[log] Event: Lavender's Green, Part Two [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: everyone
Location: mysterious, white hallways
Date: Day 193-194
Summary: Find friends. Get lost. Don't look.
Warnings: Potential for gore and psychological horror. Please note any specific warnings in your subject lines!

While confusingly similar, the area is split into a few different sections:

The Core
The hallways here are narrow and twist at a rapid rate. With how dazzlingly white everything is, it's easy to not realize you're coming on a turn and slam right into the walls. There are no rooms here--no one starts here, though they may find it while they wander. At the center is a large, round area, like the center of a spiral. There's a lot of air pressure here.

The Inner Hallways
The largest area, filled with dead ends, gentle slopes and twists, and, occasionally, difficult-to-see drops where a higher hallway intersects with a lower one without a wall to separate them. The whole place tastes vaguely like blood. Most rooms are here--most people start here.

The Outer Hallways
The outer ring of the ball of yarn. It's not as thick with halls and twists as the other two areas, leading to a lot more boring walking in one direction. It's totally possible to circle around the same path multiple times without realizing it, as everything is so similar here. Occasionally, footsteps can be heard just outside the farthest walls. Sometimes, something breathes. There are a few rooms here--some people will start here.


Remember to note what kind of eyes your character has in their top level!

Comments

[despiteeverything]

[For a moment they're confused. Something was odd, different about how he was approaching them, talking to them. Then they realized - their name? He said their name. They rub at their mouth a bit, feeling some of the dried blood around it crumble and flake off. It feels gross.]

Tried. Didn't get a lot.

[Too much noise. Still, they don't waste any time pushing themselves to their feet and stumbling closer.]

[hangfire]

Figures. They didn't give anyone much of a chance for that.

[Shrugging his backpack off his shoulder, Lutha fumbles for his open water ration, tipping it over just enough onto the ends of his scarf to get it moist.]

Hold still. [He gives only that much warning before lifting the scarf and scrubbing at Frisk's mouth.] You're going to scare someone if you fucking wander around with blood all over your m--

[His voice trickles off, hand halting, when he finally spots Frisk's eyes.]

[despiteeverything]

[If they're startled to hear their name, they're even more startled when he reaches out to start cleaning their face. Even if he does have a point, most people knew they were sick by now, right?

But then he stops, and they look up at him, confused and concerned. He's looking at them, right at their face. Into their eyes.

It hits Frisk immediately once that thought is out there. And they all but yelp, rapidly breaking out of his hold and backing away, smacking into the wall in the process. Their hands, meanwhile, slap up in front of their eyes as they make a miserable noise.]

'm sorry. 'm sorry 'm sorry 'm sorry. [They remember what happened.] Nothing's... I don't want to hurt anyone I promise I'm sorry-

[hangfire]

[He doesn't stop Frisk's retreat, easily withdrawing his hand so he can hold it out defensively in front of him. Those eyes with the lingering taste of blood nearly makes him vomit, the taste of bile at his tongue as he wildly looks Frisk over. He's not doing this again he can't do this again--]

Arms out. [His voice shakes horribly. There's a swallow, a gasp for air, then with more panicked firmness:] Get your arms off your face, now.

[despiteeverything]

[At least Frisk had heard and talked a bit on the network that the eyes were back. At least they knew why he was acting like this. But it still makes them want to flinch. Makes them think of Undyne's voice, sharp and harsh instead of bombastic and enthusiastic like they'd come to remember her, as she stands on a rocky overhang in Waterfall and talks about everyone's hopes and dreams.

Lutha has a right to be angry, to be scared. He has a right to be angry and scared of them. They're the one who messed up. Who is like this.

They lower their hands slowly, hesitating what to do with them for a moment before letting them drop to hang at their sides. They still have a hard time meeting his gaze though. Ducking their head as they feel their face getting wet again, though this time not from blood.

Those eyes are hard to hide, though.]

[hangfire]

[The tears aren't entirely unexpected. He remembers how worked up the kid had become over this the first go around, how upset they'd been afterwards. It's why he'd even bothered making a promise to them in the first place. To see them this torn at least, in his eye, gives more validity to them being whole and together than their actual words. But anxiety still drives him harder, keeping him at his distance with a tight jaw and quickened breath.

His eyes follow Frisk's arms for a long moment, tensely silent - checking to make sure the hands are empty, that there's nothing strapped around them, that he can have an advantage here should he need to pin the child down. Only when he's determined it's safe does he try to close the distance again, snapping forward to yank Frisk by the wrist and pull them away from the wall, close enough that he can drop the volume of his voice. His words are breathy, rushed, still lit with panic more than aggression.]

If this changes, I will kill you. I'm going to find a way to fucking kill you where you stand. You understand that, right?

cw; suicidal implications? idk really how to put it but there's something here

[despiteeverything]

[They flinch when he grabs them, and their hands spasm reflexively into fists at his words, though they realize almost immediately and force their hands at least to unclench. The tears are still coming, but there's a knot of upset in their chest. There jaw is one tight knot though, teeth almost creaking against each other as they meet his threat.]

