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

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

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!

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[He does indeed follow, keeping a short distance behind. Despite the limp, he's keeping the pace well enough.]

If that was what qualified as hate, hell, I'd hate most of the damn world at this point.

[...]

No. I know hate already. You'd be getting a blade instead of a fist if I was that finished with you.

But if you don't believe me, that's not my problem.

Edited 2017-01-01 02:55 (UTC)

[ Clint rolls his eyes. ]

Does this ever get old for you? [ See, now he's mad that he's having to move because it hurts, so Lutha gets sass. ] The whole angsty angry fuck-everybody teenager thing, does that get old?

[His expression tightens into a glare for a moment, before settling back.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

Yes, you do. [ He rolls his eyes. ] You hate the whole world and you're rude to everybody because it's wronged you. Yeah, I know.

And then you get on my case for just sitting, because you're in pain and you've kept moving. Because you're deaf at least in one ear and you just keep on trucking on. You're projecting pretty hard, man.

[ Sorry, Lutha. Clint picks up on this stuff. ]

[WELL THEN. There's a tight inhale, Lutha halting immediately.]

Spirits-- no, I don't hate the whole fucking world. What the fuck is wrong with you?

I have nothing to do with this shit. I get on your damn case because people like you end up dead in the streets all the time because they fucking give up, or they... they run out of rope or fall on their luck. They don't get any damn luxury to just... just sit and wait until circumstances are better. This-- [And a wild gesture is given to their surroundings.] --all of this, this isn't any fucking different.

If you have something you're supposed to be doing, something you need to be doing, then at some point you have to push yourself to do that instead of what's fucking easier. Even if it means someone else has to shove you out of the fucking mud first.

[ Clint pauses where he's at, raising his eyebrows over his shoulder and looking at Lutha. ]

Okay, so projecting. [ Just pointing that out. ] What exactly am I supposed to be doing here? Walking around and getting lost? [ He scoffs. ] People like me. You don't know me, man, you don't know what I'm like.

I'm not fucking projecting. Goddammit, I'm not anything like-- [Like you. Like that. Like the crippled and despairing along the roads. It almost spills out, a purely unintentional lie. But he catches himself with a tight grimace, almost physically pulling back at how he has to force the correction out.]

Wasn't. I wasn't. I shouldn't be.

[And he's going to march right on past that before it has time to settle, because fuck acknowledging how recent his physical changes were.]

I don't need to know what you're like, because I saw enough. How long would you have fucking just sat there otherwise? Would that have made you content?

[ Clint just gives Lutha a long, flat look, and then makes a big show of taking his hearing aids out, shoving them in his pockets and turning around to keep walking away from Lutha.

He's not going to dignify that with a response. Lutha doesn't know him based on one interaction in a big, hopeless maze, on a terrible, horrible night where he wasn't himself. ]

[Nope. N o p e. He's shooting Clint the most disbelieving looks before he turns around, because he knows exactly where this is going. Hell, he does it enough when he has access to earplugs.

It takes an enormous amount of effort, but Lutha is going to pick up the pace, enough to edge in front of Clint, slam his handless arm out like a clothesline and mouth out "Don't ignore me."]

[ Clint stops, to his credit, staring directly at Lutha. ]

Why? You're ignoring me. [ His voice is a little - off, but he's had practice in talking without being able to hear himself. ] I'm not talking to a brick wall.

[His glare goes completely deadpan.

"So you just turn yourself into one instead. How is that any better?"]

Takes one to know one. [ Were you expecting maturity or ] I don't see the point in letting you chew me out. I'm not your punching bag for all those issues you refuse to deal with, kid.

["I told you already, this isn't about me. That's not why I stopped."

At the very least, the lack of vocal response on Lutha's part is keep his swearing down to a minimum, purely for the sake of being easily read.

"Do you want to get out of here alive or not?"]

I'm walking because I like living, yes. [ Clint says, annoyed. ] If it isn't about you, then what's it about? Because I think you think a lot of stuff is about you, buddy.

