[log] love, let the poison bleed out of me [closed]

[bywolves]

Characters: Alfie Solomons & Royce Melborn
Location: Downtown, Building 150
Date: Day 229-230
Summary: A couple of girls chase a couple of guys.
Warnings: Nothing out of the usual - violence, description of anomalies, language. Event stuff!

150: A small toy store that sells old-fashioned toys. Dusty, long-forgotten dolls, wooden blocks, and rubber balls line the shelves. There are a few board games, and even some stuffed animals, with polar bears and seals being favored alongside more traditional teddy bears. While the building seems normal enough, it has an eerie feel to it. Are the dolls moving around while you're not looking at them? There's a door near the back that leads to an employees only area, but it's completely empty except for one a chair that has a note glued heavily onto it. The note reads "dont trust the toys. i took a marionette apart and it put itself back together overnight plus every other toy moved up against this door. the chair kept the door closed fine but i still wouldnt trust them". At least there's also a public bathroom readily available.

Comments

oh my god

[devoutish]

Mm. Talking or silence?

spikenard

[bywolves]

[ He thinks about it for a while. It's a good like, two, three minutes. ]

If I'd given it to her, what do you think would have happened? [ Talking it is. ]

wtf does that even mean, autocorrect

[devoutish]

Nothing good. Death.

it's a plant, apparently

[bywolves]

To her, I mean. [ He doesn't really care what happens to him. ]

okay well do you want to talk or do you want to eat plants, Royce

[devoutish]

The anomaly. Not her.

lmdfsk

[bywolves]

[ A beat. ] Right. The anomaly.

[ He's having a hard time with that. ]

[devoutish]

It wouldn't've helped her. Gwen.

[bywolves]

You don't know that. [ His voice is tighter, here. ]

[devoutish]

[He sighs.]

Royce...

[bywolves]

If that's her. [ His voice starts and stops. He curls a bit. ] If she's here. That was her voice. Your anomaly is Fiona, it --

Gwen could've been here. She could've died and - and all she needs is. [ He stops, taking an unsteady breath. ]

[devoutish]

[It could be true. Not the part about the light bringing her back to life - Alfie seriously doubts that. But she could have been here once, long before anyone here now arrived, in another session.]

You still couldn't do anything to help, mate. She would have knocked you out again, that's all.

[bywolves]

[ You couldn't do anything to help. He's not wrong. Royce couldn't do anything then, and he can't do anything now. Cold, awful despair grips him, squeezes his heart in his chest like it did in the weeks after she'd died. He'd sat in a cold, uncomfortable prison and thought of nothing but her.

He hadn't been able to stop it. And it'd been necessary, there, for the greater good. But here, he doesn't have to worry about the greater good.

Royce exhales slowly, murmuring: ] Couldn't do anything.

[devoutish]

No.

[He squeezes Royce's shoulder.]

I'm sorry, mate. Not with this.

[bywolves]

[ He closes his eyes, and the futility washes over him. He feels empty. Alfie's presence - helps, just a little. His hand on Royce's shoulder keeps him from falling entirely to pieces. Still. He falls silent and doesn't move, doesn't say anything else.

He'll probably not move much for the rest of the day, unless Alfie prods at him. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie lets him go silent. But he stays there next to him, and as he gets more and more tired himself, he tilts to the side more and more until he's leaning against Royce.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't mind a whole lot of anything at all, but at least having someone there keeps him from sinking all the way down. At some point, Royce just gives in and eases up, relaxing against Alfie, staring down at the floor. He's not really looking at anything in particular, zoned out. ]

[devoutish]

Alfie doesn't sleep well, but he does sleep, his head pillowed against Royce's arm. He's hunched over and he'll likely end up regretting this positioning later, but he's too tired to care much right now.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce doesn't sleep well either. He does, if only because he can't possibly stay awake any longer, but he's restless. He twitches in his sleep, fingers curling into the floor. He tenses up gradually as his dreams take a turn.

It's all her. All Gwen. It's her death in fucking technicolor, bright and painful. It's her, broken and twitching, static bleeding from her lips, eyes blank as she begs him to help her. And worst of all, it's her, with newborn Mercy, in a little cottage out in the country, her singing softly and bouncing the baby gently in her arms, smiling. She's sweet and relaxed, hair tucked behind her ear, and Mercy burbles happily, shaking her fists in the air.

He wants to go to her, and he tries, but he steps forward and she looks up at him and it isn't happiness, it's shock. Shock, and then anguish, and a spray of blood hits Royce's face as she falls, as Mercy falls, and Royce --

Wakes up, with a choked noise, scrabbling to pull himself up. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie finds himself very suddenly knocked to the side, and he has to scramble to catch himself, letting out a hiss of pain as he awkwardly lands on his elbow.]

What? What is it?

[Still a little addled, he just assumes that something's happened - maybe the anomalies are knocking at the windows and doors again.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce drags himself a bit away from Alfie - he's almost nauseated. He sits up, leaning on his hand, other arm wrapped around himself, and tries not to - cry? Throw up? He doesn't know. He just breathes heavily, hunched over with his back to Alfie. ]

Night - nightmare. [ Royce mutters, just to ease Alfie's mind as far as attacks go. ]

[devoutish]

[Oh. Okay.

That's bad, but it's not the kind of bad that Alfie had worried it would be, so he lets himself drop back down onto the floor on his back. He just needs a moment here.]

How often do you have those?

[bywolves]

[ Sorry, Alfie. Royce feels vaguely bad that he's reacting this way and that Alfie got knocked. But he's still in that unsteady transition between awake and asleep, trying to sort out his head. ]

Not often. [ Usually he's too tired to dream. ] Not like this.

[devoutish]

Have some food. Something to eat.

[bywolves]

[ He doesn't answer. Instead, he slowly eases himself back down to lay on the floor on his side. ]

[devoutish]

Royce. Food, yeah?