[ back to 'power' again, and all that rings in jack's mind is silas's voice, cross's voice. gunshots and growing pools of crimson spreading across the unity hall table as his sister looked at him like she didn't recognize him. you could have been better. 'power', to jack, was watching the coffin of the only person he'd ever really loved being lowered into the dirt. it was standing by and pretending he could live with david being slaughtered for silas's ambition, jack's ambition, and cross's alone. ]
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Back to 'because I wouldn't slaughter enough people for it'.
[ it's funny, really. it's a fucking joke - twenty five years telling himself it'd be worth it at the end, but that's all it really is, isn't it? being the one cold enough to step over the corpses of the others. he's at that point now, again, when he could let go if he wanted to. he could step away from it and salvage what little is left of himself, but he can't help the nagging, seething voice that wants to make all he's already lost worth something.
it's the hardest thing for him to say, because all his life has ever been is trying to prove what he's capable of. trying to slice off pieces of himself and bury them so he'd be capable of rising higher, of being that something more that his father had whispered to him since he was young. we give up what we want when we want power, wrestle it to the ground, numb it with ice. after all he's given up and burned out of himself, is there really much left to sacrifice? he could stay in blue - he's been able to look at something horrible and do nothing about it before. jack knows he's capable of it. but how much more of himself will he have to hollow out to live like that? and how much is he actually escaping Shiloh, or Silas, anymore? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hurrghhh sry feelings tag
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Back to 'because I wouldn't slaughter enough people for it'.
[ it's funny, really. it's a fucking joke - twenty five years telling himself it'd be worth it at the end, but that's all it really is, isn't it? being the one cold enough to step over the corpses of the others. he's at that point now, again, when he could let go if he wanted to. he could step away from it and salvage what little is left of himself, but he can't help the nagging, seething voice that wants to make all he's already lost worth something.
it's the hardest thing for him to say, because all his life has ever been is trying to prove what he's capable of. trying to slice off pieces of himself and bury them so he'd be capable of rising higher, of being that something more that his father had whispered to him since he was young. we give up what we want when we want power, wrestle it to the ground, numb it with ice. after all he's given up and burned out of himself, is there really much left to sacrifice? he could stay in blue - he's been able to look at something horrible and do nothing about it before. jack knows he's capable of it. but how much more of himself will he have to hollow out to live like that? and how much is he actually escaping Shiloh, or Silas, anymore? ]
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Fine. Put me on Red.