, but Peter is gone. Peter is gone and in the lack of impetus to move, the lack of want to lay down his own leverage, Spock has miscalculated. He has miscalculated and yet, somehow -

Rewarded.

Rewarded, by what is familiar and home and comfort. Rewarded, by what he has gone seeking to begin with. Rewarded, as Jim catches him as much as Spock tries (oh, he tries) too to catch him.

It isn't a graceful fall by any metric. They both land upon the crowns of their knees, Spock sucking in a breath around the ache that flows through in duplicate, triplicate. He feels the fatigue that Jim too feels, the bruising and blistering skin. And yet, and yet - the shuddering, slithering things in his mind go quiet. They still. They watch him, watch Jim, from behind the dark of Spock's eyes as his hand settles along the cut of his cheek.

He does not know if it is them or himself that makes a soft, stifled sound. He does not know if it is the relief of the Gnosia or Jim or himself that enfolds him, that drives him to turn into the heat of Jim's palm. He does not know what it is, who it is, that pulls his shoulders inward. That makes his hands, battered and bloodied as they are, scrabble for any inch of him. Any inch of Jim, who grips him so tightly that Spock thinks he might drift without the anchor of his body, the steadiness of him. ]

Jim, [ he murmurs, so soft and so reverent. He is tired. He is so, so tired and all it is that Spock and the Gnosia both want is to rest. To sleep. To recuperate, closer to the flare of Jim's mind. To bask, in what makes him him. His hands settle upon the round of Jim's shoulders, smooth along the strong line of his neck. They cradle, just as Jim cradles, the face he's long memorized. He presses cool palms against the curve of his jaw. Holds them, against the heat of his skin. ] Jim.

[arachnerina]

[It honestly kills Gwen to leave Peter, but she knows she has to. Just seeing him alive and mostly well is at least satisfying the fears she had over the last 24 hours. She held him in her arms, even if just briefly, so she knew he was okay. Thank god, he was okay.

One last glance at him, then she was off, swinging back to the others as quickly and as silently as she could manage. She landed several feet away, not wanting to arouse suspicion on Spock's part. She knew his senses were stronger than the average humans. Whether or not it was at the level of her and Peter was up for debate, but if it was anywhere close, she had to be careful.

But Jim had his attention (?? whatever was happening over there sure was something, but she was not about to open that can of worms), and hopefully that would be enough. She crept closer, each step as silent as the last. She attempts to lock eyes with Jim for any hint of a signal. She doesn't want to make a move too soon, but if she waits too long, Spock will notice her. Finally, before it's too late, she makes to clear the last few feet in seconds and throw her arms around Spock from behind. It's a risky move, given his own senses and strength, but she has to try. She has to save him, whatever the cost.]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Spock is injured, in every way it's possible to be injured. Jim holds him, one hand still gripping desperately his elbow to keep him steady, the other following trickles of oxidized copper blood back to their origin points. Spock's hands find him, slipping around his shoulders, and Jim makes no fuss about it. His heart is in his throat, but Spock is here, he's alive, and that's about all Jim can ask, nowadays. Whatever else comes, they can deal with the rest but - Christ, just let him live. ]

I'm here, I'm here. [ Spock leans into the warmth of his hand, face pressing fully into the pillow of his palm, and Jim's thumb sweeps under the delicate, shadowed skin beneath his eye. Deep bags, ones Jim is sure are mirrored on his own face, mar the paleness of Spock's countenance. Spock's fingers press against him and Jim obliges, lets him map out the path up to Jim's own cheek. He can still sense the Gnosia through the bond, buzzing along Spock's skin, relentless. Determined to eat away at him, bit by bit, to enslave him to the will of the Gnosia. ] Spock, hey...I'm here. I've got you.

I'm not going anywhere. [ Words designed to soothe, but they're no trick. Even if this gambit doesn't work...Jim's not going anywhere. He's not leaving Spock, certainly not like this. Jim's hand strokes gently against Spock's cheek, leaning his own face into the insistent press of Spock's long digits. ] You hear me? You're stuck with me.

[ Jim would be more self-conscious about the situation - when Gwen returns and gives the exchange an audience - if he weren't still stuck in an adrenaline rush. Pushing down the shakiness, Jim's hand slides to the back of Spock's head, carding through the long hair - and hopefully keeping his attention on him, and not Gwen, sneaking up from behind. ] Just you and me, okay? We'll go home, get you cleaned up...

[ He's not looking at Gwen, because if he looks at her it'll give it away - and who knows what could happen, what Spock would do, if they'd even get another chance -

Gwen crashes into Spock's back and Jim grabs him from the front, unsure if Spock will try to throw her off. He'll be less likely to attempt with any kind of force with Jim in the way, at least. ]