snowblindrpg | [log] more like tales from the BURIEDLANDS hahaha cries [closed]

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[log] more like tales from the BURIEDLANDS hahaha cries [closed]

Characters: Angel and Rhys (and AI Handsome Jack. And Dumpy.)
Location: The post office
Date: Day 83, morning onwards
Summary: Rhys has a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. Uh, more than usual.
Warnings: Will edit if any come up!

[ Dumpy is screaming.

Okay, that isn't unusual. At all. What is unusual is that Angel has given up on stopping the racket and is instead curled up on the floor of the post office backroom, poring over her tablet and half-heartedly chewing on one of the stale granola bars that makes up the remainder of her rations.

Also Rhys is there, paralysed, with his butt in the air. Annnnd Dumpy keeps zooming straight at the aforementioned butt and bonking against it amidst a fresh round of concerned screams.

It says a lot about Angel's life lately that none of this feels out of the ordinary in any way whatsoever. Bad things happening to Rhys while he looks vaguely ridiculous? Huh. Must be a day ending in Y. All she has to do is stay calm, finish her gross cardboard-flavoured breakfast, and wait for Rhys to be able to move again.

Aaaaaaaany second now. ]

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[ Rhys has been screaming internally since the paralysis began, echoing the tiny robot in his own mind. The first sign that the paralysis is wearing off is his shrieking turning audible as his vocal cords wake up, though really, all he can muster is a pathetic whine.

So. You know, more familiar territory.

Dumpy happens to be in just the wrong spot, because when Rhys slumps sideways, he ends up pinned to the floor. If Rhys actually had a butt this might be a problem. Now, it's just metal on bone. ]

I'm on Dumpy, aren't I.

Oh! Welcome back. Yes. Yes you are.

[ Since she's well-acquainted with Rhys' patented "lie on the floor and whine" technique when faced with unpleasantness, Angel decides to just. Gently roll the sentient noodle over. That way he gets to whine, and dear sweet precious Dumpy gets to be free. Everybody wins. ]

How are you feeling? If it helps, I haven't seen any spiders.

Whyyyyy didn't you do that before?

[ Leaving him stuck in that position? Goshhhhh. Rhys sighs and, blissfully, cuts the whining session short. He pushes himself back up into a proper sitting position. ]

I feel -- or. I felt warm. And normally I wouldn't be complaining about that, b-but there was... something weird about it. I saw -

[ Deeper frown. What did he see? ]

Feeling warm here is, um. It's bound to be weird, you kn--

[ No sooner has she voiced that thought that she reaches for Rhys' shoulder, motioning for him to be quiet. Wait. Wait. WAIT. ]

Do you hear that?

The banging stopped.

[ The wheels were starting to turn until Angel interrupted his rain of thought with a shoulder shake. Huhwuhuhh?

Wh - ]

Loader Bot. Is he -- ?

[ Rhys doesn't bother finishing his sentence. He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the window. He can't see the bot, but that doesn't mean he's gone for good, does it?

He immediately starts dismantling their barricade. ]

Be careful!

[ She's. Still going to help with de-barricading the door, naturally. But cautiously. ]

He - it - might just be taking a break? Or something, Iunno - just be careful.

[ "You know, it'd be reeeeeeeeeeeally stupid to go to all that effort -- you know, the sledding, the barricading, the freakin' day-to-day survival -- and just. Run into that thing's arms and die. Just an observation.", says the niggling little voice in his head. And by voice in his head I mean irritated blue man materializing beside him. ]

Shut up! I know, I just -- I gotta see.

[ He casts a quick, apologetic look back at Angel, just in case she thinks that shut up was directed at her. Then right back to the de-barricafication.

Once the door is clear he practically runs out. It's hard to see in the poor light, but there is a figure a short ways away. A particularly loader-y silhouette, melting away into nothingness. To say this causes mixed emotions is an understatement.

He doesn't have a long time to dwell on them, however, because the area above them seems to groan, and then crack. ]

[ Angel doesn't follow Rhys outside, choosing instead to peer out from behind the doorframe. Seeing the loader melt into sludge doesn't elicit the same feelings from her, obviously, but she's empathetic enough to feel bad for her big dumb twig friend.

