thebastion | Backdated to Day 266

Entry tags:

Backdated to Day 266 :: OPEN (mostly)

Who: The Disiple; Everyone
Open: Open
When: 266
Where: Her apartment; Skyway; near the edge of Bastion at the river
What: Disciple was given free reign to do what she does best: hunt.
Format: Will match!
Warnings: Butchering etc

[Closed to Psiionic/Their Apartment]
She'd gone to sleep early, trusting everyone in their abode to get back safe. Well, she'd missed Psiionic as he'd gone off somewhere but after a circle of the town, she'd accepted he'd come home when he wanted. He was probably off laying on the grass somewhere. Honestly, if she hadn't planned to get up while it was still light, she'd have spent more energy and time on her search. Still, she isn't so deep a sleeper that she doesn't wake when the door opens and Psiioniic comes in.

"Hey, you're back?" She yawned widely, rubbing her eyes as she sits up, "I missed you, what was up?"

[Skyway]

The Disciple had headed out onto the Skyway an hour before dusk, a lethal knife she'd filched stuffed between her waist and a belt and mammoths on her mind. She'd seen them before, but not enough to know if they had a particular place they liked to stay, a watering hole, or even a den. She stretched her arms over her head and walked off into the Skyway. She'd find one alright.

It didn't occur to her to wonder how to get it back to Bastion until she'd already dragged her knife through its throat and was sitting on top of its gutted carcass. She was winded, mammoth fur was thick and coarse and it had taken ages for it to stop moving. Gutting had taken a whole other hour and she was a mess. At least the skyway made throwing away the undesirable parts an easy task. Just a toss over the edge. Still, it left her with more beast than she could possibly carry and no way to drag it. She wasn't sure the pendant would make a path that big. She stood up and peeked over the horizon. She could see Bastion at least, a hour's walk away. Huh. Maybe she could get some help.

Waving frantically might not be the best solution.

[Near the River]

It was bright morning sun finally and while it was a blessing to have a clear bright day, it still meant she was fighting the warmth. She'd ended up cutting it into chunks after she'd skinned it, but her work was hardly over. Seperating bone from flesh, turning chunks of meat into managable sizes and drying the meat all took work. A couple large flat rocks were pressed into service as a place to dry thin slices and she had a fire worked up to smoke some meat as well. The faster the better but she was still sure some of this meat would have to come home with people to be cooked or kept in refrigerators.

She still had blood up to her elbows and in splotches over her face and outfit. If there was ever a time she looked like wild, it was now. Of course, this is the time she asks for help.

"Hey--do you know anyone who can help? I knew I should have gone for a smaller one."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1 t4lk3d w1th 4 9uy

Well. A considerably lot more than just talking. That much will be evident when she draws her hands down from her face and gets a good look at him. Pinpricks of yellow are still flush against his face, healing quickly and admirably but not enough that they're not noticeable. Without the offensive glare of pink strapped along his face and digging into his skin, his eyes look... too much for his drawn and thin face. They're too sunken and too large, glowing faintly with the colors he's so fond of that no longer seem dulled down.

If there's a deal to be made about this, he doesn't seem to be noticing. Instead, he just floats over to gently settle down onto the bed himself.

Talked with a guy huh? She traces her gaze up his body, looking for marks or new bruises. Nothing new is noted at first and she relaxes until she meets his eyes. Really meets his eye.

Her first instinct is to touch there, to feel the skin and reassure herself that he's whole. She lets him settle down on the bed instead, hand curled loose against her chest when it might reach for him.

"How? I thought you couldn't? We couldn't..."

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Who was surprisingly friendly, really. No blood taken to do god knows what with, no weird bugs that went into his ears, and no scalpels stabbing him right in the face. And now he's... here, he guesses, and nothing seems different. He's still scared to press if this is real or fake. All he can do is lay back, focusing blankly on the ceiling.

"It's good right?"

He doesn't seem especially happy or even upset. Like much of his time here, he just seems to exist. Sometimes she thinks he realizes its real and other times it feels like he's waiting for it all to end. Up on one elbow, she puts a hand on his chest and looks a little closer. It'll take a little while for it all to heal and he'll scar there as much as anywhere else, she thinks.

"You're free. Well even more free than before."

It's a completely accurate assessment of his mental state. Unlike either Disciple or the Emissary, he doesn't seem to often venture out save for the occasional venture to lay down in the grass. His preferred place seems to be window looking down at everything, a secluded solitary place for when, for in case, this really is nothing but a trick of his own mind.

At least there's something, however. With the goggles out of the way, the more subtle motions of his face are easier to see. The way his brows furrow just slightly together, the way his jaw tightens uneasily, both as he looks up at her when she touches him.

Free. Yeah.

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She doesn't know what to say. It's a good thing, him having access to his powers properly. He needs them, they're a part of him as much as his legs or arms or eyes. He needed them but he doesn't seem happy to have them.

"And her touch is gone. It's all just scars now. You can deal with scars. We can deal with scars."

Her touch- With no warning at all, he immediately stiffens up and his breathing ceases for one sharp moment. A tremble wracks his body and he quickly begins to shake his head from side to side.

No. No no no. It's not.

She shooshes without thinking, papping his chest and then shifting to pap his face. He needed to calm down or he'd hurt himself, she thought wildly, and it was only common sense that kept her from grabbing him.

"H-Hey it's okay, shoooosh. I--Psii it's okay."

Under her touch, he stills and tries to breathe as he looks up at her. She's so worried for him. The guilt that comes with this knowledge is painful, curling like vines around his bloodpump and piercing through with thorns. He's failed her in so many ways, and his mind keeps conjuring more scenarios for him to continue the trend.

The words come, wavering and miserable.

