( the galra's colors for lust are black-purple and burgundy -- same as the shorts lance and keith are dressed in, slapped with earthy scents the galra find attractive. keith knows what this means as well as anyone, bathed for the first time since the last time, awkward cuts from previous fights healed immediately with alien technology. their bodies are invaded, stretched open. the chains on their necks are clanked tightly, black metal with surges of red energy pulsating out the sides, bringing them forward and giving them shocks if they stop or look up -- regardless, keith keeps the corner of his eye's gaze on the cells they pass, flickering across the features of every green skin and trunk-nosed alien. not shiro, not shiro, not shiro.
it never is.
keith doesn't allow himself to lose faith -- the team needs him now more than ever, to bring their leader back from whatever galra hole he's been dragged into. whether he's thinking about the team at all or purely of shiro is entirely debatable -- to everyone except lance who knows the real truth, the full truth, the reason why keith can't sleep at night without knowing shiro is okay, why he can't exist without tricking himself that things are fine. voltron is formed, the galra empire will be eliminated. hunk with eat space goo, pidge will hack some robot, and keith will kiss shiro's mouth until they're purple from suffocation, from bruises, from berry-stained mouths. he has to believe this -- if not now then soon, it'll be the way that it was, on the castle ship with everyone in the correct lions, fighting to save the universe. that'll be reassuring, for once.
but there are some sacrifices made in order to get there as with anything, keith keeping his head down until the collars are removed and they're forced into the center of the ring -- dusty with dirt under their bare feet, six pillars standing up in evenly marked sectors for evasive maneuvers. the stands on look the fight in ascension, so the entertainment is easy to watch at all angles.
two alien boys with muscles on their muscles enter, and the fight begins. keith becomes someone else as he fights, all the willingness to obey shattered with the frustration of not being able to find shiro -- the realization that he might not even be here crawling up the back of his throat like a sickness. he is ruthless as he fights, beating in the face of one of the starved alien boys easily, fist dyed in purple blood as he screams, violently. in his mind they call him champion -- he has never been the champion of anything, except maybe shiro's heart, maybe, maybe, which doesn't really count anymore. it's his memories that find their way in keith's mind, the terrible things he's had to do -- the people beaten for no reason except that they were born on the other side of the ring. keith does this thing because it's what shiro would do -- he fights, he wins, because shiro would. ( he wouldn't, he'd sooner lose to save someone else the beating he'd earn. ) he and lance play well off each other, switching between brutality and playing with their food, putting on a good show. together, they are undefeated -- together, they win.
forced to kneel in a particular direction, keith lands close enough that his sweat stained thigh touches lance's, keeping them together as if daring someone to tear them apart. unlike before, keith keeps his gaze defiant and upward -- whoever handles him slaps him, but he doesn't care. he looks on. the galra love it.
the crowd is all dark, and keith can't make out who they've been sold to for the night -- or longer, depending. keith's teeth grit, some frustrated yelling swallowed down while he waits, keeping his gaze flickering from faces he can't see, as if sending a private i hate you, i will kill you to every single one.
they wait for awhile, knees baked in dirt. in the passage of time, keith's hand finds lance's and interlaces their fingers, dragging against open wounds from tonight's fight. he will kiss him if their buyer says as much -- he won't let lance think he wants to, even if he does. some secrets are better off unsaid. )
breathes
it never is.
keith doesn't allow himself to lose faith -- the team needs him now more than ever, to bring their leader back from whatever galra hole he's been dragged into. whether he's thinking about the team at all or purely of shiro is entirely debatable -- to everyone except lance who knows the real truth, the full truth, the reason why keith can't sleep at night without knowing shiro is okay, why he can't exist without tricking himself that things are fine. voltron is formed, the galra empire will be eliminated. hunk with eat space goo, pidge will hack some robot, and keith will kiss shiro's mouth until they're purple from suffocation, from bruises, from berry-stained mouths. he has to believe this -- if not now then soon, it'll be the way that it was, on the castle ship with everyone in the correct lions, fighting to save the universe. that'll be reassuring, for once.
but there are some sacrifices made in order to get there as with anything, keith keeping his head down until the collars are removed and they're forced into the center of the ring -- dusty with dirt under their bare feet, six pillars standing up in evenly marked sectors for evasive maneuvers. the stands on look the fight in ascension, so the entertainment is easy to watch at all angles.
two alien boys with muscles on their muscles enter, and the fight begins. keith becomes someone else as he fights, all the willingness to obey shattered with the frustration of not being able to find shiro -- the realization that he might not even be here crawling up the back of his throat like a sickness. he is ruthless as he fights, beating in the face of one of the starved alien boys easily, fist dyed in purple blood as he screams, violently. in his mind they call him champion -- he has never been the champion of anything, except maybe shiro's heart, maybe, maybe, which doesn't really count anymore. it's his memories that find their way in keith's mind, the terrible things he's had to do -- the people beaten for no reason except that they were born on the other side of the ring. keith does this thing because it's what shiro would do -- he fights, he wins, because shiro would. ( he wouldn't, he'd sooner lose to save someone else the beating he'd earn. ) he and lance play well off each other, switching between brutality and playing with their food, putting on a good show. together, they are undefeated -- together, they win.
forced to kneel in a particular direction, keith lands close enough that his sweat stained thigh touches lance's, keeping them together as if daring someone to tear them apart. unlike before, keith keeps his gaze defiant and upward -- whoever handles him slaps him, but he doesn't care. he looks on. the galra love it.
the crowd is all dark, and keith can't make out who they've been sold to for the night -- or longer, depending. keith's teeth grit, some frustrated yelling swallowed down while he waits, keeping his gaze flickering from faces he can't see, as if sending a private i hate you, i will kill you to every single one.
they wait for awhile, knees baked in dirt. in the passage of time, keith's hand finds lance's and interlaces their fingers, dragging against open wounds from tonight's fight. he will kiss him if their buyer says as much -- he won't let lance think he wants to, even if he does. some secrets are better off unsaid. )