I asked you to.

[And they meant every word then. They still mean every word now.]

cw: suicidal something or other

[hangfire]

[Frisk's wrist clenches, and Lutha's grip on their arm tightens hard in response, the trembling of his hand rattling the child in front of him as he fights not to shake their arm straight out of its socket.]

I know you fucking asked me to-- why the fuck do you think I'm fucking telling you this?? [His grip shoves, jostling Frisk with every push of his voice, as though he's trying to physically force the words into them somehow.

He struggles for breath for a few seconds, his fingers working against Frisk's sleeve.]

If it changes. If. Do you fucking--- understand that? [That he's now obligated not to let the child out of his sight? That for now, he's trusting that they're not going to murder him?] That "if" might happen in ten seconds or never at all, and I don't care which it ends up being right now, because I fucking made a promise and I'm not fucking letting some kid like you do something you regret.

But only if you're going to fucking hurt someone. Not until then.

[He swallows again, dry, his voice cracking.]

Do you understand, Frisk?

[despiteeverything]

[Normally Lutha bites less, even seems to like it when they talk back. When they don't fall back to meekly accepting things. But that... didn't happen this time and that throws them, leaving them surprised enough. All the shoving isn't helping, leaving them feeling more and more rattled and upset as he does it.

Almost enough to miss what he's saying. But they're able to hold onto enough of their faculties to hear it.

They don't quite get all the full implications of it. How much he's trusting them. Any personal struggles of his own at filling the promise he made them. But they get enough. The weeping they've been doing up until now builds up into full sobs now. But they nod.]

O-okay. I understand.

[hangfire]

Good.

[Frisk will find themselves immediately pulled forward, Lutha's fingers only dropping their hand when he can, instead, grab at the back of their head and press them tight against his chest, looping his other arm around their back. It's awkward and too tensely charged, but it's still an embrace.]

Stop apologizing for all this shit you can't control, you idiot.

[despiteeverything]

[It doesn't help that when he grabs and pulls them again they tense up themselves. Because whatever they expected from him, a hug was absolutely not it. They're stiff as a board for the first few moments, mind not processing what's happening.

And then it sinks in, and they don't- they can't- they know what to do even less now. Their hands automatically lift but they hesitate at the point of hugging him back.

It's too much. It's too much and they can't process or handle or do anything with it but continue sobbing, and let their face be pressed into his chest. From there it's a matter of balance to let their arms drop against his back, and from there it's a matter of instinct to cling.

Why is he being so nice to them?]

[hangfire]

[The tension, at the very least, is completely expected, so he doesn't move to let go, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Frisk finally starts to crumble. They're upset, they're scared, and while valid, it meant that they were unpredictable. Give them time to break down, just for a few minutes, and then they could focus on what the hell they planned to do with this new predicament on their shoulders.

So for now, he lets them cling, carefully scooting the two of them as close to the nearest wall as possible, trying not to bristle too much with how uncomfortable the situation makes him. It's not the first time Frisk has cried in his presence, but to comfort another person never came very easily to Lutha in the first place. Too often he has to focus on pushing away or refocusing, neither of which he can do in good conscience with a human child in this godforsaken place. Now that he's taken a step, he's a bit lost on what else to do. What the hell would the goblin-fer do? That's... a bad question to ask, considering the first answer involves more talking than he thinks Frisk is equipped for at the moment.

So then, what would Alfonso do?

...

He almost chucks the thought, because thinking of Alfonso means not only thinking of unbearable optimism to the point of stupidity, but of having to leave that damn point of glorious stupidity behind. What would he do? He'd try to give hope.

Could he even manage that without feeling like an absolute liar?

His tongue feels thick in his throat as he swallows, his fingers tight in Frisk's hair.]

You can still say no. You still want to say sorry. That's still you. That's... good enough for right now. Alright?

[despiteeverything]

[Those few minutes help. They really, really do. They're so upset and so scared. Scared of themselves, scared of... just so much. And to have the time to cry and breathe, as guilty as they feel for it, helps clear their head slowly.

And when he finally does speak, says those very words -

Despite everything, it's still you.

They breathe slowly, easing themselves backwards and wiping at their eyes.]

O-okay. [Another breath, in and out. Ending in a hiccup but still there.] Okay. We'll we'll do it. We'll figure stuff out.

[hangfire]

Almost. [And again, without much warning, his scarf is being lifted to Frisk's face, wiping off the trail of snot and tears... albeit a little more gently than he'd managed before.] We keep moving. Whether or not we figure anything out doesn't matter at the moment. But staying put and cowering isn't going to make anything change.

[He pauses, pulling his scarf back to tuck it in on itself and keep the dirtied ends away from his face.]

Have you eaten anything?