[His expression tightens.

"Prioritizing doesn't just make everything about me. That's fucking stupid."

Yes, he's going to ignore the more important and difficult question at hand to, instead, bat at the sassy remark.]

Yeah, yeah, you're deflecting. [ Clint waves his hand dismissively. ] Will you leave me alone already?

["That's not--"

He cuts himself off pretty abruptly, mouth snapping shut with a conflicted grimace as he rubs his hand over his features. No, he's not trying to deflect, but-- what the hell is he trying to say here? He shouldn't care. But he does. But it's not so simple that he can just outright say that.

"I already told you, watching someone sit and wait to die for stupid reasons isn't okay. And whether you agree or not, this shit is more important when it's--" There's a break, mouth half open and his hand gesturing sharply through empty air as he struggles to find words. "--when it's already-- you know, something you know is hard enough. When you're trying to be something... just... better than that."

Like Clint. Not like him. It's hard not to feel more than a little envy for him.]

Edited (whoops important word change) 2017-01-10 19:45 (UTC)

I don't want to die. [ Clint says, after a moment, quieter. He shoves his hands in his pockets. ] I'm just tired.

["I know. Okay?" And he knows that Clint knows, albeit belatedly, given how his expression recoils again - all emotional checks that he's not accustomed to doing outside of the strictest of business situations. "It's... hard. Not to be.

It's just... it's too damn easy for one to turn into the other. And hellholes like this aren't exactly forgiving."]

[ There's another pause, and Clint puts one hearing aid back in. Just one. ]

No, they're not. It's real easy for concern to turn into anger too, and I get that. But I'm not putting up with it. Y'hear me loud and clear? I'm not a fuckin' punching bag. I'll talk to you like a grown-up if you want to talk like a grown-up, but you're not gonna pitch a fit at me and expect me to roll over again.

I let you be mad at me for killing you. That's on me. That's shit neither of us are going to recover from. [ He can't get over it. He knows it has to be worse for Lutha. ] But if you want something out of me, you're gonna need to turn it down like five notches.

[He keeps his expression steadily neutral, all the way up until Clint starts sounding borderline condescending. Then the withering scowl comes right back. He will not be shamed for his own anger.

Despite the fire in his eyes, he still lets Clint finish his thought, visibly struggling to reign himself in from walking forward and grabbing Clint by the collar again. Even his voice, though even, still cracks with the telltale signs of a temper just barely held back.]

Don't address me like I'm a goddamn child.

[Because he's not. He stopped being one as soon as society let him. So for someone to imply that his actions and attitude are immature are an enormous slap to the face.]

Then stop acting like one. [ Clint folds his arms. ] Talk to me without getting pissed off and cursing at me. Or fucking beat me up again, because that solves anything, right?

[Just like that, he snaps, exasperated.]

What the fuck else am I supposed to do with someone as thick-skulled as you? What else do you honestly fucking expect? For me to just want to hold some goddamn civil conversation with you and just hope that you won't turn around and show convenient ignorance when things don't fucking suit your mood?

Bullshit.

Uh, yeah, I expect you to hold a civil conversation with me. Because that's what people do. [ Clint raises his eyebrows. ] What do you want from me? I really can't tell.

--Nothing, okay? Nothing that I haven't already fucking said.

[There's something almost pained in his otherwise aggressive expression, because it's a damn lie. But the words aren't coming, just like they struggled to show up before, and this whole encounter is slowly feeling more and more like a waste of his own time.]

Just-- fuck. [He stumbles a couple steps backward, his hand fisted into his hair while his other arm sharply gestures behind him] There's a goddamn hallway over on the left leading out of this ring if you go back that direction for ten more minutes or so, alright? Just... go and keep your ass off the damn floor if you can fucking help it. I don't fucking care anymore.

[If he says it, maybe he'll actually believe it himself. Right? Sure.]

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awwnoun - 2017-01-12 17:19 (UTC) - Expand

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