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The Disciple runs her thumb over his cheek and her papping slows as he stills. It hurts to see him in such pain, to see the wounds she can't possibly heal.

"It might still be in your head but it doesn't have a hold of you. Her color doesn't touch you anymore. Not a single bit, not at all."

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And suddenly, without warning, the alternating flicker of psionics suddenly bursts down to burn against one hand. It flushes from the sudden burn, all glaring yellow and pain he doesn't really pay attention to. He holds it out to her, wanting her to watch.

She swallows a scream and wishes for Signless desperately and impossibly. She's not equipped for this, it was never this bad before and it's been so long she's forgotten how to soothe him. Is there even a way to soothe him like this, with a thousand sweeps between them and with these thoughts churning in her head, she feels a scream bubbling up again. She swallows but tears burn at the edges of her eyes as she paps him firmly.

"Psii--please don't--don't, you're hurting yourself, It's okay, it's okay, she doesn't need color but she's not here! I'm here, she's not here, Psii. I'm real, this is real, and you're going to kill yourself to prove to yourself it's not. Mituna, please."

Okay, this isn't going according to plan at all. It seems like all of his attempts to explain to others just make things worse. With his free hand, he reaches up to mimic her own touch on her cheek- a trembling uncertain pap with no strength behind it.

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He keeps his hand held out, and already the burn doesn't seem as bad as it could be. Already seems to be cooling back to neutral gray. It's not fast, not immediate, but it's slowly and steadily happening.

The pap makes her close her eyes for a moment, shuddering. She hasn't felt a touch like that, soothing and trying to calm, in more sweeps than she could count. It made her relax more than she's willing to admit. Still, she feels the crackle of psionics and opens her eyes.

Watching, she sees the burn fade and recede and suddenly she wants to cry again. Oh.

"I knew she kept you alive--is that how?"

This isn't working. She sees, she understands, clearly, but she's still upset. Panic starts to twist and flutter in his stomach, and his shows in how he increases the frequency of his paps.

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Clearly she's just upsetting him more and she takes a deep breath and lets the paps soothe her. She's just making this worse by overreacting, she tells herself. When she doesn't feel the threat of tears, she shifts and nudges her nose along his palm.

"Sorry. I just. Hate her. I..." She breathes in, resolving not to fall into anger again. She has to help and she tries, desperately tries, "Take it back from her. Healing fast, living a long time, take it back. Make it your own. Shove it in her face when you live well, when you can do what you want without fear, right?"

Not that he needs the encouragement, her reckless Psiioniic.

Whatever she wants, he'll give, if only to make her stop crying and to make her happy again. So he gives a nod, even as his eyes remain wide and searching, glance trying to see into the very inner bits of her. But it's been so long. It's been so long, and he's realizing more and more that he's no longer prepared for things like this.

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Is she okay? She smiles, faintly, because neither of them are okay. She kisses his palm, breath heavy and warm against his palm, as if to make up for the coolness of her touch.

"I just remembered we relied on Signless a lot. To shoosh us. Pap us. You and I are okay at it but we were better at getting ourselves into trouble, remember?" She skirts the question, babbling against his hand and hoping it's not too muffled to hear, "We never had to worry because Signless was there and he'd sit us both down when we were furious or upset or just being idiots and talk us down."

She moves her hand to his chest, to feel his heartbeat beneath there.

"It's been so long, I'm no good at talking you down anymore. I'm sorry Psii, I'll remember. It'll get better. I won't panic like that again."

That's not an answer to the question, and she knows it, they both know. But he has no idea how to confront this problem. For years, the only problems he's had to deal with have been code which unraveled and reconstructed himself for him with frightening ease. Helmsmanship had been just as horrifying as he'd always known it would be, but he'd coped by completely and utterly withdrawing. They could keep his body, but not his mind escaping through the system.

That won't work here- in this delusion. He's fucking everything up, making her unhappy, and he stays still with his hand against her face because at least that seems to be making her happy.

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Because he needs to know.

There's no magic fix, no perfect thing to say or do that will make her happy, that will take away the tinges of sadness. Just like there's nothing she can do to smooth away the scars on his face and his mind. There's nothing she can do to make him get better any faster.

"Hey, it's not you Psii..." Her voice gentles and she mirrors the hand on her cheek with one on his own, "The world was shitty and unfair to us and I just want you to be happy and get better. I know it won't happen all at once, but I want that. That'll make me happy."

Such vague requests... He remembers getting annoyed at Signless for similar, needing a thorough plan and course of action. There had been too much in his life at that point for him to be alright with anything vague. In this now, he supposes he hasn't changed from that. He wants something more clearcut.

But all he can do is press his face against her hand for now as the answer stays out of his reach.

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"Yes," She says and hesitantly scoots up closer. He's still taller than her, for all he hunches over, and it's a little effort to get in the right position to kiss the spot between his eyes. It's less so to trail down and kiss him softly on the lips.

"I'm thrilled to see them gone Psii. I was so afraid you'd have to live with them forever."

At the brush of lips against his skin, twice just how he likes, he feels some tension in his shoulders slip away and he lets his eyes fall closed. Things feel a little better now, just a bit, and he finds himself able to breathe.

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"Good...Good Psii."

She relaxes as he does, quiet and slow. It does feel a bit better now, calmer at least, or maybe she's just exhausted by all those feelings. Either way, she tucks her hand against his waist and presses her forehead to his.

"I got you something. Finally found a damn orange tree in this place. Spherical pastry trees everywhere and the orange tree is hidden in their garden."

There was something he was going to ask her, now that they've both settled and are just resting against one another pleasantly, but it goes right out the window as she reveals her find for the day.

wh3r3

He doesn't care about the reasons-this-is-probably-a-hallucination trees right now, fuck them.

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tw self harm

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