[log] we wear red so they don't see us bleed [closed]

[bywolves]

Characters: Royce Melborn, Alfie Solomons
Location: Building 141
Date: Day 242, morning
Summary: Both boys are monsters, figuratively and literally.
Warnings: Body horror, possible gore, warnings for other things in subject headers

141: A post office, long-abandoned. There are a few empty white plastic bins where mail was once piled up, and the lobby area is still remarkably clean and polished. The back area isn't locked, so if you like you can go through the back and see the office with its locked safe and the back door that leads to the downtown area. Trees, impossibly tall men, and lots of Ⓧs have been drawn on the walls, along with ball-like things that are made up of tentacles and beaks and death and one circle in green crayon that's been scribbled over in charcoal.

Comments

LMAO iddy please

[bywolves]

Oh. [ Right. He forgot. ] You can't ask Gwen, either.

Watson. I can ask him.

[devoutish]

No, no. We can't do that.

Never mind, eh? Doesn't matter.

[bywolves]

[ Never mind, Alfie says, but it's all Royce can think about for the next hour. He doesn't talk much, lost in his own head. And the next time Alfie tries to talk to him, he doesn't reply. ]

[devoutish]

[So Alfie leans over and lives him a little shove with the palm of his hand, doing his best to keep the claws out of the way.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce makes a noise, something disgruntled and annoyed, and actually crawls away. Not on his hands and knees, but in a way that doesn't make physical sense for a human to be able to do. He drops down and his joints bend unnaturally, his legs actually cracking and snapping as they reverse direction, bending like a wolf's legs. He skitters way, way too fast across the room. ]

[devoutish]

[Well, that's freaky as fuck. It doesn't stop Alfie from clenching his teeth and following, though.]

Royce, look at me now. Fucking look at me.

[bywolves]

[ He ignores Alfie, curling up on the opposite side of the room. He's cold, but it doesn't bother him anymore. Once he's settled, though - once he's laid out on the floor like a wolf with its head on its paws, he looks up at Alfie. No recognition. He stares, and then growls, low. ]

[devoutish]

Look. At. Me.

[He growls the words himself, but there's fear in his voice, and it isn't fear for himself. Royce is already looking, but he wants to keep that eye contact. He wants to use it to bring him back.

He really doesn't want to kill him. He'd promised he would, and he'll try his best to if he needs to, but not yet.]

Alfie Solomons. You know me, Royce Melborn.

[bywolves]

[ Royce keeps looking, but it doesn't seem like it's because Alfie said - it's more like Royce is keeping an eye on a threat. Royce's claws slide against each other threateningly, like the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheathe. The cloak ripples, and Royce bares his teeth, a horrifying array of jagged, rusty metal jutting out of a too-wide mouth. The noise he makes is a warning, full of static.

But he hasn't attacked. And across the room, Gwen watches with a sad expression, hair falling into her face. ]

[devoutish]

Royce Melborn.

[It's a hissy little whisper-shout. Come on, buddy, please.]

[bywolves]

[ The monster almost... squirms. It pushes against the wall, not liking being yelled at, but at least it stops hissing. The eyes flicker, and slowly, the monster brings a clawed hand up to it's throat. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie inches closer in a crouch, claws scraping on the floor.]

Ahval. Ahvalda.

[bywolves]

[ Friend. My friend. It's a tense few seconds, but there's a small flicker of recognition in the monster's eyes. The claw doesn't come down. It stays, and actually curls, like he's getting ready to sink the knives in.

In a hoarse, scared, dual-tone voice, Royce mutters: ] Merea.

[devoutish]

[The relief hits Alfie like a physical wave, and he stumbles back a little.]

Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

What do you want me to do, mate?

[bywolves]

[ Royce shakes his head. The knives dig into his neck, puncturing the skin, and static-y white noise drips from the wound. ]

I can't - I can't think. [ Royce breathes, his form shivering. ] I'm cold.

[devoutish]

I told you I'd do it.

[And Alfie - backstabbing Alfie, who has no qualms about betraying promises to business partners - is absolutely not going to betray a promise to Royce.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce lets out a miserable sort of sound. The knives dig a little further in, and then he lets go. He's visibly struggling to try and speak, to do anything, like he's fighting with something nobody can see. Behind him, Gwen murmurs something soft, and he flinches, sinking down.

And then he starts to pull his cloak off.

The problem is, it's attached. It's threaded to his skin, though the loops are still loose. The cloak comes away, but it's like ripping seams made of flesh - he rips a long section away from his arm and screams, and it's his voice, not the dual-tone, not the monster's. But he doesn't stop. He needs it away from him. ]

[devoutish]

Royce! Stop.

[Alfie doesn't know, exactly, what he's doing and why. Is he trying to tear himself apart? There's no need to do that. Alfie will do it for him; he'll make it quick and painless.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce doesn't stop - he doesn't even know if this is going to help, but maybe, just maybe, if he tears the cloak off he won't turn into the anomaly this place is trying to make him. It's a reasonably quick process because he doesn't stop, he just rips it from his skin with a series of agonized noises, completely ignoring Alfie's command.

And when it's off, he throws it away from him, collapsing in a heap. The cloak looks fine - it looks normal. But Royce is bleeding, his shadowy, transluscent figure dripping static blood on the floor. He looks like what the silhouette of a human man should look like, if he were made of too-long limbs, had no hair and a too-wide mouth, legs bent backwards like a four-legged animal. It's a mess to look at, but he's alive. ]

[devoutish]

Fucking idiot--

[He says it out of love, really. He edges over to Royce, pulling a blanket along with him.]

Here, take this.

[bywolves]

[ He curls up in a ball on the floor, not protesting the blanket. The pain is keeping him aware, but he doesn't know for how long. He looks up at Alfie, the light in his eyes flickering. ]

I don't - I don't know how long... [ He starts, hoarse. ]

[devoutish]

I told you I'd do it. I'll keep that promise.

[But only if Royce is sure. Only if he asks for it.]

[bywolves]

I don't think I can stay in my own head. [ Royce mutters, closing his eyes. ] Just - just do it. Just do it.

[devoutish]

[Alfie forces himself to take a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he lifts a clawed hand to Royce's neck. One last chance to change your mind, buddy.]

[bywolves]

[ Losing his mind is horrifying. Losing - losing any sort of autonomy is horrifying. He doesn't want to let it get so bad that he can't remember who he is, and he doesn't want to wait until he can't be killed. Royce opens his eyes, looking up at Alfie. ]

It has to be now. If we wait, you might not be able to do it. Might be invincible, like anomalies. Just - now. [ Royce pauses, and then reaches up with claws of his own to hold onto Alfie's wrist for a moment. ]

... Thank you. [ He breathes. ] Thank you.