You know, until that awful creaking noise happens. Duh. ]

Rhys?

[ No shouting. No panicking. Only calmness and not making loud noises. ]

Rhys. Come back inside.

[ Another awful, strained noise comes from above - this time accompanied by a light dusting of patchy snow falling to the ground in places.

Places where cracks are presumably forming.

Ruh-roh. ]

[ There's a brief moment of understanding exactly what is about to happen before it happens. A moment of silence, of reflection, of are you serious is this about to happen to me right now, what are the odds, what is my life. It's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

And then many things happen in brief succession. Many awful, terrible things. Jack repeats Angel's request, but much louder, because hell, holoscreams aren't going to make things worse. The tunnel caves inward, dumping ice and snow down, and Jack tugs Rhys back by the cyber arm, trying to jolt him into action.

And back he goes, but not before a sizable chunk of ice cracks right into his head. He's out before he hits the floor and simultaneously buried from the waist down as the cave-in spills through the open door. ]

[ There are several things running through Angel's considerable brain as the cave-in happens. Most of them are along the lines of "oh poop," and "oh heck," and "u no he ded."

None of those things are what come out of her mouth. ]

Fu-- fric-- FUCK!

[ OH MY.

She is, in all seriousness, pretty convinced that he's dead or dying as she kneels beside him. After a few seconds of blind panic spent flapping her hands in distress, she grabs for her tablet and holds it with the screen only millimetres from Rhys' face.

The relief at seeing the screen mist up with his breath - he's breathing - almost makes her pass out. Or swear again. Both equally likely. ]

Oh god - okay, um, okay, you're alive, it's - just - stay that way for me while I dig you out. Wait, should I move you? I i>have to move you, you'll get - get hypothermia. Or frostbite. Butt-frostbite.

[ Babbling helps her feel calmer, okay, shush. One last handflap and she starts trying to clear away some of the snow without causing it to collapse even more badly. Crushing Rhys is not the goal here. ]

Langu--auugh--

[ He isn't able to complete what is, essentially, a verbal tic at this point, triggered by daughters and their foul mouths, but. It should be preeeeeetty obvious what he was going for.

He groans and tries to move himself, and only opens his eyes when he doesn't budge. Oh, this is. Per-fricken'fect.

Sure, they're not dead, but this is basically one step removed. ]

...hey, sweetie. We, uh. Might have a problem here.

[ Angel freezes. Not in the sense that Rhys is going to freeze and get buttfrostbite - she just goes perfectly, unnaturally still for a moment.

Ah.

She slowly turns her head away from the snow - but resumes digging, albeit in a more distracted way than before - and stares at Rhys.

Rhys-slash-Jack.

Dad-wearing-the-Rhys-meatsuit. ]

H...ey, dad. I'm - I'm working on it. Don't - don't, uh, do anything, just. Stay still.

Please.

Sir.

[ Digdigdigdig THIS IS SO WEIRD THIS IS SO WEIRD ]

Not much I can do from where I'm standing. Laying. Whatever. I tell you, if I was in my body? One flex of the abs and bammo, I'm free. But nooooo.

[ As Angel digs, the icesnowpile shifts. At first subtely, and then a bit less so as a smaller hunk of ice tumbles down and bops her friendfather in the cheek. ]

Careful!

[ She pauses again at that. Because, sensibly, Angel can't help but internally point out that the body Jack is talking about isn't his body. It's the other Jack's. The organic one. The way this one is referring to it as his own is vaguely worrying, in a far-off sort of way that she can't quite put her finger on.

Yeah, that's what her brain has problems with. Not the theoretical ab-flexing. You learn to just take that stuff in stride. ]

I - I am being careful! Geez, um - how quickly are you losing body heat? Should I grab the sheet for you before I do any more? Or I could let you use my coat for extra insulation, or something?

[ She keeps digging - CAREFULLY!! - with her efforts concentrated around his waist. If she can free him enough that he can sit up, he'll be able to help a little. Right? ]

Use the sheet for your hands, Angel. I don't want you getting frostbite. I -- Rhys has layers. He'll live.

[ Jack is helping, though minimally, by scraping some of the snow and ice off his midsection with the cyber arm. Might as well put the frost damage proof limb to use. ]

Probably.

[ Angel shoots him another look. The "dude" accompanying it is unverbalised but very much implied. ]

I have layers too, you know. I'm gonna go get the sheet.

[ And she scampers over to the back room, returning seconds later with the sheet. And her pillow. And her last stale-ass granola bar. ]

Take these - and eat this, Rhys didn't do breakfast yet. Which... you probably know already.

[ Ew. ]

Do you have something a little less... awful? 'Cause I don't get a whole lot of time to enjoy this.

[ He knows very well that they don't, but is wrinkling his nose at the granola bar all the same. Part of it is because he was a rich piece of shit in life and is craving steak something fierce.

The other part: petty bullshit like this is a nice distraction from the reality of their situation. If he can just have a normal chat with his daughter he can put off confronting the inevitable. ]

Keep. The sheet.

[ The pillow, fine. He'll put that under his head. ]

It's food-cardboard or literal cardboard, sorry. Will - will you just take the stupid sheet? What do you think I'll do if Rhys freezes to death?

[ She dumps the sheet on Jackrhys' stupid dumb head and kneels down to resume digging. And emotionally blackmailing. Both those things. ]

I'll be stuck here, all alone, until I starve or freeze or something else terrible happens. I can deal with cold hands, okay? Not the alternative. It'll be like the basement, but worse.

[ Oh, so it's going to be like that, is it? He's got his Irate Dad Eyebrows going, which is interesting on Rhys' face since his are nowhere near as immaculately well-kept.

The Dadbrows are revealed as he tries to forcibly block Angel from digging with the sheet. ]

You using this sheet saves you from direct skin to snow contact. Me using this sheet... keeps my upper body slightly warmer? Like, we're talking minuscule benefit. Lower body's shot to hell already, hon.

[ Oh. OHHHH NO.

Sorry, Jacko, but it's hard to have the same conditioned reaction to being dadded at when you look like a noodle. Instead of capitulating, Angel scootles a little further away and starts scooping snow from there.

And she takes off her coat, very calmly, and sets it aside. ]

The more you argue, the more skin touches snow. The sweater's off next.

[ SMUGDIGGING INTENSIFIES. ]

[ It.

Is.

ON.

Meaning RhysJack is lifting his shirt just enough to shove handfuls of snow and ice inside, and not enough to show off secret tattoos christ telltale I hate you so much.

These are adults having an adult argument. ]

Oh my god stop! Stop it!

[ Of course he'd immediately threaten Rhys' safety of fUCKING COURSE HE WOULD HE'S BEEN LURKING HE KNOWS HER WEAKNESSES EVEN BETTER THAN THE OTHER ONE FUCK HER LIFE. ]

Compromise! Compromise! You take the sheet until we clear enough snow for you to sit up, then we can wrap it around both of us with the ends covering my hands. Is that - does that work? Just stop.

[ IT'S LIKE SNUGGLES, JACK

WHO DOESN'T LOVE SNUGGLES ]

[ Threatening Rhys' safety has become a bit of a no-no, but a) Rhys is not going to remember this. He's pretty sure. And b) he isn't going to watch her die. It's something he's been spared so far. ]

...fine, fine. I can live with that.

[ Compromises are key in his position. He removes the snow from Rhys' stomach while maintaining eye contact. ]

Put your coat back on.

Edited 2016-02-04 04:39 (UTC)

Don't - don't order me to do things.

[ She does it, though, because of course she does. And scoots back over to clear more waisty snow. Miserably. It's been very easy to idealise this Jack to a minor extent while she hasn't had to deal with him directly, and it's not exactly a pleasant experience to realise that no, really, he's still Handsome Freaking Jack.

Still. It's good to be reminded. No more letting her guard down. ]

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